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“Want to know a little something about Spiders?”
That’s what had started it. When Hisoka whispered those eight simple words into his ear, Kurapika’s chest tightened and his throat closed up. The Hunter Exam had since ended, and Kurapika’s heart beat wildly in his chest as he stood outside the door of a motel. Shortly after orientation, Hisoka had slipped him a piece of paper detailing the time and location. Presently, Kurapika clutched it in his hand. The motel was unsuspecting; it wasn’t dirty, but it was old, and the sort of vagrant you’d expect to find in a place like this wouldn’t have the skills to eavesdrop. Kurapika took a deep breath. He’ll probably already be inside, he thought. I’m not scared. He wouldn’t have said anything at all if he didn’t have information. I’ll kill him for it if I have to. He needed leads. He needed them bad.
He shut his eyes and pressed his fist calmingly against his heart. Then, he reached for the doorknob.
The door was unlocked. As soon as it creaked open, Kurapika was hit with a gust of cold air. The AC wasn’t whirring, but the air in the room felt several degrees cooler, and pressure engulfed him immediately–it was as if he'd stepped into the bottom of a cold ocean. Thinking back to the exam, he wondered if this impossible sense of presence was what had alarmed Killua during the final phase. Indeed, he felt the urge to leap several steps back.
But he didn’t. He told himself he was prepared for anything. It’d take more than a little pressure to shake his will. He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.
Hisoka sat at the edge of the bed, his back to his guest. A card tower sat beside him, and he was fiddling with a face card between his fingers. Kurapika tensed and rested his hands on the bokken beneath his robe, but the magician didn’t move. He didn’t seem to realize he was there.
“Hisoka.”
Kurapika finally spoke. Hisoka slowly turned his head.
“Oh? You’re finally here,” he replied, though Kurapika found it hard to believe he really hadn’t noticed him. “Come in, come in.” He patted the bed beside him.
Kurapika continued to eye him suspiciously, but he did step further into the room. More so than fear, his body was abuzz with anticipation. This could be it. The Spiders. It was possible he could be after them as soon as tomorrow.
He came around to the side of the bed Hisoka sat on, but he didn’t accept the invitation. He simply stood, arms clinging tightly to his sides. Hisoka smirked up at him. The lights were off and the room was lit by nothing except what little sunlight filtered through the sealed blinds. The magician’s golden eyes seemed to glow.
“What do you know about the Phantom Troupe?” Kurapika asked in a terse voice. Hisoka clicked his tongue.
“That’s not very polite. Where’s my, ‘how do you do?’”
“Cut the bullshit.”
Kurapika took an intentional step forward. The outline of his bokken caught the light, but he knew intimidation was not his best bet—as much as he hated to admit it, Hisoka’s cards were sharper and faster.
“Why did you mention the Spiders? What do you know about them?” Kurapika continued, his voice rising. Hisoka’s eyes slanted and his foxlike grin widened across his face.
“I’m acquainted with each member. There are thirteen of them, but I’m sure you already knew that. I happen to be familiar with most of their abilities. Ah, but most delightfully,” he held up a pointed finger, “you’ll be pleased to know this: I know where to find them and when.”
Kurapika’s blood rushed viciously through his temples. Despite the chill in the air, heat seemed to rise in his face. He knows them. He knows where to find them. It sounded too good to be true.
“Tell me everything.” His tone suggested more of an order than a request, and Hisoka’s grin playfully faltered.
“I’d be happy to,” he mused, resting his hands under his chin, “for a price. Nothing is free, you know.”
Kurapika’s jaw twitched. Of course. It was too good to be true.
“What do you want? I don’t have much money, but I will soon. I’m going to be a Blacklist Hunter. I’ll sign a contract right now if you need me to.”
Hisoka only chuckled.
“I don’t need money. What I want is you.”
He paused and Kurapika furrowed his brows. What the hell does that mean? Does he really just want to kill me?
“Oh, not like that,” the magician continued. He seemed to have read his mind. “The time isn’t right. Your fruit is barely ready to blossom. No,” his voice took on a matter-of-fact tone, “you have two options right now.”
“What are they?” Kurapika asked, tapping his foot and crossing his arms. “Skip the theatrics and get to it.”
Hisoka hummed before he opened his mouth. The words that tumbled out seemed to echo off the drywall.
“I want your secrets.”
Kurapika froze and the thrill that had been pulsing through him like successive strikes of lightning slowed to a dull thump.
“…What secrets are you talking about?”
“I know what you are. I know more than you think. What I want to know is the rest. Tell me everything. Tell me about your little friends. Oh, and not just the new ones. They’re already on my list, so to speak.”
Kurapika raised an indignant eyebrow.
“On your ‘list?’” he repeated. To be honest, there weren’t many secrets surrounding the friends he’d made during the exam—especially not the one this magician was most interested in. The old ones…
“And the second option?” Kurapika continued, slackening his tightened fists. He hadn’t realized they were balled.
Hisoka released a guttural groan that was something like a snicker.
“You can also pay like this.”
He raised his hands and pointed one at his lips. The other he cupped into a circle and, with his pinkie finger raised, held it before his mouth.
Kurapika opened his mouth and then closed it again. He genuinely had no idea what to say. The words that came to him at last, came from the heart.
“Are you insane?”
Hisoka frowned.
“I don’t see how that’s relevant. I believe I’m being generous here. I’ve offered you two methods of payment you’re able to complete right now. If I had asked for money,” he continued, feigning genuine confusion, “that would’ve been difficult, no?”
“Are you…” Kurapika began, eyes wide. “Are you seriously suggesting I trade you oral sex in exchange for information?”
Again, Hisoka blinked and behaved as if that was a ridiculous question. He’s clearly enjoying this, Kurapika thought with disgust, but it doesn’t look like he’s making a joke.
“Yes. I’m sorry, was that unclear?”
Kurapika considered turning around and marching straight out of the motel, but he willed himself to stay put. He wasn’t above trading his dignity for revenge—he hadn’t yet encountered a situation where that was necessary, but he’d vowed long ago that no concern for the individual would stand in his way. Nonetheless, while it could’ve taken some time, he would’ve much preferred to pay with cash. This was…unexpected. He took a steadying breath.
“What evidence do you have that you’re telling the truth? For all I know, you could be lying.”
“Ah, a wise question. I thought you might ask,” Hisoka replied, reaching into his tunic. Kurapika tensed, but Hisoka gestured innocuously to the cards that were already sitting arranged on the bed. “Oh, come on. Like I said, I didn’t summon you here to kill you. If I had, I would’ve done it by now, hm?”
Kurapika knew this was true, but that didn’t make it any more comforting to hear aloud. He exhaled and tried to relax. Hisoka may be a monster, a murderer, and apparently, a pervert, but if he could prove he had information, well, so be it. He couldn’t just walk away.
The magician produced a photograph. He silently passed it over and Kurapika accepted it with eager hands.
Almost immediately, his heart seemed to stop. The photo…it was grainy, but the scene it depicted was unmistakable: the Kurta massacre. An enormous man stood in the forefront, dead bodies littered at his feet. He held in one hand a decapitated head, its eye sockets reduced to black, sputtering wells of blood. The gore was so dramatic that it was impossible to tell whether the head belonged to a male or female, much less the exact identity of its owner. Bile rose in Kurapika’s throat. In the man’s other hand were two small orbs.
Hisoka tapped on the photo in front of him with one long nail.
“This is a Spider. You can see a few of the others in the background,” he said, and Kurapika noticed a handful of other shadowy figures looming behind the first, “but this one’s name is Uvogin. He’s amongst the original members.”
Hisoka quirked a smug eyebrow as he studied Kurapika’s white face.
“Believe me now?”
Kurapika held the photo so tightly it began to tear where his fingers met the glossy paper.
“Yes. I believe you.”
Hisoka hummed, satisfied.
“…So,” he continued, voice low and sultry, “have you come to a decision?”
Kurapika closed his eyes for a moment and tucked the photo into his back pocket. There was no doubt about its validity; the forest appeared as he remembered it, and what little clothing he was able to discern matched his clanmates’ usual attire. Hisoka really did have some kind of connection with the Spiders.
“I need your information…” Kurapika announced, brow set with determination. Then, slowly, “…but I won’t be handing over mine. I choose the second method of payment.”
I won’t regret this, he thought. That Hisoka had the photograph was violation enough; he wouldn’t exploit his new friends and he wouldn’t reveal the secrets of the dead, either. There was really no choice to make. My dignity is a small price to pay. This is my burden to shoulder.
Hisoka’s eyes practically shimmered in the dim light and the pressure in the room strengthened considerably. Urgh—! Kurapika reached back and braced one hand against the wall, pain shooting into his skull. His knees nearly buckled, but the pressure lifted only a moment later. What the hell is this power? He’d never experienced anything like it.
“That’s good,” Hisoka whined, his voice oozing and high. “I thought that’s what you might choose.”
Kurapika struggled to contain his revulsion, and evidently, he didn’t do a very good job.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that. You’re going to be a Blacklist Hunter, right? Selling your body,” he spread his legs as he spoke, “is something you’ll need to get used to. I’m not asking you to sell your soul.”
“Whatever. Let’s get this over with.”
Kurapika tried to remain objective and confident, but despite the tantalizing promise of revenge, he felt anxious. He had not consumed much…reference material. What exactly am I supposed to do? Just put it in my mouth? The thought of it disgusted him further. Now that the agreement was made, he felt more aware of himself, and, by extension, more aware of the situation. He cleared his throat and took another step forward. His gaze flickered between Hisoka’s crotch and his foxlike, observant eyes. The magician beckoned him forward.
“Don’t be shy, now,” he said, pointing to the space on the floor between his legs. Kurapika didn’t conceal his glare as he stiffly kneeled before him. His face was then aligned with Hisoka’s groin, and the room began to feel smaller. He looked up at the man before him through blond eyelashes. He was grinning. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that this homicidal maniac is also a creep, he thought. Then, I need to at least pretend to know what I’m doing.
With both hands, he awkwardly reached for Hisoka’s waistband, but long fingers barred his own before he could pull it down.
“What?” Kurapika asked, irritated. “Am I blowing you or not?”
Hisoka clicked his tongue and tightened his grip.
“There’s no need to be so hasty. I’m feeling generous today,” he continued, guiding Kurapika’s hand to run along his crotch, “so I’ll take the opportunity to teach you.”
Kurapika could feel the outline of something underneath. Is this…? It wasn’t hard, but it was noticeably large. With the magician’s hand on the back of his, Kurapika palmed and groped him through the cloth. He could only watch, his hand running along his length. He knew he should’ve been disgusted, and he was, but when he felt it twitch beneath his touch, something strange welled up in his stomach.
“Good job~” Hisoka sang, humming approvingly. He spoke in a tone one might use towards a child or an animal.
He removed his hand and tapped one finger against Kurapika’s scalp. The blond reached again for his waistband, and this time, Hisoka didn’t stand in his way. The stretchy fabric gave easily, and Hisoka’s cock was free. Kurapika audibly gasped; he should’ve known from the way it felt, but the magician really wasn’t wearing anything underneath. His cock was pink, twitching, and, somehow, appeared larger than it had felt. Kurapika swallowed, and Hisoka purred; his apprehension was clear on his face. For a moment, he didn’t move, but when Hisoka again reached for his wrist, he swatted him away, as if to say, I can do it myself. With shaking hands, he gingerly wrapped his thumb and forefinger around the head. It was warm and cast a shadow on his face.
Things like this didn’t occupy much space in his mind. There was little room for lust in the tumultuous sea that swirled inside his head. He was human, however, and throughout the course of puberty, it had occurred to him that he was probably gay. The circumstances aside—the sly, homicidal animal it belonged to aside—he’d never been this close to another man before. His heart beat loudly in his ears, but it wasn’t the same anxious patter as before.
His hand began to move. He grasped Hisoka’s cock fully and lightly ran his fingers over his whole length, from the flush, pink head to his balls. Then, back up, and around the little slit at the top. Hisoka twitched as a bead of liquid dribbled out. Kurapika felt as if in a trance. Inhaling shakily, he rubbed him off back down to the base where he gripped him in a tight fist. He heard Hisoka chuckle quietly above him.
He learned forward and opened his mouth, gingerly flicking out his tongue and licking the head. It tasted like skin and salt. Hisoka reached down and placed his palm on Kurapika’s head, but he didn’t jerk him forward or force him to move; instead, he simply tangled his fingers through his hair. The strong, large hand on his head encouraged him. Kurapika wrapped his lips around the tip.
“Mmh…” Kurapika sighed softly around him as heat rushed to his crotch, and, with shame that well rivaled his arousal, realized he was hard. Because of this…! His face was bright red, but the heady, masculine scent of Hisoka and the thick cock between his lips suppressed his desire to flee like a drug. He only hoped he wouldn’t notice.
Kurapika leaned down further, bracing his free hand on Hisoka’s thigh. It was thick and muscular. He turned his head and Hisoka’s cock slid against the soft flesh of his cheek. It formed a bulge in the side of the face and his tongue lolled over the bottom. He noted a moment too late that his jaw had clenched and his teeth rested unblanketed by his tongue, digging lightly into Hisoka’s hard cock, but that didn’t seem to bother the magician whatsoever—in fact, his grip tightened around Kurapika’s hair and he released a guttural, animal-like groan. The sound turned him on more. His cock straining against his pants had grown into a fully pitched tent.
Kurapika drew back and admired the saliva coated appendage before him. His spit glistened around the first couple inches he’d taken in his mouth and trickled down the rest of it in clear, lewd pearls. It pooled in the crevices where his hand steadied itself on the base of Hisoka’s cock.
“Oh?” Hisoka interrupted his homosexual reverie. “What have we here?”
As he spoke, the heel of his boot came pressing between Kurapika’s legs; against his neglected, twitching cock. Kurapika audibly gasped and nearly buckled over, tightening his grip on the magician’s thigh. Goddamnit…! He’d really been hoping he wouldn’t notice. For the man who had found his way guideless through the Milsy Wetlands, that was apparently too much to ask.
Hisoka playfully clicked his tongue.
“Who would’ve thought?” he began, as if to say, Me! I thought! “There’s more to you than revenge, little warrior.”
“No…!” Kurapika choked out, though even in his own ears he didn’t sound very convincing. His face a little lower, he could smell the musky, manly scent of Hisoka even stronger. His nose was barely a millimeter away from his cock. He felt himself twitch helplessly under the magician’s light, punishing touch.
“I just need—nngh!” He began again, but Hisoka pressed a little harder and the words evaporated into a breathless whine. “I just need your…information!” he finally managed.
Hisoka did not sound the least bit fooled. He chuckled from above, but the pressure around Kurapika’s crotch relented, and he took the opportunity to return to Hisoka’s cock. He slid his tongue into the crevice between his balls before working his way back up, running wide along his length. When he reached the tip, he pulled away once more and swallowed hard. Hisoka’s fingers tightened in his hair. He was done tolerating the preamble. Kurapika eyed his cock wearily and hoped it would fit. Sweat was starting to trickle down the blond’s back. Goddamnit, goddamnit—! Kurapika wanted to taste it. He glanced back up at Hisoka. The magician’s face was red and fresh intensity blazed in his golden eyes. For a heartbeat that felt longer than the second, Kurapika was paralyzed; he felt pinned under his stare. It wasn’t until Hisoka tapped his forefinger lightly against his scalp that he came back to himself and looked down.
He took a steadying breath and took the head back in his lips. It was already slick with his saliva but precum dribbled into the mixture and filled his mouth with a salty, slightly metallic flavor. Both hands gripping Hisoka’s thighs, he leaned down further. This time, he guarded his teeth with his tongue, and Hisoka’s cock slid over it easily. Another two inches made it past his lips and his tongue lapped around the ridge where the head bumped down into the rest of his length. When it hit the back of his throat, however, tears sprung to Kurapika’s eyes and the air flew from his lungs.
“Ahckh—!”
He was immediately overtaken by a sputtering cough that forced him to bob his head back up. He rubbed his throat as a tear ran down his cheek and tried to catch his breath, but Hisoka didn’t seem so eager to let him go; the fingers tangled into Kurapika’s hair tugged him back forward and down onto him. Kurapika cried out, but the sound was barely more than a squeak before Hisoka’s cock sank back down his throat. His eyes flew open and tears rolled down his cheeks, but the hand that held him down was unrelenting; fear exploded in his gut when Kurapika realized how hopeless it was to gasp for breath. A part of him wondered if the choice he was given earlier was ever really a choice.
“Fuck,” Hisoka groaned, the muscles in stomach tightening. “Relax. Breathe through your nose.”
“Mmghf!” Kurapika tried to reply between chokes, pounding on the magician’s muscled thighs, but the vibration just seemed to get him off more. Kurapika closed his eyes and tried to focus on pulling the air through his nose, and life filled his lungs once more. Hot tears pricked his eyelashes and hot sweat ran down his chest—he felt overwhelmed and overstimulated and he hated how it sent pleasure coiling through his stomach and liquid dribbling from his cock. Hisoka began to buck his hips up off the mattress and Kurapika’s grip tightened around his thighs; the magician thrusted down his throat with force that bruised his lips and filled the air with obscene plaps and pops.
Kurapika badly wanted to touch himself. A dark, wet stain bloomed in his pants and his cock ached for attention, but it was all he could do to hang on to Hisoka and try to stifle his sputtering. A part of him was thankful for that—even in this hungry, horny mindset, to jerk himself off while Hisoka fucked his face was a step over the line. The line may have been miles in the past, but he didn’t want to lose sight of it any more than he already had.
That didn’t stop the thought from filling his head. He imagined his hand wrapping around his cock—or worse, Hisoka’s hand, warm and large, working him at a pace that bordered on cruelty. He tried to still the fire in his groin, but he found himself absentmindedly fidgeting and grinding into the air like an animal.
Hisoka noticed. The blunt bottom of his toe came pressing back down on Kurapika’s erection and a shiver ran through his entire body. Between gasps and moans, Hisoka couldn’t manage a snide remark, but Kurapika knew he was snickering in his head. Still, he couldn’t suppress the pathetic whine that spilled muffled out of him. The friction caused the pleasure in his stomach to unravel and spread throughout his lower body like water spilling over concrete. Hisoka’s boot rubbed against him up and down at a pace slower than the one at which he fucked into his throat, and the disparity was agonizing. Kurapika wanted to cum. He was close. Hisoka’s groans grew higher and Kurapika felt his muscles spasm beneath his hands. The magician managed a few more erratic thrusts past his lips before he pulled out with a slick, wet, pop that left Kurapika’s own saliva dripping off of his cock and onto his face. Kurapika gasped for breath, but he barely had a moment to fill his lungs before Hisoka came. Hot, white cum spilled across his face in ropes, and the moment it hit his cheek, Kurapika realized he was cumming as well. His lower body was wracked with shudders and his mouth opened into an involuntary gasp. He couldn’t even imagine the face he was making right now, and Hisoka admired him with flushed cheeks and a wild grin. Kurapika’s eye fluttered shut as cum fell over his cheeks and onto his eyelashes. It took Hisoka a moment to steady his heaving breaths. When he was done, he released his grip on Kurapika’s head and sat back.
“Well, well, well,” the magician began. “And here I was hoping to rile you up. Did someone have more fun than I did?” Hisoka eyed the soaked stain that engulfed his crotch as he spoke.
Kurapika tried to retort, but his throat felt raw, and the shame he’d managed to push from his mind came crashing back down him all at once. He opened his mouth and then closed it again. Hisoka’s cum was cooling on his face. He wanted to run away.
Hisoka only hummed.
“Let’s talk business, now, shall we?”
