*Kalluto's ability to discern what a target was doing besides talking was very limited - with other members who could collect intelligence, there was no need for something riskier that was more robust to interference or collected more information than sound vibrations against the skin.
His chest and thighs tingled against the water and his hand, and he puckered his lips against the pressure of the water coming down, imagining it to be Killua's tongue, giving him delicate, guilt-ridden laps.
He sensed Killua move to another room, drop a haggard sigh, and heard the splash of water against his skin. There was something so domesticated about his brother cooing his name, now, after whatever madness of lust had passed over and through him, through Kalluto himself, that didn't feel correct, but right enough to crave. The sound of his name in Killua's unbridled intonations was sunk deep into his core now, felt like it completed a circle whose full circumference he would never trace, not so long as stolen memories were never recovered. The softer sound felt outside of that, a bonus.
He heard another sound; Kalluto's hand shifts closer to his already-hard cock, strokes at the base as image accompanying the sound imposes itself on Kalluto's relaxed, affectionate fantasy: Killua sniffing at, then licking up, the mess currently washing down Kalluto's chest, between his legs, down his genitals. He wanted Killua to bite and suckle at his skin, gnash him up, take care of him. Possess him. Only Killua was allowed. He dug his shoulders hard against the shower tiles again, imagining them to be Killua's nails, just human nails, not enhanced the way he does to hurt with intent to kill.
A few seconds, an eternity, after Killua is sniffing and rubbing at the paper through something viscous - he now knows how the triangles will perform covered in a suspension, he gathers - he hears a curse word and then nothing. Whatever had just happened, it was now over.
Kalluto told Killua about the other three triangles, right? Kalluto had thought that meant Killua wanted him to hear all of this, an escalation that Kalluto could never have imagined, didn't realise he needed, could have stopped at any time by severing the connection as Kalluto had explained, could have left Killua to his private thoughts instead of accepting something that Killua was desperate to share with him.
He wasn't sure what to think, now.
As his breathing quickened, and his need for his big brother's voice acclimatised to the lesser richness of memory, to sense data twisted into what Kalluto wanted, from what Killua gave, he touched his cock again.
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Date: 2023-10-07 05:07 pm (UTC)His chest and thighs tingled against the water and his hand, and he puckered his lips against the pressure of the water coming down, imagining it to be Killua's tongue, giving him delicate, guilt-ridden laps.
He sensed Killua move to another room, drop a haggard sigh, and heard the splash of water against his skin. There was something so domesticated about his brother cooing his name, now, after whatever madness of lust had passed over and through him, through Kalluto himself, that didn't feel correct, but right enough to crave. The sound of his name in Killua's unbridled intonations was sunk deep into his core now, felt like it completed a circle whose full circumference he would never trace, not so long as stolen memories were never recovered. The softer sound felt outside of that, a bonus.
He heard another sound; Kalluto's hand shifts closer to his already-hard cock, strokes at the base as image accompanying the sound imposes itself on Kalluto's relaxed, affectionate fantasy: Killua sniffing at, then licking up, the mess currently washing down Kalluto's chest, between his legs, down his genitals. He wanted Killua to bite and suckle at his skin, gnash him up, take care of him. Possess him. Only Killua was allowed. He dug his shoulders hard against the shower tiles again, imagining them to be Killua's nails, just human nails, not enhanced the way he does to hurt with intent to kill.
A few seconds, an eternity, after Killua is sniffing and rubbing at the paper through something viscous - he now knows how the triangles will perform covered in a suspension, he gathers - he hears a curse word and then nothing. Whatever had just happened, it was now over.
Kalluto told Killua about the other three triangles, right? Kalluto had thought that meant Killua wanted him to hear all of this, an escalation that Kalluto could never have imagined, didn't realise he needed, could have stopped at any time by severing the connection as Kalluto had explained, could have left Killua to his private thoughts instead of accepting something that Killua was desperate to share with him.
He wasn't sure what to think, now.
As his breathing quickened, and his need for his big brother's voice acclimatised to the lesser richness of memory, to sense data twisted into what Kalluto wanted, from what Killua gave, he touched his cock again.
Killua might be done, but Kalluto was not.*