killua's cabin (nsfw)

[devil_or_angle]

*killua heads straight back to his cabin after his encounter with kalluto in melody's field, anxious for some alone time. the flame ignited by their proximity is still burning bright inside him, clouding his head with smoky desire. he sighs as he slips into the room and slumps against the door, smoothing a hand down his shirt again as if it were still riding up, still feeling exposed and raw as a live wire.

he flops into the center of his spacious bed, sinking into the blankets with a groan. the weight of his hand feels good on his chest, feels better the lower he slides it. his toes curl as it slips beneath his shirt to touch his bare stomach, the strike of skin-against-skin still iron-hot in his mind. he can't help but wonder what would have happened if they hadn't stopped, back in the field -- if he'd been allowed to peel back more of kalluto's layers and feel him all against him, around him, inside him. the heat spreads from their point of contact to the furthest reaches of his body, pulsing under his palm.

he knows, with a guilty twinge that cramps his stomach muscles beneath his fingers, that he shouldn't be thinking this way about his brother, but has that ever stopped him when it came to his sister? he doesn't need to venture lower to find he's already hopelessly hard. he mutters a curse under his breath, indecisively thumbing the waistband of his shorts.*

fuck...

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[devil_or_angle]

*killua hauls himself off the bed and clambers over to the connected bathroom, already beginning to feel the customary shame that accompanies any instance of allowing himself such guilty pleasure. he leans over the stone basin of his sink with another beleaguered sigh, pouring out some water to splash his sweaty face with and grimacing when he opens his eyes again and sees alluka's cute pink singing toothbrush standing innocently by the sink. he's feeling like some kind of degenerate as he shucks his shorts down and glimpses the mess still dripping from his unsheathed cock, which he averts his gaze from as he begins to remove his underwear as well. at least neither of his siblings would ever know about this.

as he pulls the fabric over his sticky thighs, he notices a fleck of white clinging to his skin, then another and another, all of them soaked in semen. for a dull moment he furrows his brow in confusion, letting his underwear fall around his ankles as he skims through the mess and picks up the debris, which he he concludes, with a careful sniff and roll between his fingertips, is just paper.

in a rush of realization he's swept back up into his memories, careening past the moment he'd fantasized about and back to what his brother had shown him before -- a demonstration of his nen power, which allows him to conduct surveillance through the use of tiny slips of paper.

heart lurching, killua shakes his hand wildly to dislodge the crumpled, soggy bits of paper, a stream of curses falling from his tongue anew.*

shit, shit shit--

*he has no idea if the power was active, forgetting the details of kalluto's explanation in his panic. all he can pray is that his brother had forgotten that he'd left them there, just as he had, and hadn't been listening in on killua moaning his name.*

[descendsanathema]

*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.

Killua might be done, but Kalluto was not.*