Chapter Text
Hisoka is bored. Gon isn't ready yet to be devoured. He needs to find something new, fresh flesh to consume. His newfound motivation for a new opponent makes him wander to different parties and event in the hope of finding a new golden gem. And tonight has proven to be yet another disappointment. Everyone is tedious and boring, not a lick of aura escaping their fragile bones.
He contemplates just leaving the event there and now. As he puts his champagne glass down to exit, his eyes fixate upon a man. He seems stressed with his big hands holding in a death grip a worn out suitcase. His heads darts left and right, like a fool, like an amateur. Ah, but amateurs usually lead to high point individuals.
The magician hums under his breath and decides to follow the lead.
The man is now running. He enters a nearby church, an odd place for an exchange. Hisoka hides on the church organ's balcony, still bored. The church is dark, a few candlelight reflect through the tainted windows. Not a soul is praying, no church member is cleaning the left overs of a mass. The man checks his watch multiple times, unable to sit still. Finally, three more men come in, all in suits. They are clearly not businessmen. They muter to each other, like street dogs, Hisoka is bored. Why are most humans so boring?
A newcomer makes herself know with the sound of heels slapping on the marble floor. It a woman in a crimson suit with a black feathered coat. The men look at her awkwardly, but the last man holding the suitcase seems to recognize who just stepped in as his faces morphs into terror.
She lights up a cigarette, holding eye contact with the one who seems to be the boss, dragging a deep smoke and letting it fill the air around her.
Having had enough, the leaders pulls out a gun, his two partners matching him.
"We don't know who you are, but we ask that you kindly leave. Immediately."
Her voice is smooth and without venom. She sounds bored.
"How rude of you. This is a free place of worship is it not?"
The man shoot one bullet that graces her cheek. The woman doesn't move. She looks at him, golden eyes shinning half-amused. It feels like she's entertaining a child who wants to be reassured he's the strongest little boy in the world.
Suddenly, she is behind him, twisting his arm, making him drop the gun, while anchoring the metal heels of her high-heel, deep into his kneecap. The force of the kick bursts the man’s bones, which echoes in screeching scream. She pivots around and slams her foot into one of the guard’s stomach, sending him flying over the altar.
"Amen." She chuckles out in between two puffs of cigarette.
The man on the floor, having recovered the immediate agony in his knee, growls, reaching for his gun on the floor. But the eyes of the women have caught his actions before they could be delivered. With her left hand, she presses her thumb and pinkie against the pulse point of his neck, gripping tightly. Her three other fingers slip on the edge of his bottom teeth, and before the man had the time to bite down, her right-hand covers his eyes and she slips her fingers over his top teeth, leaving his jaw wide open.
In one quick and steady motion, she rips out his face into two. Blood oozes all over, painting the floor and men aside. She lets the body and the half ripped out face drop and roll on the floor.
A small grin splits her face in two. Hisoka finds himself finally entertained. He wonders if she knows nen.
The small chubby man with the suitcase whimpers in fear, and retreats to hide between a pillar.
The last man standing curses at her and seems to forgo the idea of using his gun. It clearly hadn't worked with his peers. Focusing on his Gyô, the man accumulates his power within, and in one swift moment of intense concentration, he releases his aura. His aura is a soft green, existent but nothing extraordinary.
The enigmatic women narrow her eyes, and her face becomes impassive.
Such a feeble and fragile mind, she thinks to herself, disinterested by the apparent difference of power. Not worth getting serious over. She lets out her bloodlust and twirls her nen around her fingers. Crimson stripes rush from her feet like shadows and pounce towards the man. They catch as his limbs and quarter him alive, in a dance of blood, screams and nerves. The shapeless body falls the the ground. Hands crawl from the marble and drag the body into waiting mouths, eating at the flesh and not even leaving a bone.
Her focus is not directed towards Hisoka, but he finds himself completely entranced by the heavy pressure of such a force. His muscles are twitching, pleasure mixed with fear rouse inside his body at the sight of this new creature. A new prey, a new, intense, dangerous prey. And this one has already been formed. This one he can eat right up now. This one can satisfy his cravings.
The woman's aura reaches out the last hiding man, making him meet the same fate of eaten flesh.
Hisoka’s lets out a moany breath and he feels himself ache at the carelessness of power which beholds itself in front of his own two sunny eyes.
This was the human reaction that caused his life to turn upside down.
The lady’s head swiftly turns, having caught on another presence in the room and her deep golden eyes bore into his.
A moment passes, as if she was assessing him.
He dares not move. In fact, even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t move. All her concentration has focused on him, and with it, her mist of magic. He feels himself to be as an insect, w biting for the loving caress of death. He feels like a prey. And isn't that a brand new sensation?
The woman bares into his soul and then she smiles, overly too sweet.
Suddenly, she is behind him. His eyes had been unable to follow. He can feel her aura, pulsing violently against his own. Hisoka feels as if he is trapped within his own bungee gum, unable to move an inch without balance breaking.
“What do we have here?” Her voice caresses him, making a hard shiver raise goosebumps on his skin.
A sharp nail, starting from his buttocks trails up his spine, taking its time to play, scratch, threaten to break the skin under the soft clothes that he is wearing. Arriving at the bottom of his neck, she stops her finger from crawling an instant, rubbing what is supposed to be soothing circles, but ends up putting him more on edge.
Abruptly, she violently scratches her hand through his scalp and grips his pink hair with an iron first. She then forces him to twist his head to look at her, but due to his previous position, having kneeled down to stay hidden, his entire body turns with it.
She approaches her face mere inches from his, and Hisoka suddenly feels naked. This wasn’t his new prey, his new fruit waiting to ripen. No, this was his conqueror, his doom, his own personal blissful hell. She was going to eat him. And how the though got him hard.
It was the first time that he feels trapped in such a position, and yet he wants more. Her aura, her power, was drowning him in sweet painful pleasure. His nerves are pumped with cool fire, his members tremble in agony of want and need. Her grip on his sensitive scalp makes him want to fight and to submit even more. Such conflicting sentiments, such roaring sensations. Ah, his own energy is being drained with her own, and yet he can’t help but look back into those calculating eyes.
Her voice is what allows him to ground himself, if only for an instant. “And who might you be pet?” she hums.
“Hi- Hisoka” he manages to squeak out of his throat. He himself is surprised. He doesn't squeak.
Her aura now covering his entire body, running languidly against his burning skin.
She distances herself and steps back a little, letting him finally breathe. He is thankful for the moment of release and yet crying internally from the loss.
Chuckling lightly, she brushes with her free hands her long fingers down his face, curving on his checks, brushing his plump lips and dipping a finger inside his mouth. Hisoka lets out a squeal of surprise, his eyes widening at the intrusion. She presses her thumb heavily on his tongue, the grip of his hair being still present, enabling him to resist.
“I've heard about you. Hi-so-ka. The magician. Strong and talented you are. So dominant, so powerful. But, looking at you now ,’ she pauses slightly, stirring the thumb in his mouth just enough to make him quiver, ‘ I am wondering if you weren’t always waiting for someone to overpower you?” Her smile stretches, revealing her tongue lightly passing over her teeth.
"Oh, so you've heard about me darling?" He teases, grin plastered on his face.
She slaps him, hard, while still holding his head straight.
Ahh Fuck.
Hisoka can only whimper in response. He barely registers was she is saying, but the need has suddenly tripled and he doesn’t know how to deal with such pressure.
“Please” his voice is coarse, and he begs like he never begged before, not knowing how to recognise himself.
This time, the dark haired lady only laughs more honestly.
“Hush, pet. You shall get what you want at some point. Nevertheless, I am not one to abuse such an interesting creature as yourself without proper consent. And I am afraid that my Ren isn't leaving you with a clear mind. Therefore I shall leave you with a choice. When you recover, you will have two options. Either prevent yourself from ever meeting me, or, you can come to me and we can discuss our contract .” while saying so, the lady snaps her finger, making appear an icy black card.
She takes out her thumb from Hisoka’s mouth and places the card in between his lips. Then, bringing his face forward, her nose goes to brush the back of his ear, and her warm breath caresses Hisoka’ sensitive neck.
He can’t prevent the small moan that escapes his lips. Smirking against him, she kisses the pulse point on his neck and slowly bites down while sucking his white flesh, making him moan louder and drop the card from his mouth to his lap.
Satisfied with the red mark, she licks the spot one last time, and finally steps back from him and raises herself.
“Until next time pet.” She winks at him and in a flash, her aura collapses on itself and she disappears.
Hisoka is left alone in a bloodied church, on his knees, panting harshly and eyes glossy. After a few minutes pass, he is finally able to recover some of his senses.
He is still glowing with need and want, and the pressure in his abdomen hasn’t swelled back down. Slowly, he combs his fingers through his hair, then traces the red mark upon his neck. One finger finds itself in his mouth, pressing upon his tongue as if trying to recreate the memory of her thumb, carefully controlling him into submission. He moans against the thought, his hips rowling unvunteraly.
He feels abused and raw, and he loves it.
Remembering the card that has been given to him, he picks it up with two-finger and flips it over.
In colourful ink is handwritten;
‘ Lady Abanddon
Head of the white snake clan
One drop of blood, and I’ll guide you. ’
Oh Dear , he moans internally, she is the head of the mafia.