Chapter Text
It was odd tracking the lithe shadow through the crowded streets. Ellie knew where he was staying, she could have found him there, but she had a point to make. Hisoka knew she followed. He could have stopped her at any time. But he likely had the same point to make as her.
She let the click of his heels lead her deeper into the maze of the Warehouse District and wondered, not for the first time, why she was not afraid. And when his shadow whirled and pinned her by the throat to the chipped brick wall at her back, she felt no fear. He could easily kill her, but she knew he wouldn’t yet. It wouldn’t be fun.
“What do we have here?” He purred, fixing his amber eyes on her. She met his gaze without flinching, though she had to crane her neck. He was much taller than she’d expected.
“A challenge, if you think you can handle it.”
His lips tipped up into a smirk. “How interesting. What’s your challenge?”
“Me,” she said without hesitation. “I hear you like breaking people.” The aura around him seemed to change, and she became painfully aware of the heat of his body so close to hers.
“And you want to be broken?” He surmised. “Why?”
She shrugged as best she could with his hand around her throat. “Why do you want to break?”
He waited, flexing the finger on her neck for emphasis. How many skilled fighters had she watched this man kill in Heaven’s Arena? How many had he killed outside of the careful rules and regulations of those official matches? She was no fighter, would never be able to fight him off if he decided he didn’t like her offer. He could kill her right there. There would be no witnesses. A thrill of excitement shivered down her spine.
“I’ve spent my whole life looking for a dance partner,” she went on slowly, “someone who knows all the steps and is strong enough to make me follow. But every song disappoints me. The stakes are too low, the men too weak. I’ve ruined them all.”
Hisoka tilted his head to one side, considering, and pulled a long curl from behind her ear. “What,” he asked carefully, twirling the curl around his fingers, “do you want from me, exactly?”
She didn’t let herself pause. “I want you to destroy me, if you can. Make me yours. Break me into so many pieces that I won’t know who I am without you.”
His eyes flashed at the provocation. “I won’t want you after you’re broken.”
She knew. “Consider that my payment if you succeed. You’ll get a toy, a challenge, a fight to the death. Because if I lose, I will need you more than food or water or air. And you will have the pleasure of watching my face as you walk away.”
He tucked the strand of hair back behind her ear, his long nails trailing gently across her skin. “What a strange creature,” he murmured. “Is this some twisted form of suicide?” Intense yellow eyes studied her, looking for fear or maybe madness. But she didn’t feel mad.
“Maybe,” she smiled. “Or maybe I want my life to blaze brightly before I die. Maybe I’m not content to slip away peacefully into the dark. Maybe I want to fight.”
“And die a warrior’s death.” He finished for her. That was something he would understand. Had to understand. They were two sides of the same coin. If he refused her, she wasn’t sure what she would do next. Wasn’t sure there was a next.
“Very well,” he released his hold on her and stepped back. A blade flashed suddenly in his hand, conjured from thin air. “But first, a test. Show me what you’re made of. Show me you’re worthy of being broken.” He tossed the knife in the air and caught it blade first. “Stab yourself. For me.” He held the handle out to her.
Her hand did not shake, though her veins seemed to buzz with anticipation. His request was simple enough. She took the handle, noted the length of the blade, and locked eyes with the Magician.
The knife sank into the meat of her thigh. She did not make a sound.
Hisoka, however, groaned as a dark red stain spread across her tights. He swayed on the spot and took her chin in his hands. “What an obedient little spade,” he crooned. “But those eyes! Not a hint of fear. Where have you been all this time, little spade?”
He fell on her, crushing her body between the wall and the hard plane of his chest. His lips left a blazing trail across her collar bones and up the length of her jaw. He twisted a fistful of her hair in one hand, and fingered the handle of the knife with the other.
She gasped at the pain, at the feeling of his body against hers, at the sudden sweetness of victory. What was a little pain in the face of this, next to his lips on her burning skin? She’d just plunged a knife into her own body, but he was the one unhinged. She’d done that to him.
He moaned against her skin and sank his teeth into the base of her neck, and at the same time slid a hand up her thigh and beneath the hem of her skirt. The knife and his teeth became strangely irrelevant as he trailed his fingers up and up and up. She would break her own bones for this feeling. She would die for it.
He dragged a knuckle over her core and moaned against the skin of her neck.
“You’re soaked. Is that for me?” He kissed his way across her throat and bit down hard at the other side of her neck, breaking the skin. Her hips bucked into his hand and she wrapped her arms around his neck to hold herself upright.
“I said,” he pressed his thumb too hard against her clit, making her squirm, “is that for me?”
“Yes,” she exhaled in a rush, “it’s for you. I’m wet for you.”
“So bold,” his answering grin was feline. “You’re not afraid of me, you’re not afraid of pain. What are you afraid of?” He slid into a crouch and hooked his hands behind her thighs. Her eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of his lips on her inner thigh, lips she knew could become teeth in an instant. Her knees shook and she knew he could feel it.
“I don’t know,” she breathed, willing his mouth higher.
“Oh I don’t believe that,” he shook his head and dug his nails into her flesh. Her lips parted in a silent cry. In a movement too fast to follow, Hisoka pulled both her legs up and over his shoulders. The knife pulled against her and the bright agony almost distracted her from his tongue. Almost. He kissed between her legs, over the too-thin layer of her tights, tonguing the lacy edge of her underwear.
A second knife appeared in his hands with a flourish. With little preamble, he sliced away the fabric between them.
“Look at me,” he commanded. His eyes were bright and feverish. The sight of him between her legs nearly undid her, but she made herself focus. He held the second knife out to her, handle first.
She took it, and this time her hand did shake, but not from fear. There was still no fear.
He watched her with the keen eyes of a predator as she raised the blade over her uninjured thigh. His breath on her sensitive skin was fast and shallow.
She drove the blade down and felt something stir within her as he lowered his mouth to her lips in the same moment. He knew every step to this dance. She screamed for him, for the pain and the pleasure and the thrill of him as he devoured her.
Blood streamed down her legs and trickled onto his white shirt as she crushed him between her thighs. Her fingers twisted into his strange red hair as he twisted one of the knives.
“I could kill you for tasting so sweet,” he rumbled against her and the thought brought her straight to the edge.
“Do it,” she begged, unsure of what she was begging for as she ground her hips against him, desperate for the friction she needed.
He chuckled, “such a needy, little bird.”
In another too fast move, he was standing, her right leg hitched around his hip. She felt him straining against the fabric of his pants, felt how hard he was for her.
“Tell me what you’re afraid of,” he murmured against her lips, and she knew it wasn’t a request. He slid the waistband of his pants down past his hips, but before she could look down he gripped her face and held her still.
He rubbed the tip of his cock between her legs, watched the way she writhed against him, and dug his nails into her cheeks.
She whimpered, each thrust of her hips against his tearing at the blades in her skin. Her blood still drenched his shirt and she knew he’d kill her if she disappointed him. She didn’t mind the thought of dying, not if it was at his hands, but she thought she’d rather die than see disappointment in his eyes.
“I’m afraid…” she began, and when she paused he slammed the hilt of the knife down deeper into her thigh. She gasped and clutched at his shoulders while the pain rocked through her. But he was waiting for an answer. “I’m afraid,” she began again, “that I’m alone. I’m afraid that there’s no one else in the world like me.”
Hisoka thrust himself inside her with one smooth movement, relishing the scream that tore from her throat. He was moving before she could adjust, before the pain could melt into warm pleasure.
“You’re not alone anymore, little bird,” he crooned in her ear as she cried out again and again. “But you will be.”