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Hisoka had always enjoyed marking people. The smear of blood, the smattering of bruises, he loved to mar the skin, to use it like a canvas and paint his own, sadistic picture of victory.
After the fight in Heaven's Arena, when Gon left battered and glowing from sweat tinged red from open cuts, Hisoka couldn't stop grinning for days.
He left so many marks on so many people that finding a soulmate become almost obsolete. He didn't care. He didn't want to risk that they turn out weak, or worse yet, boring. So he left his cuts and bruises and scars, and knew that if any of those he had marked were his soulmate, he had already deemed them unworthy.
Of course, it wasn't the same for everyone. He'd watched the pale blue blossom on Gon's skin after Killua placed his hand on the boy's shoulder, watched the earthy green burst up Killua's palm in return, watched the delight on their faces. It was cute. Anyone in a ten mile radius could have known they were matched, just by the shared laughter, the sweet looks, the potential harboured in both boys for endless power.
Though he didn't particularly want a soulmate, it was no less aggravating when someone with potential came along and Hisoka found that yet again fate was against him. No amount of small caresses or sewn up wounds turned Machi's skin anything other than an angry red in Hisoka's company.
He didn't particularly want a soulmate, but he wanted to know.
Curiosity was in his nature, afterall. He wanted to know what colour his marks would be upon their skin, under a layer of blood and bruises. He wanted to know what it would look like if he kissed their hand, bit the inside of their wrist, dragged his tongue down the column of their throat.
If they died, would their skin still react with a burst of colour beneath his fingertips?
Illumi was one of the very few people Hisoka considered a friend, but due to their respective lifestyles- Illumi's very professional job of killing people, and Hisoka's less official job of killing people- they were rarely together unless one of them requested help. Still, it was better than most of Hisoka's relationships. Illumi never seemed to be fazed by Hisoka's leering, or his lightning fast mood swings, one moment cheerful, the next vying for a kill. In return, Hisoka accepted Illumi's blunt attitude, his obsession with Killua, and the way that he shrank away from Hisoka's touch like an angry cat.
They were almost evenly matched in strength, which gave Hisoka endless hours of amusement, just imagining the havoc if they actually decided to fight to the death. It might not be as satisfying as fighting Chrollo, but surely the strength of a Zoldyck would be close enough.
When Killua had left with Nanika and Gon was off with his father and Leorio was learning and Kurapika was seeking vengeance and the world was starting to look dull, Hisoka finally caught on.
And sometimes, despite Illumi's own speed, Hisoka was simply too fast to dodge.
He watched, rapt, as an opalescent pink climbed in vines across the back of Illumi's hand and up his arm. Rapt, as a deep, inky purple spilled across his own fingertips. Illumi was silent and still, staring down at their hands with a fathomless blank fury in his eyes.
Bloodlust rose in the air, and oh, wasn't this wonderful? He'd never fought Illumi, never really gotten the chance. But now the hairs on his arms were standing up and his fingers were twitching at the thought of Illumi's pearlescent skin covered in that delicate blooming rose, how it would drift along his sharp jaw and trail down his slim waist. Hisoka's wanted to see it, he wanted to turn Illumi's body into a map of all the places Hisoka could touch, could own.
Illumi ripped his hand away, the colour dimming slightly as soon as the contact broke. In hours it would fade away to nothing. He turned hard eyes on Hisoka.
"This changes nothing." His voice so formal, so cold.
And Hisoka smiled, let Illumi walk away without a fight.
It changed everything.
-
"You've found your soulmate then, Illumi?" Silva's voice was mild, but Illumi tensed nonetheless, hands tightening on his knife and fork. Kikyo's gaze shot straight to his arm, and despite his long sleeves, the faint pink along the side of his wrist was peeking out.
I would have cut it out of my skin, if I'd thought it would make a difference.
"Yes." He replied, knowing lying would be a senseless venture at this point. Hisoka's grin flashed through his mind, and his stomach twisted. Milluki was silent, eyes downcast, unwilling to get involved. Zeno kept eating, apparently ignoring his family.
Silva cleared his throat loudly, putting down his cutlery. "Well? Who is she?"
"He." Illumi said. "They're male."
Kikyo looked horrified. "They can’t be!" She snapped. "Male? No, not another one, not when Killua's soulmate is that foolish little boy-" she cut herself off, a furious blush climbing her throat. Silva placed a calming hand on her shoulder that spread dove grey up the side of her neck underneath the reddening skin. Illumi shifted in his seat, uncomfortable. He didn't like Gon either, but the solace that Killua had deserted his soulmate as well as his family was a sour one.
"Who is he, Illumi?" Silva asked, more specifically this time.
And now it was unavoidable. "Hisoka." He could practically hear Hisoka's laughter when he let his mind dwell too long. He fought down a blush and looked at his parents.
Silva's eyebrows looked like they were going to climb so high up his forehead that they'd be lost in his hair. Kikyo looked ready to faint.
"The clown? But you've known him for years. Are you sure?"
Illumi sighed. "I am sure." He had known for years. Of course he had known. Very few people could make him angry like Hisoka- who else could it have been? But Hisoka had been so caught up in his own schemes and fun that Illumi had spent well over a decade subtly avoiding those small touches so easily accepted by others.
"Well? What are you going to do about it?" Kikyo asked, voice shrill. "The clown? Do you want to humiliate us? Some half rate Hunter whose only achievement is a floor in Heaven's Arena? Illumi, look at me when I'm speaking to you!"
He looked up with an empty eyes. "What is it you expect me to do? I have told him it changes nothing, though I doubt he will listen."
"Then kill him." Kikyo answered immediately, so venomous Milluki choked on his food in surprise.
Illumi held his mother's stare for a moment before looking back down at his plate. "I am not sure I would win."
"Ah. So you'll leave it then and let him run the Zoldyck name into the ground." He hunched his shoulders at those waspish words, and Zeno picked that moment to intervene.
"Enough of this Kikyo," he said, still chewing his pork. "He cant help his soulmate any more than you can. Even you don't have the authority to challenge this."
She clenched her hands into fists and opened her mouth wide to reply, but Silva spoke first.
"Illumi, it's your choice. But I stand with your mother on the front that if he isn't strong enough, he will be killed. You can't help who fate chooses, but you can choose whether you let him drag you down. You will not be an embarrassment to this family."
Illumi nodded under his father's flinty gaze. "Yes father. I will try and deter him, and if not I will use force."
Illumi didn't want to try and kill Hisoka. He didn't want to find out if he would loose the fight. What they had now was a delicate balance of power, neither quite sure enough of the other to make a move. Illumi didn't want to cause that to shatter.
He didn't want to know if his hands could force the life out of Hisoka, or if he would die under the leer of that golden feline stare.
-
He liked to watch, on occassion, as Illumi took missions. Even before the colours bloomed between them, Hisoka had always admired Illumi.
The long swing of his hair. The graceful lines of his slim body. The foul temper, buried deep beneath a frozen, almost placid expression. The elegant arch of his dark brows, the unmoving art of his face as blood and gall sprayed, coating his skin like a macabre mask. The way Hisoka could never quite tell how powerful he was, the ever shifting current of Illumi's nen raging somewhere secret; out of sight, out of mind.
Illumi was a clockwork doll, all pretty and obedient- until you cracked the porcelain.
It was what lay beneath that fascinated Hisoka. That writhing mess of a person able to hide it all beneath a perfectly polite exterior.
Illumi was nothing if not a spectacle. He liked to act subtle, muted, but Hisoka recognised the venom of the snake in his flat gaze; the flare, the need to kill, as one predator may recognise another. It was in the scent on the air, in the caress of the wind, in the sheathed weapons and sharp eyes.
It was easy to see that Illumi liked control. Not in the same way as Hisoka; Illumi didn't live for the fight. He lived for the final blow, the superiority, the knowledge that he had won. It showed in the way he faught- no flare of dramatics, no intended art; but Illumi fought like he was dancing; each twist of movement and shattering blow was a part of his rhythm, a controlled, precise movement designed for major impact.
Hisoka wondered, vaguely, as he watched from a roof as Illumi's sleek form dodged bullets, knives, nen, killed his numerous targets with single blows, oh, he wondered. Would Illumi fuck like he faught?
Would each movement be precise? Controlled, sharp, subconsciously beautiful. Or would he shed that skin, would the monster come out? Would he come undone?
Hisoka wanted him undone.
When then men were dead, strewn about the dank alley like puppets cut from their strings, Illumi looked straight up at Hisoka. Of course he had known. A flare of nen, only for a second but malicious enough to send sharp flares of arousal through Hisoka as he laughed softly, stared into the abyss of Illumi's eyes.
Why had he been so uncaring about finding his soulmate? This torment, this chase- it was more fun than he'd had in years.
-
Blood bubbling between his fingers, spread across skin, it didn't feel the same. It didnt look like the blush of a blooming rose, and Hisoka's own skin stayed pale and unmarred; he yearned for the spread of inky purple to creep along his arms, his neck, his torso.
Now that he knew the colours they were all he could see behind his eyes.
Pink. Somehow, he wasn't surprised that his colour was pink.
And that painful looking purple; of course Illumi's touches would look like the flare of deep bruises.
"You're smiling again." Machi's voice was suspicious as she stared across the table at Hisoka. It had taken many hours to get her to agree to a meal with him.
"Soulmates are meant to make you smile, aren't they?" He asked airily. He looked at his phone, open on the last text he had recieved.
Illumi:
Stop this Hisoka. If you refuse then I will make you stop.
"Yeah, they're meant to make you smile. But you look like you're gonna disembowel someone. It's creepy."
He lifted his eyes from his phone only after he replied to the text.
Hisoka:
I'll be seeing you soon then, because I won't be stopping~
"I'm just happy." He said.
Machi looked like she'd swallowed something sour. "If this is you happy, please be miserable." She paused to a drink from her wine. "Who is it then? Your soulmate."
Hisoka smiled, so wide he felt his lips stretch tight against his teeth. "Oh, I'm sure you'll find out soon enough. For now though, I think we're going to keep it between us."
Illumi:
I will fight to kill, Hisoka. You should have just left it alone.
Hisoka:
Darling, I'd be disappointed if you didn't aim to kill. You're magnificent with murder in your eyes.
It took a few minutes before he got another reply.
Illumi:
I will rip your brain out through your eye sockets.
-
Hisoka saw one of Silva's associates, a middle aged man particularly rotund in physique, shake Illumi's hand and kiss his knuckles. It left nothing but the disgusting gleam of saliva on Illumi's alabaster skin, and Hisoka thought of the print his own lips would have left as he cut a smile into the man's face in some dark forgotten factory.
Weak nen, barely reaching fifty on Hisoka's little chart. But a lovely voice for screaming, and when he staggered out of the building on folding legs, with face opened to the bone and hands crushed beyond recognition, Hisoka felt satisfied. It took a few hours, but Illumi did text.
Illumi:
What did you do?
Hisoka:
I thought it was pretty obvious.
He still had blood under his nails, and as he typed he left smears on his phone screen.
Illumi:
Father is furious- Hisoka what have you done?
Hisoka:
Don't worry, I'm sure he'll tell you soon <3
Whistling, he made his way to a more popular taxi, intent on finding his hotel and climbing into the shower. The tension was there, bubbling beneath the surface. He knew he didn't have long to wait now.
-
Illumi found him in his apartment at Heaven's Arena, one cloudless evening while Hisoka shuffled his cards mindlessly, dissatisfied with a mediocre fight earlier in the day.
One moment he was alone, the next Illumi was in front of him and there were pins embedded in the wall where Hisoka had been leaning only a fraction of a second earlier. The air was rife with that boundless energy and Illumi's black eyes were their own brand against Hisoka's skin. He felt himself harden as he spread his cards between splayed fingers and smiled at his soulmate.
"You took longer than I expected, Illu," he said cheerily, ignoring the blatant fury directed at him.
"Yes, well I had to deal with my parent's anger that one of their longest standing associates would no longer be working with us." Illumi's mouth had thinned to a slash across his face. "Because apparently you have trouble hiding the fact that you have no shame, no filter, and no sense. Why did you chose him, of all people? David isn't strong enough to be your target, and I doubt you've got any interest in his wealth."
Hisoka felt his smile come out, stretched so tight it was painful. He wanted to touch Illumi. "I didn't like the way he looked at you."
Illumi's eyes widened even as his gaze shuttered. "What." His voice was flat.
Hisoka laughed a little as he replied. "He looks at you like I do, but he doesn't have the right."
"You don't either."
Hisoka arched a brow. "I don't? Funny, I stopped David, but whose going to stop me?"
Illumi straightened, more glinting needles appearing in between his slender fingers. "I will."
And Hisoka laughed outright, taking nimble steps forward and stopping only when a warning needle shot past his head close enough to cut the side of his ear. "Will you, Illu?" He paused to spread his cards into a fan, the joker in the middle next to the queen of hearts. "I know how this works, sweetheart. It's not just me that wants this, no matter what you say."
A flush crawled up Illumi's neck even as his stare turned deadly. "I will kill you." Hisoka tried not to moan out loud. God. He was already so excited.
"Will you really?" He asked, tone just mocking enough to make Illumi's mouth contort into a moue of anger, and Hisoka only just ducked in time to dodge a pin thrown with such a force that it shattered the window behind him.
Hisoka's nen bubbled up around his hands, violently pink as if coated his cards and stretched between his fingers. He hummed. "Maybe I don't want to die yet, Illu. Maybe I want to live and torment you a little bit more." Illumi's stare didn't waver, so he tried again. Hisoka's words could be just as sharp as Illumi's pins, and thrown with the same force.
"Maybe I want to bend you over and fuck you until you're screaming and there's none of your pale skin left to mark pink." Illumi's breathing stopped completely, his eyes widening impossibly large before narrowing to a furious glare. Hisoka continued, smiling, taking one small step forward. "Maybe I want you to fuck me until I'm so purple I clash with my own hair." Another pause, another step forward. "Or maybe I'll get bored of the pink, and mark you red instead. With bites, and blood, cover you in the print of my teeth. You'd return to your family, so thoroughly owned that they'd turn you away. Not even a Zoldyck anymore, just an abhorrent, sordid horror wearing the skin of a tainted person." A small, vicious grin. "But thats you already, isn't it Illu?"
Illumi snarled, somewhere low in his throat, and the sound made Hisoka shudder, fingers tightening around his cards. He took another step forward, only centimetres away now, but Illumi didn't seem to notice, his gaze drilling holes into Hisoka's own eyes. He seemed to be waiting, almost, for Hisoka's killing blow. And who was Hisoka to deny him?
He lifted a hand, slowly, carefully, and stroked a strand of hair off Illumi's cheek. The pink blossomed, familiar and bright, spreading like ink in water along Illumi's cheekbone. Beneath Hisoka's hand he made a sound like a furious, wounded animal, distracted enough not to notice the elasticity of Hisoka's nen now softly attached to his face.
Hisoka moved his own face closer, brushing his lips along the already fading mark, renewing the colour and staining his mouth that deep, lovely purple. "I'll tell you a secret, Illumi. I like that horror beneath your skin."
Illumi snapped.
A hand with the force of a vice grasped Hisoka's throat, threw him to the floor hard enough to slam the air out of his lungs even as he tried to laugh, full of mirth, full of hunger, watching the pink spread up Illumi's arm, knowing that on his own throat there was a brand of purple the shape of a handprint.
Illumi followed him to the floor, lips peeled back from his teeth and his hair a static shadow floating in the air, eyes voracious obsidian, furious, so fervent and exquisite that Hisoka couldn't help but want more, everything.
His nen, opaque but lingering on Illumi's cheek, pulled taught just before Illumi could slam a needle into Hisoka's windpipe. He was thrown to the floor face first, and hit the wood with his cheekbone, the resounding crack so loud Hisoka laughed outright even as Illumi whipped up and launched himself.
Hisoka caught him head on, and the two flipped, both bodies hitting the floor in a tangle of limbs as immovable strength was pitted against it's match, each punch with the force of a truck, each dodge fast enough to be seen only as a blur. The room was too small, to populated by furniture for it to be anything other than messy, but oh it was flowing, it was vehement, it was like dancing in fire and Illumi was sparks. Hisoka was so hard he ached as he watched Illumi spit blood, as he parried each hit and duck. Hisoka dragged his fingers through that long hair and yanked, hard enough to make Illumi grunt even as he rammed his knee into Hisoka's stomach so hard that nausea hit like a wave.
Mine, was all Hisoka could think as he ripped his nails along the graceful column of Illumi's neck.
Mine, as Illumi backhanded Hisoka hard enough to throw him into the wall, plaster cracking beneath his weight even as he continued to laugh, his cards and Illumi's needles scattered around the destroyed room.
Mine, as he stood once more, circling his other half, the man covered in wild silky hair and blood and blooming as pink as a rose amid desolation.
Illumi struck again, making the first move, too fast too see and to silent to be heard, but Hisoka knew, could tell in the pattern of the hits and the force of the blows that no matter what he said, Illumi was so far from using his full strength, was so far from dealing any killing blows. Hisoka kept still until the last second, laugh wheezing through battered lungs as the tip of a wickedly sharp needle just started to puncture the skin above the vertebrae in his lower back. At the last second he twisted, bending almost in half as he ducked under that blotchy outstretched arm, grabbing with his own purple fingers at Illumi's slim ankle, and heaving with all of his weight.
Despite his muscle and strength, there was no denying Illumi was a slight figure compared to Hisoka. When Hisoka threw him, he flew across the room and smacked the wall at an awkward angle, hitting the floor with a dull thud and a cough that splattered blood across the wooden pannels.
Hisoka staggered towards him, the symphony of pains singing through his body finally registering past his want. His torso was close to shredded, there were pins littered across his body, his lower lip was torn, two fingers in his left hand were broken and at least three ribs cracked. He was almost entirely coated in different shades of purple, some like lilac and some like warm plub, some in the shape of a fist print and some think streaks, like the glance of a fingertip.
Illumi's arm was twisted at a painful looking angle, and his hair stuck to blood coated cuts in as he slowly pulled himself off the floor. His pale skin had blossomed and bloomed in shades of cherry and peach and bubblegum, and blood was dripping into his eyes from a slice across his forehead.
Hisoka fell to his knees in front of Illumi, all his grace and finesse exhausted as he was swept up in a tide of need.
Illumi met him halfway.
They clashed, knelt on the floor slippery with blood and sweat, and all Hisoka could think as he dragged Illumi closer by those narrow hips was We could burn the world together.
Kissing was jarringly painful as saliva and teeth met Hisoka's torn lip, the sharp spike of pain a white hot flare that made him groan, deep from his throat as he rolled his hips against Illumi, felt the answering heat and the delicate shudder while Illumi's hands, still clawed, fisted in Hisoka's hair and forced him even closer, so close Hisoka felt like they could fuse.
Unbidden, a thought came into his mind as Illumi tongued his canines- what if they hadn't been soulmates? What if his hunch had been wrong?
Illumi's skin painted some other colour- orange perhaps, or yellow, some colour that would look offensive against his skin and not at all like the beautiful pink. Discoloured handprints against the back of his neck, along his waist, down his toned thighs. The thought was beyond unpleasant. And Hisoka? His soulmate some fawning weakling, the colour of his own skin not painted like fresh bruises. It was unimaginable.
They were both sick and twisted and thoroughly repulsive people, and Hisoka knew now more than ever that they were made for one another.
"Do you feel empty now, Illumi?" He gasped as he shoved them onto the floor, resting on his elbows above those eyes; those eyes he could speak of in a hundred thousand different ways and never fully describe. The depth, the blank void that hid serpentine intelligence. The long, pretty eyelashes that framed them. "Is there still nothing in that heart of yours? Or can you feel me there?"
Illumi's hand snuck between their bodies to rest over Hisoka's pounding heart; the one gentle touch Hisoka had received since Illumi's arrival.
"I feel like I want to rip out your lungs and rub the blood into my skin," Illumi said softly, holding eye contact, and the sheer need that swept through Hisoka was almost enough to send his elbows and knees buckling. He lowered his head to Illumi's chest and groaned, one long, loud sound that had Illumi huffing an entirely unamused laugh. "Why couldn't you just leave it?"
Hisoka rolled his hips down, grinding them together and revelling in Illumi's hitched breathing, his bitten back moan.
"Because I'm greedy." He replied truthfully as ground down again, and even through their clothes it was almost too much in its intensity. He was already so close. The fight- oh, no one had survived anything like that beautifully enough for Hisoka to feel such a lust. "Because I'm greedy and I want you so that no one else can have you."
A knock on the door, a sharp slap back into reality. "Mr Hisoka? We've had noise complaints from the other floors, are you alright?"
It seemed to break whatever moment they'd been having, as Illumi went rigid beneath Hisoka and his face closed off. He sat up abruptly, sending Hisoka sprawling backwards with a breath of annoyance. Interruptions are truly awful. I'd been doing so well. He reached out for Illumi, but his hand was smacked away with enough force that he decided to leave it, watching Illumi collect his needles from the floor in brooding silence. Fine, just sulk and leave.
Not bothering to wipe away blood or saliva, Illumi opened the door, and ignoring the startled gasp of the security guard left without any further words to Hisoka. Not even a glace. Only tense shoulders and clenched fists. Hisoka was still hard.
"...Sir?" The guard asked hesitantly, stepping into the room and eying the destruction before his gaze finally landed on Hisoka. He had a nice, muscular frame, but his nen wasn't that interesting. Sixty five, maybe? Hisoka was annoyed.
"Are you alright?" The guard asked again, and Hisoka's thighs tensed.
"Hm, I'd leave if I were you," he said softly, smiling. Blood was still roaring in his ears, and this tension had to go somewhere. Preferably not on the guard, because then Hisoka might loose the handy appartment.
"Sir, I'm here to help you, if you've been caught in trouble. Is there anything you need me to-"
Hisoka's smile widened and made the man pause.
The guard paled, swallowing audiably. "...I mean, I'll be downstairs with the rest of the crew if you need me," he said before making a swift exit.
Alone again, Hisoka slumped back against the floor, blowing out a frustrated breath. He'd been so close. But now he was even more dissatisfied than he had been before Illumi had arrived.
Still, he'd be thinking about the fight for months. He pulled his phone along the flood and into his outstretched hand with a jerk on his bungee gum nen.
Hisoka:
I'm still hard. Can I ring you?
It only took seconds for an answer.
Illumi:
You may not.
Hisoka:
Am I really that bad?
Illumi:
You are worse.
Hisoka climbed off his floor with a groan of pain, again realising that yes, Illumi had in fact done considerable damage, and an erection couldn't actually cure broken bones or cracked ribs.
His phone vibrated again as he staggered to his en suite to start a bath running.
Illumi:
My parents detest the very idea of you. They will probably be sending some of the butlers to kill you within the next few weeks.
Collecting his shampoo and a towel, Hisoka smiled.
Hisoka:
Thanks for the warning. I didn't know you cared~
He received no reply for a few minutes, and by the time Illumi eventually replied Hisoka was neck deep in the steaming water, watching blood lift from his wine coloured skin, already fading without Illumi's touch.
Illumi:
Do you still intend to fight Chrollo?
Hmm. No denial then. He dried his hands and replied.
Hisoka:
Of course. Why do you ask?
Illumi:
If you win, or even survive, I will be surprised. It would be quite the show of strength.
Oh, this was interesting. What was Illumi thinking?
Hisoka:
Yes, it would be. That's not why I want to fight him though, and you know that.
Illumi:
Even my parents would be impressed if you survived.
Oh. Oh.
Hisoka?
Are you asking me to win the approval of your parents by fighting Chrollo?
Illumi:
I am not asking anything. I will be out of the country for the next few months, along with Milluki.
Hisoka:
I see. Shall we make a date for when you return, then?
Illumi:
You are that certain you will survive the fight?
Hisoka couldn't stop smiling.
Hisoka:
It's safe to say you've given me some extra incentive.
He put his phone away and washed, leisurely, though no gentleness took the ache from his ribs or straightened his crushed fingers. He was humming as he lathered his skin in a flowery smelling soap, his red hair damp and flopping into his eyes.
It was only once he'd dried off and returned to the desolation of his living room that he realised he had another text, the chime of his phone apparently having been drowned out by his own cheerful humming.
Illumi:
Good. Survive, and perhaps we will see about having dinner.
Well, extra incentive was certainly a factor now. Domestic bliss with Illumi on the tables? He laughed at the thought.
Domestic bliss wasn't something he could see for either of them, but where would the fun in that be anyway?
Hisoka preferred messy, and looking at his living room, looking at the blood splatters and crushed furniture, looking down at his own body and seeing a canvas of colours and cuts, he smiled.
This was just about right.