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“Ah~♡”
Razor’s smiling concentration didn’t break as he heard another moan escape the magician’s lips. He didn’t plan to get distracted in a game against Gon Freecs; Ging would whoop his ass if he went easy on him. Still, he couldn’t decide whether Hisoka’s moans were intended to throw him off, or simply side-effects of the game. He could feel his powerful bloodlust from across the court; it was a wonder these kids could stand to be near him. Gon was near catatonic, true, and maybe the pain in Killua’s hands took his mind off things - or focused him.
Hisoka moaned again, and Razor gritted his teeth as the ball sent him screeching backwards, out of the court. He wouldn’t give that win to the clown’s creepy behaviour; it was Gon’s strength that had done it. But the magician took the glory anyway, catching the ball. His sticky aura was intriguing.
One by one, they filed out, going to collect their win. Hisoka turned to go, but a heavy hand on his shoulder stopped him.
“Oh~♡?” Hisoka turned around, his mouth open. Razor’s friendly, frightening, huge face beamed down at him.
“Well-played,” he said, pleasantly. “Though I have a feeling you should be on my side of the court.”
“Oh~♡ - why’s that?” Hisoka demurred, coquetting.
Razor narrowed his eyes at him. “One murderer recognises another,” he said pleasantly.
Hisoka’s lips curved upwards. “Ah~♡,” he said, his yellow eyes glinting. “Do you wish for a solo rematch?”
Razor’s expression became even more pleasant. “I’m done with dodgeball for the day,” he beamed.
Hisoka slowly met his eyes. “Then, something stronger?”
The bloodlust rippled off him. Razor shook his head.
The corners of Hisoka’s mouth turned down. “Oh, but I’m all riled up,” he said, pouting. “I want to play.”
“It’s not against the rules to challenge a Game-master. But I wouldn’t want to hurt one of Gon’s friends,” Razor replied calmly.
Blue shadows gathered under Hisoka’s eyes, more yellow than ever. “Friends,” he repeated, testing the word. Then his aura spiked. “Hey, Razor,” he said, his voice suddenly guttural. “If you don’t want a death-match, why don’t we try ourselves against each other in a different way?” His hands snaked round Razor’s waist, and he was suddenly behind him, tucking that sharp chin over the man’s huge shoulder, so that Razor could feel his hard-on pressing between his cheeks.
“Hmmm,” he replied, pretending to think. “What do you have in mind?”
That was how they found themselves in Razor’s spartan bedroom, a glorified prison cell, Hisoka on his knees in front of him. The magician wasn’t short, but he looked tiny compared to the huge Game-Master, like a vicious little lap-dog, Razor thought, and laughed. Hisoka met his eyes questioningly, licking his cock with a long red tongue and sucking on the base as he worked it with one white hand, the other cupping the big man’s balls, nails and all. He was noisy and sloppy, moaning and slurping until spit ran down his chin, but he’d clearly done this before; it was a performance. Razor thrust forward, rubbing his cock against the clown’s face, and was rewarded with another moan. It was a novelty, after the silent stoicism and pleading of prison, to have someone go down on his so loudly. His precum stuck to Hisoka’s eyelashes, making them blacker, and smeared his pale face, reddening his lips. The clown was lost in it, sucking hard enough Razor could feel his teeth, and he reminded himself not to let him enjoy it too much. Given the hatred and bloodlust swirling in the man’s aura right now, he might just bite Razor’s cock off if he got too turned-on.
Razor grabbed his hair and pulled his head back, picking him up like a puppy by the scruff of his neck. “That’s enough,” he said, impassive. Hisoka whined like a puppy, slumped on his knees.
“I was only getting started~♡,” he moaned gutturally. Razor looked at his face, shining with sweat and spit and precum, and slapped his cock against his cheek once. Then he picked Hisoka up and dumped him on the bed.
“Hands and knees,” he ordered.
Hisoka complied, shuffling his hips, no doubt grinding against his own clothes. Razor knew his submission was entirely chosen; he had no doubt the clown would kill him in seconds if he felt bored. But Razor was used to danger, and it was good to have someone as strong as he was around. Fucking the other prisoners didn’t take the edge off like this did. He climbed onto the bed behind Hisoka and pulled down his sweatpants. The man’s body was wholly shaven, as might be expected; he was a total freak. With two enormous hands, Razor pushed his thighs forward, spreading him open, and Hisoka moaned. He really was such a drama-queen, Razor decided, leaning in to lick Hisoka’s asshole. It crossed his mind that Hisoka might be trying to dominate him by making sure everyone in a three-mile radius could hear them fucking, including the prisoners over whom Razor had to keep such tight control. It didn’t matter; good sex was hard to come by on this island. He shoved his tongue inside that ring of muscle and Hisoka clenched pleasurably around him, though he was already pretty loose. Razor guessed he must have brought some kind of buttplug with him, though he wasn’t wearing it now. Hisoka groaned, and moaned high and loud, his muscles spasming, those nails sharpening into the mattress, the veins standing out on his arms. Razor spread him wider, going deeper. He wanted to stick his cock in him now, but the clown wasn’t quite ready. Or perhaps wasn’t willing to open up so quickly; maybe he had something else in mind.
“May I?” he asked quickly, leaning back and unbuckling his trousers. Hisoka shook his head.
“No, just your arm,” he moaned, and Razor took a second to interpret that, then he stuck his tongue back in. Hisoka was panting, and Razor noticed he had his hand around his cock, already slick, and was jerking it quickly. He was greedy; he didn’t care how quickly he came, evidently. Razor made a silent vow not to let Hisoka cum before he did, because he knew the other man would try to winkle out of doing any work himself. He was a selfish beast, completely unpleasant, and Razor plunged his fingers into his with pleasure, palming his own erection through his shorts. They were going to need several rounds of washing after this.
He managed three fingers, then four. Hisoka’s back shuddered, that thin waist writhing. He was beautiful, really, in a disquieting, disgusting way, Razor decided. Carefully, he added the rest of his hand. Immediately Hisoka’s eyes rolled back, his face haggard with bloodlust, the whites of his eyes totally bloodshot. Razor’s cock kicked against his thigh. He clenched his fist inside Hisoka, pounding into him, the thickness of his arm spreading that tight, wet hole as it flexed around him, the drag intoxicating. It had been years since he’d fisted someone; and he pulled his cock out and slowly stroked it as Hisoka screamed around him, moaning “more~♡, more~♡, more~♡, more~♡, more-”
Razor stilled, and slowly withdrew. Hisoka’s head whipped round, glaring daggers at him. Then he smiled. “Ah~♡,” he said, with a juddering breath, taking in Razor with his hand around his cock. “I know what to do now.”
His ability to regain composure was startling, Razor thought, as he opened himself up, slipping in fingers with the same lube he’d used on Hisoka. But then, you couldn’t say Hisoka wasn’t composed; it was more that he was always deranged. Possibly always turned on. Razor’s eyes went to Hisoka’s cock, bare and red and throbbing, as he sank down onto his own fingers. The clown wasn’t doing anything, only sitting there, panting, waiting. But Razor could feel his aura. It was almost frightening. He stroked his own cock again, a few times, and shuddered slightly. Cat-like, Hisoka’s eyes caught the movement, and he smiled. “Are you close~♡?” he crooned, biting his lip. Razor kept stroking himself.
“What are you waiting for, Hisoka?” he said. “Come and prove yourself.”
Hisoka tittered. Then suddenly he was dragging Razor towards him, and Razor just had time to use gyo and see sticky threads of bungee gum, before he was in Hisoka’s lap, sliding onto his cock. “It’s so much more intimate like this,” Hisoka explained, ghoulishly, stroking Razor’s arms and sides. Razor had the satisfaction of knowing the clown wasn’t hung like him, but still he felt the burn, adjusting at this angle. He breathed quietly, settling in. Hisoka watched him, his golden eyes glazed like honey. “So stoical,” he breathed, and Razor realised how close he was. “Impressive.” Then he wrapped one sharp-nailed hand around Razor’s cock, so tight it almost hurt, and tugged, hard and fast. Razor bounced up and down on his cock, sweating. It was all he could do to keep up: and he saw Hisoka meant to finish him quickly, efficiently, so he could have his own pleasure. He decided to distract him.
“So how do you know Gon?” he asked, panting. Hisoka’s eyes widened.
“Oh~♡? Small talk?” he said, slow delight spreading over his face. “Tolerably well. You could say we’re old friends.” His eyes darkened, his face purpling. “He has incredible potential.”
Razor didn’t say he could see that, nor equally that he’d agreed to have sex with Hisoka knowing that if he didn’t, there was a good chance Ging’s son would quickly be dead, or worse, in the clown’s company. It was sick, how erotic the magician seemed to find that child’s tense body. But then, he didn’t discriminate; clearly he liked grown-ups too. Razor’s lip curled.
“He’s just like his father,” he said, and Hisoka’s eyes were suddenly piercing. Razor found himself flipped onto his stomach, and the magician paused as he slid back into him from behind.
“Oh~♡?” he repeated, and thrust in once with a snap of his hips. Razor couldn’t hold back a groan. “You knew him? So that’s why Gon is here.”
“Ging and I worked together,” Razor ground out, his face turning red. Hisoka had stopped moving altogether, but suddenly he snapped his hips forward again, lithe as an eel, and Razor huffed out a breath.
“And did he fuck you~♡?” Hisoka grinned, leaning forward over his back to whisper in his ear, his breath tickling unbearably. There was nowhere to go, no space between them, no respite, and Razor struggled to breathe, pinned to the bed. Hisoka snapped his hips forward again, and stopped, and again, and stopped. “I bet he did it like this,” he teased, nibbling on Razor’s earlobe. “I bet he was good.” He ground his hips into him slowly, bottoming out. “Did he fuck you? And you stayed here for him?” Then Hisoka’s lips were on his neck, kissing, biting him, kissing his cheek, the corner of his mouth, and Razor panted, and it was almost a cry. He couldn’t think for sensation.
“He was good at it,” he confirmed, voice low and gravelly. “As good as you.” Hisoka laughed slowly into his ear, and Razor hadn’t meant to say that bit out loud.
“As good as me,” the magician singsonged slowly, grinding on. Razor willed him to thrust in and out, but Hisoka only kept on teasing him, filling him, refusing to give him what he wanted. “I’m good,” he conceded, basking in his own ego. The man was such a narcissist. “Oh, yes~♡. I’m good.” He let out a high pitched giggle, beginning to move more, and Razor breathed out again.
“Gon,” Hisoka moaned, beginning to thrust in again, his nails digging into Razor’s toned shoulders. “Ah~♡, Gon. I wonder-” his hand snaked around to encircle Razor’s cock, wet and dripping - “will you be as good as your father one day?” His hips moved freely, delighted, and Razor groaned into the pillow, his ass in the air, lost in the sensation. He had time to think it was weird Hisoka was moaning Gon’s name, and himself to mutter Ging’s name, before he came, blacking out, suddenly exhausted, and Hisoka came too, pulling out and flipping him over to cum on his chest, still thrusting, clearly overstimulated and enjoying it, wildly out of control. Razor just had time to block Hisoka’s attack as it came, sharpened nails slicing towards his neck and pressure points, before he passed out altogether, falling asleep.
“Aw~♡,” Hisoka sighed, looking down at him fondly, his chin on his hands. “I wanted to fight again.” He stood up and stretched luxuriously, basking in the first light of dawn through the window and enjoying the thought that everyone could see his naked body from the balcony, as well as the view. Then he picked up his clothes, leaving Razor tied with bungee gum to his bed, peacefully asleep, covered in scratches and sweat and cum.
“The boss comes next~♡,” he said, thoughtfully, taking out a spellcard and disappearing, clothes and all.