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redpastelclouds · 4 years ago

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HC: Hisoka and Illumi are completely insane, but when time and circumstances allow, they’re oddly domestic. Everyone holds the belief that the couple only know how to fuck and fight each other, but it’s the complete opposite. There’s no one on the earth who knows Hisoka better than Illumi, who can process the others emotions like Illumi, and the same goes for Hisoka. They crawl under each other’s skins in the best and worst ways, and the only time the two can even remotely be considered vulnerable is when they’re with each other, no missions, no challenges to accept. Nothing except them, in Hisoka’s apartment, surrounded by the quiet company of one another.

Hisoka never thought he would be the type to enjoy a domestic atmosphere. The idea of it was always dreadfully boring and distasteful, but he doesn’t mind it when it comes to Illumi. Having the other quietly reading in a loose sweater and leggings, with his legs dangling over Hisoka’s lap. Hisoka, browsing through the television as he idly runs his fingers up and down Illumi’s calf. He would never go so far as to say Illumi is off guard, but he’s as relaxed as a Zoldyck assassin could ever be, especially since this is Hisoka he’s laying next to.

It’s odd, considering how their relationship functions. Some days, they’re at odds with one another, working against the others benefit and relishing the other’s fury when they find out. Other days they take on the world together, a destructive force that eradicates all in their path. They’re not above betraying one another for their benefit (of course there are some betrayals strictly off limits), but at the end of the day, if Hisoka had to choose someone he trusted the most, it would be Illumi.

And then, there were these moments. Oddly tender considering their monstrous personalities and their general lust for chaos. In fact, Hisoka had come to appreciate this quiet, this domestic bliss many would think him undeserving of. It certainly wasn’t something the magician ever envisioned himself doing, but when Illumi flips through another page in his novel, and with the low hum of the television in the background, Hisoka enjoys the peace.

He might even love it, though, as he plays with the hem of Illumi’s too expensive leggings, he’ll never admit that out loud. There are many things Hisoka and Illumi have said, but Hisoka’s true feelings remain unspoken. It’s not that he fears voicing them per say, but there’s something intimidating about giving verbal acknowledgment to these sweet moments. Hisoka knows Illumi will never utter a word about it. He’s too conditioned by his parents, but Hisoka still knows that Illumi finds these moments as appealing as he does.

The way Illumi’s frigidly blank expression softens when cocooned in Hisoka’s home, the way he lets his hair become mused instead of styled with pristine perfection. Everything about the assassin becomes gentler and more receptive to the magician. Here, they’re both stripped of everything they are on the outside, leaving what little they have left on the inside. Hisoka never wears his make up at home, it feels wrong to do so. Illumi doesn’t bother to hide himself beneath layers of Zoldyck training either. Within the walls of this apartment, Illumi is free to let loose—though let loose is more of an overstatement than anything.

If anything, Illumi stays much the same, though he’s more receptive to Hisoka’s advances and less determined to kill the magician. He wears fluffy clothes and has a strict bedroom routine. He often tucks himself into the sofa or some dark corner near the ceiling to read. He demands to be fed constantly, but never voices these demands. He’s in charge of laundry (and that may have been due to Hisoka mixing his pinks with Illumi’s whites and...well that led to a domestic spat and all that). To many, Illumi would seem cold and off putting, but Illumi’s legs are also in Hisoka’s lap and his toes flex around the strength of Hisoka’s sweatpant-clad thighs. If Hisoka wanted to, he could take advantage of Illumi in this state. He could start a fight easily, maybe land in a few good blows in before Illumi responds, but he doesn’t.

He likes this.

He like this quiet.

He likes Illumi like this.

And sometimes...sometimes he wishes he had more of it. It could be his age. He’s growing maudlin in his increasing years, but Hisoka knows that isn’t it. It’s not a mid life crisis either. No, what it is, is something Hisoka has missed for his entire life, and now that he has it, he doesn’t want to let it go. He was never well suited for a stable, domestic marriage, but he doesn’t mind if more of these moments crept into his everyday circus of a life.

Maybe...maybe he should ask Illumi to move in permenantly. The other will probably refuse. His duties and loyalties lie with the Zoldyck’s after all, but it can’t hurt to try.

“You’ve stopped.” Illumi comments lightly as he flips through another page with his nimble fingers—fingers that have snapped necks and removed hearts in under a second.

“Hm?” Hisoka poses softly, voice deep and rumbling in the quiet of their home.

In answer, Illumi wiggles his toes, “You were petting me, and now you’re not. Please continue your ministrations.”

Hisoka can’t help the smile that comes to his lips. It’s more of a slight grin than anything, and nothing like the twisted smirk he wears with others. It’s an expression he didn’t even think he was capable of until falling into bed with Illumi for the first time.

Sweet, sweet Illumi. His obsessive, psychotic lover. An assassin. A man who vows to kill Hisoka at least twice a day, but also a man who humors Hisoka’s antics and goes along with (most) of the others plans. Illumi is someone who doesn’t expect more or less than what Hisoka actually is, and understands the magician is a slave to his whims most days. It’s an understanding Hisoka didn’t think someone was capable of giving, but Illumi isn’t just anyone.

“Move in with me.” He demands suddenly, and with none of the usual suave he reserves for moments like these.

Illumi, to his credit, doesn’t falter in his reading, though he does indicate with his legs that he will not tolerate another second without Hisoka’s hands petting him.

“You know I cannot.” He answers plainly, though not unkind. He flips another page, pauses at Hisoka’s silence, and then lowers his novel. Carefully, he closes the book and sets it aside before folding his hands gently in his lap.

Illumi is an odd man with odd habits. More than enough times Hisoka has come home to the other dangling upside down from the roof like a spider, sleeping contentedly as blood rushes to his face. He has also seen Illumi meticulously organize their kitchen, but on the most absurd premises (such as the forks being kept in a completely separate drawer from the other silverware, and the pans organized based off how shiny they are). When he eats, he follows a special order everytime, but that order shifts depending on who makes the meal. For Hisoka, Illumi skips the sniffing part of his routine (where he carefully examines texture and smell of his food), but he does spend an extra minute taste testing all portions of his meal before eating it. Illumi also sleeps oddly. The first time the spent the night together, Hisoka couldn’t understand why the other looked dead in his sleep. He doesn’t move, hardly breathes, and he only sleeps on his back with his arms straight at his sides. Hisoka could try to maneuver the other, but Illumi was still in sleep.

So, Illumi is as strange as his family history, but Hisoka doesn’t mind it in the slightest. However, in this moment, Illumi looks utterly normal. The lights of the city shine through the windows, and illuminate Illumi from behind. His hair is soft and shiny. It’s loose, but in the way that some strands are out of place while others rebelliously abandon their post behind his ears. His eyes are wide, but they lack the distinct emptiness Hisoka has come to associate with his partner. The magician wouldn’t say they’re alive, but there’s something more to them than usual. From an outside perspective, they could pass as a normal couple.

The thought is strangely appealing.

“I have duties at the Zoldyck estate that will always require my immediate intention. You know this.”

“I do.” Hisoka agrees.

Illumi’s lips tug into a slight frown, “Then why did you ask this?”

Hisoka shrugs, and resumes petting the soft fabric of Illumi’s leggings. He’s in that dangerous territory now where he’s at risk of voicing all the things that have gone unsaid between them. He doesn’t want to take that plunge, not yet, but Illumi’s head tilts in that adorable way of his—a trait he does when he’s genuinely curious about something.

Hisoka sighs. To many, the thoughtful expression he wears is uncharacteristic to the usually sadistic and twisted smiles he wears. His make up less face makes him nearly unrecognizable, and if it weren’t for the red of his hair and the knowing yellow in his eyes, one might mistake Hisoka as someone else.

Maybe he is someone else in this moment. Someone far more tamed, someone far more capable of falling into a domestic role than the Hisoka everyone else knows.

“Hisoka...” Illumi says when the other takes too long to respond.

Hisoka tries not to show his hesitance, but his fingers still on Illumi’s legs. His mouth twitches downwards, and his expression draws into something tentative.

“I...” He begins, but he feels alarmed by this situation he somehow landed himself in. Should he really say something? He could always ignore Illumi, deal with the others pouting for a few days, and then everything would return to normal—with this conversation forgotten—but another part of him craves...something.

Something more than just these few moments they sneak in between the chaos of their lives. How does he convey that though? He can speak it, surely, but what if Illumi misunderstands his intent? They’re not an extremely sentimental couple. They have their moments of romance, and Hisoka doesn’t mind whispering a few sweet words into the heat of Illumi’s neck when they fuck, but this feels different.

It feels more profound.

He huffs, frustrated with himself. Hisoka likes to consider himself a man who can do everything. He doesn’t have fear, and yet, words catch on his tongue like a fly trap. His throat feels oddly tight, and a sudden bout of nerves (and not the good kind) twist in the pit of his stomach. He half wants to fling Illumi’s legs off of him and go kill something to relieve his tension, but he also wants to relieve that same tension within the heat of Illumi wrapped around his cock.

Needless to say, Hisoka doesn’t have the most effective coping mechanisms, even if they are wonderfully entertaining.

“Hisoka,” Illumi says again, though this time he’s closer, having moved with his natural stealth so that he’s face to face with the magician. Hisoka can’t even admire the other’s ability to sneak up on him, because Illumi is suddenly in his lap, and though not uncommon, it’s the last thing the magician expects from him. Tight thighs clamp around Hisoka’s naked torso, and inky hair spills like a curtain around them, trapping the two in a safe little bubble, tucked away from the rest of the world.

When Hisoka looks deep into the eyes of Illumi’s fathomless ones, his heart hurts. He can’t tell if it’s from longing, nervousness, or something else, but it hurts nonetheless. Unable to cope with that feeling, Hisoka digs his fingers into the thick of Illumi’s thighs, seeking solace in the familiarity of the other’s body.

“Should you fuck me? Will that make you feel better?” Illumi asks with all the upfront casualness he manages to say anything with.

Hisoka bites back a surprised laugh. How Illumi can say such filthy things with utter frankness will never cease to amuse him.

Still, the laugh dies quickly, because although Hisoka is half tempted and half hard at the thought of ripping these leggings from the assassin’s body, it’s not what he wants.

It’s not what he needs.

He’s....

Having an existential crisis, apparently.

He wants Illumi to move in, but the other cannot. He wants Illumi more to himself, but Illumi only has so much to give. He wants more moments like these, but they are two monsters at the core of themselves, and there’s only so much peace monsters can have. Hisoka never wished he could be different, but in this moment, he almost longs for normalcy.

But he is not normal, and neither is Illumi. It’s what makes them who they are.

And yet...

“Kiss me.” Hisoka demands with none of his usual teasing. His hands tighten where they’re glued to Illumi’s hips. His grip would be painful to most, but to Illumi, it is nothing more than a pinch.

“Hm.” Illumi hums, seemingly contemplating the demand, but Hisoka growls low in his throat and kisses Illumi anyway. In this moment, he wished he could drink the other in. He wished he could strip Illumi of his obsessions, of his familial duties, of everything that kept him away from Hisoka. Hisoka was possessive, but he had never felt possessive of Illumi until this moment, until he realized that he couldn’t have something he wanted.

He couldn’t have all of Illumi like this. No matter how much he tried, how much he craved to own the assassin, there would always be portions of Illumi always out of reach. Trying to accept that was a bitter experience. Trying to remind himself that Illumi couldn’t have all of him either made him want to burn the world at his fingertips. For the rest of their (probably) short lives, Hisoka would only have these moments. Quiet, few and far in between. Drifting with the whims of their lives.

But he wanted more. And he communicated that want with his tongue in Illumi’s mouth, with the harsh way he pulled Illumi closer, with the claiming bites he left on Illumi’s skin. Those bites wouldn’t remain for long. Illumi always healed within hours, but for now Hisoka could feel satisfied that, at the minimum, Illumi was his for a few hours.

When they were spent and panting, blankets strewn across the room and sweat glistening against their naked bodies, Hisoka glared at the ceiling barely illuminated by the city lights outside. Usually, at this point Illumi would slide off to the shower, and insist on changing their sheets, but oddly enough the assassin remained. He lay in that odd way of his, but his head did turn to regard Hisoka coolly.

It was then, and only then, that Hisoka voiced what had suddenly troubled him, “I think I love you.” It was an odd thing for a man like him to say, especially to an odd man like Illumi, but when he finally uttered the words, relief eased its way into the stressed squeeze of his heart.

He sighed. Even though he confessed, that didn’t solve anything, but at least it made him feel better, so he continued, “I think I love you, and I want you to move in with me.”

“You know I cannot.” Illumi whispered, though his words were much softer than they ever were before.

“I know.” Hisoka answered simply, still frowning up at the ceiling. “I know you cannot love me, either.”

“Hm,” Illumi hums. “The only love I have ever known is for my family.”

Hisoka knew that, of course, but he still felt a tick of renewed frustration at the casual admittance.

However, before he could get lost in his irritations and rewrite them into the pale smoothness of Illumi’s skin, the assassin uttered, “But if I knew of other love, it would be for you.”

Hisoka tried to hide the widening of his eyes, but he couldn’t help the parted surprise of his lips or the way he jolted as if burned by Illumi’s words alone.

“Illu—“

“I do not know love, Hisoka.” Illumi said again, and slid over to Hisoka so that they were pressed together. Lips found their way to the hollow of Hisoka’s throat, and the magician froze at the tender caress of those words on his neck. “But I do know you, as you know me, and I want you, as you want me.” It was the most Illumi had ever said in regards to his feelings. Illumi was always one of unspoken affections, but this...this was new for both of them.

This was dangerous.

This was thrilling.

“Oh darling,” Hisoka purred, eyes dancing with renewed passion. Illumi said nothing else, but he didn’t need to. “Let me have more of you.” He growled, tugging Illumi close until they stuck together once more, “Let me ruin you for just a little bit longer.”

Illumi allowed Hisoka the victory, and Hisoka relished every second of it.

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