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Kurapika is reading aloud to them, his voice carried on the early summer breeze: "Clarissa sighed and said, 'It's hard to accept that the people who hurt us most tend to have our best interests at heart, but--'"
"What a crock of shit," Killua snipes. If it were anyone else, Killua would be worried about having the book thrown at his head. But it's Kurapika, so Killua keeps soaking up the afternoon sun without worrying about it, flat on his back on the low brick wall encircling Leorio and Kurapika's patio.
"Killuaaaaa," Gon calls plaintively from his perch on a floral deck chair, clearly not happy to have the story interrupted by his cynicism. But Killua is warm and Killua is about as happy as he ever gets, so he snorts and closes his eyes. The sun presses red into his eyes as he says, "Got anything else to read, Kurapika?"
"Yeah," Leorio agrees, crossing his arms over the medical reports he's supposed to be reading in the shade of their cottage. "Clarissa is really getting on my nerves with all of her sighing and tea cups and petticoats--"
"Fine. Some poetry, then." Kurapika picks up the slim volume at his side, thumbs through it quickly, and announces the title, "Heaven and Earth." He clears his throat and then reads aloud in his clear, soft voice:
"We are all born in blood
We all roam the earth
scavenging for what others are unwilling or unable to give us
We are all monsters,
whatever that word means--"
The sound of applause filters in through the trees. A pair pale hands comes into view, clapping merrily. And then, the rest: the sardonic smile, the ridiculous clown outfit, that pink fucking hair.
Everyone is on their feet, wired in an instant. Through the rush of adrenaline, Killua reminds himself that the yard is big enough to hold a decent brawl and that, if nothing else, Hisoka wants to toy with them in the long run, not kill them today. You know, unless he feels like it.
It's the two people who follow Hisoka out of the treeline, however, that make things really sticky.
Sometimes, the assassin in Killua slows things down so that he can process a situation more quickly and accurately. Reaction-time is everything in the business of murder, after all. Usually it happens when he senses a threat, but it's also occasionally triggered by odd little things--like that one time when a girl lost her bikini top at Yorknew beach or when Gon says something especially nice to him.
This time, though, the world slows down in response to the sense of pure threat that roars through Killua as he watches his eldest brother stride out into the yard. The slow-motion effect gives him time to take in Illumi's outfit (civilian, largely dark green), his stance (noncombative), and his hair (grown back out to its full, incredible length). He's closely followed by what looks like a five-foot woman in a cloak. Her eyes snap up to meet Killua's from beneath her hood and Killua can feel her unfamiliar nen flare in the seven yards between them.
Hisoka stands off to the side with his hands on his hips, looking perversely satisfied when they all take battle stances just as the woman makes a hand sign and announces the name of her nen ability, calling out: "Diplomatic Immunity!"
Killua leaps backward when he sees the yellow thread of her nen trying to loop around his waist. He's fast, but her nen is impossibly faster; as he ducks the first loop, it lassos both of his ankles and yanks his airborne body forward just one more yard--and a shimmering dome of yellow nen closes over him, the woman, and Illumi, ten feet tall and twenty feet in diameter. The nen around his ankles dissipates and Killua drops to the ground in a low defensive crouch as the woman steps forward.
"Killua," the woman begins. "You have my apologies for detaining you here against your will. I've been made to understand that you don't have the easiest relationship with your family--your brother here in particular. I have been hired by your brother and his friend to provide a platform for discussing this state of affairs."
Killua pretends to relax, straightening up and meeting her eyes directly. It won't fool Illumi, but the woman seems pleased to see him posed less aggressively.
"Allow me to explain the parameters of my ability. Diplomatic Immunity is organized by the following conditions: 1. I must come within twenty feet of both of my targets before employing my nen ability. 2. I must establish eye contact with each of my targets before employing my nen ability. 3. I cannot use Diplomatic Immunity to intentionally attack, harm, or inconvenience my targets. 4. My targets cannot attack me within the dome. 5. My targets and I are unable to tell lies within the dome. 6. No one but myself may leave or enter the dome. 7. Diplomatic Immunity will remain in effect for an hour--no more, no less. 8. I must explain all of the conditions to my targets at the start of the hour." Killua watches Illumi watching him pretend to watch her. He's only been in front of his brother for two minutes and he already feels tired. "Questions?" she adds a tad breathlessly.
Killua seriously considers attempting to fill up the hour by asking for endless clarifications, but there are things that he genuinely needs to ask Illumi. This is an unparalleled opportunity, for all that it's annoying as hell.
Illumi and Killua stare at her silently and she nods, saying, "I'll take that as a no. I'll give you a five-minute warning when your time's almost up." With that, she strides through the nen barrier and the space fills with silence and that tension which, in his admittedly short life, he has never felt anywhere as keenly as he does around Illumi.
Six yards yawn between them and they stand there, staring at each other, as the breeze rustles the grass. The airflow seems uninterrupted by the barrier, but all other noises from the outside world have disappeared. Killua's pretty sure that if Hisoka was going to murder all of his friends, he wouldn't bother sending Killua away first. So he's not too worried that he's deaf to the horrific screams of his closest friends or anything like that.
Illumi seems content to just stare at him for the full hour. Fifteen minutes have already passed and he hasn't made a single attempt at starting the conversation he was willing to pay someone else to force to happen. Probably wasn't cheap, either.
The filmy nen barrier gives Illumi's skin a jaundiced glow. He's pulling it off somehow, the bastard.
And, in a flash of intuition, Killua says, "This was Hisoka's idea, wasn't it?"
Illumi nods and resumes his staring like he's got some private quota to fill. Killua sighs, officially bored out of his mind and wondering if the nen user was even telling the truth about the conditions.
Might as well test it. "I like eggpla--" the word is snatched from his mouth before he can finish the lie.
He rolls his shoulders and gives it another whirl. "The sun and moon are 160 kilom--"
That's kind of annoying, on second thought.
He sighs and scrubs a hand through the hair at the base of his neck, where it's gotten a little longer than the rest. Leorio keeps calling it a mullet because Leorio places a shockingly low value on his own life at times.
He lets his thoughts drift a little and keeps his body poised for anything. It's only a matter of time until Illumi asks him to come home, after all, and there's no guarantee that they won't come to blows over that. This is what he gets for even lingering on the same continent as his family.
At length, Illumi speaks. "Killu," he says. "I thought you were looking after Alluka?"
"Alluka can look after herself," Killua awnsers, not with dismissiveness, but with a genuine rush of pride. She can look after herself--he'd taught her how.
There's a lull, but before silence can well and truly fall again, Illumi says, "Are you upset with me, Killu?"
The mere mention of being upset upsets him immensely. Killua wants to snap: You have to ask? But it's Illumi. Of course he has to ask.
"Yes," Killua grinds out.
"Why?" Illumi asks--and if Killua knows his brother at all, he's asking because he genuinely doesn't know. Those big, blank eyes just won't quit and, suddenly, the way they stare into him without pause, without agenda, infuriates him.
In fact, it makes him just angry enough to tell the truth. "Because of the Hunter Exam. Because of the needle you put in my head. Because of Alluka. Because you treat me like luggage."
"Luggage?"
"Like an object, Illumi. Like I'm some greyhound. Like you can snap your fingers and I'll follow you home just because you trained me that way! You did it then and you're doing it now!" He's mixing metaphors, but the point still stands.
"I don't like greyhounds," Illumi says. "They always look so stressed."
What the hell? Is Illumi trying to relieve the tension?
Killua returns to the last point at which the conversation made sense. "I'm upset because you're always trying to control me, Illumi. Or hurt me and my friends."
"I would never hurt you, Killu."
He can hear his own furious voice before the emotion roiling in his gut even registers. "Except for when you tortured me as a child!" He's yelling. Which is a mistake; Illumi doesn't respond well to yelling and direct emotional confrontation. But it's hard to think tactically when they're talking about this huge thing that's always sitting between them.
"It was training."
"Fuck training! You were my brother. And you went down a fucking checklist of weapons and poisons to use on me because our parents asked you nicely. And why did it have to be you, huh? Did you ask for that assignment? Did you want to--" Killua doesn't finish that thought, and it's not because of the dome's influence.
"It had to be me. I couldn't let--" Illumi falls silent. Killua can't be sure, but he thinks that the dome's influence didn't cause that either.
The honeyed light of the enclosed space and the absolute stillness of the two of them creates the curious illusion that they are captured in amber--trapped here, in this moment, always on the verge of actually understanding what they are to each other.
The silence lasts just long enough to lull Killua into a false sense of safety, and then Illumi confesses something inconceivable: "I thought about running away." The idea of it makes Killua's hair stand on end. Illumi doesn't exist outside of his ties to their family. More than any of them, he is a Zoldyck first and Illumi second.
"You were going to leave us?"
"No," Illumi corrects. "We were going to leave them." A cold feeling washes through Killua. "I overheard Father order Gotoh to ready the training equipment. You were five." Illumi hasn't blinked, not once since the dome closed over their heads. "I confronted him. You deserved a childhood, for at least a little while longer. He disagreed. I told him he would lose two sons if he insisted on starting your training so soon. Mother suggested a compromise. She recommended that I train you instead. So that I could ensure that your training would progress in a way that I felt would best suit your age."
It feels like a bombshell has gone off in Killua's head. Logically, it makes sense. It explains the nameless tension that oozes between his brother and father at times. And that is exactly the sort of solution his mother would push onto a young, rebellious Illumi: binding him closer to the family and its traditions, giving him a concrete reason to routinely spend large chunks of time at the estate where he could be observed and kept in check, creating the pretense of doing him a favor while actually just dumping a huge responsibility on him, and minimizing whatever resentments Killua might have over his training from splashing onto her or their father. Fuck.
It's hard to believe it, but it's also hard not to believe it once it's all laid out. As much as it galls Killua to think of their torture sessions as a labor of love, it's obvious that Illumi truly believes that. That it was the best of all possible outcomes. And if that's true--
"Illumi," Killua says, keeping the shake out of his voice. "Who trained you?"
"Father," he replies evenly.
Another one of those immense silences passes between them. And then, Illumi says, "I couldn't let him."
"Oh." Killua's heart hurts. His head, too. "So when I took off with Alluka..."
"When you ran away with Alluka, I felt sad." Illumi sighs. "And threatened. And the way she looks at you now... I wondered if you would have looked at me that way, if things had been different." Illumi says it all very matter of factly, as if he isn't laying his heart bare to someone who is fully capable of hurting him or disappointing him or using this information against him in the future. And Killua feels a shock go through him when he realizes that this is how his Aniki looks and acts when he trusts someone. When he trusts Killua.
But that's just Illumi for you: cruelty wrapped around a thoughtlessly forgiving core. Inhumanly human, and at the most inconvenient times. It's almost like... like he would do anything for Killua, if he truly believed it was for the best. Anything anything.
"Killu," Illumi says in the hush. "If you come home for a night, we will cease searching for Alluka for a year."
Damn. So that's why he's really here. It's kind of nice to have his cynicism rewarded, though; it keeps him at the optimum level of jaded. And it is a generous offer, all things considered. Killua can't trust that the invitation is what it seems on the surface, however, so he spends the next ten minutes grilling Illumi about the details, exclusively in the form of yes or no questions. After all, this is his only chance to know for certain that Illumi is honestly telling him what he knows.
Killua is just wrapping up his inquiry--"What is the likelihood that Milluki will actually try to kill me if I touch one of his figurines while I'm at home?"--when they both sense the nen-user approaching the boundary. Her hooded head pops in and she says, "Five minutes!" before she pops right back out.
Killua turns to face Illumi again and thinks: well, what the hell. And then he says, "I accept." Illumi nods, looking pleased in that insanely neutral way of his.
They could ride out the rest of this train wreck in silence. It would certainly give Killua more time to sort through all of this information.
But... there's still something he really needs to know.
"Illu-nii," Killua begins. He cannot believe he's about to say this. But it has to be said. He may never get another shot at receiving a straight answer. "Sometimes, when you look at me..." He draws a ragged breath and wills himself to be less embarrassed. "It seems like you want more from me than what I give you. Is that true?" Hopefully that wasn't too euphemistic.
"Killu," Illumi says with one of his sly smiles that means he thinks Killua is being extremely silly. "I always want more of you."
Killua suddenly feels hot all over, and he doesn't know whether to make heads or tails of that proclamation. Whatever it is, at least he knows it's true.
He and Illumi are still staring deeply into one another's eyes when the nen barrier begins to dissolve in patches. The raw sunlight grates on his eyes after an hour in the soft yellow light. Killua blinks the harshness away and takes stock of the outside world: Gon laughing uncomfortably, Leorio yelling at Hisoka, Kurapika and the woman assessing silently from the sidelines, and Hisoka sauntering straight toward them, tromping right over Kurapika's flowerbeds and crooning, "Have nice little confession session? Hmmmm?"
Illumi and Killua simultaneously answer "Yes" and "No," respectively.
Kurapika pipes up with the air of someone who has repeated the same question many times. "Illumi, how did you locate this house?"
"Why don't we put a pin in that for now?" Hisoka interjects as he eyes a giggling Gon, who is still struggling to wear his 'serious business' face. Looks like Hisoka has found out that Gon likes puns that are so obvious even he can't miss them. In all likelihood, Hisoka's been punning nonstop for the last hour. Some way, somehow, it's probably Leorio's fault.
"You shut your fat mouth, bastard clown!" Leorio hollers, clearly uncomfortable with Hisoka's flirting with Gon in any form.
"Oh," Hisoka purrs. "Have I Gon too far?"
"Oh. I understand. Homophones are humorous," Illumi says. He leans over until his hair is draped over Killua's shoulder and his lips are one hot, shivering inch from Killua's ear. Killua, who is officially freaking out on the inside, listens in disbelief as Illumi murmurs into his ear: "He's Gon-crazy."
Killua makes a face.
Kurapika looks really confused. Leorio looks like he's trying to decide whether or not he's willing to shout at Illumi, too, and Gon rubs the back of his head, clearly wishing they could all just get along.
"This is the second time you've done that today. Being random to relieve the tension. Why?"
"Hisoka said it was a good way to establish goodwill and delay physical confrontation."
"Yeah, but," Killua begins, knowing that logic can and will take the day. "How often does Hisoka talking make people want to hit him less?"
Illumi looks like he hadn't considered that.
"Killua," calls Gon. "What happens now?"
Illumi answers for him: "Killu will be coming with me."
"Illumi-naughty," Hisoka chuckles.
That fucking clown needs to be gone. Now. But how to get him to leave...?
Well. He's never going to get a better opportunity to use his newfound knowledge.
Killua looks up at Illumi and says, very honestly, "Illu-nii. He makes me uncomfortable." Illumi stares at Killua for long moment, processing. He straightens up and turns to Hisoka.
"Leave," Illumi says, simply and seriously. Hisoka's eyebrows rise and he looks like he doesn't know whether to laugh and point or pick a fight while the getting's good.
"Illumi," he implores, clearly wanting to stick around and stir the pot. "After searching far and wide for the perfect moderator for my good friend, after all the blood and sweat spent locating his wayward little brother in the wilderness--"
"Leave." Illumi's voice leaves no room for argument.
Hisoka's mouth finally decides on a lecherous grin that keeps widening as his eyes flick between Illumi and Killua, and he backs away with the cloaked woman in tow. He tosses the woman a thick roll of cash and murmurs, "What an investment." They disappear back into the trees.
Freak.
Killua turns back to the house. He doesn't have much to pack, but he'd better get started while it's still light out.
Gon follows close behind as Killua crosses the patio and makes his way into the guest bedroom, calling, "Is it true, Killua? Are you really going with Illumi?"
Killua drags out his duffel and turns to Gon. He nods. "You trust me?" Gon nods in return. "Then trust me when I say that I need to go, and I know I can get out again. It'll be annoying, but it's the right move. You don't need to worry, Gon. I promise." Gon nods again, taking him at his word. Then he helps him look for his socks under the bed. They make plans to meet up in three weeks' time along the Yorbian west coast. Plenty of time to lose whoever his family will have tailing him. Then maybe he can go visit Alluka and Nanika at their little houseboat in Jappon and tell them about all of the crazy shit that's happened today.
They're doing one last sweep of the room to make sure he hasn't forgotten anything and Gon still hasn't asked him what he and Illumi talked about the dome. He's a good friend like that.
They meander back out into the afternoon sun, where Illumi and Kurapika face each other quietly while Leorio awkwardly, aggressively informs Illumi that, "Kurapika here is a force to be reckoned with, so you better treat your brother right. You hear me?" He spots Killua coming out of the house and says, "He's a good kid, okay?" Leorio claps his hand on Killua's shoulder. "So don't get any funny ideas about not letting him leave that crazy mountain when he wants to."
Illumi stares silently, the void of his eyes coming to rest on where Leorio's fingers lay against the blue of Killua's shirt.
"We should get going," Killua says. In their group's typical fashion, it takes ten more minutes of well-wishing and goodbyes before he and Illumi actually manage to walk away.
They've barely reached the trees when Illumi asks, "Are you and Dr. Paladinight sexual partners?" The sound of spluttering, hacking, and general mayhem swells behind them.
"No!" Killua answers. Typical fucking Illumi-style obliviousness. As they walk deeper into the woods, his friends' uproar falls away to the noises of the forest. Breeze. The friction of leaf on leaf. Birdsong.
Killua breathes all of it in, praying for patience. It would be good to establish some ground rules, he thinks. So he starts by saying, "You promise not to needle me?"
Illumi cocks his head in response, either confused by the question or electing not to commit to such a tall order. Killua sighs and tries to do the compromise-thing that always seems to work so well in Kurapika's book. An actual compromise. Not the kind their mother would make. "I promise not to electrocute you if you promise not to needle me." Illumi smiles, then, seeming to finally understand Killua's initial question and amused at his attempt to negotiate. Peaceful negotiations that aren't instigated under duress would seem funny to a mass murderer, Killua thinks uncharitably.
"You are free to electrocute me, Killu. I'm sure it would be educational." Illumi turns away and keeps walking in that smooth, almost mechanical gait of his. "And I will not needle you. You are an adult now. You will make your own decisions, and you will thrive or fail by them."
Killua chews on that for a few silent hours.
And when the night comes and the sun sets red and cool across their skin, Killua says, "Thanks." Illumi turns to him, waiting for clarification. Killua completes his thought: "For being there."
*
Is it so hard to believe that everything Illumi did, he did for love?
Yes. But at this point, believing anything else would be even harder. Faced with the evidence, Killua knows he would be a fool to say that his brother doesn't care for him, or that he's done anything less than everything in his power to keep Killua happy, safe, and successful. It's just sad that that involves torture. And stalking.
But they wouldn't really be Zoldyck brothers if their relationship didn't include those things, would they?
Killua's train of thought breaks off as he watches Illumi's hair snag in yet another branch. The path is shrouded with short, curved trees that form a continuous arch over the grassy little side-road; it tunnels out into the green wood and moonlight comes down in slices.
Illumi perfunctorily chops through the bramble with the side of his hand and slides the twisted little twig out of his hair, but the warm summer wind is already picking up his hair again, threatening another snag in the close, low-hanging trees. Illumi is about five inches too tall to navigate this road comfortably; his hair isn't helping. Killua knows, from the outside, that the length of Illumi's hair is kind of ridiculous, but he's never seen it inconvenience him before. Aside from being weird to watch, this is slowly adding to their travel time.
"Illumi," Killua says, but he hasn't quite figured out the rest of what he was going to say yet. He shuffles a little closer and finally says, as decisively as he can, "I will braid your hair."
And the really weird part is when Illumi blinks at him and then, calmly, nods his head to accept. They sit cross-legged on the grass and Killua's pretty confident he won't fuck up Illumi's hair too bad; Alluka and Nanika put him through his paces as their default hair stylist. Their requisite preteen exploration of more mature hair styles left him with confident hands and at least three hairbands on him at all times--even now, when they couldn't possibly need them. Killua rifles through his options as he stares at the back of Illumi's head: French braid, fishtail, pigtail braids... As Killua reaches for Illumi's hair, he opts to make a low, side-pony, then braid it and bind it again at the bottom. In the way that he often knows things without looking (because actually having to look at people's facial expressions is for people who aren't assassins), he knows that Illumi is staring blankly into the rustling trees. Even so, he can feel the weight of Illumi's attention on him. So he gets started, finger-combing Illumi's hair and sorting out the few tangles before they can cause any real problems. The strands are glossy and thick between his fingers, sliding out of knots easily and falling back into unassailable straightness. In their lineage, Killua's hair might have more inherent value, but Killua thinks there's really something to be said for the way Illumi's hair slips between his fingers, dark and lingering. Smooth like water and so responsive to his mood, too--the thought is cut short when the wind starts playing with Illumi's hair again. Before the weather can undo his work, Killua secures it with a band at the side of Illumi's neck--and god, isn't it weird to have his hands so close to his Aniki's throat? At the very least, Illumi sits very still while his hair is tended to, unlike some people Killua knows.
There's an ebb in the wind and the woods become close and quiet as Killua begins to braid. After a few weeks spent with all of his loudest friends in one place, the hush is actually kind of enjoyable. The simplicity of the task, too, is comforting: strand one, strand two, strand three. Over, across, over, across. He watches the faintest breath move his brother's back as he approaches the end of the braid, the weave of it getting smaller and tighter at the end.
It almost feels like coming out of a trance when he snaps the second band around the last inch of hair and idly makes a tiny bun out of the remainder. Killua scuttles backward to assess his work. Illumi turns around and they sit for a moment, facing each other in the middle of the road. The braid falls just short of Illumi's navel now, too heavy for the wind to pick up, and the loop at the end braid curves sweetly, bell-like.
Honestly, he looks so... domestic. Not normal, because those eyes preclude any pretense of normalcy. But Illumi does look pretty. On a whim, Killua repeats the thought aloud: "Illu-nii, you look pretty."
Illumi blinks. And then leans forward slowly, inexorably, until he's firmly inside of Killua's personal space. His forehead knocks gently onto Killua's and there's nowhere to look but into Illumi's eyes. They stare into each other for longer than Killua cares to think about. "You look very pretty, too, Killu," Illumi eventually replies.
And for no reason that Killua can imagine, that makes him flush. Because, well, it's not like he did anything special today; he just dragged on a clean t-shirt and got on with his day. He always looks like this.
Even Killua can't say what it is that he grumbles in response as they stand and start making their way down the path again.
*
Illumi, who is exceedingly type-A about these things, insists on heading straight through the Tampis Flats because it saves 0.5 hours of travel. Never mind that it involves leaping over hundreds of lazy rivers and estuaries for hours on end. It saves 0.5 hours of travel, so that's what they are going to do.
They take their first break as day dawns brightly and wetly across the flats. After walking through the night, Killua can actually appreciate being still for a moment as they sit back on a high boulder overlooking the expanse of gray and veins of shimmering blue.
Illumi hands him an energy bar--the homemade kind, made from the old Zoldyck family recipe. It only tastes a little less like a brick of birdshit than the store-bought kind.
They chew quietly as they give their legs a rest. Killua finishes his first, so he falls back and lets the rock leech up his warmth, closing his eyes and feeling the sunlight play over his face. It feels like the first time he's really relaxed in about a decade. Why is that? Why is it so hard to relax when his Aniki isn't around? Until very, very recently (as in, yesterday), it was especially impossible to relax when he was around. Killua's never felt this simultaneous push-pull around anyone but Illumi. It's magnetic and hard to put into words or even into thoughts, really.
And Killua can admit this now: he loves Gon, really loves him, but it can be exhausting to be around someone who doesn't understand the way his mind works. Someone who doesn't understand the pull of Kukuroo Mountain, who can't comprehend what it means to be a killer from birth. And that's not Gon's fault; if anything, it's one of his best qualities. But sometimes, Killua just doesn't want to have to explain himself anymore.
"Killu," Illumi says out of the blue. "Do you still insist on having friends?"
Killua tries to think of a way to defuse that question. If he answers, he'll have to answer honestly. They can't afford anymore misunderstandings between them--Killua can see that now.
So he redirects.
"Do you want to be my friend, Illumi?"
Illumi's head pivots to him and Killua's pretty sure he's never seen him look so surprised. "Killu," he says, his voice faint and confused. Hopeful, too.
"I know you're already my brother, but that's not really our choice. We could be friends, too, though. And that would give us back our ability to decide. If you wanted."
Illumi takes a long moment to consider his words, faint lines creasing around his eyes, exaggerated by the slant of the morning light.
And then, he nods and says, "I would like to be your friend." God, it's weird to Illumi say that out loud.
Killua supposes now is as good a time as any for him to explore the part of himself that's always urging him to move closer to Illumi, to wedge himself under Illumi's arm, to cling to him. He's going to have to start smaller than that, though. For both their sakes.
He sits up from his warm patch of rock and slowly, thoughtfully shifts closer to his brother, leaving a hand's width between their bodies. Illumi doesn't freak out or anything, so Killua lets his body lean onto Illumi's arm, his temple resting on the curve of Illumi's shoulder. He was worried it would take a while for Illumi's body to warm up under his and that he'd have to deal with cozying up against an ice block till then, but his Aniki is surprisingly warm. Killua can hear Illumi's braid shift as his head turns and he can feel Illumi looking down at the top of his head. Fair enough. Killua would be staring at himself, too, if he weren't privy to his own thought process.
He should probably set Illumi at ease somehow. What are friends supposed to do together, again? When he and Gon are close like this, Gon usually says something nice to him. Killua always feels really good and strange when Gon compliments him like that. Like the physical proximity adds to it somehow, and the words give more meaning to the proximity in turn. Maybe he could make Illumi feel that way, too?
"The, uh," Killua clears his throat. "The electricity trials you put me through. Those actually ended up pretty useful." That... probably wasn't the best place to start.
But Illumi just says, "Good." And Illumi looks like he honestly thinks it is a good thing. How can a guy this fucked up look so at peace? It's not like Killua can talk, but still. The mind boggles.
"For them not to have been useful..." Illumi continues, looking back to the flats, "would have been a waste." The words are business-like, but Illumi's voice is doing something else entirely. He almost sounds hoarse.
Killua scoots a little closer. It doesn't count as cuddling if they're not horizontal, right?
Right.
*
Kukuroo Mountain crests high in front of them, jagged and blue in the early evening light. Canary seems glad to see Killua and escorts them through the gate with all due pleasantries. He and Illumi find themselves ambling up the cool tree-lined path, enjoying the peace while it lasts.
It doesn't.
Milluki is waiting for them where the dirt road turns to cobblestone. It looks like Milluki actually spotted them approaching from afar and waited here so he could heckle them for the maximum amount of time with the minimum amount of walking. Mother must have temporarily blocked his internet access again--nothing else could leave him so starved for entertainment.
"So you've come home with your tail between your legs for a night, huh?" Killua doesn't bother to dignify that with a response.
In want of further ammunition, Milluki side-eyes Illumi's braid, which has held up rather well after 27 hours of foot-travel, and says, "Let me guess: you braided each other's hair and talked about your feelings." Killua stares at Milluki in poorly concealed amazement. Illumi stares at Milluki in unconcealed Illumi-ness. It's odd, but there's this moment where Illumi and Killua turn to one another, silently come to an agreement, and then part from each other to walk around either side of Milluki--whose eyebrows are seeking shelter in his bangs--and then regroup to stroll up toward the mansion side by side. They walk at a clip just quick enough to dissuade Milluki from trying to keep up. It feels right for them to be so in tune with each other, to fall into step like this.
Dinner is served immediately upon their arrival. It is, essentially, a mitigated disaster. Mother weeps, Father assesses him silently from the head of the table, Illumi stares at the wall, and Milluki scrapes his plate clean ten minutes in and spends the rest of the time glaring at his phone. Apparently, Kalluto is still out playing with spiders and Grandfather is at salsa class. "Salsa class?" Killua asks.
"Salsa class," his father confirms.
The rest of it passes in a blur.
As they all shuffle out into the hallway and toward their own bedrooms, Milluki goes out of his way to hassle Killua some more, jeering, "You gonna run away now?"
"Tch. I have no idea what you're talking about. I'll be here for breakfast, you ugly bastard."
"You run away from home every other week, lil bro. No use getting shy about it now," Milluki snidely returns as he disappears down the hall. Killua just grunts because it's true and he's too tired to come up with something clever in response.
And, suddenly, it's just him and Illumi again, standing alone in the darkness as the sound of their slow breath fills the space. They turn to walk down the hallway at roughly the same moment, and the steady yellow lamplight rolls over them in the total absence of windows, making it impossible to tell what time of night it is.
Killua kind of dreads going to his own room tonight. It's stupid, but he can't help feeling that if he and Illumi split up now, all of the things that have changed for the better in the last two days are going to disappear. Or that his mother will lock him up in Alluka's vault and will refuse to let him out until he promises to never leave again. That last scenario isn't even unlikely.
Weird as it is, he feels safer with Illumi--on both fronts.
They ramble down the hallway until they reach the fork that will take them to Killua's old room in the east wing and Illumi's bedroom in the south basement, respectively. Taking risks has paid off a lot recently and Killua reminds himself of that fact as he sucks in a breath and gathers his courage enough to say, "Can I sleep in your room tonight, Aniki?"
After all of the weird affectionate shit Killua has done today, Illumi doesn't even bother looking surprised. "If you want to sleep in my room, Killu, then you can."
Hmmmm, that almost sounds like a more permanent offer. Or maybe Killua's travel-tired brain is just letting him hear what he wants to hear?
They turn left and descend the echoey basement stairs. No use going back to Killua's room, anyway; it's not like any of the clothes in there will fit him.
They stride through the second lowest level of the house until they reach Illumi's door, and when it swings open, Killua offhandedly scans the room: walls painted a warm brown. A beautiful pillowtop bed that he's certain Illumi almost never uses. Low lighting provided, inexplicably, by a kerosene lamp. A long, black leather couch that Killua assumes he'll be sleeping on. The soundproofing is beyond complete down here. (Illumi's sole request for his 13th birthday, he recalls.)
Killua hasn't been in his older brother's room since he ran away to take the Hunter Exam for fun. There's a new print on the wall, a bird's eye view of Swaying Kanda River done in watercolor. Part of him wants to snoop through Illumi's closet to see if anything else has changed, but he doesn't bother. He knows it's all going to be high-waisted pants and elaborate assassin outfits; stacks of needles, too.
He turns to the bathroom door and that's when he spots it: a mini-fridge, tucked into the corner of the room. Killua raises his eyebrows at Illumi, who explains, "It is more efficient than always climbing several flights of stairs to reach the kitchens."
Curiosity gets the better of Killua this time. He crouches in front of the fridge, pulls it open, and blinks at the shelves of fruit and chocolate milk he finds there. "You like chocolate milk?"
"Not at first," Illumi answers as he combs through the mail piled neatly on his desk. "When you departed for the Hunter Exam, you left several gallons of chocolate milk in the fridge. Someone had to drink it before it all spoiled. I grew to enjoy the taste."
This week is just one guilt-trip after another, isn't it? Still, to be sure of what he's hearing, he asks, "You really drank all that?"
"Milluki helped."
"I'll bet he did," Killua mutters as he grabs a fresh set of clothes and his shower kit from his duffle. Illumi doesn't seem especially antsy to take the first shower, so Killua goes ahead and commandeers his bathroom.
Killua brushes his teeth and takes a speedy three-minute rinse in the shower. He takes his time drying off and pulling on his thin sleep-shirt and shorts. Then he carefully towels off his hair some more, trying to make it as dry as possible without making it staticky. Killua slides into a daydream about Illumi playing with his hair, twisting it to sensitize the scalp and then gently tugging on it. Letting the strands fall from his fingers, finding another spot, repeating. It sounds so nice. Now how to get Illumi to do it without actually having to ask him...
Killua wanders out of the bathroom still meditating on that thought, and stops in his tracks at the sight of Illumi standing in front of the closet, wearing a loose pair of pants that accentuate the subtle convexity of his waist, his biceps on display as he pulls on a clean sleeveless shirt. The planes of his stomach painted gold in the flickering lamplight, disappearing under white cotton--
The world slows down. And Killua--Killua just wants him, okay? A lot.
He watches his brother turn to him in slow-motion, observes the minuscule changes of expression that mark Illumi's thought process. Even with everything moving at half-speed, he seems to recognize the activation of Killua's defense mechanism instantly. Illumi frowns and moves extra-slowly toward Killua, telegraphing his intentions. He seems very quietly relieved when Killua doesn't take a step back.
They're just standing there, staring at each other again. A foot of gleaming hardwood and a swathe of cool underground air are all that's between them. Killua, a tactician at heart, uses the quiet moment to assemble the facts:
1. Illumi may or may not know that Killua's defense mechanism is activated by sexual arousal, or by being in peril. Killua himself just figured it out about thirty seconds ago.
2. There is every chance that Illumi is aware of that fact--because he often knows things before Killua does. Because Illumi had never doubted that Killua loved him, even when he acted like he didn't. Even when Killua wasn't sure he believed it himself.
3. Illumi's hair is out of its braid now, shining in the low light and brushing the small of his back. Killua wants to bundle it together and paint with it.
4. A Zoldyck always goes to the highest bidder and, after all, Illumi has always, always been his highest bidder. Killua suspects that love isn't supposed to work like that. But in this house, it definitely does.
5. Illumi is waiting for Killua to break the silence first. Cagey bastard.
Killua's eyes slide away, towards the floor, and he says, "Illumi."
"Otouto," Illumi answers, and Killua's eyes snap up because his voice sounds so warm and affectionate and, god, it's been so long since he's been around his brother long enough for Illumi to call him that. The residual good feelings from hearing it give him the confidence to smile, to give Illumi his full attention. Down here in the endless night, anything is possible. Anything anything.
"Do you want to touch me, Illumi?" Killua asks, feeling like they're on verge of something tremendous.
Illumi looks appropriately solemn as he nods his head and says, "Yes."
He steps forward and puts his hand on Killua's shoulder, and it's a heavy and perfect weight. It grounds him, makes him press his feet more firmly to the floor, makes him want more. Killua can feel his breath come a little faster, can feel his temperature rise to the occasion out of sheer anticipation, but he just doesn't know what to expect to happen now. He closes his eyes and just feels the air currents around them, readying his body and mind for whatever happens next.
Nothing happens next.
"Illu-nii?" he says, opening his eyes and trying not to seem desperate.
"Yes?" Illumi says, still perfectly placid.
"I thought you wanted to touch me?"
"I am touching you." Oh my god. Killua kind of wants to tear his own hair out, but he's going to need that later if he wants Illumi to play with it. Killua takes deep calming breaths through his nose and he can feel Illumi watching him avidly. It's hard to stay mad at a guy who just wants you to be happy. At least, that's what Killua tells himself.
Killua can feel the anticipatory and frustrated heat in his cheeks begin to fade. He licks his lips as he tries to think of what to say--and Illumi's eyes track the movement, spellbound. Well. That's encouraging.
Maybe using his words isn't the best way to go about this. He angles his head upward, trying to let his body speak for him. Illumi's eyes lid heavily as he begins to understand what Killua was trying to say, what he's saying now. Illumi moves forward, meeting him halfway as Killua shuffles a little closer, until their chests are nearly touching. Is this really going to happen? It hasn't really felt possible until this moment. Conversely, it feels as inevitable now as it always has.
Their faces get close enough for Killua to feel his Aniki's breath stirring the air. Coming and going, warm and slow. Killua lets his eyes slip closed again and they're close enough in height now that Illumi only has to lean over a little for them to finally--fucking finally--kiss. Illumi's lips are smooth and petal-soft, pursing softly against his. Pulling back a little, readjusting, then drawing in towards that single point of contact. Killua tries to react appropriately while drinking it all in, letting his lips brush gently against Illumi's. He places a hand on Illumi's shoulder, still kind of amazed that he can do that now. Illumi seems to take that as permission to lay one hand flat at the base of Killua's spine, warming him through the fine material of his shirt.
And then they kiss some more, stealing each other's air, the delicate friction of it inescapable. And Killua's still trying to memorize everything about it: Illumi peaceably breathing through his nose, his hair feathering over Killua's knuckles, the strangely liberating sensation of being completely unable to stop.
Killua's head is muddled enough that it takes him a full second to register that his brother is pulling away a little, and he opens his eyes to receive the full-on Illumi treatment: those unbelievable eyes, enormous and inches away from his own. Killua takes a moment to devour them the way they're devouring him; so purple they're black, so black that they're purple.
And then he pulls back a little, too, so he that he has the space to take in the rest. Illumi's face is momentarily emotive in a way that's usually reserved for a battle or a power play. (And the good news about that is that you always know when Illumi is manipulating you about something in the big picture, because he'll have, you know, actual facial expressions and whatnot.) His brows are lowered in a look of concentration and his lips are a much darker pink now, slightly parted.
Killua's cheeks are warm beyond reason and he and Illumi just can't stop staring at each other.
But apparently they can because they lean into each other again, Killua clutching at the back of Illumi's shirt with both hands as Illumi kisses him soundly--
Their mouths make the littlest wet sounds as they work, and it would be gross in any other circumstance, but right now those noises are making Killua die a little from pleasure, from happiness. That's when Illumi starts using his tongue.
He swipes his tongue over Killua's lower lip, then returns to his measured, dry kisses. Killua's breath stutters when he does it again, and their kisses get hungrier and longer. Then Illumi does it a third time, and Killua's anticipating it, lets his lips part for it. And then, some way, somehow, Illumi's tongue is in his mouth. Words like wet and hot don't really cover it.
Then Illumi tilts his head just a little and the kiss gets so much better somehow. Killua must make some kind of approving noise because Illumi suddenly clutches at his hip, his other hand rubbing up and down the small of his back. Killua feels fucking drugged.
This time, it's Killua who breaks off the kiss, dazedly trying to get his breath back. Illumi looks very relaxed now, placing a peck on Killua's forehead. He feels terribly cherished. It's making him mellow, but it's also making his heart thud hard and he thinks maybe he'd better sit down before he falls down.
"Couch?" Killua asks dazedly.
Illumi just walks him over to it, and guides Killua to lay down with his body braced against the backrest, his head tucked on the pillows beside the armrest. Aniki is close behind, his head on the same pillow, his back to the rest of the room. Killua's pretty sure he can count on one hand the number of times he's seen Illumi put his back to all of the exits in a room.
The way he's basically caged him in against the furniture shouldn't be tender. But it is.
Killua tangles their legs together and runs his hand down Illumi's bare arm, just because he can. They find themselves kissing again--and again and again, and then Illumi pulls back to rub his cheek against Killua's, like he wants to feel the heat there for himself. Illumi's breath gusts against his ear and the sound and force of it makes him shudder. His Aniki seems to take that as encouragement to run his lips over the shell of his ear and it feels good, so good that Killua feels moved to say something true, something that will give their proximity that added meaning again.
"Illumi," he says. "The next time I run away from home, I'm taking you with me." Illumi doesn't answer; he just tugs on Killua's earlobe. Or rather, he answers by tugging on his earlobe and planting a wet kiss behind his ear. Then Illumi settles back onto the couch like his strings have been cut. From his closed eyes and serene body language, it looks like Illumi is just taking a moment to process. He does this from time to time, at the end of a long mission. With anyone else, Killua would call it meditation. But because it's Illumi, Killua would say it's more like he's miming being underground.
On their sides like this, Killua can watch all the ways in which his Aniki secretly isn't still at all: his breath lifting his chest, his eyes flickering behind their lids.
They may lay there a minute, they may lay there an hour. Killua gives himself permission to worry about the outside world. In particular, he wonders what's going on in the other levels of the house--and then he doesn't wonder at all. His parents will be doing final stretches and reading a book before bed, respectively. Milluki is definitely still up; playing dating sims til 5am, if all's right with the world. God his family is nuts. Hopefully his parents were satisfied with that shitshow of a family dinner. If not, well, he'll deal with that tomorrow.
Killua wonders, too, if he and Illumi will sleep on this couch tonight. The bed would be a better choice. Moving is going to be a real trial, but he's sure he can convince Illumi to do it. He has the sudden certainty that if he told Illumi he wanted to sleep on the floor tonight, then they would.
Which gets him thinking: if his Aniki didn't want the same things as him, if Illumi were just giving Killua whatever he thought would make him happy... would Killua even know?
The question bothers him immensely.
"Illumi, if you didn't want to kiss and all that stuff... you would tell me, right?"
"Killu," Illumi answers. "When I disapprove of your desires, do I hesitate to make my displeasure known?"
"No," Killua responds, feeling embarrassed for not having thought of that.
Illumi's eyes are open again, which means that they are staring at each other again, which probably means that they are about to be kissing again.
Everything slows down again in deference to Aniki, for his face looming into view. His breath breaks against Killua's cheek and he stares into Killua's eyes, looking about as mesmerized as Killua feels. "A-aniki," Killua breathes, and shit, the sound of it is so delicate, so needy. Illumi's eyes can't darken any further, but his lips part, as if Killua calling to him makes him physically hungry. He ducks down and licks a stripe up Killua's cheek. It shouldn't be sexy--Illumi shouldn't be sexy, but the searing drag of it against his skin makes him quake, makes him hot, makes him feel like it's only a matter of time before he's a writhing mess, but he'll be a writhing mess with Illumi and Illumi will take care of him, has always taken care of him. Illumi's tongue disappears just under his eye and Killua can't help caustically wishing that there were tears on his face, just so that Illumi could drink them up. Killua can picture it so clearly: Illumi staring into his eyes the entire time so that he could track the welling up and the trajectory of each tear. Lapping up the salt of it over and over again until the was no telling whether the wetness on Killua's cheeks were his tears or Illumi's spit--
"Oh shit, I'm a perv."
"Killu?" Illumi inquires, tilting his head.
Killua expands on his earlier prognosis with increased urgency: "Hisoka made us into pervs!"
He feels overwhelmed by the mere thought of it and his head thunks back onto the pillows. Illumi turns them so that he's laying on his back with Killua's head on his chest, his legs framing Killua's. He rests both palms on Killua's stomach and, since they're obviously just getting comfy here, Killua tucks his bare feet beneath Illumi's legs and ponders this new state of affairs. Is he going to be a perv forever or is it just a temporary, contagious thing? He hopes he won't be a perv forever; it won't be as easy to look down on Milluki. Killua lays there for a good while, mulling it over, warm in the shelter of Illumi's body. And even after all this time, Illumi is still bigger than him--broader chest, wider shoulders, longer legs. As much as that should smart, it makes this more comfortable. Their bodies slot together like two component parts, and Killua feels his Aniki all around him, even though he's the one technically blanketing Illumi.
He gets restless, then. Wants to be touched, but doesn't know how to begin to ask. He's not sure he could handle messing up a verbal invitation a second time. And what Killua really wants to do is touch Illumi, but only if he's sure that Illumi is in the mood to be touched. Not an easy thing gauge; not by a long shot.
In lieu of coming up with a strategy, Killua just lets his body do what it wants to do, and he finds himself shifting to the left, then scooting up a little so that his head is level with his Aniki's. Illumi's hands stay steady and warm on his stomach until Killua lets his head tilt all the way back the way it wants to, hooking over Illumi's shoulder. His neck is one long bend braced against the cool air and it should go against every instinct, but instead it just feels right--it feels right when Illumi's breathing changes and the fingers of his right hand skate over his chest and quest upwards. They skim across his collarbone and the real heat of skin on skin makes Killua shake. His palm warms the jut of Killua's throat, now, in counterpoint to his steadying hand on Killua's belly.
And there they are, Illumi holding him by the stomach and by the neck. "Caught you," Illumi says.
Killua looks at him from the very corner of his eye, establishes eye contact with Illumi, and solemnly states, "Yes."
He can actually see Illumi's nostrils flare and his brows dip in some intense emotion. Killua is still trying to parse his facial expression when he's distracted by Illumi's thumb pressing deep little circles into the tendons of his neck. He can feel himself simultaneously relaxing further onto Illumi and his heart speeding up at the possessiveness of the gesture, the threat lingering in its sweetness. This close to his ear, he can actually hear the bones in Illumi's hand working as his thumb traces wider and wider circles, teasing just underneath the hinge of his jaw now. Then his whole hand lays across the column of Killua's throat, his fingers stroking lightly. Illumi's hand presses closer and then he squeezes Killua's throat so gently--and Illumi's hand on his stomach is the only thing that halts the sudden, powerful arch of Killua's back, which threatens to actually allow air between their bodies. The knowledge that Illumi won't let Killua move away even a little, even in an expression of pleasure, makes Killua pant a little. He's run marathons that haven't made him this hot and out of breath.
"I would like to make you orgasm now. Would you like that?" Illumi says, mild-mannered as ever, at least on the surface. Killua, who has been hard for awhile, would like that very much.
"Yeah," Killua answers, for lack of a more elegant response. Illumi gives him a grim little smile and the hand on his neck glides downward, brushing over his chest. Then Illumi is making these hypnotizing circles around his right nipple while refusing to actually touch it. Killua groans a little, excited and frustrated and then both of Illumi's hands are there, rubbing maddeningly back and forth over his nipples through his t-shirt. Tweaking them, dragging his palms over them, pinching them a little, then tweaking again. Killua can feel the sounds leaving his mouth, but he can't actually hear them because his world has zeroed down to where Illumi is touching him and, when Killua shifts, where Illumi is as hard as he is, nudging up against the back of his thigh.
He checks out a little as Illumi runs his hands over his upper body, coasting down his sides and then dragging them up again, making his shirt ride up. Illumi's hands are curious, explorative--teasing along the hem of his shirt, grazing over the ticklish skin of his midriff and making Killua's stomach jump. Killua grabs blindly at the couch cushions as Illumi starts massaging the outside of his thighs, hands working in tandem to drive Killua completely fucking crazy. It feels like Illumi touches him like that--reverently, playfully, all over--for hours and hours.
At long last, Illumi leisurely reaches up to ghost over his erection through his pants. Killua curses the invention of pajamas.
His Aniki releases a long, hot breath and suddenly, his other hand is moving over Killua's stomach, down, down, down. His fingertips are dragging through the coarse white hair that disappears into his shorts. Illumi's hand disappears there, too, and--holy fucking god, it's--he's--
A loud moan tears out of Killua, and then the moans are coming one after another, his hips bucking, heat flooding into his gut. Illumi's erection sears into his thigh as he jacks Killua, slowly and methodically.
Sweat is collecting on the back of Killua's neck and his claws come out on reflex. He does his best not to shred the leather as he clutches at the cushions when Illumi's tongue laves at a drop of sweat on his skin, high on his throat.
Killua hates the way he sounds, but his body likes it. He gives a particularly loud groan and his hips jerk just from hearing it. Illumi seems to like it, too, because he always repeats whatever is was that made Killua loud in the first place--a slight twist at the end of a stroke, or his thumb swiping across the tip.
Front to back like this, he can only read Illumi's responses through his actions, through what his hands are doing. And Killua wants--Killua wants to see what Illumi is feeling, wants to see everything.
"Aniki," Killua begins breathlessly. Illumi hums in question and his strokes speed up a little, as if Killua being able to speak coherently is evidence that he isn't experiencing as much pleasure as he could be.
"Could we--hah--lay on our sides? I want to--uhhh, fuck--see your f-face."
Illumi doesn't even take his hand out of his pants. He just twists them to the side, Killua's weight against the backrest again. The new angle encourages Killua's hips to pump a little into the tunnel of Illumi's hand, and the act is made so much unbelievable by looking at Illumi's face at the same time, which now has the slightest flush to it.
Every now again he'll actually tune into whatever crazy shit has been falling out his mouth. From what he can tell, it's mostly these desperate little "uh uh uh" noises and strange comments like, "Those eyes, those eyes--"
Pretty soon, Killua can feel that spark at the seat of his spine, his toes curling as his hips start to stutter. Illumi seems to recognize the signs, too, because he suddenly leans in and presses his lips to Killua's temple, the corners of his mouth, the delicate skin above his eye. So there he is, gasping and writhing and fucking dying while Illumi peppers his face in these sweet little kisses. It's incongruous but it's doing something to him--and god, it's so obvious how much Illumi loves him, that he wants him like nothing else and Killua suddenly hates, hates the fact that Hisoka saw this before him.
The thought gets swept away in the tide of sensation that rolls through his body--eyes fluttering shut, head snapping back, the heat in his groin intensifying to the point of feeling incandescently cool, his back arching unhindered this time. Another spark, bigger this time, and then it's gone, his head going light and fuzzy as his body falls out of its rictus. There's the jarring feeling of his claws sliding back into their sheath; by touch, the couch still seems to be in tact. His chest heaves against Illumi's and his eyes slide open as he thinks idly about needing a new pair of pants.
And, because Illumi is an assassin's assassin and a dexterous bastard, he's managed catch all of it in his hand. His cupped fingers slide out of Killua's pants and he brings them straight to his own mouth and closes his eyes as he begins to drink. Whatever breath he had managed to regain whooshes right out of him as he watches Illumi lap Killua's come off of his own hand, tongue sweeping through the valley of each finger to make sure he gets it all.
Killua fights through the fuzz in his head to ask, "What would you like to do now?"
In response, Illumi slides himself down the couch, wrapping his arms around Killua's legs and resting his head on Killua's middle.
Still winded from orgasm, he watches Illumi nuzzle into his stomach, affectionate and quietly needy and so very Illumi. "God, you--" It's stupid to say such an obvious thing out loud, but he can't help himself. "You really love me, don't you?" Illumi looks up at him with galaxies of meaning in his eyes. The moment stretches. And then Illumi nods, as grave as Killua has ever seen him. Then he places his head on the flat of Killua's stomach, his cheek warm and soft against Killua's skin. It's such a vulnerable gesture, one that makes Killua feel happy but worried, like Illumi's in trouble. But Illumi's not in trouble; they're safe, here, together. Instead, it's like something could hurt Illumi, in the future--like Killua could hurt Illumi and the thought of that, suddenly, feels sickening. It makes Killua's throat tighten up and it makes him think: Killua had better watch himself. He can't keep acting like Illumi is a heartless entity with mysterious intentions. Because that couldn't be further from the truth. And they both know that now.
It's going to be hard to avoid slipping into old habits. But if all of this touching is their new habit, then he thinks they'll be fine. Proximity seems to be the remedy for 90% of their problems. The other 10% is going to be a real bucket of monkey piss, but hell, Killua hasn't gotten this far in life by avoiding opportunities to build character. And he has no doubt that it will, in fact, be character-building.
With that in mind, he places a hand on the back of Illumi's head, savoring the silk of it under his palm. Perhaps Illumi might like--
It's worth trying, anyway. Killua pops his claws back out on his right hand and Illumi doesn't even tense, although he does give off a vague air of confusion. Before Killua can think about it too hard, he brings his claws down to card through Illumi's hair. Illumi relaxes into it, laying a little more heavily on Killua's lower half. Killua takes that as a ringing endorsement and he drags his claws gently over the nape of Illumi's neck, playing with the final strands there. It's every bit as intimate as anything else they've done tonight, the way his fingers trace the curve of Illumi's skull. The room fills with the sound of his nails softly scraping against his brother's scalp. He can't hear the change in his brother's breathing, but he can feel the rise and fall of Illumi's chest against his legs, and he can feel those breaths abruptly transition from content and organic to neutral and forcibly regulated. Illumi is trying not react to something. Are Killua's claws making him uncomfortable--?
Killua feels Illumi's body temperature rise when places his other hand on Illumi's shoulder. Oh. Illumi wants to be touched, too. Well that's good news.
He zigzags his claws in a new, circuitous pattern and says, "I promise to watch your back if you watch mine." Illumi exhales against the skin of his stomach and nods again, not even bothering to lift his head. His hair rubs against Killua's middle with the motion and Killua does his very, very best not to get hard again.
He's going to watch Illumi's back. That task starts now.
"Illumi, would you like it if I touched you now?"
Illumi looks muzzily up at him.
"You're always taking care of me," Killua says. "Let me take care of you."
Illumi smiles at him and Killua, Killua loves that smile and can freely admit that he's always going to associate it with sex now.
"Yes. I want you to," Illumi answers.
"Then get the hell up here," Killua says with a laugh as he tries to pull his Aniki up by his arms. It's pretty useless until Illumi levers himself up and crawls forward to loom over Killua's face, essentially on all fours. Illumi's hand cups his cheek, his thumb sweeping back and forth under Killua's eye as they just sit there staring at each other again. Killua loves all of the looking, but now--now he wants to touch. So he places a daring hand on the back of Illumi's neck and draws him down to meet Killua's lips directly. Right away, the kiss gets dirty and hungry, their tongues making slick noises as they work. Illumi doesn't taste very good, but that's okay.
Killua lets his hands sweep over the warm skin of Illumi's back and then, on a hunch, he scratches carefully over the skin there. Illumi's head swings back, gathering his breath as his enormously dark eyes bore into the wall. It affords Killua a prime opportunity to nose along his neck, leaves kisses and tiny bites until he finds the place at the join of his neck and shoulder that makes Illumi's inhales sharpen and his hips rock, once, into the empty air. The unconsciousness of it, the pleasure it evokes--it makes Killua attack that spot, worrying it with his teeth and scouring it with his tongue until Illumi's hips are rolling again and again.
He wants to tease Illumi's senses, to work his body up to a froth like his brother did to him, but Illumi's been hard for so long already and Killua wants to make him feel as good as possible right now.
So he puts his hands on Illumi's hips and squeezes the curve of them briefly before grabbing the band of Illumi's pants and yanking them down. He moans at the sight of Illumi's cock, distending the front of his sensible black underwear. There's not enough light to tell for certain, but that looks like a wet patch of precum right on the front panel. He paws at it and yes, through the distraction of Illumi's harsh exhale and another slight rise in his body temperature, he can feel the stain of it--wet and strangely silky against his palm. Killua hooks his fingers into the waistband and carefully pulls the underwear down to where Illumi's pants are arrested mid-thigh.
Killua takes a long, appreciative look: red, curved, and rigid against the hairless planes of his groin. And then Killua stares up at Illumi's face as he wraps his hand around it and gently begins to stroke. Illumi's pleasure is so quiet, yet so satisfying to watch. The lowered lids and lax mouth, coalescing into an almost sleepy look.
He wants to see even more. Killua's hand works a little harder, transitioning into quick, even strokes. Illumi likes it. Killua can tell because his head bows with almost a grimace, his hair spilling over his shoulder and curtaining out the rest of the world so that it's just them, here, doing this.
Something this repetitive should be boring, but it really, really isn't.
And Killua's other hand gropes lower, moves to hold Illumi's balls. The skin of them is different than Killua's--smooth and sensitive. Better than velvet.
Time gets syrupy again, a fog of his wrist working furiously to keep a measured pace. Of gently, gently kneading Illumi's balls. Of Illumi's breaths becoming shorter, labored.
And for the nth time this week, he can feel Illumi's eyes on him and when he stares back, he can't help the wave of awe that crashes over him, anew, at seeing Illumi's face shaped by pleasure. His mouth is open and red, his whole face expressive in the way he only allows it to be in the throes of bloodlust. His eyes bore down at Killua's, drinking him in even now. Heat throbs in Killua's gut when Illumi sighs and he starts fucking into Killua's hand with these faltering, frenetic little thrusts.
Suddenly, Killua needs to see it, needs to see Illumi alive and straining and falling apart. He lets go of his balls so that he can drag his claws over Illumi's back and he places a quick, biting kiss at that bruised little spot on Illumi's neck just as his hand speeds up to a feverish, game-ending pace.
And finally--Illumi is coming, and Killua actually gets to watch his brother's eyes roll back in his head. He observes, too, the way Illumi's head tilts back to accentuate the slight arch of his back, his biceps visibly tightening as he rides out the last few pulses of orgasm, his lips parted in one long silent exhale. Breathtaking.
Killua doesn't quite have his brother's skill-set, though, so his hand ends up covered in come, some of it dripping onto his stomach. Illumi drops heavily onto Killua, but manages it with grace: his head beside Killua's, his legs managing to avoid knocking into Killua's renewed, unwelcome erection.
The room is quiet and restful, and he watches the lamplight play with the geometry of Illumi's face, drawing a golden triangle here and black shadow there. And Killua likes this, too--laying here, cleaved together with sweat and exhaustion and satisfaction.
Is it supposed to be this easy?
It's probably not supposed to be, Killua thinks as he tugs Illumi closer to him--into the shelter of his body, now. But it could be. It could be.