Author's Note: One of those fics where I don't know what's wrong with me, but I write it anyway.
The portal was a strange thing. Toguro was strolling along the tree line at the back of Sakyo's mansion, checking defenses and enjoying the end of a beautiful spring day without the cloying lusts of Sakyo and his men, when it appeared out of thin air. A swirling nexus, it was colored like a rainbow caught in a cyclone against the backdrop of a blue sky and the verdant carpet of an impeccably tailored lawn.
Toguro wasn't foolish enough to walk near it, knowing those things could be magnetic and feeling neither the frigidity of the Reikai nor the stench of the Makai on the other side. He was curious, and aware of the possibility of danger, so he stayed. Head cocked. Watching.
Finally, after a few minutes, the colors began to shape and form a man who walked casually through: human height and weight, built on the more muscular side of lean, but reeking of power. A curly shock of blue hair flamed behind his head, and Toguro suppressed a snort at his clothing—entirely that of a clown's, though Toguro was quick to note that none of it would snag, impede or tear in battle. That corroborated what Toguro had already surmised from the icy blue eyes above a puckish nose—this man was dangerous, and knew it.
Thin eyebrows arched on a handsome face, as if inviting Toguro to join in a nasty joke, a smile that didn't reach his eyes pulling at thin lips. Toguro wasn't fooled for a moment. He'd seen more than enough sadists in his time to know when one stood before him.
"Well," the man reflected casually, "where can I be now?"
"The ningenkai." The portal had already closed, leaving nothing but the bare mark of brown dirt on the formerly manicured grass. "Though I think you won't know where that is."
The man chuckled like Aniki over an underling's corpse, Toguro reflected irritably. The annoyance didn't reach any part of his face, but the newcomer shifted while he watched him, obviously aware.
"Your name? Your business?" Toguro grunted brusquely.
"Hisoka. My business…" his pale lips pursed, as if for a kiss, all mirth draining from his face and replaced by the dead look of a man who enjoys playing with bodies. "Well. I have none to speak of." His head tilted back with a hint of relaxed arrogance. "But you—you are very interesting."
Toguro allowed himself a smile, rumbling, "You're a fighter, eh?"
"Yes." Hisoka chortled, eyes slitting with delight. Two projectiles hurtled fast enough that Toguro was impressed, but not fast enough for Toguro. Toguro cocked his head, and then reached up, plucking the two cards from the air with ease.
He turned one, the two of clubs, over and over, examining it. "Interesting weapon choice."
"And you are?" The man asked, looking anything but perturbed by Toguro's unflappable response to his attack.
A rueful smile pulled at Toguro's broad face, his sunglasses pushed up casually. "Toguro."
"Toguro," Hisoka echoed, tasting it. Again there was the odd emptying of his face, his eyes widening and an insane smile curling his lips in ways that had Toguro thinking of things other than battle. "This is very exciting, Toguro. I admit, I don't think I could win a fight against you. It intrigues me."
Toguro's snorted, his head still angled. "I doubt you could. If you wish for a fight, I will honor you with sixty percent of my power. If you lose, you work for me."
Hisoka's eyes narrowed further. "Done," he hissed, and then everything dissolved into violence.
Toguro hadn't originally meant to be forced to eighty percent. Hisoka was powerful, and agile in a vulpine way even Karasu couldn't match. It became a necessity not merely to outsmart his cunning games, but simply to overwhelm him.
However, as had happened only a handful of times before, eighty percent power had an unfortunate effect on the grass, the trees, and most of all, Toguro's clothing. Now Toguro was not a man much given to embarrassment, but when Hisoka, leering, had used one of his playing cards to slice the last stitches of his pants off, Toguro'd decided to bring the fight to a quick conclusion, and forced Hisoka violently into the ground, holding him there.
That was the source of the problem. All the writhing, the twisting. Hisoka bleeding. You work for me now didn't have the same effect when his cock was lengthening steadily and his new employee knew it, the sick fuck.
And he unarguably did know it. Hisoka, upon noticing Toguro's predicament, smiled like a tomcat scenting a feline in heat. He'd broken the hold and rolled over, arching under him until Toguro's cock and balls scraped his toned stomach, his own clothes having taken quite a beating themselves, so his shirt was ripped and half-on. His facial expression at the time had been nothing short of disturbing, blushing with a perverse smile, chortling in sordid little 'ku ku ku ku's.
Which he was still doing. Toguro backhanded him sharply, and then leaned back on the balls of his feet and rose off his knees, stepping away from the man, gesturing the man to him and beginning to walk back towards the mansion.
"Toguro!" the man called, sounding far from demoralized by his many wounds, from the ragged bits of his power that were left after the rollicking fight. "There is only one thing as good as a fight, you know…"
"I'm not interested." Toguro lowered himself to his normal percent, his muscles shrinking and the aggression fading from his system. "Now come. Your power is formidable: until you can argue, you'll stay here."
Looking back, he saw Hisoka smiling that empty Cheshire smile, as open and closed as a blank check. "Am I to assume that arguing involves killing you?" Toguro grunted in assent as that wicked blue gaze slid down and feasted on his manhood with eyes as tangible as lips. "It sounds perfect. I'll follow."
And he did come quietly, though his gaze never left Toguro, proving to be decidedly uncomfortable for the burly man. That stare stayed fixed directly, and with few deviations, on his muscled ass. When he listened to the perverse chuckling, Toguro considered turning around and killing him, powering back up and ripping off that infuriating head, but forcefully let it go. He'd endured many gropes in the midst of battle, many demons and humans hurling themselves in his direction for power and protection that he never gave them, but this had to take the cake: accidentally disrobed and lusted after by a sadist who still wouldn't take his eyes off of Toguro's damn body.
Toguro held the door open for Hisoka, who limped heavily as he walked, eyes scraping the entranceway and the lavish side room they entered for only a moment, before they were fixed again right between Toguro's legs.
Recognizing the tight look on Hisoka's face—a man lusting for blood he couldn't spill—he was unsurprised when an attendant, just come to greet Toguro, stumbled back, clutching his slashed throat. Unsurprised when it made Hisoka huff in joy.
Only surprised when Hisoka turned, stared at Toguro's massive cock, and the blood-splattered smirk widened considerably. Toguro arched his eyebrow at the man, scowling, his whole face a reprimand. Hisoka turned away and began to whistle, his ass swaying invitingly, somehow moving with grace and invitation despite the noticeable limp.
And then, to complicate what was quickly dissolving into a desire to beat and perhaps screw the blue-haired bastard motionless, who should walk down the corridor Toguro was trying to maneuver the man through to reach the stairs but Karasu and Bui. Toguro's good idea of finding Hisoka a guest room before going to put on a new coat, shirt and pants was instantly regretted.
Bui stopped and stared, breath rasping out of his mask as he exhaled deeply, and Karasu's eyes sparkled curiously as looked from Hisoka to Toguro, his eyes first closing shallowly in envy at the sight of Toguro's girth, and then widening in wicked delight.
"My my!" he said, fingering his mask. "A stunning upset. Tell me, Toguro: I thought you limited yourself to females?"
The air from Toguro's fist was enough to knock Karasu's sneering face back into the wall and rip off his mask, a dribble of blood, matching the one staining Hisoka's cheek, spat down as the crow demon rolled over and immediately began to get up. Thinking of Hisoka, Toguro turned to find him crouching, examining Toguro's penis intently.
"It gets larger as you power up," Hisoka mused, "doesn't it?"
Toguro grabbed him behind the head, fingers mussing the well-groomed wisps and curls, and slammed him face-first into the wall, taking back his smug, dazed face to snarl into it, "That's enough out of you."
He released him and took some pleasure in watching him stumble, pleasure that died when the man simply licked the blood from his lips and told Karasu, similarly engaged in recovering himself, "You and I, we have some training to do."
Karasu stared at him with offended dignity, blinking lazily, and then smiled a nasty smile. "I will look forward to it."
The two men cackled, some sort of bizarre camaraderie filling the air, and then Toguro, having had more than enough, dug his hand into Hisoka's bruised shoulder and began to march him up the grand spiral staircase, ignoring the curious eyes of servants and determined to shove him in the first empty room he found.