WAITING
-kat-
She pressed herself closer to the wall, breathing heavily. Her heartbeat was surging out of control – maybe from fear, maybe due to the sudden adrenalin rush as she saw him walk into her line of vision. At the same time, tension was making it hard for her to concentrate into hiding her aura. What a shame, such an expert in the art of Nen and she can't even do a simple trick.
Beads of sweat began to form on her forehead as she gazed at his well- defined body. She dropped by his hotel room that night, feeling the need to pay him a surprise visit. Whether it was sheer coincidence or just fate playing with the two of them, she arrived just as he was coming out of the bathroom. Fresh from his shower.
She remembered that one time when Kuroro asked her to summon him a couple of months ago. When he almost felt the pleasure of kissing her as he held her pinned to the wall. Only now she had no reason to be there. She was just...there.
Her pulse quickened as she took in every detail of him. His pale skin, still wet from the bath, glistened under the dim light of the chandelier. The moisture held down his otherwise unruly shock of hair, bringing it to a length that reached the nape of his neck. His arms, which had so often escaped her observant eyes, were now displayed in front of her. They were an impressive pair, long and very well-shaped...and extremely deadly. His chest, now stripped from all his clothes, suddenly seemed like a master sculptor's finest piece. It was lean and muscular, not too broad and not too wiry. Enough to get her distracted for a split-second.
She knew he was good-looking, but she didn't quite expect that he had a body like that of a model's. It was as if he stepped right out of the pages of a fashion magazine. Only this model sported not a preppy designer suit but a damp, clingy towel.
It was getting harder and harder for her to breathe. He looked so amazingly beautiful – too beautiful – it was almost scary. She thought it was justified to compare him to the golden Greek god Apollo. Although she would not admit it openly, she admired him. No, it was more than admiration.
She longed for him...wanted him.
He knew she was there inside the room, knew she was watching his every move. He'd sensed her presence ever since she walked inside the building. There can be no mistake about it. He yearned for her so badly that he'd developed the special ability of knowing if she was within the same vicinity as him.
As easy as it was for him to take her out of hiding place, he didn't make a single move towards her. He wanted her to come out on her own. And he knew he wouldn't have to wait for long. Not while he could feel the pressure and mixed feelings rapidly turning to turmoil inside her. She was strong, true, but she doesn't have enough resilience when it comes to things like human emotions and hormones. Especially hormones.
A drop of sweat trickled down her temple, sliding down her cheek and bridging her neck. She couldn't take any more. The confusion was growing, the tension building. And she was slowly losing control of her own body, something that never happened before. It was unbearable.
A voice was screaming inside her head. Suddenly she felt dizzy. She found her hands reaching for the closet door, aching to open it and reveal herself to the seemingly unsuspecting figure only a few feet away. She struggled against herself, a vain attempt at regaining control over what now seems to be a numb set of muscles and bones.
It was useless. The urges were winning. A soft creak escaped the hinges of the opening door.
No...
Now her feet were taking slow, sure steps towards him. She wanted to stop, but she found it impossible to go against the will of her body. It was as if she were possessed by something entirely new to her. A strip of eternity passed, and she found herself dangerously close to him.
She was afraid to look up at him, he knew, so he did the best he could do. Ever so tenderly, he cupped her small chin in his hand and lifted her face.
Now it was his turn to be confused. Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw in her eyes. They were especially captivating at that moment, pleading and fearful at the same time. Somewhere inside, there were also hints of defiance and pride. But the most surprising was the amount of affection he saw in the pair of orbs looking back at him. Love...and much more.
"Machi..."
His voice brought her senses back. Startled at their proximity, she staggered back a few steps. The feel of his touch on her chin lingered as the moments flew by.
"I...I just..." she started, searching for the right words to say.
He gave her an enigmatic smile. "Why so frightened, my dear? I won't hurt you."
Ironically, she felt more terrified. A hundred contradicting thoughts ran through her head.
Get out. Now.
No, stay. You know you want to.
He's only playing, you know that.
He took a step towards her. Then another. And another. Suddenly he was so close to her, she felt suffocated. She could feel his heart beating almost as fast as hers. He was afraid. Just like her.
"Hisoka," she whispered, a bizarre allusion to lust floating in her voice.
They stared at each other for a long time. The silence was maddening. Neither wanted to make a move, each one measuring the other's thoughts. They craved for each other – that much was spoken. But...
Then, without warning, he reached out to her and held her soothingly by the shoulders. The doubt, fear, and anxiety she felt slowly dissolved as she read the amorous look in his eyes, when she recognized the protectiveness in his diffident touch.
Her trembling hands slid up his bare back, eventually reaching his neck. He pulled her to him, testing the waters. She didn't protest. Unable to restrain his feelings any longer, he entwined his strong arms around her and inhaled her sweetness.
"I've waited for this for so long," she murmured softly into her hair.
She smiled and held him tighter. Suddenly, being in the wrong place at the wrong time didn't seem so bad after all.
*****
She scanned the sheets of paper a fifth time, not believing her eyes. She didn't know what to feel. Her immediate reaction was that of irritation and disgust, with mild – almost irrelevant – indications of amusement.
Aside from the disturbing, vivid scenes in the unbelievably well written story, the name of the author staring back at her in black ink at the bottom of the last page was even more disturbing. She had no idea how he was able to write such descriptive details out of his, supposedly, dormant imagination. Details concerning her unspoken thoughts, her unwarranted feelings. Worse, given a situation such as that in the story, she knew that she would've acted in the exact same way he'd described.
That clown! How dare he...
"Machi?!" a familiar voice exclaimed, startling her.
It was Hisoka.
He rushed to her side and saw the papers in her hand. Eyes widening, he snatched them away from her as if it would change the fact that she'd read about his deepest desire: her. Not a fight with Kuroro, not to kill Gon, but to have her locked in an eternal embrace. And maybe more.
For the first time in all the twenty-seven years of his existence, a blush crept up his cheeks – too violent to be hidden by the paint on his face and too comical to ignore.
Machi found her voice first.
"You're sick," she said and turned to go.
"Wait!" Hisoka called and grasped her hand. "Let me explain..."
Machi shook her hand free. "No need. Now, if you'll just excuse me, I have to go."
Hisoka watched her helplessly, unable to utter any sound to keep her from leaving. How could he? She'd just read his death wish.
Great. Just great. My first attempt at expressing my thoughts about Machi and I get dumped for it.
"Hisoka?"
He raised his head at the sound of her divine voice calling his name. He'd expected her to say what she always says: "Idiot." Something to that effect, or maybe even worse.
"Yeah?" he asked uneasily, looking apprehensively at her.
She smiled. She actually smiled.
"How much longer are you planning to wait?"
-kat-
She pressed herself closer to the wall, breathing heavily. Her heartbeat was surging out of control – maybe from fear, maybe due to the sudden adrenalin rush as she saw him walk into her line of vision. At the same time, tension was making it hard for her to concentrate into hiding her aura. What a shame, such an expert in the art of Nen and she can't even do a simple trick.
Beads of sweat began to form on her forehead as she gazed at his well- defined body. She dropped by his hotel room that night, feeling the need to pay him a surprise visit. Whether it was sheer coincidence or just fate playing with the two of them, she arrived just as he was coming out of the bathroom. Fresh from his shower.
She remembered that one time when Kuroro asked her to summon him a couple of months ago. When he almost felt the pleasure of kissing her as he held her pinned to the wall. Only now she had no reason to be there. She was just...there.
Her pulse quickened as she took in every detail of him. His pale skin, still wet from the bath, glistened under the dim light of the chandelier. The moisture held down his otherwise unruly shock of hair, bringing it to a length that reached the nape of his neck. His arms, which had so often escaped her observant eyes, were now displayed in front of her. They were an impressive pair, long and very well-shaped...and extremely deadly. His chest, now stripped from all his clothes, suddenly seemed like a master sculptor's finest piece. It was lean and muscular, not too broad and not too wiry. Enough to get her distracted for a split-second.
She knew he was good-looking, but she didn't quite expect that he had a body like that of a model's. It was as if he stepped right out of the pages of a fashion magazine. Only this model sported not a preppy designer suit but a damp, clingy towel.
It was getting harder and harder for her to breathe. He looked so amazingly beautiful – too beautiful – it was almost scary. She thought it was justified to compare him to the golden Greek god Apollo. Although she would not admit it openly, she admired him. No, it was more than admiration.
She longed for him...wanted him.
He knew she was there inside the room, knew she was watching his every move. He'd sensed her presence ever since she walked inside the building. There can be no mistake about it. He yearned for her so badly that he'd developed the special ability of knowing if she was within the same vicinity as him.
As easy as it was for him to take her out of hiding place, he didn't make a single move towards her. He wanted her to come out on her own. And he knew he wouldn't have to wait for long. Not while he could feel the pressure and mixed feelings rapidly turning to turmoil inside her. She was strong, true, but she doesn't have enough resilience when it comes to things like human emotions and hormones. Especially hormones.
A drop of sweat trickled down her temple, sliding down her cheek and bridging her neck. She couldn't take any more. The confusion was growing, the tension building. And she was slowly losing control of her own body, something that never happened before. It was unbearable.
A voice was screaming inside her head. Suddenly she felt dizzy. She found her hands reaching for the closet door, aching to open it and reveal herself to the seemingly unsuspecting figure only a few feet away. She struggled against herself, a vain attempt at regaining control over what now seems to be a numb set of muscles and bones.
It was useless. The urges were winning. A soft creak escaped the hinges of the opening door.
No...
Now her feet were taking slow, sure steps towards him. She wanted to stop, but she found it impossible to go against the will of her body. It was as if she were possessed by something entirely new to her. A strip of eternity passed, and she found herself dangerously close to him.
She was afraid to look up at him, he knew, so he did the best he could do. Ever so tenderly, he cupped her small chin in his hand and lifted her face.
Now it was his turn to be confused. Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw in her eyes. They were especially captivating at that moment, pleading and fearful at the same time. Somewhere inside, there were also hints of defiance and pride. But the most surprising was the amount of affection he saw in the pair of orbs looking back at him. Love...and much more.
"Machi..."
His voice brought her senses back. Startled at their proximity, she staggered back a few steps. The feel of his touch on her chin lingered as the moments flew by.
"I...I just..." she started, searching for the right words to say.
He gave her an enigmatic smile. "Why so frightened, my dear? I won't hurt you."
Ironically, she felt more terrified. A hundred contradicting thoughts ran through her head.
Get out. Now.
No, stay. You know you want to.
He's only playing, you know that.
He took a step towards her. Then another. And another. Suddenly he was so close to her, she felt suffocated. She could feel his heart beating almost as fast as hers. He was afraid. Just like her.
"Hisoka," she whispered, a bizarre allusion to lust floating in her voice.
They stared at each other for a long time. The silence was maddening. Neither wanted to make a move, each one measuring the other's thoughts. They craved for each other – that much was spoken. But...
Then, without warning, he reached out to her and held her soothingly by the shoulders. The doubt, fear, and anxiety she felt slowly dissolved as she read the amorous look in his eyes, when she recognized the protectiveness in his diffident touch.
Her trembling hands slid up his bare back, eventually reaching his neck. He pulled her to him, testing the waters. She didn't protest. Unable to restrain his feelings any longer, he entwined his strong arms around her and inhaled her sweetness.
"I've waited for this for so long," she murmured softly into her hair.
She smiled and held him tighter. Suddenly, being in the wrong place at the wrong time didn't seem so bad after all.
*****
She scanned the sheets of paper a fifth time, not believing her eyes. She didn't know what to feel. Her immediate reaction was that of irritation and disgust, with mild – almost irrelevant – indications of amusement.
Aside from the disturbing, vivid scenes in the unbelievably well written story, the name of the author staring back at her in black ink at the bottom of the last page was even more disturbing. She had no idea how he was able to write such descriptive details out of his, supposedly, dormant imagination. Details concerning her unspoken thoughts, her unwarranted feelings. Worse, given a situation such as that in the story, she knew that she would've acted in the exact same way he'd described.
That clown! How dare he...
"Machi?!" a familiar voice exclaimed, startling her.
It was Hisoka.
He rushed to her side and saw the papers in her hand. Eyes widening, he snatched them away from her as if it would change the fact that she'd read about his deepest desire: her. Not a fight with Kuroro, not to kill Gon, but to have her locked in an eternal embrace. And maybe more.
For the first time in all the twenty-seven years of his existence, a blush crept up his cheeks – too violent to be hidden by the paint on his face and too comical to ignore.
Machi found her voice first.
"You're sick," she said and turned to go.
"Wait!" Hisoka called and grasped her hand. "Let me explain..."
Machi shook her hand free. "No need. Now, if you'll just excuse me, I have to go."
Hisoka watched her helplessly, unable to utter any sound to keep her from leaving. How could he? She'd just read his death wish.
Great. Just great. My first attempt at expressing my thoughts about Machi and I get dumped for it.
"Hisoka?"
He raised his head at the sound of her divine voice calling his name. He'd expected her to say what she always says: "Idiot." Something to that effect, or maybe even worse.
"Yeah?" he asked uneasily, looking apprehensively at her.
She smiled. She actually smiled.
"How much longer are you planning to wait?"