WARNING(S): This chapter contains depictions of erotic asphyxiation and blood play. Read at your own discretion.
Horticulture
02.
Poppy Starling
Hisoka's skin quivered. He tasted the abundance of the vagrant's aura wrapped tight around her flesh and he desired to sink his teeth into her, tear into her until the life slithered out with her blood. His cock responded, pressed uncomfortably against his pants.
He shifted on the bar stool and drank deep of the chilled liquor in his hand, the ice cubes clinked together over his upper lip. He pictured himself in a tundra, his body whipped by freezing winds, and kittens on fire. He forced the taste of vomit back on his lips after exceeding the limits of his liquor tolerance, but the disguised assassin's aura drifted to him like a spray of peach perfume before fading into a plethora of overpowering colognes tinged with sweat.
It took him half a day to find the assassin. She appeared skilled at disappearing acts but weak in following through. She grew lazy and frequented the same haunts dressed as an old, toothless vagrant. She gambled the money she picked up on the streets with a different woman at her side cupping a handful of ass with every lecherous laugh that left her lips.
Hisoka found her at a private bar he bought his way into. The semi-crowded establishment sat in the uppermost floor of a high-rise building that overlooked the neon city lights across the emerald sea that divided Deene City from Abott, a melting pot of luxury and expensive hobbies. Stars cast blurred shapes along the calm water currents and the moon hid behind storm clouds promising a cold night, good for hunting.
He watched the woman through her reflection in the floor-to-ceiling windows. She discarded her disguise. She donned a slim dress fitted for the curves of her lean physique, wore her thick golden hair in waves that cascaded down her back, and sunglasses that framed her face. Her behavior was strange. She released waves of malevolent aura in five-minute intervals as she moved to calculated locations inside the bar, dispelling every crowd she approached. She debilitated many as she walked, some collapsed and a few vomited but blamed it on their alcohol.
Spite. He tasted it, bitter like an unripe grapefruit, persistent on his tongue and numbing—a callous, cold aura. The control she exerted over the amounts she released was wonderful, like a beacon in darkness.
Hisoka's bloodlust pierced her.
She didn't react. She showed no indication that she felt a difference in the room's ambiance. Should it thrill him to be ignored or annoy him that her impassivity meant he wouldn't get what he wanted?
She continued to meander, sipping at her martini. She picked the olive out from within the clear liquid and bit into it, the alcohol dripping a fine line from between her lips. She deposited her empty glass on a server's platter and slipped towards the exit like a panther entering familiar territory.
Hisoka followed her into the elevator outside the bar. She pressed the lobby button and asked him for a floor. He crowded her, seeking a reaction, for even a miniscule change in her body language, but she remained lax, her back to him.
The metal doors swished shut with a ding.
Hisoka leaned forward, the heat of her body radiated against his chest, and whispered, "Your bloodlust gives you away."
A smile curved her pouty pink lips. "I'm hunting."
He savored the pinprick of his skin as another wave of her aura pulsated through him. "This is sloppy work for an assassin."
"Not a Hunter?"
"No, not a Hunter."
She hummed appreciatively. She didn't deny that she was an assassin.
"If you have this much time to spare chasing away your prey, you should play a game with me," he said.
"I'm not into clowns, sorry."
Hisoka laughed. How wrong she was! "You're misunderstanding—"
"No, I'm not," she said, sliding the sunglasses to the top of her head. She stared at him through thick lashes and the sly smile on her lips didn't wane. "If you have something worth offering, change my mind. If not, I insist we don't start anything."
She pressed the button to the next floor they approached. The doors split open and revealed the gaudy décor on the sixth floor. The sultry whispers of the party guests drunk on the luxe atmosphere of their gala and their expensive champagne drifted to his ears. He took the woman by the throat and pushed her against the wall.
The doors shut and the elevator descended.
Hisoka grinned, his patience fleeting in her presence—powerful, boiling beneath its clamoring lid. Her sort required provocation.
She laughed and grabbed him by the wrist.
"Fight me," he told her.
"Indulge me, clown, what do I gain from fighting you?"
This was a kindred spirit. Deceptive, unbearably misleading. She resisted the fight, but her eyes brightened with interest. She gathered her aura protectively around her body.
He tightened his grip on her and she did the same to his wrist. Her heeled feet sat between his. Little distance separated them from her thinly clothed body. Kill her now or kill her later.
"How much?" he asked. She wouldn't live long enough to enjoy the money. He lost nothing.
She handed him a card with what he assumed had her account number. "Payment is upfront and I decide the terms."
The elevator halted, the ground under them shuddering, and the metal doors swished open with the sound of a bell.
"Poppy!" came the shrill protest of a man in the lobby.
She cursed. She forced his hand from her neck with surprising ease and chased the balding man across the lobby. "I can explain!"
Hisoka stepped out into the crowded room and watched the dramatic scene unfold like the rest of the people present.
The man threw his drink in her face and kicked her out of his home. She begged and reached for the man, but one of his guards stepped in between them. He cracked his hand hard across her face, though the force was not enough to move her, it paralyzed the room. She persisted, attempted to blame Hisoka. She claimed he attacked her, but the man denied her. Not even a proclamation of love coupled with her tears turned him around.
Hisoka approached the pitiful woman. She stank of strawberry wine, her wig sat lopsided, and her heavy make-up smudged, running black down her cheeks.
"I thought you didn't like clowns," he teased.
She turned away with the click of her tongue, oozing her delicious aura.
Hisoka resisted the urge to challenge her. Provocation worked well for her kind—those who lied about the dark urges that crawled from the depths of their souls. As he assessed, a kindred spirit, though a resistant one, someone that thrilled on the kill and the slaying of powerful opponents, someone that had not yet met her match…until he snuffed the life out of her. Her pride shattered, face twisted in shock—yes. He would savor that look.
"So, where were we?" he asked, sauntering closer to her.
"I want a shower, dinner, and a comfortable bed to sleep in for the night," she said. "If you want to fight after that, fine, I'll take you on, but if I win, you leave me alone."
He leaned forward to her ear. "I want a death match."
Her shoulders tensed. Was it a result of the implication or was she sensitive to his proximity? No. If there were the slightest hint of sexual energy between them, he would've felt it. Maybe, he already had in that elevator with her pale neck in his hand and her grip on his wrist. Their bodies close enough that the natural heat passed between them with her delicate aura wound tight around her, protective against his overbearing bloodlust—his desire to take her on in battle so intense that his cock harden.
"I don't disappoint," he said.
She sucked in a shuddering breath, her voice lingered softly in a misty cloud in front of her lips. "Give me what I want."
Hisoka brought her to his hotel room and left her at the bathroom's threshold as she wiggled out of her dress. He brought her back a slice of red velvet cake and a six-pack of beers to provoke her. She greeted him naked at the door. Her wet brown hair twisted over her shoulder, clinging to her white flesh. A large faded scar ran across her navel. Another sat over her left shoulder. Bruises covered her body, over her thighs, but the violent red rings wrapped around her neck like a collar demanded his attention.
He had taken her by the neck in the elevator, but not enough to bruise her. He hadn't seen them before.
"Are you trying to seduce me?" he asked.
She shifted her weight onto her left and put her hands on her hips with a grin. "Wasn't it a misunderstanding?"
He locked the door behind him and left the plastic bag on the floor. He felt her exploring hands assessing him as he undressed, learning the shape of the muscles that molded to his body.
Her hands slid down his back and she grabbed his ass, kissing the surface of his shoulder blade. "Impressive."
Hisoka traced the uneven skin over her shoulder when she paused before him and moved the back of his fingers up her neck to twist into her damp hair. He forced her head back and listened to the hiss in her voice as she buried her nails in his arm. She squirmed but she didn't resist.
He bruised her lips with a kiss and guided her to the bed. Her low moans vibrated on his tongue. Her body yielded to him, her legs wrapped snug around his body. His erection dug into her inner thigh and he burned with a newfound desire to fuck her. It wouldn't kill them to indulge in one last romp before she died. He was curious about her nen. He mused with the idea that her aura was a transmutation type, like his. How did she mold it? What shape did it take? How did it work? He couldn't imagine, but in thinking of it, he fixated on her aura and its strength. Chills ran through him in circles. The way that her malice kissed his skin at the bar sent more blood rushing to his cock.
Hisoka raked his long nails across her erect nipples, played with them—flicked and pinched them. He sucked and kissed her scar, loving the bumpy imperfect texture of it against his lips mingling with the saltiness of her skin. He sank his teeth into the scarred flesh, piercing through the soft skin. She cried out, her voice a sensual sound in his ear, and her body twisted under his. She grabbed fistfuls of his hair and jerked him back.
He laughed.
"Who gave you permission to bite?" she asked.
"You did," he said, molding his palm to her breast, massaging it in slow circles. He dipped low, mouth poised over her other breast. He kissed the erect peak. "You have terrible taste."
He focused on her breasts. He took her nipple into his mouth, sucked and licked it as he tugged and rolled the other between his fingers. Her grip on his hair loosened the more time he devoted to her. Slight movements that hinted at discomfort, a flare of her aura infused with lust, and the pleasured noises leaving her were indications that whatever he was doing in his slow, teasing actions were the right thing to do. He paid more attention to her other breast. He was more attentive, rougher, careless with the pink nipple he rolled in his tongue and pinched between his teeth. Her responses grew, not as vocal as he wanted, but loud enough that he savored the change in pitch.
Hisoka left a trail of bite marks down her navel until he reached her smooth mons.
She rose on her elbows and shot him a warning look. "You bite me there and I'll kick you in the face."
He parted her vulva for a taste of her wet flesh and she sank into the bed, expelling a breath that worked its way through her body. He would've advised her to keep her guard up, but where was the thrill in that? She had brain cells in her head even though she gave off the feeling that she was an idiot in bed. He didn't mind that. She gave in to her desires, meaning they were important to her.
Hisoka fucked her with his tongue, rubbed her clit with his thumb as he did, and made her moan. He memorized her taste. He'd enjoy fucking her. He'd rub a couple out to this—to her writhing body and arching back as pleasure clawed into her. She clutched the sheets until her knuckles blanched. Her legs quivered against his body.
She met his gaze, her blue irises darkened with her fast approaching orgasm, and she gasped. He switched the positions of his mouth and finger, thrusting two inside of her to suck on her tremulous clit.
She threw her head back. "I'm close!"
She moved her hips to meet the shallow thrusts of his fingers. He felt the instant she was about to orgasm and bit the red skin near her clit. She came, hard, screaming in a blend of pain and pleasure.
Hisoka bore the impact of her kick as it broke his nose. The large concentration of pain distributed through his body in a wave that left him craving another blow. This wasn't her full strength.
She curled in bed cupping her wounded genitals and cried. "That fucking hurt, you animal!"
"It didn't sound like it did." He saw the marks of his teeth on her skin as she rubbed the area. He pushed his nose back in place. The blood flowed down his chin, staining the mattress as he pulled the woman by the ankle closer to him. "You can do mine."
"Not afraid I'd bite?"
"I'd be disappointed if you didn't."
Hisoka sat back at the foot of the bed and she crawled over to him. She wrapped her hand around the base of his cock and stroked its length, getting a feel for it. Would she retaliate? And if she did, did that mean he got a free shot? Did he care if she bit his dick? He considered the pain, but no, not really, as long as she wasn't biting it off.
She rose on her knees and wrapped a hand over the nape of his neck. She licked the seam of his lips and he parted them, accepting her bloody kiss. He pressed his tongue against hers and delighted in the coppery taste, in the thick scent of violence and sex blending into one. She worked the length of his cock with a skillful grip. She pumped him nice and slow, matching the rhythm of their kiss.
She drew back, his tongue lingering outside his mouth dripping bloody saliva down his chin. She peppered kisses down his neck and chest, crouching down to lick the pre-cum from the tip of his dick. She sucked him in, released him, and licked the base of his hardened shaft. She massaged his balls as she repeated the process, teasing him.
Hisoka grew hotter, watching her. She brought him into her mouth and moved until she grew accustomed to his size, then robbed him of breath as she took him to the base. He groaned, the back of her throat tightened around him. She made appreciating sounds as she bobbed her head up and down his length, the sensations ran from his throbbing dick to every nerve in his body. And she started fingering herself, moaning and slobbering over his cock. His muscles locked tight and his breathing shallowed. Her ass waved around in the air like bait and he wanted to tear into her. Fuck her until her knees buckled, until she cried and clawed into his skin leaving behind scars that he might remember her by after he killed her.
She devoured his cock as his hips buckled. She didn't jerk away when his seed spilled on her tongue. She sucked at the sensitive head, drinking him in as if she had thirsted for a taste, and left no drop go to waste.
"You're quick," she said, a saucy grin on her glistening lips. She sank into the mattress to pleasure herself, one hand massaging her breasts and the other between her thighs, rubbing her clit. Her soft breathy sounds invited him inside her.
Hisoka ripped the first condom he slipped on his erect cock, but the second one went on easier. He pinned her hands above her head.
"I was close," she whispered.
"I want to feel you cum around me."
Her warm insides yielded to his cock. She had been close.
He pushed her leg forward, adjusting into a new position, and she stretched her leg over his shoulder as he shoved his dick inside her to the base. She arched. Better.
Hisoka angled his thrusts until she gripped the sheets and moaned louder with each one. He indulged in the act, the small vibrations that her contracting insides produced along the length of him. He rammed into her deeper, satisfied with the friction that his tempo created. She burned hot, tightened so hard the closer she was to her climax that he had to slow. Her supple body breathed his cock in deep and it amused him that her body was so honest.
He fucked her hard, finishing once. He peeled the condom off and turned her over on her hands and knees. He pushed her head into a pillow and took her from behind. Her ass was tight. She cursed him, whined about the pain, but she relaxed to ease his entrance. He plunged into her, molding the inside of her ass to the shape of his cock. It was only fair to fuck her good before he killed her tomorrow.
The headboard slammed against the wall, peeling the paint at the edges and leaving the impression of the frame.
Hisoka raked his eyes across the healing lashes across her back. She played naughtier games than he thought. He leaned over her to kiss and suck on the back of her neck. He nipped the end of the jagged scar and pressed his face against it, listening to the rapid beat of her heart and her pleasured cries as if they were underwater. She met each of his thrusts, drawing him closer. His balls tightened before he released, slowing his movements as her groans faded into a whimper.
He sank back onto his haunches, his body glistening with sweat as he pushed the hair out of his face. He watched his cum spill from her pretty ass and drip down her leg. Her toned thighs quaked with what remained of her orgasm.
Hisoka kissed her ass. He hadn't had enough. She looked spent, her breaths slowed as if she were close to passing out. He pushed her back against the headboard. Her body bruised fast, his rough handling had started to surface on her pale skin. The teeth marks on her shoulder and nipples turned greenish purple. She glared at him.
"Are you going to hit me again?" he asked, thrilled by the prospect.
She punched him and knocked him back onto the bed.
White-hot pain bloomed across his battered cheek. He hadn't felt a hit like that in years.
"Warn me if you're going to shove your dick in my ass!"
He laughed. "Your ass was delicious."
She struck him a second time. It would've killed anyone normal. His dick hardened.
She straddled him and guided him back inside of her. She used him as she wanted while he remained motionless. He nearly saw white, his eyes almost rolled back, and the blood rushed to his cock. He could come from that alone if she had the sense to punch him a third time. She worked him hard and with her in control, he reached a deeper part of her that made her bite her lip to silence her moans.
Hisoka took her by the hips and pressed into that same place. Not even biting her lip helped her hold her voice back. She submitted, flattened against him, her drying brown hair tickling his shoulder.
He switched their positions and wrapped on hand around her neck. Her eyes darkened as they met his. He shoved inside of her once more and she grunted. He wanted to choke her. Not to death, but he wanted to watch the fear rise onto the surface of her blue eyes.
She brought the hand he had on her to the other side of her neck. "Do it," she said, breathless. "I'm close."
He waited on her body's signal, for when the orgasm grabbed hold of her and dragged her under to grip her neck. He covered the red marks on it with his hands and tightened. She quivered, making a mixture of pained choking sounds and moans, and her eyes unfocused. He came hard, rode his climax out until it dissipated with hers.
Hisoka released her neck and she inhaled sharply. The skin was bright red as she sat up with a grin. "You're not tired yet, are you?"
And he was breathing hard as if he'd had come out of an intense battle. "Not at all."
Hisoka fucked her until his stamina ran dry.
They slept in. He woke in the middle of the night to hydrate and sank into a seat at the edge of the bed, looking over at the assassin with her naked back to him, so stupidly vulnerable that he questioned whether she was even a hired killer or someone fortunate in the face of peril.
The chirp of a phone drew his attention to the glowing screen by his hand. He didn't recognize this communication device. He opened the message, read the word "Target" followed by coordinates not too far from Abott.
She snatched it from his hand, read the message, and deleted it. "Mind your own business."
"Shouldn't you write that down?"
She glowered. She slid out of bed and opened a can of alcohol.
She raised her can in his direction. "Cheers."
"What's your name?" asked Hisoka.
"That's rude, asking my name when you haven't even introduced yourself."
"Hisoka."
"Just Hisoka?"
"Why does that matter?"
"I just fucked you."
"So you did."
He suspected her insistence was meaningful. If it had anything to do with her nen ability, he'd welcome it.
"Morow," he said.
"Hisoka Morow." She presented her hand for him to shake. He did. "I'm called Pandora."
"Not Poppy?"
She shook her head.
"Just Pandora?"
She smiled. "Just Pandora."
"I have a list."
"Put me at the top. I was great."
She finished off her drink in three gulps and went for a second one.
Hisoka pulled her back against his chest and brushed his knuckles against the reddened bite marks. Her skin warmed, pocking with goosebumps. The wound had to have been deep to produce such a prominent scar. She was fortunate to have survived.
"Where did you get this?" he asked, his cheek pressed against the side of her head, the apple blossom shampoo of her hair invaded his senses. The second scar underneath her bellybutton looked like it had brought her closer to death a second time, something that deep was inflicted to spill her guts. He touched the uneven pink skin as she stepped out of his arms.
"My whore of a sister attacked me." She spotted the cake he brought her. "I'm going to find food."
She left the room naked.
Pandora returned hours later showered and dressed in dark pants and a slim-fitting jacket. She had a sandwich in her mouth and dumped several wallets onto the table.
"Not a lot of great food around," she said. "I hope you have a location ready for our fight." She smiled at him as she removed the money from the wallets. "Thought I had forgotten? I would've brought it up later, but I met a billionaire I want to snag by tonight."
"Aren't you overconfident?"
She stuffed the wad of cash in the back pocket of her pants. "I never lose."
She was his favorite type of opponent. Overconfident until he had them on their knees, staring up at him horrified as he delivered the final blow.
"Follow me."
Hisoka took her outside of Abott, to a large clearing, suitable for their fight. He was eager to see her abilities. She looked around with disinterest.
They widened the distance between them. She lunged first with her fists up, quick on her feet.
She aimed at his face, a right hook, but her body language hinted at a left strike to his solar plexus. He intended to block both, a forearm to take the hit of her hook and he caught her left hand.
She stepped down in front of him and raised her body kicking both legs up at his face.
He flipped forward, releasing her hand, and evaded her attack, landing several steps behind her. He turned with three cards infused with shu, sharp as any blade, and attached Bungee Gum to them before he threw them at Pandora. She ducked low to avoid them. He contracted his Bungee Gum, aiming at her back, but nothing happened. His cards froze inflight and fluttered to the ground.
The shock distracted him.
Pandora landed the first hit, the weight behind her fist heavier than the other punches he withstood from her. The sheer force of them would've snapped an ordinary man's head. He turned in midair and landed, attempting to use Bungee Gum again, but failed.
He whirled around to catch another of her punches, crushing her fist.
"What did you do?" he demanded.
She flashed him a toothy grin.
He grabbed her by the neck and slammed her into the ground, stone and dirt scattering around them.
Pandora laughed. "What's a good deathmatch without abilities?"
"Did you seal my nen?"
"I don't know. Maybe I sealed your nen and the next punch I throw at you will hurt more than all the others. Could even be fatal—"
He began to choke her but understood the validity of her statement. What was a good deathmatch without nen? He wasn't in top shape. This was the reason he went to great lengths to find someone to exorcise Kurapika's nen to ensure he had the match he wanted against Chrollo.
He released her.
"Undo it," he said, feeling the rise of something inhuman in him. Nen or no nen, he would obliterate her if she didn't fix this.
Pandora jumped to her feet. "No, and let me tell you why."
He swiped at her, but she stepped out of the way. She was right. He couldn't use nen at all.
"You'll only make it worse if you kill me."
Keep calm. "I can have it exorcised."
"Good luck with that."
Conditions had to be met for this ability. His name, he assumed was one given her insistence. Contact? Maybe. They had plenty before the fight and he touched her hand when he caught her fist. He wouldn't rule that out. Did she have to see it? He never noticed her use gyo. He wouldn't dismiss that either.
"I don't like death matches," she continued. "And before you assume that it's because I'm afraid of death, I'm not. You see, I'm a big fan of living—living life, luxuriously, and finding rich old men to give me all the money that I want with no questions asked. Thanks to you scaring away my last owner, I'm hunting for a new one, but I won't lie and say I didn't have any fun because you were a lot of fun, so much that I'll remember your face. I won't be making much use of my vagina or my asshole, but you won't be making much use of your nen, so I suppose we're even."
"I'm going to enjoy killing you," he said. He could probably overpower her physically, but where would the fun in that be?
"Thanks for the offer, but no thanks. I hope that when death comes, it'll be when I'm filthy rich in a comfortable mansion having the best orgasm of my life as I'm having a heart attack. You know, something dynamic. A little more than getting fucked into the mattress like you were doing, but hey, if you want to be that guy when I reach that level of rich, give me a call. I'll give you another go at me."
She winked at him.
As Hisoka watched her leave, her laughter ringing in his ears, he felt the slightest pang of regret. He should've killed her while he fucked her, but…the little he did manage to savor of their fight was marvelous and her ability was strange enough that it might mean she was a Specialist. Finding a way to counteract it should be interesting.
He pulled out his phone. He would need to hunt down that exorcist again for himself. As he went through his contacts he saw a new one that he hadn't added himself that read "Panda" and had a bear emoticon with a flower next to it.
He would kill her. Why let her live when she had become infinitely more interesting a subject for him to pursue? This wasn't over. Not yet.
Hisoka took a step forward and looked down at the wad of money under his shoe.