A/N - Hi guys, and Happy New Year. Sorry it took so long to update this. I've had this written for a while, but I wasn't sure about it. There was just something I didn't like, so I kept re-reading and editing. Hopefully this is good. 2020 was quite the year. Lost my mom, one of my cousins, and many people I admired. Losing my mom changed everything. So my motivation was also not consistent. Hopefully in writing I'll find some distraction. Keep your loved ones close, and make sure they know how appreciated they are. Once they're gone, it's too late.

Anyway, I hope you like this. I still wasn't entirely sure about it. Thanks for reading!

Sooner or Later

Ch. 3

The Heaven's Arena was the busiest Machi had seen in quite a while. Everywhere she looked, people jostled and bumped into one another. It was annoying, and for the umpteenth time that night she wondered why she had bothered to come at all. She abhorred crowds.

The tickets hadn't been cheap, but she would be guaranteed a good seat from which to watch the action. For "research purposes," she'd told herself. She was simply one combatant scouting out the skills of another, her enemy.

That's what she kept telling herself, even as her heart pounded in her chest at the thought of the main event, of seeing him again.

Hisoka was defending his floor tonight. The usually lackadaisical champion came and went as he pleased, causing bout postponements without concern if it was too inconvenient for him to come and fight. It just so happened that this time he had stayed in town, much to the relief of the tower's management.

Machi hadn't seen him since their last night together, but she knew he hadn't left town. She also knew that he watched her. She could feel it. She knew when his eyes were on her. The hairs at the back of her neck had never been wrong. Neither had her zetsu.

She sensed his nen often, something she was sure was only possible because he allowed it. She knew firsthand how he could conceal himself if he didn't want to be detected. He wanted her to know he was there, out of sight, but always close.

Of course Hisoka stayed in town, she thought with disgust. He has his prey right here. She was never quite sure if he wanted to fuck her or kill her.

Why couldn't she ever attract sane, well-adjusted men with normal jobs, vanilla tastes, and non-murderous habits? She stopped herself. More like, why wasn't she attracted to such men? The answer was clear.

Because they would bore me.

Just the thought of being a housewife somewhere, with two kids, a dog, and a husband who worked far too often and fucked her far too seldomly and too gently turned her stomach. It would bore her to literal tears.

But Hisoka didn't bore her. Oh no, never that.

Her blood burned whenever he was near, nevermind when his hands were on her…when his body trapped hers, pleasured hers, conquered hers. Just thinking about it was enough to cause her nether regions to twitch and grow moist.

Machi caught her breath as she felt a blush work its way up her neck and into her cheeks. Stop it!

She was here purely for reconnaissance. Nothing more.

When the fanfare and loud voice of the announcer signaled the start of the night's main event however, her body betrayed her.

Suddenly, he was there. She felt the familiar drop in her stomach, her blood rushing so hard with excitement it made her feel light-headed. What was wrong with her?

Hisoka smirked as he walked the long path to the ring. He was already bored. The only reason he had shown up at all was to make some extra cash. He wasn't broke by any means, but it was always good to have a little extra scratch on hand.

Fighting was also a good way to burn off some pent up sexual frustration, something he was experiencing more and more of late.

Perhaps that was coming to an end tonight.

There was someone special among the spectators. He'd felt the familiar tingle down his spine at her presence, and when he'd sent his zetsu out seeking, he'd found his prize. He felt her angry little eyes even now as he prepared for a fight he was in no doubt of winning.

Maybe he would add a little extra flair just to show off. He laughed inwardly, knowing she would be more annoyed than impressed.

He felt almost giddy having her watching him.

He would show his prowess in the ring, to her and to everyone else who came to the tower tonight. It wouldn't take much, Hisoka figured, glancing at tonight's victim, a basic, buffoonish looking man with a snub nose and unfortunate hairdo.

He could play a bit, just as he had with Gon all that time ago. He doubted this fight would bring him the pleasure that one had given him though. Gon at least had potential. This man had been lucky to make it this far.

That luck would end here, tonight.

Then, he thought as lust briefly overtook him, he would turn his attention to other, more delectable quarry. It had been far too long since he'd last tasted Machi.

It was about time he reacquainted himself with her flavor.

With a few more noisy flourishes, the announcer began the match. Hisoka focused on his opponent, but only enough to sense his movements. The majority of his attention was on locating her.

Once he did, he turned to the camera just as Snubnose rushed ruinously at him. Winking, he mouthed "Hello, Little Machi" into the lens. He then blew a kiss. That should get her attention, he thought, as he skillfully dodged his opponent at the last second.

He toyed with the guy, knowing his strength was far inferior to his own. Hisoka began to wonder how the man had made it to the Arena at all, let alone his floor. The fool's punches were hardly enough to penetrate his guard, his nen laughable.

Bored of the game, Hisoka finally finished the guy, rendering him unconscious with very little effort. It was always a temptation to kill his adversaries. But one as weak as this was not even worth the effort.

Besides, knowing Machi was here had lifted his mood.

Hisoka strode from the ring before he was even announced the winner, intent on other pursuits. There would be a reception in the grand ballroom on the top floor. Anyone was welcomed, provided they were VIP ticket holders.

He hoped to see Machi there. It wouldn't make sense not to take advantage of a free gift for the price she had paid for her ticket. Her nen had been close, too close not to be VIP status.

Yes, she would be there.

Hisoka fully planned on seeing her at the reception. Then he would see her to someplace private. He smiled to himself. Soon.

As the guests made their way to the elevators, Machi mulled over why she was bothering to go. She'd seen the fight, studied Hisoka's movements. But the fighter he'd been paired against had been so abysmally weak, she hadn't seen anything near his real power.

Perhaps the man had paid his way into the ring. He certainly hadn't earned it, not from what she'd seen.

If only it had been the kid in green instead. From what she had heard in her limited conversations with Hisoka when he had played at being a Spider, the boy...Gon was it? He'd brought out some of Hisoka's true strength.

She had seen him fight as well. He was a strong kid, and she knew strong opponents were exciting to Hisoka. She could have seen some of his real power.

Machi rose to her feet. She would go to the reception. This is just for further study, she kept telling herself, knowing full well it was a lie.

The truth was the reason she was here. The truth was what kept her awake at night, her body burning for a fulfilling touch that didn't come. The truth was that she had missed Hisoka, craved him in ways that would shame her to the troupe, to Chrollo.

That truth carried her feet to the uncomfortably crowded elevator, up the many floors to the ballroom, and kept her senses eagerly peeled for him.

The image of her former leader's eyes icy with disdain flashed through her mind. But even that wasn't enough to stop her from entering the ballroom and proceeding to a table laden with drinks to wait for the subject of her abject obsession.

Machi was pleased to find the venue had spared no expense with the festivities, and that included the libations. She sipped at a cup of sweet red, closing her eyes as she savored the fruity flavor.

She would need some liquid courage to balance out her lost pride.

"Good, right?" a male voice suddenly asked from in front of her. When she opened her eyes, Machi found a young man standing near, a drink in his hand as well. It looked like he had selected from the beer and lager table. He was obviously a fighter, tall and muscular with a direct, assessing gaze.

His eyes passed appreciatively over her figure before returning to her face.

They were a light turquoise, clear and shining. His dark hair was longer on top and cut short on the sides.

He was very handsome, gorgeous even. But somehow Machi found him lacking. It wasn't that he wasn't satisfactory. Maybe she would have even given him the attention he obviously wanted if he'd caught her at another time.

But he hadn't. Beautiful as this man was, he just wasn't him.

Despite this, he seemed like an interesting character. So she made small talk with him. There was no harm in that, right?

Hisoka leaned against a wall as he watched the guests arrive. He had chosen a corner where the light was a little dimmer, letting his dark attire help him blend with the darkness. It wasn't unusual for fans to accost fighters at these events, asking them meaningless questions and requesting autographs.

He wasn't in the mood for that tonight. His eyes surveyed the room, looking for any sign of her. He knew she was here. He could feel her nen, his arousal already spiking in anticipation. It was all he could do to keep his lower half from embarrassing him.

His gaze fell on the dessert table and a lovely, familiar face. There you are, he thought, noting that she'd learned to mask her nen a little better since their first encounter. Not enough to hide herself completely from him of course, but she wasn't announcing her presence quite as loudly.

His mouth turned up as his breath quickened. Closing his eyes to regain some semblance of calm, he looked again before his face fell into a frown.

There was a man standing far too close, talking with her. Machi actually seemed interested in whatever inane subject they were discussing.

Almost on their own, Hisoka's feet carried him smoothly to her location.

"I haven't seen anyone fight quite like him," the young man, who had introduced himself as Jiro, said with amazement. "He moves so fluidly in the ring."

"Yes," Machi agreed halfheartedly. "He does move. Fluidly." She was sure the movement he was referring to was not the type she was thinking.

She had hoped this man would take her mind off of Hisoka. But Jiro had no sooner introduced himself before he had started making smalltalk, breaking the ice with conversation about the fighters. His particular favorite was her nemesis and the one person she secretly wanted to see more than anything.

They had moved slowly to the dessert table which was full of confections Machi had never seen before. She nibbled on a chocolate tart, her tongue not even registering the decadent taste as she used zetsu to search the room.

Jiro was working his way toward asking Machi out. She could tell; he'd made no secret of his interest. He had begun asking about her likes and how she passed the time, and she was hoping to find a way out of this conversation that was quickly becoming awkward.

She really wasn't interested, but she didn't want to upset him. He seemed like a genuinely nice guy.

Her phone chirped at her side. She'd gotten a text. Unlocking her phone, her lips parted at the message.

Found you.

She started as a long, muscular arm suddenly pushed in between her and Jiro to grab one of the little tarts from a plate. Hisoka, tall and glorious, brought the cherry treat to his lips, taking a bite and chewing slowly. His eyes rolled back. "Mmm," he purred.

Machi squeezed her thighs tighter together as she felt her body react. How did he make eating so erotic? With just this little display he'd made a mess of her. Was she really this out of control?

She wanted him to do more. Much more. And not to the fruit.

"You really must try the cherry," Hisoka murmured, completely ignoring Jiro, who was peering at him with admiration. His golden eyes were focused on her alone.

Hisoka leaned in, his lips lightly brushing the shell of Machi's ear. "They're absolutely mouth-watering." He pulled away, his gaze drilling into her surprised face. As she watched, unable to look away, he worked his tongue over one of the cherries topping the tart, mimicking an act they both knew he excelled at.

Machi's face burned. Hisoka was privy to the direction her mind was going and her discomfort as he lapped up the cherry and chewed with exaggerated pleasure. He was shameless. Machi closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to get herself, and her body, under control.

When she opened her eyes again, he was gone.

"Wow!" Jiro exclaimed in a stage whisper as he looked in the direction Hisoka had gone. "That was him!" He turned back, intending to speak to Machi, but he balked as he found he couldn't speak. Or moreso, he couldn't open his mouth.

Machi could sense a familiar nen binding the man's lips together. She took this as her opportunity to make an escape.

"Nice meeting you," she muttered. She quickly left, not caring if Jiro had heard her or not. As she moved to the women's room, her phone went off again. She already knew who it was.

She examined her reflection in the mirror, willing herself not to check the message even as she knew she would. Her fingers shook as she unlocked the screen.

Hallway off the foyer. Third office on the right.

Machi's jaw hardened. He was summoning her. What did he think this was? She splashed cold water on her face. She had to get her dignity back. She wasn't a whore to be called when her services were required.

She was a respected, feared member of the Phantom Troupe. And she was here to avenge Chrollo!

Her phone bleeped again.

Come to me, Little Machi. You know you want to. ?^3^⭐

Even as she thought to ignore him, she found her feet carrying her to the location he specified. The hallway was roped off and dimly lit to discourage the guests from being there. Machi deftly made her way through to the office.

The door was ajar. She edged it open carefully. The room seemed empty, but she knew Hisoka was there. He wasn't behind the door, but he was in the room. She could feel him. Walking in slowly, silently, she moved to the desk.

On the smooth wooden surface was a single card, the Joker. Machi picked it up to examine it.

"You kept me waiting," Hisoka said from the direction of the door. His tone was almost petulant.

She turned around and met his eyes on that perpetually smirking face. He was wearing his black outfit again tonight, the one Machi privately preferred. He contrasted perfectly with his pale skin. The thought of her preferences in regard to Chrollo's killer only served to piss her off.

"No one told you to wait for me in the first place," she muttered.

Hisoka arched a brow. "You should be grateful I saved you from that twerp. He would have bored you to death." If I didn't kill him first, he thought to himself. He wouldn't tell her that though.

"I didn't need you to save me from anyone. I can take care of myself." She tilted her head to the side. "Nobody asked for your cockblocking, Hisoka."

His smirk faded. "Is that what I was doing? Cockblocking?" He stalked closer, his eyes smouldering. "Did you want that weakling?"

Machi nearly withered under those eyes. But she had her pride. "Maybe you were. And whether I wanted him or not is none of your business."

"None of my business?" he scoffed. "Really? When the last time I saw you, you were crying out for me not to stop?" He was almost upon her. "When you clawed my back and ass with your nails, begging me to fuck you harder? Deeper?"

Her body was heating at his lascivious words. "Stop it."

"Why?" He asked, moving ever forward. Machi edged back until her ass met the desk behind her. He pressed in, cornering her. "Why should my words bother you? You wanted that boy, right?" His voice had a harshness Machi had never heard before. Perhaps she'd gone too far playing with Hisoka.

"Leave me alone!" she exclaimed, annoyed he could make her so weak. "I certainly don't want you." Even she cringed at the obvious lie.

Hisoka's hand ghosted along the line of her jaw, causing her heart to triple its pace. She drew in a sharp breath. He noticed. Of course he did. He always noticed.

"Are you sure about that, Little Machi?" His fingertips moved downward, smooth as silk, light and soft. He weaved a hot path down her neck to her shoulder, sliding down her arm gently, then up and over her breast. He lingered there, his eyes never leaving hers. He played with the tips of his fingers, his touch so light she wasn't sure he made contact. But her nipples told her otherwise, beading to near painfulness.

Hisoka didn't miss this or any other sign of her arousal. His eyes finally broke contact, drifting slowly down to scrutinize the hard buds pressing against the fabric of her uwagi. "Your body says you're lying." His voice had dropped to a lower, breathier tone. The rumble caused a shiver to run through Machi.

She sucked in air as though her lungs were starved for it, unable to speak. Her lips felt utterly dry. She licked them without thinking.

Hisoka's golden gaze immediately moved to her mouth. "Are you lying, Little Machi?" he challenged. His eyes never left. He used her name like a weapon, smashing her resolve over and over. He liked to play this game. He knew he would win. He always won.

"Tell me," he said. "Tell me how you don't want me." His fingers cupped her breast this time. "And this time, mean it." His mouth had fallen slightly open, as if breathing through his nose alone wasn't enough

His other hand was busy. She hadn't even noticed until she felt his fingertips against the crotch of her panties. She jumped at the contact, knowing what he would find there.

Hisoka hissed, pleased at the contradictory wetness. "You don't want me, but your panties are this wet? What an obscene liar you are." His thumb tickled her there, and Machi's eyes drooped to half mast, her breath stuttering.

She was in trouble. Had been the moment she had decided to come to the arena. She'd known what was going to happen, knew Hisoka would never let her go until he'd had her. Thoroughly.

Yet she had come anyway.

Part of her had hoped she had matured since the last time she'd seen him, that she would finally be able to resist him and do what she had set out to do. But that part of her was buried, perhaps dead, leaving the other part of her, the one who craved and lusted, to have free reign.

"I'm waiting," Hisoka breathed, his face against her neck now. His tongue lapped at the pulse point where her head met her neck. "Mmm…" Purring against her, he skirted her soft skin with his teeth.

Machi started at the contact. It was like a zing of lightning passed through her person. She lifted a hand to Hisoka's chest, as if to push him away. He quickly grabbed that hand, trapping it against him so she could feel how his heart pounded, how excited he was. His eyes pinned hers, and she was caught up in the desire she saw there.

"Stop fighting, Machi. We both know what's going to happen here."

He was edging her legs apart. She knew what she wanted, and it was silly to deny it or act like she was a more disciplined woman. She had already tasted Hisoka, and the craving for another helping was undeniable.

She'd wanted this, to feel his hands, lips, and body, against her skin again. And now, she didn't even care how it made her look anymore. She was a grown woman after all.

What harm is there? she thought to herself. She could enjoy these interactions, the profound pleasure that Hisoka's skillful hands and mouth coaxed from her, without guilt.

She would kill him eventually. That was for sure. But for now, she would just use him. Yes, that's it. She would use him and get all the pleasure she wanted. Then, when she grew tired of him (and she WOULD grow tired of him), when she didn't feel this persistent need to have him over and over, she would accomplish her mission.

She was sure her comrades would understand.

With this delusional thought in mind, Machi widened her legs, enabling Hisoka to press his narrow hips between her thighs.

He didn't crow over his victory. Neither did he waste any time. Long fingers quickly tugged aside Machi's panties. Plunging them within, he drew out more of the liquid evidence of her need for him, drawing a hushed moan from her throat.

"Good girl," was all he said.

His other hand released hers and eagerly pried apart the folds of her uwagi to get at her breasts. He squeezed one before enveloping her nipple with his mouth. His fingers worked her down below, doubling the heady sensations rolling her mind.

Machi's hands ran through Hisoka's hair, the silky strands flowing like water through her fingers. She held his head to her, his mouth working her nipple so well, she felt like she would climax from that sensation alone.

When he finally lifted his face from her bosom to fit his mouth to hers, she eagerly tasted him, sucking on his tongue as if it were the finest candy. His fingers left her as their lips parted. It was time for something thicker, hotter, and far more pleasing.

Her hands released his hair and made their way to his pants. Hisoka licked his fingers slowly, savoring her taste as he watched her. She worked the tight material over his hips and ass, finally pulling him free. She stroked him once, twice, drawing a groan around his fingers.

Machi skooched her hips closer to the edge of the desk, eager to fit their bodies together. She shut her eyes, anticipating. Just as she managed to coax the tip of Hisoka's cock to her opening however, he took his fingers from his mouth and resisted her tug to draw him inside.

She opened her eyes. "Wha-"

She was cut off when his hand grasped her chin, puckering her lips as he caught her eyes. Though his gaze was half-lidded, his kiss-swollen lips were set in a frown. Machi couldn't help but admire how sexy he looked.

"You want me," Hisoka said. It wasn't a question. "Say it."

Machi didn't hesitate. "Yes," she assured him.

"No. I want to hear you, see that pretty mouth say it." He gave her chin a small shake, his lips parting again. "Tell me, Machi."

"Yes, dammit," Machi murmured, embarrassment making her snippy. She wrenched her chin from his grasp. Why did he have to make her admit it? Out loud? "I want you, Hisoka."

One side of his mouth tilted up, his eyes briefly flashing with the same light a cat's would take when they've cornered the mouse before returning to their normal glint. Her answer apparently appeased him. "Good," he praised. Then his eyes narrowed. "Never say otherwise again." All she could do was nod, once.

Satisfied, Hisoka nudged her chest so she fell back against the desk and yanked her hips further over the desk's edge. Yes, Machi thought, licking her lips as she prepared for his entry, the ecstatic pleasure. Finally.

"Please," she whispered.

He squatted down.

Strong, purposeful hands held her legs apart, and Machi's brain had only a moment to register that he wasn't fucking her and wonder why before she felt the first strokes of Hisoka's tongue along her slit.

She was barely able to stifle a moan as he went to work, stroking and flicking her opening, playing against her walls. She could hear his efforts, and Machi's fingers clenched the edges of the table, anything to help her feel stable as her head lightened.

Her body always responded so readily to him. Were it not for the waves of bliss shooting through her nerve endings, she would have felt angry about that.

Seeing that she wasn't going to try to move away, Hisoka's hands left Machi's thighs, one stretching up to play with her nipple, the other returning to her opening. Plunging two of his digits within, he began to tickle and tease as he edged upward with his mouth to attack her clit.

This time Machi's cry wasn't as well controlled. She covered her mouth with the back of her hand. Someone would hear if she didn't get a hold of herself.

She was the only one concerned apparently. Hisoka assaulted her nub eagerly, his lips nursing as if on a nipple. Pleased sounds escaped his throat. He was enjoying this. His fingers curved upward, stroking and curling.

She wasn't going to last. It was just so good. Hisoka focused on the bundle of nerves. His hand left her nipple, his arm curling around her thigh as his fingers held her nether lips apart. He teased, blowing a puff of air on her exposed sex.

"You're twitching," he murmured.

Machi lifted her head, her chest rising and falling tumultuously. Hisoka's eyes were staring in wonder, as if he hadn't seen the sight several times already.

When he saw her watching, his eyes met and held hers. "Yes," he said breathily. "You want me. You can't even hide it anymore."

She stopped trying.

Still watching her face, he returned to his task.

She couldn't watch very long. Machi fell back against the surface of the desk as her hips began to rise and fall with Hisoka's movements. She was close, and he knew it.

He gripped her hard, sensing she would come soon. He could always tell. Her breaths were starting to stutter, her thighs shaking. Hisoka dug in, tongue fucking her before finally fixing his mouth to her clit and sucking hard.

Machi arched up as an orgasm crashed into her. Hisoka held her fast. His mouth continued to work her as she quaked, her cries loud in the quiet room. She felt as if the room were spinning.

Hisoka soaked it all in, her writhing, her cries, her juices, her scent. All of it. He craved it all, wanted to consume her completely. His eyes rolled closed as she came undone in his mouth.

She started to settle as the contractions of her womb and the spinning in her head ebbed. Giving her one last lick, Hisoka rose to his feet. He caressed her thighs as aftershocks caused sporadic jolts.

Machi lay there with her forearm across her eyes, too tired to move. She didn't want to see Hisoka's face. She knew what she would find there. He was always smug when she came for him that intensely.

How would she save face this time? Her mind was too muddled to come up with any ideas. Perhaps she didn't need to. She had enjoyed it. A lot. Why hide it?

She finally stirred herself to sit up, keeping her eyes averted as she straightened her clothing.

Hisoka's fingers came to her chin again, lifting her gaze to his. That predatory look was back again, and she felt a fresh wave of arousal being the focus of that attention. How did he affect her this way?

Just as he moved to seal their mouths together again, they were interrupted.

The doorknob jiggled as someone tried to enter the room. "Who's in there?!" an angry voice sounded from the other side. The jingle of keys could be heard.

Hisoka remained calm, watching Machi as she finished covering up.

The door opened, revealing a member of security. The man drew a breath, presumably to chastise them for trespassing. He never got the chance.

Hisoka was in front of him. Neither the guard nor Machi had seen him move. His body shielded her as he trussed up the guard, sticking him securely against the wall with Bungee Gum. Somehow, the man was unconscious.

Machi slid from the desk, pulled her uwagi down, and made her way to the door. As she tried to move past Hisoka, he grasped her upper arm with long fingers.

"Where are you going?" he asked almost accusingly with narrowed eyes. "We're nowhere near finished."

A jolt shot through her blood. Machi wasn't sure if it was excitement or fear.

Maybe it was a little of both.

Machi clung to Hisoka, caught in the throes of what had to be her third orgasm. Or was it the fourth? She had no idea.

His hands gripping Machi's hips, Hisoka thrust once, twice, and one last time, grunting deeply against her neck before he collapsed just to the side of her. Their breaths were harsh rasps in the silent, dark room.

When both had calmed, Machi got up, sliding from under Hisoka to relieve herself. She assessed her face as she washed her hands. The skin of her chest, cheeks, and arms was delightfully flushed. She looked well-loved.

Machi shook her head. No. Not loved. Well-fucked was more accurate. There wasn't the least amount of love involved here. Drying her hands, Machi shut off the light and walked back to bed.

Hisoka was lying on his side, facing away from her. The large windows of his suite provided a spectacular view of the moon, its full face bathing the room, and the city below, in ghostly light.

She thought about leaving. She did. It was easy. All she had to do was donn her clothes, walk to the door, and leave. That was what she should do.

But the thought of doing so and not knowing when she would see Hisoka again had Machi sliding into bed. The smooth sheets caressed her skin as the warmth of his body drew her in.

Was he asleep? She listened. Hisoka's breathing was even and soft. Maybe he wouldn't notice if she…

Moving closer, Machi placed a tentative hand against the wide, leanly-muscled expanse of his back. The urge to touch him was irresistible. So warm. She slid over the firm skin, the faint scratch marks she'd left barely visibly by moonlight.

Had she really been so out of control? There was no doubt. Hisoka had dragged responses out of her that she hadn't even known she was capable of. Machi would never have guessed that this ridiculous, annoying clown o a man would affect her like this.

All she had ever felt for him was annoyance, disgust, mild tolerance, and hatred when the news of Chrollo's death had reached her. Yes, she acknowledged that there had been a mild attraction, an irrational temptation. But she had been able to resist, even when Hisoka had boldly asked her to spend the night with him.

But now…

Machi's eyes went to the towseled, pink hair lying across the pillow. Now...I don't know. Whatever this feeling was, it was dangerous. It went past afterglow. It was unacceptable.

This could not happen again.

Hisoka was making her feel things, dangerous things. Her resolve fell like a house of cards anytime he so much as looked at her. She was undisciplined, libidinous, and out of control. He made her crazy.

She had to end this. She must. But maybe she could enjoy this last night. Maybe she could stop being Machi of the Phantom Troupe and just be Machi the woman for a few hours more.

Emboldened, she eased up behind Hisoka, snaking her arm over his side as she rested her head against his back. Her hand traveled up until it rested over his heart. She set her cheek against his back and closed her eyes.

Her breath hitched. Hisoka's heart was pounding. His breathing wasn't soft and even anymore. He was awake, probably had been all along, knowing him.

He chuckled lowly. "You hold me like I'm yours, Little Machi." Startled, Machi attempted to pull her hands away. Hisoka stopped her.

Pulling her arms back into position, he turned over. He guided her arms around his neck before he slipped his own around her. "It's okay," he reassured her. "I don't mind being yours."

Dipping his head, Hisoka took her mouth a slow, soft kiss. His tongue barely skirted hers before he moved to her neck. His lips played havoc with Machi's ability to think. Just as she thought they were going to start another round, he stopped.

Machi opened her eyes to see his narrowed gaze on her face.

"I can be yours, Little Machi," Hisoka said playfully. Then his voice took on a harder edge with his next words. "Just know that if I am yours…" His eyes bored into hers. "Then you are mine."

Machi didn't even have the words to reply. Her mind was too muddled.

Hisoka didn't even give her a chance to answer. Continuing where he left off, he rolled Machi over on her back, taking his place between her thighs. Closing her eyes, she let it happen as questions rolled through her consciousness.

What the hell had she gotten herself into?

I find myself running short on ideas, so if you think of any scenario you would like to see, let me know. Otherwise, this may be the last chapter. I still want to finish my Game of Thrones fic. Thanks!