ii.
"We are the same. You and I," Hisoka says behind her, greeting her with his reflection upon the bronze mirror. "We both want him," he continues on with his hand reaching for her pale neck, "what he is, what he can do to you," then his fingers brush at the purple-red mark on her nape, and she shivers—in disgust? Not quite. He smells her guilt.
His eyes meet hers, in gold and rust. "However he wants you," he almost laughs at the irony. "The woman that wants him dead."
"Tell me, lovely, how do you do it? Is it sex? He hardly takes anyone to his bed," he chuckles, his pointed nail delicately tracing the curve of her eye. "Or is it those red eyes? Pretty rare things, how he loves them."
"If I were to gouge out these eyes and replace them for my own," he tells her, "will I have his attention?"
"I tire of your games, Hisoka," she warns him.
"He's my prey, lovely," Hisoka breathes out, shuddering. However you are, too.
Her eyes blaze, and from that glare, his blood lusts for violence—all in a pleasurable rush that thrums from the nerve-endings of his twitching sharp nails to his loins, overwhelmed by oppressive heat, to take this miserable flower, peel and pull and pluck apart. I want to ravage you, he growls within the confines of an unhinged creature. But. It isn't quite the right time yet, so he begrudgingly behaves.
"I'm curious," his fingers slide to the silk of her hiyoku, edging for the skin beneath her collar. "May I have a taste?"
She stares at him fervently, full of fire and fury. "Hisoka," and then she unravels her thin shift and sells herself, as all whores do. However she isn't just a whore, especially when she holds herself before the fall—a worthy prey. "Our compromise . . ." she gasps out from the hand roughly groping her breast, an instance of pain, just before he slowly licks the shell of her ear.
"Cut the Spider's head from its shoulders," he repeats her words, which amusingly makes her drip with arousal. "The rest will be its undoing."
Tongue peering, his lips urge him to break her soft supple skin; his knife-like teeth craving to brand a bruise of her promise to him upon her artery that can gush forth in glorious crimson with but a kiss. Her pulse is delicious, the manner it trembles beneath muscle and fat, and resonates in a quiet rhythm of dead dead dead. He wants a lick. If only her blood could have tasted sweeter.
"And it seems," Hisoka whispers to her neck though he has already sunken his fangs deep onto her flesh, onto her bitter, bitter soul: "tonight, I shall be your undoing, little one."
Exposition Corner:
Yuujo: a regular Yoshiwara prostitute, which means "play woman."
Hiyoku: silk kimono robes that are worn under kimono.
