#chrollo x reader smut
—LOOSE ENDS
summary: you help repay chrollo for the treatment he gave you last night.
w/c: 3133
tags: morning after, fluff, oral sex, slightly subchrollo
a/n: soooo im gonna tell a typical chapter out of order and make the porn first and then the story lol. this one is a lot smaller than the last one cause the next one is gonna be a pretty length one
By the time you woke up the sun was already high above you, light streaming through the window and onto your closed eyes enough to pull you from a dreamless sleep. For a moment you were scared, eyes frantically scanning the room until you saw your boots tucked neatly beside your bed and all the memories of last night came rushing back.
The sudden onslaught of blood to your head made the pounding in your skull even worse, nothing holding you back from melodramatically groaning into the silken pillow. Embarrassed wasn’t the correct word for how you felt. Even mortified felt tame. The thoughts of Chrollo, dark hair bunched into your fingers while he held your thighs still, eating you out like you were his last supper was enough to make a painfully familiar warmth start to pool in your gut.
Those memories were golden, the only problem was how they ended.
You’d passed out on him the second he was done, what kind of date did that? He must’ve thought you were pretty inconsiderate, or at least that you were a sloppy drunk.
Your guilt weighed heavy on your shoulders as you slowly tracked down your phone and clothes, finding all but your bra before making your way out to the hall. Either the lights were too dim last night or you were too drunk but you hadn’t truly appreciated how expensive your host’s penthouse was when compared to your apartment. The view of York New City from Chollo’s penthouse was breathtaking, the metropolitan skyline etched with the bright reflection of the sun.
Nervously, you opened your mouth to call out his name, you wanted to just find him and apologize already so you could stop feeling so damn uneasy.
“Ah, you’re awake.” Even though he spoke in the softest voice he could’ve managed he still spooked you.
“Christ, you scared me. Do you not make footsteps or something?”
He shrugged, apologetically gesturing towards the other hallway, “My apologies. I was about to wake you and see if you wanted any coffee?”
Despite the headache you still managed a smile at the offer, “That sounds great right now. Maybe top it off with a pain killer or two?”
“Of course.” The kitchen was as grand as the bedroom, with cabinets overlooking each marble countertop and a similarly beautiful view from the window by the dining table. The only thing that struck you as odd was when Chrollo pulled some creamer from the fridge, giving you a glance at how sparse his groceries were, only restricted to a few bare necessities.
Tucking yourself into a chair, your brain slowly woke up with the smell of the familiar caffeine. Before you could clarify how you liked your coffee he’d already poured it, adding exactly the same amount of sugars you’d told him you enjoyed when you gushed over Dorian Grey on the first day you met him.
As he fixed your coffee he kept his back to you, shoulders tensed as he asked, “Do you… remember what happened last night?”
You scoffed, “I only had a bit of wine, Chrollo, I remember perfectly.”
“Then what happened between us…” he turned to you, leaning against the countertop to keep his distance, “Do you regret it?”
Instantly you snapped up to him, “What? No,no, Chrollo I’m—“
“You were drunk. It was wrong of me to take advantage of you like that.” his guilty confession was unbelievable. You might’ve been tipsy but you can clearly recall the way you fell apart around him, pleasure bleeding from each cry of his name, and he was under the impression you hadn’t wanted it?
“Chrollo, I’m fine, last night was amazing. That’s not what I regret,” he blinked, genuinely confused.
“What, then?”
You looked back to the glass table, your reflection feint but clearly flustered in the clear mirror, “Because you didn’t… I didn’t make you feel good.”
His scoff was caught somewhere between relieved and puzzled, “That’s it?”
Looking up into his eyes as he brought the mugs of steaming coffee over was a challenge, “I’m just sorry I fell asleep is all,” you trailed off.
He snatched your hand, his eyes brimming with severity and want. “Trust me, love, I enjoyed myself too.” You had to look away, taking solace in the too-hot burn of the coffee as a way to take your mind off the intensity of his stare and help keep your voice from breaking.
“But what if I repay my favor?” The lilt in your voice wasn’t lost on him and all the sobering thoughts he fed himself did nothing to stop his pulse jumping at your words.
He visibly shifted in his seat, “You don’t have to—“
“I want to.” He was beginning to learn that you were a special kind of stubborn, conflict evident on his face.
“You don’t owe me anything,” his voice was strained, like he was holding back everything he wanted to say, “If.. if you don’t…
Your hand ran alongside his arm, reverently thumbing the muscle that hid underneath the grey fabric, “I know that, Chrollo. Doesn’t change how I want to feel you… tasteyou,”
He said your name like a scolding teacher, frown etched onto his face. If it weren’t for the thin flush of color that fled to his cheeks and the way his legs spread wider under your foot’s pressure you would’ve stopped.
“Most guys want this, you know?”
“You should know by now I’m not like most men,” before your confidence faltered you drew back your ankle, standing up from the chair to hover in front of him. He followed you with his eyes and it did nothing to keep your poise in check, running your hand down his chest and feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your palm.
The cold wood of the floor met your knees, batting your eyelashes at him as best you could, “You said you enjoyed making me feel good, right?” He nodded as your hand moved down the thin trail of dark hair to his sweatpants where the strain in his body was all too obvious, toying with the seam of fabric between your fingertips.
“Well, then let me have my fun,”
The guttural groan from your words felt like heaven to your ears, knowing you’d won.
“…Alright,” it was all you needed, tugging down the material until you saw his length aching against the black of his briefs. You pressed mouthy kisses along until you felt him twitch beneath you, wrapping a soft hand around to squeeze him gently through the fabric, pulling another sigh from him.
The sound made you think you were doing good but looking up didn’t confirm the theory, his hands digging into the arm of the dining chair, mouth pressed into a straight line.
“Chrollo,relax,” he didn’t seem convinced, clearly turned on but fidgety under your touch, “do you want me to stop?”
“No, dear, I just—“ it was rare to see him at such a loss for words, “I’m not used to this.”
The idea that Chrollo hadn’t ever been taken care of like this was as astounding as it was annoying, “Why not?”
Despite the compromising position it took a long moment before he spoke, voice barely above a hush,
“It’s vulnerable.”
You didn’t expect to feel so moved while you were on your knees about to blow him, but the honesty of his words still made your heart skip a few beats.
As gently as you possibly could, you pulled his boxers off the cut of his waist, his cock hitting against his stomach when it was freed. The sight was intimidating, not only because it would be logistically difficult to fit him in your mouth but because of his expression; all wide-eyed and nervous, his breathing heavy above you. True to his words, it was the most vulnerable you’d ever seen him.
Wrapping your palm around him, the gasp it drew made a wave of heat settle in your abdomen.
You didn’t have a way with words like him, you couldn’t make him stutter and blush like he did to you, so you tried to let your actions speak for themselves, taking an effort to worship every inch of him as his composure slipped away.
As you thumbed patterns into the exposed flesh you drew your tongue along his cock, prying out another pleased sigh, the tense strain of the hunter’s body loosening beneath you.
“More.” He said sharply, eyes closed into a scrunch while you smiled at your little victory.
Without wasting a moment you wrapped your mouth around his length that had beaded with pre-cum. Having to wrap your hand around what couldn’t fit, you took him deeper, willing yourself not to choke. The width of him was hard to manage but the sinful noises above you more than made up for the certain ache your jaw would be suffering later on.
“God, just..“ Chrollo stuttered, trying to keep his hips from snapping into your mouth, “more, Darling, I’m-”
The moan he gave you was quiet, hiding behind his hand, but you’d take it as a green light, moving your head back and forth to elicit the most overwhelming friction you could. He was a mess underneath you, or at least as much of a mess as he could be, one hand finally combing itself in your hair, his grip tight at the roots, while the other was resolutely over his mouth.
You twist your tongue over the tip of his cock, humming around him to see Chrollo’s head fall back from the pleasure, the rapid rising of his chest and muffled groans giving away his composure.
“Darling, so… stop, stop, I’m close,” his hips involuntarily pushed forward when you swallowed around him, his hand not being enough to staunch the breathy whines that you ripped from his chest.
He was a sight to see, the panes of muscle under his shirt clenched from the fire of your touch, eyebrows pursed together and eyes shut tight as he cupped a shaking hand under his nose to try and hide the way his voice cracked under the budding pleasure. His hips automatically jut into the air once you pulled back, eyes squinting open to see your tongue toying with the string of spit that connected you to him.
You pulled back just enough to kiss a few hoarse words onto the tip of his cock, red and sensitive from the heat of your throat, “Want you to cum in my mouth,Chrollo,”
Hearing your name being called so desperately, so sweetly, was more satisfying than anything, the filth of your words catching your lover off-guard.
“And don’t cover your voice either, I want to hear you,” he obliged, though begrudgingly, the pleading look in his big grey eyes more than enough to make you go down on him once again.
He tried to follow your request, stuttering out a moan as he rocked himself into your pace, eyes open this time as he watched where your mouth met his cock with a glazed focus. After a moment his grip in your hair tightened, beginning to guide you down his length as he saw fit, a slew of mumbled whines spilling from his trembling lips.
As Chrollo’s tip hit the back of your throat you forced yourself to breathe through your nose, easier said than done but somehow you managed, swallowing around his twitching head, a meretricious cry leaving him that echoed around the room. He pushed you forward in a moment of blind desire, your nose brushing against the patch of dark hair as you had to ignore the tears that involuntarily spilled down your cheeks as he came down your throat.
It was too much for you to take, his cum dribbling from your mouth as he rode out his high, the warmth thick as it went down your throat, his grip mercifully going slack. You swallowed most of it but some still spilled down your lips when you finally couldn’t hold back a cough, the brief oversensitivity sending him reeling, staining your cheek with a rope of white.
“God… damnit,” he huffed, trying to catch his breath as he took you in. You’re sure you must’ve looked like quite a sight with his cum dripping down your face and cheeks flushed red, tears brimming with starlight against your eyelashes.
You couldn’t resist teasing him a bit more, sticking out your tongue and swiping his cum into your mouth, audibly humming at the taste.
“You’reinsatiable,” he whispered under his breath.
The giggle that bubbled up from your chest was infectious and Chrollo couldn’t help but smile along as he tucked himself back into his sweatpants.
Standing up and swiping the floor’s dust from your knees, you rubbed the back of your neck, “You… liked it, right?”
His voice deadpanned as you asked, looking at the mess he’d made of your face, “Are you joking?”
“Where’s the bathroom, Chrollo?” He took a moment to laugh into his hand, chuckling at the absurd mundanity of the moment before directing you down the hall.
You whistled as you stepped into the bathroom, the tile reflecting porcelain and marble. First thing’s first, you turned on the tap until the water ran warm, dampening a towel and wiping off anything that remained of your escapade in the kitchen, your reflection after the ordeal looking noticeably more hungover than after you woke up.
Once you were decently clean you rummaged around for some kind of soap, stumbling upon more than a few odd discoveries. A half-empty box of latex gloves, a wig, and a full row of hydrogen peroxide bottles.
Was this all for hunter stuff? Being honest with yourself, you really don’t know much about what the profession entails, only that it’s dangerous and pays insanely well, but you couldn’t really place a finger on why they were all there. Eventually after shoving a row of medical supplies to the side you found some facial wash, cleansing until you felt fresh enough to go back out, ruffling your hair in the mirror before leaving.
Once you made your way back to the kitchen Chrollo was nowhere to be seen, but both your cups of wasted coffee were in the sink. Pity. You were resolved to wait there until he came back when the bright chime of the doorbell sounded from the living room.
“Chrollo? There’s someone at the…” you tried to call out but realized suddenly that you didn’t know just how big this place was. Shrugging, you decided to answer it for him, and soon enough you found your way to the living room, tugging open the door right in the middle of another ringing succession.
On the other side was a short, blond guy who was busy tapping something into a flip phone while wearing a bright, boyish grin that fell sharply as his eyes locked on to yours.
“Um.. Hello there,” you tried, clearing your throat, “are you looking for Chrollo?”
As he quickly typed something into his phone he never took his eyes off you, not even blinking as he asked, “Who are you?”
The beautiful sound of Chrollo saying your name saved you, appearing from the hallway and dressed in different clothes as he looked between you and the stranger at the door with a grave look on his face.
“Shalnark, what a surprise.” Was that the blond guy? It was an odd name to be sure but then again so was Chrollo, so who were you to judge? With Yorknew a transit city as it is, you’re sure you must’ve heard something similar at one point or another.
Once he came up to the door he rested his hand softly on the small of your back, a warmth spreading from where his fingertips grazed the skin. The contact made you think back on what had just happened a few minutes ago and paranoia set in, praying you hadn’t missed a spot while cleaning.
“Shal, this is… a friend of mine,” something tells you that from what just happened the two of you were far past being friends. The two of you had practically skipped that phase entirely.
The intense vibe surrounding the blond vanished and soon that smile from before was back on his face, although now his eyes very rarely left Chrollo’s as he let him speak.
“Darling, this is my brother, Shalnark.“ You tried not to let your shock show too openly on your face but your jaw went slack nonetheless.
“Brother?” Looking between the two of them it would’ve been impossible to tell, everything from their complexion to their hair was different.
Shalnark leaned forward, helpfully adding, “Adoptedbrother.”
You made a noise of understanding once the two of them nodded in unison. It wasn’t too shocking to think that whatever parent came up with Chrollo must’ve also come up with Shalnark.
“Would you mind waiting in your room, darling? There’s a family matter we need to discuss.” You smiled, nodding obliviously as you tried to retrace your brief steps to the comfy bed.
Once you were safely out of earshot the two spiders were held at a standstill, both waiting to see who would speak first, and for once it wasn’t Chrollo. Shalnark’s gaze met the floor, chewing on a question before finally spitting it out.
“She doesn’t know?”
“…No,” his expression was neutral, an invasive edge to his voice, “Why are you here?”
Shal took a deep breath, tucking his phone into his back pocket as he strode into the living room, “Got rid of the body at Earlson’s, thought I should let you know.”
“And I take it you need your license back?”
The manipulator grinned, “I can never sneak anything by you, huh?”
“I’d hope not,” he produced the card and handed it over, its use exceeded now that she had seen him with one the night before.
As the card returned to its rightful owner Chrollo paused, his tight grip on the license catching his underling off-guard.
“Don’t tell any of the others about her.” It was one of the first times he’d ever seen his leader ask for something so earnestly.
“I won’t, boss.” Shalnark’s loyalty to the Troupe was only outdone by his loyalty to Chrollo, resolve unwavering as he held the gaze of his superior.
“Besides,” he slid the identification back into his pocket, unable to keep himself from getting in one more comment before making himself scarce, “we all have loose ends.”
“Sorry about that, love, Shal just had to stop by for a minute,” you sat with your legs crossed on the bed, tugging your boots on and lacing them up tight.
You gave him a sympathetic look as you finished double-knotting your shoelaces, “Family drama?”
Chrollo pondered the comment, “You could say that.”
You just shrugged, waving off the topic, “Families are weird, I won’t pry.”
He must’ve appreciated the notion because with that he relaxed again, finally gesturing to your shoes, “Trying to escape already?”
“Chrollo, It’s 11:00 and I have work at noon. I didn’t leave yesterday thinking I’d have to set an alarm,” he scoffed and you playfully swatted at his arm in indignation, the embarrassed blush on your cheekbones doing nothing to detract from the mirthful smile that gave you away.
“Don’t laugh at my ‘normal-person’ job just ‘cause I don’t get attacked in the middle of making a french press.” by now he was full-on grinning, chuckling over your teasing act as you finished putting yourself back together.
He took the liberty of opening the door for you both, tying that winding cloth around his tattoo again before grabbing his keys on the way out, “I’m not laughing at you, dear, far from it.“
“Could’ve fooled me.”
There was something about hotel hallways that rang true no matter how expensive they were, as when Chrollo led you down the corridor lined with gold-plated room numbers you felt the familiar oncomings of a headache setting in until he called for your attention, “I assume you’ll need a ride?”
“I think It’s fair since you kidnapped me, don’t you think?” Stepping into the elevator, you turned to face him but didn’t expect the contemplative look on his face as he hummed.
As the ding of the lift slid the doors shut Chrollo’s voice seemed much louder in the tiny space, “Now that’s a thought…” he muttered.
Again you slapped his arm, “Don’t be weird.”
His smile returned and you noticed that recently he’d been sharing them with you more often than before, a stark contrast to the completely aloof mystery he used to be, “I’m joking, darling, honest.”
Stepping into the lobby, Chrollo took the liberty to guide his hand along your waist, pulling you close beside him as you made your way through the lavish waiting room and out to the valet, a quick interaction between your chauffeur and one of the staff bringing around the car you’d arrived in, only now noticing in direct sunlight how the windows were tinted dark.
As you tucked yourself into the passenger’s seat Chrollo was quick to pull onto the road, not bothering to ask for directions. A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as he drove, giving you a moment to relax into the warmth of the leather. Discounting last night, it’d been months since someone else had driven you anywhere and it was easy to admit that it felt nice.
After a few blocks his voice broke the silence, eyes laser focused on the road either to be a good driver or to avoid looking at you, “I did enjoy it, you know.”
“Hm?
“This morning. I wanted you to know that you didn’t scare me off.” His confession about the vulnerability your actions entailed were clear in your mind, the reassurance striking a chord in your chest.
“Neither did you,” you added, smiling after meeting his gaze once he turned your way, a strange double-meaning behind the fog of his eyes.
“Not yet.”
—LOOSE ENDS
summary: after returning from his business trip, chrollo takes you to dinner to explain what he is and what he does, the false versions of them, that is.
wc: 7616
tags: nsfw, manipulation, drunk sex, cunnilingus, gaslighting, coffee shop, begging kink
an: ooo boy this took a fucking while to get up but not as long as i thought tbh. i know the hxh scene is a lot less prevalent than the mha one but i hope fellow chrollo fuckers understand the appeal of being manipulated with good intentions
Weeks passed. Not a day went by without you thinking of your mysterious visitor at least once, and sometimes when a customer would order an espresso you felt an odd twinge in your heart, casting a glance at the empty table where the two of you sat together. Little did you know that you’d be seeing him again far sooner than you thought.
It hadn’t even been a full month when he came back.
The door’s ringing barely caught your attention and you responded with your routine, “Welcome in, what can I—“
But there he stood in the doorway, bathed in the late rays of the setting sun, your copy of Dorian Grey in hand.
“Chrollo!” You exclaimed before the stares of the other patrons made you cough nervously, trying to keep your voice to yourself, “It’s good to see you again.”
That frail smile of his was a sight for sore eyes, “You too. Though are you sure you didn’t just miss this?” He held up your book for emphasis.
“Both,” he almost looked amused by your honesty, “I thought you said you’d be gone for a month?”
Chrollo picked his words carefully, “My business trip finished up early, so I thought I’d return a bit sooner rather than later. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” you grinned, way too delighted just by hearing the sound of his voice again. Your coworkers had teased you relentlessly for it, but their annoyance was justified. You’re sure it must’ve been hell on them to keep repeating orders and questions for you at work only for two weeks straight only for you to not hear them, busily caught up in thinking if your mysterious customer would come in that day. It seems luck must’ve been on your side for once.
“Tell me, what time does your shift end?”
Deftly untying your apron, you shoved it underneath the counter, thankful that he’d come in just as your shift was getting off, “You’re in luck, I’m actually just about to clock out.”
Before you could walk over to the booth you’d sat at before, his words stopped you.
“In that case would you like to get dinner?” You froze mid-step, the implications of his request both exciting and terrifying. You must’ve looked like a deer in headlights to him, all wide-eyed and disbelieving.
“Now?”
“When else?”
“But I just got off work, and…” suddenly each bit of grime and sweat that’d built up throughout the day felt worse, especially compared to Chrollo. He seemed to be carved from marble, not a hair out of place or wrinkle present in his dark button-down.
He scoffed, “If that’s the only thing stopping you, then I assure you there’s nothing to worry about.”
Internally you were screaming. The idea that he’d ask you out now of all times was nerve-wracking, but you couldn’t say no to those pleading eyes of his.
“Only if it’s not anywhere fancy,” you mumbled.
He smiled, though something seemed pained in his glance, “I assure you, It’s nothing too extravagant.”
Chrollo offered you his hand, taking yours in his before you could change your mind, and suddenly you were reminded of the night he’d left and your knuckles hummed with warmth at the thought of his lips on them again.
“Shall we?”
As soon as he pulled into the valet parking you were almost fuming.
“You promised nothing too fancy, Chrollo! I’ll stick out like a sore thumb in here,” the idea of all those eyes on you had your stomach turning.
You couldn’t help but jump when his hand found its place on your jeans, lightly brushing his thumb over the denim, and suddenly you couldn’t think of anything but him.
“I already made the reservations before I asked you here tonight,” your mouth parted in shock, was he really that confident in himself?
A few stuttered noises escaped you before you could manage to speak, “What if I didn’t say yes?”
He smirked, shrugging his shoulders, “I guess we’ll never know.”
With that the car came to a stop in front of the entrance and when his hand left your thigh you couldn’t help but feel a sting of disappointment. Chrollo quickly handed a few notes to the valet driver before walking beside you, his arm extended.
You couldn’t help but laugh a bit in disbelief at the sheer grandiosity of the past hour, but something still lingered; A nagging doubt that kept you on your toes. Just who was Chrollo? What kind of job would make him leave for months on end and come back with what looked like a fortune? Staring into his unreadable eyes betrayed nothing and a distant quote scratched at the back of your head as you hesitantly linked your arm with his.
“He is a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma,”
The polished glass doors parted before you to reveal a middle-aged receptionist hidden behind a small table, a stack of menus at his side. The floors were a rich red fabric that made you paranoid about leaving any dirt behind from the worn soles of your boots, and the walls were fitted with an old-fashioned wallpaper, accented with stone pillars at each corner.
“Reservation for two? It’s under Lucilfer.” That got your attention. Sure, Chrollo wasn’t a common name but Lucilfer? Did he just happen to have surname modeled after the biblical devil or did he pick it himself for some reason? Either way it somehow fit him perfectly, and within no time the receptionist spotted his name on his guest list, bowing slightly before asking you to follow him.
The receptionist led you two through an archway into what must’ve been the most lavish restaurant you’d ever seen in your life. It was horrifying. Everyone else you saw was draped in pearls and flattering dresses, suits embroidered with designer labels meanwhile all you had on was a black sweater and jeans. Their judgmental eyes followed your every step, your grip on Chrollo’s arm growing tighter as you tried to make it to your table without tripping.
He fixed his gaze on you, perceptive to a fault, “Don’t be afraid, love, they’re not worth the thought,”
Your pulse was pounding in your ears as he whispered; you were surprised that Chrollo couldn’t hear it given how close he hovered to your neck. You tried in vain to follow his advice but how could you concentrate on anything when he said things like that?
After what felt like hours your waiter finally showed you to your table, a two seated set perched beside a looming, iron-gilded window.
You were sure to pull out your chair yourself before Chrollo could get a chance to; it seemed like the type of princely thing he’d pull to make you a stuttering mess. You were starting to wonder if he was some kind of sadist.
As the receptionist scurried off there was nothing to distract you from the man across the table, the snide glares of the other patrons rolling off you like water.
“Not so bad I hope?”
You shook your head, taking in the surroundings along with a few deep breaths, “No, It’s just… overwhelming,”
“I see. I guess it is a bit much,” Chrollo hummed in understanding, handing you one of the glossy menus and subtly gesturing to the other tables, “unfortunately I meet people like them more often than not in my line of work.”
Finally he’d brought up what you’d been itching to ask him, “What is it you do exactly? I mean, do you go on business trips like that a lot?”
His gaze turned sharp and oddly still before reaching into his suit pocket and revealing what looked like a small credit card. Tentatively, you took it from his outstretched hand. Only when you saw the red diamond and two black Xs adorning the ID did you know what you were holding.
Your eyes shot open, looking from him to the card and back again.
“You’re a hunter?” You gaped, brain having difficulties tying the hunter association’s elite ranks of fighters with the soft-spoken young man who reads Oscar Wilde in run-down coffee shops.
He nodded, his posture relaxing, “I’m an Antiques Hunter, so I usually don’t stay in one city too long before I have to leave,”
You were slowly wrapping your head around the news when you realized that you were basically holding the equivalent of six billion jenny. The shock made you shove the card back into his hands, stunned into silence. You might’ve guessed that Chrollo had a strange job, but this was something else.
But then why did it feel like you were missing something?
“Well, are you going to keep interrogating me, or would you like to have dinner first?” You snorted, thankful for him at least trying to lighten the mood.
You instinctively flinched at the price tags beside each dish, having to remind yourself that money was never an issue for a hunter, if Chrollo’s lascivious taste said anything else. After a bit of debate you picked out the most recognizable and pronounceable meal you could find, while your partner ordered a rare steak with some foreign red wine.
“So when will you have to leave again for your next…” you struggled to find the right words, “hunting trip?”
“Two weeks or so. I’ll be flying to the Lurka ruins for an excavation,” he handed off your menus to the waiter and within moments someone had arrived with an unopened bottle of wine. Popping the cork, your glasses were filled halfway, and with a weird hand gesture Chrollo had the waiter leaving behind the bottle.
“What will you do for the next two weeks?” He seemed thankful you didn’t press him on his work, it must have to be secretive if he’s a hunter.
His gaze flickered over to yours as he raised the glass to his lips, never breaking eye contact, “That depends on you. This trip will be a longer one, I’m afraid, and I may not see you again for a while.”
You bit the inside of your cheek at that, bringing up your own glass and knocking back a deep drink, downing nearly half the goblet. When you set it back down on the table and wiped the plum liquor from your lips against the back of your hand you didn’t expect to see an amusedly scandaled Chrollo, whose eyes were raised at theshotyou took of wine.
“…I’m not supposed to do that, am I?” He laughed, honest-to-god laughedat that, and the sound was beautiful just like him. Breathy but deep, more stunned than anything as you flushed red in embarrassment.
“—I love it when you laugh, Chrollo,” You grinned, resting your head on your hand and taking in how he looked with a toothy grin, knowing it might not come out again.
His laugh was abruptly cut short, your notion so sincere it unnerved him.
“I don’t find myself able to often,” he mused, almost to himself, before looking up at you with a vulnerable softness to his eyes, “but perhaps I should.”
All at once the tone of the air shifted, what warmth laid in those grey pools drained of color and Chrollo went completely rigid. You were confused. Did you say something wrong? Suddenly he flicked his gaze to yours, mouth in a straight line, giving nothing away. It was starting to scare you.
“Chrollo?”
A voice echoed from above you, “Well, what a surprise. I finally found you, spider.”
Standing beside the tablecloth was an older, burly man with rough skin and twitching fingers stood even taller than Chrollo, a burning hatred in his eyes.
The shadows of your date’s face fell darkly as he met the man’s stare.
“Do I know you?” His voice sounded wrong, different somehow. Like he was an actor from a stage show, brimming with falsity under the fluorescent lights
When the man slammed a heavy fist down on the table, nearly shattering the pressed wood in two, you couldn’t’ve stoped the shrill squeak from escaping if you tried, muffled by your hand cupped tightly over your mouth
“You know damn well who I am.” All conversation in the restaurant died instantly. The eyes of frightened socialites widened at the loud bang. Your breathing was shaky but you couldn’t take your eyes off Chrollo, desperate for a sign, a hint that everything was going to be okay.
Slowly, your date rose to his feet and even if he was shorter and far less bulky than whoever kept harassing him he didn’t look at all concerned.
Standing below him, Chrollo finally spoke up, “We can take this elsewhere.”
“Fine by me. I wouldn’t want to kill anyone but you.”
Tears were caught in your eyelashes, voice shaking as you asked, “Chrollo, what—“
“Stay here,” he spared you one last glance, “I’ll be back soon.”
The man scoffed, fixing his beady eyes on you for the first and last time that night, sneering, but before he could do or say anything, Chrollo had silenced him with a simple glare. Thankfully whoever he was, he didn’t seem to care much about you. The two of them left, Chrollo willingly following the man’s lead and not looking back. Nobody stopped them or even said a word as they vacated the building. All at once, the volume increased. Dramatic murmurs and phone calls making your head ache, the other patrons eager to gossip about whatever had happened at your table.
You slumped into the chair, hugging your arms to yourself to try and feel safe again. Immediately a waitress came over, a younger one with worry written all over her face.
“Miss, are you alright?” She outstretched her hand and you took it gratefully, thankful to have an anchor even if it was with a stranger.
As the moments dragged on you made best friends with the abandoned bottle of wine, which had somehow escaped unscathed. Drinking might not’ve been the best solution to your problems but it was what you needed. Your breathing went steady as you poured yourself another glass, trying to think of anything other than who used to be sitting in the empty chair across from you.
Was he alright? Was he hurt? God, you felt so powerless just sitting there, you couldn’t leave or call for help without going against Chrollo’s wishes but how much could you really trust his assurances? The image of your… lover? Date? The image of Chrollo slumped against some alleyway with whatever horrible injuries your brain could come up with riddled through his designer suit sent you reaching for the neck of the wine bottle once again.
Your silence wasn’t going to go on for much longer because only fifteen minutes or so after he’d left, Chrollo walked through the door. The relief caught you by surprise, wrecking your energy as he returned to the table, unfazed as if nothing ever happened.
“I’m truly sorry for all of this, Darling. I owe you an explanation,” he said your name so despondently and you were having none of it.
You shook your head, inadvertently making your vision spin from the drinks, “No, just.. what happened? Are you alright?”
He scoffed at your concern, letting you cling to his hand for reassurance, pulse steady compared to your erratic heart, “Yes, don’t worry, all I did was restrain him for the police, but we should probably get going.” You nodded, thankful for the idea of talking with him alone instead of among a crowd. You noticed that he seemed as healthy as he’d left, slightly putting your mind at ease as he scribbled down a check in messy penmanship.
Taking your arm as you stood from the chair, he rest his hand around your waist as he led you through the doorway, the distant sounds of York New’s night life a familiar comfort to your drunken mind. The car was already pulled up when he opened the passenger’s seat, you crawled in with your legs tucked awkwardly against the seat, too confused and tipsy to care about manners.
Soon the restaurant was in your rear-view mirror and you turned to look at your driver.
“Talk.”
He never took his eyes off the road while he spoke, “Hunters acquire enemies through their work. That man was a client that felt I didn’t do a good enough job on an assignment a few months ago. He must’ve thought that being stronger would help him in a fight, I suppose.”
You climbed up into the seat as best you could, clutching your head with a wince, Chrollo immediately asking, “Are you drunk?”
You couldn’t hold his gaze after that question, basically confirming his suspicions.
“I’m a nervous drinker,” you pouted, and without thinking you reached a hand over along the forearm of his sleeve, undeniably needy for physical contact, “and you scared me, Chrollo.”
As you came to an intersection he finally met your sight, taking in the flushed mess that you wore so beautifully, eyes glossy with unshed tears. It was all he could do to not reach over and pull you to him, but he knew he couldn’t. Not now at least.
“Where do you live?” Holding the bridge of your nose, you recited the address perfectly but still overthought about whether or not it was right.
“That’s… quite far. How is it you live half an hour away from the city?” You were far too drunk to answer the question you’d been asking yourself even since the bullet train was installed by your apartment, simply mumbling a string of nonsense as you held on to him for stability.
He took your hand away from him, setting it back on your thigh, but he didn’t pull away. The drunken blush spread to your nose at the heat, “I need to ask you something,” he tightened his grip, calling your name to get your attention. The action sent a rush of warmth through your body and settled in your stomach, making you almost rub your thighs together to relieve the pressure.
“Hmm?”
“My hotel is five minutes away. If you would feel comfortable with it, you can stay the night with me.” It was honestly a miracle that he had no bad intentions, because if he had you would’ve been easy pickings with how easily you nodded yes.
You almost caught a smile on his pale lips after you agreed, and soon enough you were pulling into his hotel, Chrollo kind enough to help you to your feet and guide you forward after handing some uniformed staff member a wad of credits that seemed far too much for a simple valet job but who were you to tell? You suppose in hindsight substituting dinner with wine wasn’t the best idea.
The elevator’s pull upwards made you clutch onto his chest for balance, swaying unsteadily. He ran a hand through your hair that was still messy from work, taking solace in the smell of burnt coffee.
Once the elevator came to his floor he took you before a tall door, swiping a keycard beside it before pushing open. The main room’s wall made of windows that overlooked the glowing lights of the city below, almost making you dizzy.
But you couldn’t enjoy the sight as Chrollo was leading you towards his bedroom. The insinuation made you think back to his grip on your thigh, feeling you through the denim. An ache between your legs was getting too hard to ignore, especially when he guided you to lie down on the bed.
You groaned childishly, clutching around his neck to keep him from pulling away, too comfortable in the blanket of his arms.
He said your name sternly, “Let go,” with a strength far from your own he took your hands away and kept them at your sides.
Chrollo left you on the mattress as he kneeled down to unlace your boots, pulling them off your feet and keeping them beside the bed. You, on your elbows, looked down at him, the intoxication making you flush from the sight of your date between your legs.
Once he removed your other shoe he caught your gaze, pausing once he came to that same conclusion. In the dim light of the master bedroom you could’ve seen the faintest rush of color beneath his pale skin.
He instantly tried to stand and move from that spot but without thinking you hooked your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.
“Stay, Chrollo,” conflict waged in his eyes, debating with himself whether or not he would follow your lead.
The hunter shook his head, “You’re drunk—“
“—You’rebeautiful,” he was stunned into silence. His stare finally flicking down to the bare skin visible beneath your tousled sweater.
He opened his mouth to speak, but he stopped when you brought him closer towards you until you could feel the heat of his breath on your skin.
Chrollo squeezed his eyes shut, muttering a gravelly curse under his breath before finally moving up from your legs. In an instant he was on you, his lips cool against yours as his hands grasped at your bunched up shirt, yanking it above your head and throwing it elsewhere, fingers deftly unlatching your bra, never breaking his bruising kiss while pinching the soft flesh of your tits.
Chrollo was greedy, forcing your body to bend in any way he wished. He kissed down your neck, sucking on the skin until you dug your hands into his hair, moaning at the tingly sensation.
“I wanted to wait,” he muttered the words into your neck and you yelped from his teeth biting down, “But you couldn’t, could you? So desperate,”
“Don’t tease me, Chrollo,” you pleaded, rolling against his cock, slick pooling in your jeans.
He grabbed your waist, halting your motions and glowering up at you, “Are you that needy for me?”
You nodded, unashamed, “Need you in me, Chrollo—”
You cried out when he pinched one of your tits and rolled the blush between his fingers, drawing as many breathy gasps as he could before his kisses travelled across your collarbone. He locked eyes with yours as he wrapped his tongue around the pebbled skin, watching closely for whatever reaction you’d grant him.
“Not yet,” as his teeth bit into the sensitive bud you yanked on his hair hard, arching into his mouth while his hands stayed busy. One fell to your jeans, working off the metal buttons. You only realized what he was doing when the sound of your zipper cut through the air.
“I still need to have you for myself first,” soon you in nothing but black lace panties as you rutted against him in any way you could, absolutely shameless from the drinks.
His mouth parted as he took in your form, chest heaving and body trembling beneath him. It felt good, it felt right.
“And I’ve been dying to taste you.” Your undergarments must’ve been ruined by now, the deep tremor in his voice turning your legs to jelly. Your vision was still uneven from the drinks earlier, but if anything it only helped to heighten the otherworldly feeling Chrollo seemed so adept at drawing you towards.
Chrollo’s lips fell down to your stomach, kissing down until they met the soft lace. His eyes never leaving yours, his teeth pulled your panties below your thighs and you bent your legs up so he could slide them away. It was intoxicating, the steady heat in his eyes blazing as every slow movement looked like living sin.
Before you could close them, he gripped each of your calves and spread your legs wide, ignoring how the stretch made you yelp. It was almost unnerving to see the stoic man come undone, his breathing heavy and sweat beading underneath his bandaged forehead.
Why onearthwas he still wearing that thing?
“God, Chrollo,” his lips quirked into a smile as he ran a stipe down your folds, groaning at the sweet taste that seemingly invaded each of his senses. How could he have ever denied himself this?
He bent his tongue inside you and the noises it wrought were far from decent but you were careful to not let yourself get distracted. As your hands carded into the soft strands, you felt the ridge of bandages tucked around his head. Cautiously, you tugged him upwards, friction heavenly against your clit, before calling his name seriously to get his attention.
The sight of his chin shiny with your slick was something you’d never forget, but you couldn’t let your mind wander too long, whispering, “Can I take it off?”
He felt you toy with the edge of the bindings and seemingly contemplated the thought for a beating second before nodding silently.
Trying to not let your elation show too easily, you didn’t spare any time trying to undo his knot, simply pulling it up until the cloth slipped away. The lights were dim, but through it you could see more and more of what he was hiding as the bandage slipped between your fingers.
A crescent cross tattoo sat on his forehead, sending your eyebrows furrowing with confusion. You were fully expecting a disfiguring scar or injury, but certainly not a tattoo. You’re almost thankful you were drunk for this discovery; If you were sober you might’ve ruined the mood with all your prattling questions
He didn’t spare you any time to think, diving back into the nectar between your thighs. Your thumb rubbed over the exposed ink of his face as he tugged his tongue onto your clit. Faintly you began to notice the budding heat in your stomach, the coil tightening each time Chrollo wound you up.
“Fuck, I’m… I’m close, Chrollo, don’t stop—“ your thighs spasmed at the angle he held them and you knew you’d be incredibly sore tomorrow, though that goes without saying.
You tried to pull him closer despite or maybe because of that stinging pain, heaving out breaths of air as he ate you like a man starved. His tongue arched inside of you, a whorish moan escaping your lips as his elbow supported your thigh, a hand far wider than yours pressing into your stomach as his fingers rubbed quick circles onto your clit.
You didn’t last long, coming undone with a blinding hot flash of pleasure snapping inside your gut, a shout of his name music to his ears as his tongue arched around your clit. Your tendons were still aching even as he let his hold on your legs go, alcohol still coursing through your veins dulling any pain fast as you turned to your side, curling into the pillow and panting with exertion.
Eyes closed as you tried to catch your breath, you missed the way Chrollo stared at you. A foreign warmth to his lifeless eyes, burning with unanswered questions. He was painfully hard, straining against the fabric of his suit. A part of him he’d never fed before wanted to tear his bindings off and take you feral and fast until he’d finally find release in your velveteen body. He’d fuck you like he’d been fantasizing these past two weeks until you were begging for him to cum inside of you.
But as he crawled up your naked body he noticed how oddly calm your breathing had become. Flicking up to your face, he stared incredulously as you burrowed into the plush of the pillow, softly snoring with a satisfied smile on your face.
He almost laughed, but it might’ve woken you, and that was the last thing he wanted. Chrollo soothed his fingers over your sweaty skin, still smelling like coffee but much more now like sex. As softly as he could, he pulled the scattered covers over your bare body and you instantly cozied into the blankets.
The sight sent a horrifying warmth through his chest, and he left before he did anything reckless.
The air of the hallway felt cold compared to his bedroom, but Chrollo had to get a hold of himself. He’d take her home in the morning and that’d be the end of it, for now at least, but he still had something to take care of.
Palming himself through the material of his pants made a soft groan ripple through his chest as he leaned against the door, thinking of the delicious taste of your pussy, how soft your cries were for him. He’d been with women before, either for information or as a way to steal their nen, but the honest plea in your eyes when you asked to see his tattoo and the feeling of you running your fingertips over the ink as he devoured you was something new. Something intimate and dangerous.
He was the leader of the Phantom Troupe. That was all he truly knew for certain. It was the one facet of his identity he’d held onto for all these years, and nothing could ever drive him to abandon it. He couldn’t let himself become addicted to the vulnerable girl that slept soundly in his bed. You were only a bad habit, something he needed to quit, but Chrollo couldn’t help himself when he saw the needy tremble in your grasp. Was it your naivety that drew him to you? Your kindness? Or had he brought her into this mess of his own free will entirely, if he had such a thing left? He wasn’t sure, and the uncertainty didn’t sit unpleasantly with him at all. It only made him want you more.
And above all else, he was a thief. If he wanted something, he’d takeit.
His erection waned as he focused on whatever awful thoughts he could come up with to take his mind off the naked woman in his bed and the wet, sweet apex of her thighs. The death of his spiders, flies on corpses, the stench of a battlefield after a fight, anything to keep him sane.
Eventually it worked, and he felt composed enough to walk into the living room, pouring himself a rather tall glass of bourbon as he dialed a number into the burner phone he kept on hand.
Not a second ring had past before the cheerful voice on the other end came to his ear.
“Hey, boss, what do you need?” Shalnark, loyal to a fault, didn’t spare any pretenses before offering his services.
“I had to leave a corpse behind tonight, someone with a grudge against us interrupted my dinner and I left him in the alley behind Earlson’s, would you dispose of it for me?” As he took a sip the harsh amber taste of whiskey burned down his throat, the pain felt grounding and thick.
The manipulator hummed happily, “Sure thing, I’ll get going—”
“Oh, and Shalnark?” He held up the hunter’s license he’d brought with him into the moonlight, “Your license paid off well in my mission, thank you for lending it to me. I’ll get it back to you soon enough.”
“Not a problem, I was worried that you’d have a problem since it’s not registered to you,”
Chrollo spared a glance down the hall before tucking the card back into his pocket, “All that mattered was that I had one with me. It was invaluable.”
“Glad to hear it, boss, I’ll go clear the evidence.” With that the line disconnected, and Chrollo tossed the device into the garbage along with the others.
His night with you had almost been ruined by that vengeful idiot. If he’d given you any more hints as to who he really was, he would’ve lost you. And as much as it pained him to admit it, he would probably have to kill you if you ever learned the truth.
Chrollo traced his skin through the fabric of his shirt, the no.0 tattoo imbedded into his forearm surrounded by black, jagged limbs. He’d given every single spider their tattoo himself, not excluding his own, and while he swore by the brands, they were a dead give-away. He never thought that the marking would come back to haunt him in this way, but here he was.
If he were to spend another vulnerable night with you he’d have to keep his spider’s brand bound under bandages like his cross and refuse to reveal it, leaving no chance for you to recognize what it meant.
He couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t.
