‼️CONTENT WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS GRAPHIC CONSENSUAL SEXUAL CONTENT‼️
"Don't let him fall in love with you, (Y/n). You're mine."
Misty swirls of gray fog billowed hazily around me, and my levels of awareness were low, stifled by a thick, stagnant atmosphere of simply being, simply existing. Somewhere in the muffled, staticky surroundings, ones which closed in on me with menacing grins and ran off with my lungs to leave me a confused, unorganized mess who tried so desperately to remember how to breathe in the hot, burning air, but never could, I heard an echoey, low tone, rich and smooth and familiar, but blue and ringing with a shattering, wrenching plea. It was the sort of plea spoken by one who is already painfully aware of the fact that their words are useless, but they plead anyway, if only for some self-validated security, some comfort learned in the action of hoping, alone.
"Don't let him fall in love with you, (Y/n). You're mine."
It kept spinning around uncontrollably in my too-quick mind. Everything felt as though it were moving at an infuriatingly slow pace, or perhaps time felt as though it was moving so quickly that, to contrast, no time had passed as a result. Two minutes felt like hours upon hours. And my head felt like each hour that passed was another hit, another draw, another sip, piling up and increasing the unforgiving snapping and slurring of my rapid gunfire thoughts, thoughts which came at a ridiculously high rate. Because of this, nothing seemed to stand out among the confusion.
But who is that voice? What are they saying? I wished, if I could get myself to focus on one thing, that I could put a name to the tone, a face to the sound. As an irritating addition, it felt repeated, as if I'd heard it before, or I was supposed to hear it, but physically was unable to digest it and truly listen. Where had I heard it before?
"Don't let him fall in love with you, (Y/n). You're mine."
Before my impossibly heavy eyes, I could only see a blur of that same mist which seemed to drag me further and further away from a foundation, from reality, from consciousness. The voice reverberated from ear to ear, but I couldn't turn or move—I didn't want to turn or move. My body was so tired. I was so tired.
"Don't let him fall in love with you, (Y/n). You're mine."
I wished I could comfort that sad voice, that despairing, tortured sound. The words were confident, but the way in which they were spoken was a low, broken hearted whisper, the murmur of one who fights against what must be, what has to be, or what they fear to be.
"Don't let him fall in love with you, (Y/n). You're mine."
"Don't let him fall in love with you."
"You're mine."
"Mine. Only mine."
"Please, (Y/n)."
Please, what? Everything was fading. I couldn't feel any emotions—not anger, not sadness, not even fright. Everything faded. Everything.
Even the voice. Where did the voice go? I longed to hear it's pretty, soothing, kind tones again.
But I couldn't. I was alone.
——————————————————
Morning light—or, was it morning? It could have been afternoon—greeted me harshly, and a steady ringing in my ears seemed to grow with every step towards consciousness. A faint pounding in my head made me wary of opening my eyes to the bright surroundings, but it wasn't unbearable. If I didn't know any better, it could have just been the result of going to sleep after a long day of not enough water. Though, I understood that wasn't the real reason.
The spinning sensation had subsided completely, but everything still felt mildly surreal, lucid, shifty. It wasn't uncomfortable, but if I focused on it too entirely, I got the feeling I might experience mild claustrophobia, as if I was stuck in some ethereal time loop.
Am I still high?
Emitting an exasperated groan, I raised my hands to my face, just to darken the atmosphere enough to coax my eyes into opening. My limbs felt slow and heavy, but not stiflingly so—perhaps this was some sort of leftover sensation after falling asleep with all of that in my system. I hadn't consumed any food or water the night before, so it all must have hit much harder than normal.
Wait, where did I fall asleep?
My brows lowered in concentration as I tried to decide whether or not I was uncomfortable. There was none of the hard, rocky surfaces around me like there had been when I'd fallen asleep, and I wasn't cold anymore. God, I'd been so cold the previous night—the convulsing shudders never seemed to cease, even when I couldn't feel the icy air. So, why was I warm?
Am I still on the roof?
My brain still felt like it was lagging, the racing thoughts having calmed to a standstill and leaving a perplexing, dreamlike peace. But as I finally began tuning into my body, the warmth encasing me, I could feel that I wasn't on a stone roof, and there weren't any arms around me. Instead, I felt pillows beneath my head and a soft surface under me, with silky blankets piled on top of me.
Lowering my hands, and dragging my cheeks down in the process, I forced my weighty eyelids open, screwing up my dotty vision to decipher the details of where I was. Familiar shapes and colors flitted here and there, and slowly, I could make out the black of the bedsheets and the pillows, the wine red of the microfluff blankets, and the glint of something silver hanging heavily from the ornate bedposts. On the floor, dark wood was obscured by a few dense, expensive carpets, and the tall wardrobe loomed between the closet and the bathroom doors. A few books were splayed messily around on the ground. I was back in Chrollo's bed, in his room.
Where is he? When did he take me back down?
Carefully, cautiously, I pushed myself up onto my elbows, my lightheadedness increasing a bit and the mild pounding shifting over to my temples and behind my eyes. I inhaled deeply, if just to bring more oxygen into my gaze, and dragged my body to balance on my knees, the blankets still haphazardly laid over my shoulders. He wasn't on the bed, but it looked as though he might have been there earlier—the sheets and the other set of fluffy blankets were disturbed.
Pursing my lips in frustration, I sighed and slumped my shoulders, my half-aware, groggy mind still working through the ringing in my ears and trying to pay attention to any outside noises. But there was none that I could process.
The light shining in from the balcony doors and open curtains was far too bright for morning, so I forced my stiff body to crawl over towards the bedside table. I wasn't even sure my phone would have been there, but it was a good guess, and it proved to be correct—Chrollo's phone was there, too, but his gages weren't.
12:49 p.m.
My jaw dropped in surprise—that meant I slept for over twelve hours, and I was still experiencing an after high. How many times had I drawn from the joint? Four or five times, maybe? And then Chrollo had finished the rest. I wondered if he was still being affected by it.
Next to our phones, I saw a glass of water and a few ibuprofen pills. I sighed in relief and grabbed the cup, downing the pills and every drop of water—my mouth was a bad-tasting wool patch, and the hydration was desperately needed. As I did so, though, I realized my hair felt damp against my neck, and curiously, I reached up to run my fingers through it.
Did I take a shower...?
Before I could really make sense of it, I felt two arms wrap around me from behind, where I'd been sitting near the edge of the bed and facing the headboard, and a chin rest overtop of my head. My body flinched in shock, but I soon recognized the comforting scent of musky lavender and Chrollo's soothing presence.
"There you are," I breathed, a smile turning up the edges of my lips. "Where were you?"
His rhythmic chuckle sounded close to my ear as he lowered his head to mine and pressed his lips to my jaw. Gently grabbing my wrists, he pinned my hands to my chest and leaned onto the bed with one knee.
"I was making breakfast," he murmured softly, exhaling warm air over my exposed skin and making me shiver. "I came upstairs to get you, my love—I wasn't sure how much time you would need to recover, so I didn't want to wake you up."
He doesn't seem affected anymore...
I hummed and shrugged, my smile widening. One of his hands shifted and trailed up to my neck, his palm covering my throat and his fingers gripping my jaw, lifting my head. Now, he was leaning over me, and I looked up into his pretty face, his wide, dark eyes glimmering mutedly, but focused.
"Hello, my (Y/n)," he whispered, his lips turning up gently.
"Hi, Chrollo," I sighed, feeling my tired eyes flutter closed. "When did you bring me back down?"
With a short kiss to my forehead, he nuzzled once again into the crook of my neck and shoulder, his hand wrapping more fully around my extended throat. I shivered as goosebumps traveled in prickly trails up my arms, which I discovered were now shrouded by a heavy sweatshirt.
Am I wearing any shorts? I wondered inwardly, but it felt like I was only wearing a pair of underwear beneath the sweater.
"Around midnight." Chrollo pressed his lips to my neck and spoke quietly, his velvety voice just a smooth vibration into my skin. "I hadn't realized you'd passed out—I probably would have, too, if the joint didn't keep me awake with so many thoughts. But you mumbled a lot in your sleep, so part of me assumed you were still conscious."
I nodded, comprehending, and his grip around my wrists tightened just barely, pressing me more securely to his chest.
"I think I took a shower in my sleep," I admitted pointedly. "My hair is damp, and I'm in different clothes."
I felt his mouth stretch out into a wide grin against my throat, and his abdomen trembled with soft laughter, but my still-lagging mind couldn't process at first what he would be finding funny.
Maybe he is still high.
"No, my love." He shook his head and guided my face to the side, looking into my sleepy eyes with amber-gray irises shining in amusement. "You didn't shower in your sleep—after I took you inside, your restlessness seemed to still, so I held you for a few hours and sat alone with my thoughts. I wasn't paying attention to how much time had passed, so when I saw sunlight, and how out of consciousness you still were, I helped you into the bath and washed your hair. I also changed your clothes and washed your others." His brows lowered for a moment, and an endearing concern lit up his gaze. "Are you feeling alright? I apologize, (Y/n)—had I been sober, I wouldn't have suggested that you share the joint with me, but that's hardly an excuse."
I blinked and tilted my head, narrowing my eyes in confusion. Even if he hadn't been drunk, I still would have wanted to try it—I enjoyed trying things like that with Chrollo. As long as I was with him, drunk or sober, I knew I was protected. But I felt my heart flutter, and a lopsided smile tugged at my lips in response to his sympathetic worry.
"I'm okay," I hedged—my body still felt tingly as it melted into his arms. "It was fun. Well, um, it was kinda stressful after I passed out. I was really dreamy all night."
Involuntarily, I leaned forward, though it felt more like I fell forward, and Chrollo's grip around me tensed, steadying me, his nose brushing mine as he held my eye contact. His thumb ghosted over my cheek, and I pushed gently into his comforting touch. As I lazily studied his pretty face, I realized that his hair was also damp.
He must have showered, too.
One of my wrists twisted around in his hand, loosely pulling away, and he carefully released me—my smile widened as I laced my fingers through his heavy locks, revealing the symbol on his forehead and more of his angular features.
"Thank you," I whispered. "Thank you for giving me a bath and, um... changing my clothes. That means a lot, pretty Chrollo."
His dark gaze softened, his hand on my face retracting to pull mine away. Pressing his lips to my palm and holding it to his cheek gently, he shrugged and emitted a low chuckle.
"Of course, my love." He tilted his head in playful suspicion. "I definitely shouldn't have let you try the joint—you're still high."
My eyes widened, and my lips parted in surprise.
"You can tell?" I gasped. "I thought you were the lightweight. You smoked more than I did. Why aren't you still high?"
Lowering his head and glancing mischievously out of the tops of his thick lashes, he leaned closer, exhaling a breathy laugh against my lips, and braced me to his chest with his other arm. I felt my eyelids lower halfway over my eyes, and my heart rate picked up slightly at the glimmer in his gaze.
"I'm higher than a kite right now," he murmured into my mouth, his voice a husky velvet.
I wonder how long this will last? I thought curiously, but I wasn't aware enough to be too concerned with my half-consciousness.
And how is he so good at acting normal?
I exhaled shakily over his lips and felt my eyes flutter closed completely as he captured me in a demanding kiss, his tongue twining with mine. Chrollo let go of my hand and grazed his fingtertips softly over my extended throat, eliciting a shiver from me—his other hand released my wrist and looped around my midsection, always gentle, always careful.
"Do you want to go downstairs? I made you food," he offered quietly after pulling away and trailing down to my jaw and beneath my ears.
I hummed and giggled slightly when his teeth nipped at the sensitive skin, his lips turning up in a crooked smile.
"Yeah." I sighed blissfully. "I'm starving."
In fact, my stomach felt so painfully hollow that it quickly became the only thing I could focus on. The desire for food increased, and I found myself squirming in Chrollo's restricting grasp, which loosened at my movement. With an excited grin, I stumbled off the bed, tripping slightly in the blankets and falling into his now-standing form, and grabbed his hand to lead the way out of his room and down to the kitchen.
——————————————————
Tuesday dragged on. It wasn't until closer to two or three in the afternoon that my high finally decided to start wearing off; Chrollo's high wore off around the same time, but his mannerisms never changed. Perhaps it was because I had still been mildly affected, but practically nothing about him would have led me to believe that he wasn't sober. Of course, there was the occasional time when he would turn to me with a grin wider than life, itself. Then, it was apparent that he was still experiencing the after-high.
All day, he was incredibly doting and attentive, always asking me how I felt, if I needed any more ibuprofen or water or food—it always made me smile. Mostly, we sat on the couch in the living room, and he held me in his lap, running his fingers through my hair and telling me stories about the Troupe, his tone always reminiscent and a little bit melancholy. At one point, later in the evening, he offered to teach me a simple piece on the piano, to which I eagerly agreed. The high had completely worn off by then, and I had far too much energy that was in need of spending as a result.
Something which plagued my thoughts all day, however, was the nagging feeling that I was supposed to be remembering some important tidbit, some vital piece of the night before. It didn't become much of an issue until after our piano session—which was far too distracting, and hardly a piano session more than it was me trying to focus on breathing while Chrollo took too much delight in teasing me—when everything quieted down with the setting sun, and sleep weighed once again on my eyelids. The curiosity was almost infuriating, like whatever memory I needed to bring up was right on the edges of my thoughts, just out of reach, fading with the details of the odd slew of dreams I'd had.
I tried to think back over that evening, over my hazy conversations with Chrollo—perhaps it had been something he'd said, something I'd made a vain effort towards remembering. But nothing stuck out to me, necessarily, besides my vague recall of his half-hearted escapades with other women in Meteor City, as well as the inherent loneliness in him that I'd tried to cure. I couldn't be sure if it worked, but I remembered him hugging me.
Did he cry?
Either way, the sensation that I was missing something continued to grow. My call with Kassidy was the one thing I couldn't bring back details from. Because of this, I wondered if I should text him and apologize, or just call him again to make up for the undoubtedly scrambled way I'd spoken with him, but I never found time to do so. I suppose, in hindsight, I was fine with that—Tuesday was a lovely infinity directed only towards Chrollo, especially since I knew he was leaving me so soon. I didn't have the heart to call Kassidy again when I could be spending more time with him.
But he seemed so sad...
Yes, that was the one part I could remember—there was relief in Kassidy's voice, but sadness, as well, like there was something he wanted to tell me, but couldn't. But this was as I expected. There'd been words on the tip of his tongue for a month now, secrets he seemed desperate to let me in on, but he always stopped himself. Again, I found myself wishing I could help him.
I slept dreamlessly all night and into Wednesday morning, peaceful beside Chrollo's resting form, which was a great mercy. The frequent subconscious images I'd been experiencing under deep slumbers became increasingly more confused, dark, and sometimes frightening. They weren't sparked from traumatic memories anymore, though—well, mostly. Sometimes, every once in a while, I would see the face of my abuser, live through just one more flashback, but it didn't tear me to shreds like it used to.
Am I finally on the way up? Have I really strengthened my mentality so much?
Am I strong enough to move on?
I hoped so. I wasn't so idiotic to think a life of trauma could ever subside so quickly, but I could tell that things would be looking up, for a while at least. Still, I had no idea how to gage my reaction when Chrollo was gone. That burning loneliness in my soul raged ever hotter and more unbearable at only the thought, and I wondered to myself how I'd ever numbed my senses so severely that even the most desolate of times made no effect on the shell of a person I'd become, back when there was no other option, when in order to survive, it was essential that I stay suffocated, that my hopes and dreams inevitably crushed themselves, because it was too painful to wish on a freedom I never thought possible.
But I've come so far. And I don't ever have to turn back.
How had I become so strong? There was a piece of me who wanted to attribute everything to Chrollo, to his unending support, but that would have been an injustice. I had strengthened myself. Every memory I trudged through, every battle I fought, was something I, myself, had completed, but I was still convinced that him being there every step of the way was an essential part of the rocky mountain I'd forced myself to climb. And for that, I was eternally grateful.
There was no tension between us as we sat again at the piano on Wednesday evening—I wasn't going to allow myself to dwell on the fact that I would wake up on Thursday morning in an empty bed. He'd told me that afternoon that he was leaving early, sometime between three and four in morning, to get to the airport. Apparently, there was a special blimp set apart for the floor masters of Heaven's Arena to help out with safe travel, which I was glad about. Chrollo's safety on this trip had been a previous concern of mine, though logically, I knew he would always come back, that he would always find a way out of any danger he could potentially be submerged in. Or, perhaps, I simply couldn't let myself consider otherwise.
Currently, he was teaching me a chord progression—he stood behind me, one knee propped up to the right of where I sat on the piano seat, his arms around either side of mine, gently guiding my motions with softly murmured directions. His slender fingers covered mine to illustrate a correct hand position over a second inversion of A minor.
"Very good," he commended me quietly, ghosting his touch over my knuckles. "Now, move down to an F major."
My lips pursed as I tried to recall what that looked like. Hesitantly shifting my right arm, I pushed down with choppy fingers on what I assumed to be correct.
It sounds right, I think...
Chrollo's reassuring movements confirmed my wonder, but it didn't help that his lips brushing ever so slightly against my ear kept turning my attention away. I sighed unsteadily and added my left hand on an octave lower.
"What next?" I inquired, inwardly excited that I could pick this simple tune up so quickly.
I can come back to the house from Machi's and practice it if I need to, I decided. It would remind me of him, and perhaps I wouldn't feel so lonely.
"G major, second inversion," he commanded, his velvety voice relaxed and absent. "I haven't taught you this one, so here..."
He trailed off as his hands carefully grasped mine and moved them up to the proper chord, leaning closer infinitesimally in the process. A few strands of his hair fell and tickled my cheek, unintentionally raising my heartbeat and sending heat to my face. His bare chest pressed loosely into my backside, and his fingers pushed down over mine to create the peaceful sound of the G chord.
"But a regular G is like this," he whispered, guiding my hands back down to a less complex version. "See?"
God, he smells so good.
My limbs seemed to drop their tenseness against him—I inhaled slowly and released a long breath, reveling in the lavender of his scent and the feeling of his body around me.
Throughout the entire day, I'd kept my thoughts on those chains still draped tantalizingly from the posts on his headboard, the image of him straining so distraughtly, his neck extended in a salacious anguish, as I controlled the pleasure coursing through him replaying constantly. It taunted me and kept pulling me away into a torrent of desire. I wanted to hear him whimper again, to hear him beg again, to call out my name again. The piano in front of me felt like a million years away as I once again remembered the desperation in his dark, hooded gaze, the pleas in his tone.
The words he'd spoken on Monday night as we'd taken our first few sips of wine echoed in my mind, and it made me wonder how truly serious he was about exacting a lustful revenge against me. But it didn't deter me—I was certain I could keep him down if I really wanted to, and I really wanted to. Chrollo, chained down, sensitive and breathing heavy into my kiss, his beautiful face restrained in a torturous suspension of what he craved...
"My love, are you distracted again?" he asked softly, breaking my dangerous train of thought with a smile on his lips as he nonchalantly ran his nose down the length of my neck, eliciting a delicious shudder from me. "I said, 'Repeat this chord progression,' and then proceeded to show you, but I was given no response. What could you possibly be thinking about?"
My lips parted, and I exhaled weakly at the wake of goosebumps left by his breath on my jaw. Slowly, his fingers wrapped around my wrists, and one of his hands brought mine up to my neck, covering my throat completely as he pinned the other to my abdomen.
"Mmm," I hummed. My stomach was fluttering and my heart was beating uncontrollably, wildly in my chest. "I was, um..."
Without waiting for me to continue, Chrollo lowered down around me, his legs on either side of mine on that piano seat. He deftly grabbed a hold of my hips and twisted me around in his lap, guiding my knees to rest around his body—now, I sat straddling him, my face flushed and my eyes wide as I looked into his curious, playful gaze. My hands trembled in apprehension from where they were set on his collarbones.
"You weren't this bad yesterday," he noted huskily. "Is there anything you wish to tell me, love?"
There was nothing inherently betraying in his features—his face held its usual unreadable expression, his amber-gray irises impossibly deep and always plagued by his constant despondent wondering. However, there was, beneath this, a smoldering mischief in his energy. It set my blood on fire. He knew exactly what he was doing.
"Hmm?" Chrollo chuckled and brought his hands around to my ass, bracing me tighter against his lower body as he leaned forward to press his lips to what was left exposed in the half-buttoned flannel I wore. "Tell me, (Y/n)."
Tilting my head up, I felt a short, breathy laugh escape. I snaked my arms around the back of his neck carefully, keeping my balance above him, and snagged my fingers in his wavy black hair—his tongue traced up from my chest to my throat where he kissed a trail on my skin lightly. My legs shivered.
"(Y/n)..." Chrollo's tone was warning, his teeth grazing dangerously against my jugular.
Dammit.
"If you want to show me the chords again, I might be able to do it right this time," I hedged tentatively.
With a small shake of his head, he smiled widely. The feeling of his lips against me was enough to keep my heart racing, my eyes slowly closing as my chest rose and fell raggedly, and my shaking hands continuing to run gently through his smooth locks. His fingertips traced softly from the back of my thighs to the crook of my knees, and his hold was steady as he pushed them further apart, lowering me down more completely to his body.
When was the last time...? I wondered absently, my mouth open silently as he worked gentle kisses up towards the underside of my chin. Sunday, maybe?
That didn't matter. I needed him one more time before he left, and I wanted to be the one to remind him who he belongs to.
"Pretty (Y/n), little angel of mine," he murmured. "I want you to tell me what has you so distracted. Please, my love?"
I love hearing that word.
It was just a small word, but Chrollo saying "please" in his husky, quiet tone always sent tingles down my spine.
I bit down on my bottom lip as he pulled away slightly, his grip on my thighs loosening as he looked up through his lashes at me. My eyes felt trapped by his glimmering gaze, and my hands inattentively shifted around from the back of his head, my thumbs tracing lines down the length of his throat and sending a heavy darkness to his already lidded irises.
"Say that again," I whispered, leaning lower and feeling the way his breathing hitched as I pressed slowly into the base of his neck.
My grip constricted, steadily increasing the effort he exerted for each breath, cutting off airflow.
"Please, (Y/n)." His voice was rough and labored.
I'd never done this to him before, what he so often took pleasure in doing to me, but I could see why he liked it so much—the fire blazing in his scorching gray eyes, the way his lips parted and his chest expanded unevenly, the weakness growing in his body as a result. All of it was beautiful. I tightened my hold further, earning an exhaled hiss from him, his abdomen tensing. In the loose black sweatpants he wore, I could feel him already hard beneath me.
Now, to get him upstairs.
"If I'm being honest," I breathed faintly against his lips, my face feeling hot and my grasp hardly letting up on the pressure, "I was thinking about chaining you down again."
A crooked smile formed over his open mouth as he released a restrained laugh.
"So, that's what runs through your mind when I'm teaching you a simple chord progression?" Chrollo's hands traveled up beneath the flannel of his to rest at my waist, his eyes never leaving mine as desire sparked within the amber-gray depths. "You want to see me at your mercy again, my little vixen?"
I grinned and allowed my fingers to fall away from his throat, enjoying the way his breathing picked up ruggedly.
"Is that what you want, Chrollo?"
I tilted my head up and placed a hand on either side of his pale face, dragging down his bottom lip with my thumb. A shiver visibly crawled down his arms, the muscles flexing with suspense, and he let out a shaky sigh.
"Yes," he whispered roughly, his eyes closing.
I'd only worn a pair of satiny underwear and one of Chrollo's loose button-ups all day, and suddenly, I was ecstatic about it. That would mean far less work later on.
Lacing my fingers into his hair again, I pressed my lips to his open mouth and led the kiss passionately, gently sliding my tongue against his. He gripped securely to the backs of my thighs and shifted, standing carefully and pinning me against the enormous piano with a loud clang of chaotic notes. My heart roared in my ears as he bit down on my lower lip, eliciting a high-pitched whine from my throat, and he wrapped my legs around his waist tightly. His bare midsection against my thighs was enough to send a shudder through my stomach.
My back was arched over the instrument's frame, his body covering mine and one of his palms leaning on the solid surface. Allowing my right hand to drift down his side, I yanked him closer by the waist, pressing him more completely to me—he exhaled in a low, surprised groan, his grip around my leg tightening.
"One of these days, I'll fuck you against this piano," he murmured softly into my mouth.
My breath caught in my throat at his words—he was making it difficult for me to focus on taking back control, not that I really cared. His pleading touch slowed, and I felt him hitch me up off the keyboard onto his hips, kicking the piano seat away as he carried me out of the music room and towards the stairs.
"I think that would be worth trying," I chuckled breathlessly.
Chrollo hummed and pulled away, stepping carefully upwards and regarding me with glittering darkness, his wide gaze inescapable and less than inches from mine. His hair was already ruffled wildly around his face, his angular features tensed with restricted lust.
"You're taunting me, my love."
We reached the top of the stairs as a wicked smirk tugged at my lips, and I once again wrapped a hand around his throat, tilting his head up by pressing against his taut jaw.
"Good." My voice felt raspy with anticipation.
His eyes narrowed as he turned and shoved the door to his room open. Once we were inside, Chrollo's gentle hands loosened and released me, but this time, it was me who shoved him against the door, slamming it in the process, and brought his lips down to mine. He inhaled sharply through his nose when I traced my fingertips over every outline on his bare abdomen, his beautiful body shuddering at my touch and already coming undone.
"Can I remove this?" he asked roughly, his hands planted at my hips beneath the oversized flannel.
I bit down on his lip and laughed, an airy, rolling sound.
"Always," I whispered, running my nose down his collarbones and kissing his porcelain skin. "You don't have to ask every time."
At that, he paused slightly and reached up to tilt my face towards his—his eyes were almost black, his long lashes casting shadows over the purple imprints beneath them and making them darker, more hooded. I stilled under his powerful gaze.
"I ask to ensure consent," he breathed, his hand at my waist tracing up and ghosting over my breasts. "But I also enjoy hearing you wanting me to be the one to take off your clothes. Now, say it again for me, (Y/n)."
My lips parted as my chest expanded unsteadily for a moment—my face felt warm and my hands still shook from where they were grazing his chest. I felt his thumb roll sensually over my nipples, and my knees and arms weakened.
I suppose he has a point.
"Undress me..." I held his almost threatening gaze, leaning forward close enough to feel his breath on my face. "Now, Chrollo."
A satisfied chuckle escaped his lips as he captured me in an aggressive kiss, his talented fingers making quick of each button. Soon, that flannel was on the floor, and I pulled him away from the door to walk him towards the large bed. Each gasping inhale, each desperate grip of his hands on my body, each time he whispered my name—all of it driving my heartbeat to a noisy pound, my eagerness to feel every inch of his body increasing as inviting warmth pulsed between my legs.
Chrollo allowed me to push him down on the bed, his tense hands never releasing my waist and dragging me up on top of him. But I departed from his commanding kiss and grabbed his wrists, pinning them loosely above his head with a wide smile.
"Say please again," I requested innocently, examining his wide, lustful eyes and pretty tattoo and messy hair.
"Please," he sighed heavily, his soft voice reduced down to a husky exhale.
"Do you want this, Chrollo?"
I could look forever at his restless expression, his alabaster complexion restricted and anticipating. That dreamy, rich amber-gray of his irises had contorted again, dilated and nearly black, outlined and shrouded and salacious. That wistful cross symbol, permanently inked onto his forehead, was always a reminder of who he was, who I'd woefully fallen in love with—and his face, the perfect face of my lover, was something I would never tire of gazing upon.
"Please, (Y/n)," he pleaded quietly, his fingers twining with mine from where I held him down. "Yes. Please."
I felt an admiring smile form over my mouth, and I leaned down to place a gentle kiss on his forehead, on that odd tattoo.
"I love you. Only you."
Chrollo held my hands tighter.
"I love you, little angel."
Pretty, pretty Chrollo.
Slowly, I pulled my hands away from his and pecked his lips once before climbing off the bed to grab the leather cuff at the end of the dangling chains on the right post. I felt my brows furrow slightly.
The Nen feels weaker...
It didn't feel as potent as before, and I wondered if I should ask Machi later about some kind of routine she might've followed to keep its power levels up. But I didn't dwell on it, and I slid the first latch over Chrollo's wrist, tightening it as much as it would go. I didn't miss the hitch in his breathing as I did so.
Walking around to the other side, I did the same with the left cuff, stretching over the massive bed to reach his hand and jerking loosely to ensure that it was secure. My eyes raked his now-restrained body, reveling in the way his arms were spread and his abdomen flexed in a first feeble attempt to break free.
With a contented sigh, I crawled back over the sheets, sending the blankets back, and straddled his body. His gaze glittered, the fog of desire glazing over each movement, each shift, against the chains as I kissed down his extended throat and chest, gently rutting my hips over his hard arousal. His breathing stuttered again, and I felt his own hips roll up against mine in carnal response, eliciting a warm hum from me.
"Do you want me to take these off?" I inquired softly, climbing lower and tugging at the waistband of his joggers.
"Yes." His response was immediate and husky.
"As you wish," I chuckled, swinging my legs over to the side and carefully sliding down the black sweatpants. "And these?"
Chrollo hissed impatiently as I placed a hand over his hard length, only covered now by the burgundy boxers he wore.
"Yes, (Y/n). Please."
I grinned, silent, and allowed my touch to linger at his hips as I pulled the last article of clothing away, pausing to slip out of my own underwear. Like last time, I knelt between his legs and ghosted my fingertips up the length of his cock. A weighty exhale escaped from his trembling chest, and he tugged harder against the restraints, the creaking groan of the bedposts causing me to hesitate and look up.
"Should I continue?" I asked, tilting my head mischievously.
"Yes," he expressed desperately.
I hummed and bent to kiss the tip of his length, gripping it securely and pulling an unsteady whimper from him. As I did so, I felt his legs tense around me, his body shifting tightly, and he strained in a vicious effort to snap the chains—I waited, my heart thudding, and flickered my gaze to the flexed bands of muscle on his arms. The metal rustled and whined, the headboard trembling as a result, and his body twisted slightly to gain better leverage. His knuckles were pulled white, balled into incredibly strong fists, but he was still unsuccessful, flopping back down with an exhausted, defeated groan.
"God fucking dammit," Chrollo hissed violently.
There was something more sure about the way he fought, more persistent, but it only made for a greater relief when I saw that he was still tied down, still unmoving and sensitive to every brush of my lips.
"Don't fight me, Chrollo," I murmured, placing a hand on his thigh to steady his consistent tension.
Again, I bent down to take him by mouth, as much as I could. I loved the way he jerked and shuddered beneath me, his head stretched back and his mouth open in a breathy moan. I kept my movements slow, focusing on how I moved my tongue over the tip of his cock, working through the exhaustion in my jaw and the effort it took to keep a rhythm going. I hadn't done this since the last time he was chained down, so I had to remember what brought out the most reactions and make a pattern of it.
Chrollo released a strangled groan, his low whines only interrupted by the jangling of the restraints, and his hips rising with the strength exerted in his legs. Pushing harder against his thighs to keep my movements slow, I dragged my tongue up the back of his erection and rolled my thumb up and around in a jagged motion.
"(Y/n)," he whimpered, his pleas low and hoarse.
"You're making this difficult for yourself," I chuckled. "Be still, Chrollo."
His hips shuddered beneath me as I kissed his length again.
"No," he hissed. "Stop teasing me."
"Oh?" I raised my head, staring him down with challenging eyes.
I kept my hand on his cock, gently allowing the rhythm to stay intact, watching every flex of his beautiful body, every cave of his chest as he gasped for proper breath.
He's one to talk, I remarked to myself, smirking.
Tantalizingly, I pulled away, and crawled up over him, hovering above him and planting my hands by his head to look directly into his glaring irises, dark and impatient and utterly begging. We were silent, and I waited for him to speak again, for words to form in his open mouth—slowly, his body relaxed, his legs finally releasing, pausing in their relentless shoving.
Eventually, he spoke, his whispered words a weak command, and the sound elicited goosebumps down my arms.
"Fuck. Me."
"Mmm," I hummed quietly, leaning down and murmuring against his lips, "You're so impatient tonight."
But I was, as well. I didn't want to drag things out any longer. So, instead of waiting for a response, I carefully positioned him beneath me, just until his leaking tip was nestled into slick heat, and lowered my hips over his. A sharp exhale escaped from my mouth, and I watched as his eyes rolled closed and his arms yanked once more on the chains. Chrollo growled, the tendons in his neck standing out as I made gentle circles in a clockwise direction—the sensation fluttered through my core, muted and not quite building, but enough to force a moan from my throat.
"Say my name," I demanded breathlessly.
"(Y/n)," he called out, rough and pained. "My (Y/n), please."
With a loose smile, I planted a kiss on his jaw and his throat and the tip of his nose, bracing my legs to raise my hips up and then slam them back down with a dull thrum.
"Fuck," Chrollo breathed, and I heard the chains locking up again.
I finally started my own rhythm, sensual and soft and eliciting every shake and tremble of his body under mine. The feeling coursed through my legs and pulsed in my swollen clit, stimulated with each thrust through grinding contact to his navel—I leaned my head back weakly, drunk on lust. But before I could even pick up the pace, before I could truly begin the climb upwards to what we both desperately needed, I heard an odd metallic sliding sound. My heart leaped to my throat, and my head lolled to the side so I could gaze at his straining arms, his taut muscles jerking and tugging beneath his porcelain skin.
"Chrollo," I warned him, pausing the pattern I'd developed and stilling over him.
There was no response, just a heavy, shuddering exhale as he twisted and turned, his legs bending and shoving roughly against the mattress. I opened my mouth to speak, but what came out was a surprised, high-pitched whimper when his cock railed hard into me, forcing me to lurch and stumble forward. The headboard groaned at the force of his strength and the seemingly unbreakable chains. My eyes focused lazily on his clenched jaw, his head leaned back as he gained leverage on the restraints, and suddenly, in a single second, I heard the deafening snap of the metal links to my right, and then the energetic breakage as the Nen surrounding it was shattered.
Holy fucking shit.
I couldn't react before the chain to my left fractured in a loud cracking sound, followed by the complete decimation of the aura which had kept it so sturdy—Chrollo's hands instantly met my thighs in a bruising grip, flipping me over onto my back and pulling out of me immediately. I gasped, barely noticing the fact that the leather cuffs were still in place on his wrists, broken and detached from the chains, when his fingers wrapped around my neck, his other palm planted on the pillows by my head. My gaze was wide and shocked, looking up into his soft, triumphant, black irises.
"Mhmm..." He let out a low, husky laugh, his smiling lips brushing mine and his grip on my throat constricting. "Do you recall what I told you would happen, should I ever break free of those restraints?"
I swallowed, feeling a delightful shiver crawl up from my stomach as his erection grazed my clit.
"You said... you said I would regret it," I whispered weakly, my breathing labored.
Gently, he released my neck, trailing his fingers up through my hair and cupping my burning cheek. His eyes glittered in a shrouded hunger.
"I did, didn't I?" He hummed thoughtfully, hesitantly. "I need you to promise me something, my love."
I nodded silently, frozen.
Damn it. Damn it, Chrollo.
I couldn't be upset, though—the apprehension in the pit of my stomach grew, and I wanted him badly.
"Promise me you'll tell me if I ever frighten you," he murmured, a loving safety in his velvety words. "Promise me you'll tell me if I ever hurt you, if I ever make you uncomfortable. And if you ever, ever want me to stop, I swear I will, my only one."
My heartbeat seemed to pick up at his almost threatening words. They were reassuring, comforting, but I knew they pertained directly to what he planned on doing next.
"I promise," I breathed.
Lust glimmered in his gaze, and he captured me in a rough kiss, his tongue clashing with mine as his hand traced feather-lightly down the side of my body.
"Turn over," Chrollo commanded huskily. "Please."
I bit my lip and nodded again, curiosity fogging my thoughts as he shifted and allowed me room to roll onto my stomach. At first, I had myself propped up on my elbows, but I felt his hands grip my hips and wrench me onto my knees, my face pressing lightly into the pillows as a result. I exhaled in surprise, balling the fabric of the pillowcases up into my fists as he knelt on either side of my calves. I felt his palm come down somewhere to the right of me, his other lacing into my hair and holding me in place beneath him.
"I do apologize for putting an end to your power trip, my little vixen," he whispered, his lips trailing seductively up my spine and planting kisses on my shoulder blades. "Do you love me, (Y/n)?"
His fingers grazed down from my head and around to my breasts, sending shudders through my abdomen.
Fuck. Shit. Dammit.
My breathing was already restrained against the stifling fabric, and every touch of his just heightened the exposed sensation. I couldn't see his face or even any part of his body—my hair was splayed wildly around my face.
"Yes, Chrollo, I love you," I whined impatiently.
I heard a gentle chuckle and felt his breath on my skin as his hips applied just enough pressure to keep my back arched. My eyes rolled, and my body twitched just barely away from his salacious touch when he brushed down lower, pressing softly into my clit.
"Do you understand that even though I have to leave, I'll always belong to you?" he inquired, his velvety voice sweet and rough.
"Yes," I gasped.
Fire shot up from the pit of my stomach when his middle finger made slow, torturous rounds over that sensitive skin. I couldn't move, nor could I hardly catch proper airflow, but all of it kept me grasping for more.
"And do you understand that even though I'm gone, you'll always belong to me?"
His tone was final now, demanding and challenging.
"Yes, Chrollo," I whimpered.
I felt him smile wickedly against my backside and carefully push his length into me, never ceasing his rhythm on my clit. The position I was in caused the usually pleasant sensation to feel mildly painful. I could feel how deep he was, and it sent raging waves through my trembling arms and my quivering abdomen—he must have known how sensitive and vulnerable this would reduce me down to, because he paused inside of me, his hand to my right tensing as he released an uneven sigh.
"Is this alright, my love?" he asked lowly, sounding restrained and raspy.
"Please... yes," I breathed weakly. "Keep going."
He wasn't rough and unforgiving to start with; his pace was gentle, slow, easing me past the initial sensation of being fully stretched and filled. I could feel my own slick arousal swelling around his stiff, intruding cock, dripping down to stick to my thighs, and I shuddered, whining softly. The base of my spine twinged slightly from the thrum of his hips against my ass, forcing my back into an uncomfortable arch, but I could only focus on the blissful currents jolting from his swirling motions on my clit and spreading mercilessly through my legs. My fists contracted in desperate search of something to hold onto, but there was nothing beyond satin bedding—I writhed weakly, my mouth hanging open and my eyes half-closed. But my teeth came down on my bottom lip when he sped up sharply, sending me harder into the pillows and muffling my uncontrollable moans.
His strokes deepened and quickened after a few minutes of dragging out the almost painful rhythm. I could feel the leather cuff still latched around his wrist digging into my stomach as he increased the pressure on my throbbing arousal, and he groaned softly into my shoulder blades, pressing his lips passionately to my spine and slamming into me harder.
"Pretty angel of mine," Chrollo breathed raggedly. "Tell me you belong to me, (Y/n). Please."
Jesus, I can hardly speak.
It took a heaving effort to lift my head up onto my chin—my eyes were squeezed shut at the force of his thrusts and the pleasure radiating from my clit.
"I—belong to you... Chrollo," I gasped, unsteady and weak and hardly producing a sound with my hoarse words.
And I knew that I did. There was no one else I would sacrifice my entire life for, no one else I had gifted my body and heart and soul to. He had all of me, and yet I knew that if things ever came down to a chasm between us, a split so broken it might just tear my very existence in half, he would let me go. But that was only if he was certain I didn't want him, and the same for me, as well—how could I force the one I loved to live a life he was unsatisfied with? The absolute surrender that would require seemed out of my realm of comprehension, but at the same time, it was entirely plausible, entirely acceptable, if it meant he was happy, content.
He'd seen me shattered and at my worst, and still chose to love me; he'd worked through every trial at my side, every impossible effort, and still chose to want me. Because of this, I could place my unfiltered trust in him, in his faithful love, his unending support. If all else failed, I would always have Chrollo, and he would always have me. And for so long, that felt like an impossibility—I'd been so tarnished and used and worthless, but I suppose that wasn't what he saw when he looked at me. Vice versa, I never looked at him as a product of his abandoned existence, his lonely godhood, desolate and condemned as Lucifer was, the way he always saw himself. To me, he was my Chrollo, and to him, I was his (Y/n).
Impossible. Utterly impossible, and yet entirely true.
That wisp of my past was far away now, for the most part. It always felt that way with Chrollo. I hoped he felt the same with me.
My eyes watered a bit at the combination of my fleeting, unorganized thoughts, and the way he pounded into me continuously. The hand which had been planted to my right had shifted, now covering mine and twining with my fingers, holding it tightly from behind. The sensation raged on, climbing and building and closing in on that delicious edge.
"I won't exact my revenge just yet," he affirmed into my skin, ramming hard and unevenly into me as he neared the edge, as well. "I want to watch you—come undone... right now."
There wasn't much to wait for—his fingers circling faster around my clit, his cock pumping into me at an almost painful pace, sent me higher up that crescendo, that beautiful, violent cliffside.
"Chrollo-" I whimpered, my hand clenching down around his. "Fuck..."
"Sweet little vixen." Husky, velvety whispers, passionate kisses on my shoulders and convulsing muscles. "Mine."
Finally, through the aching twitch in my lower back, his choppy, demanding thrusts, finally, I fell off that edge, my abdomen contracting and my legs trembling uncontrollably beneath him, the orgasm expanding and stretching out to its fullest extent in every limb of my body. His lips parted over my skin, a breathy groan escaping his throat, and there was one last rough stroke before he found his own release. I could almost feel his raging heartbeat as his chest lowered tiredly over my backside, and eventually, the shudders calmed to a standstill, leaving a muted ringing in my ears as I carefully loosened my death grip on his hand, my joints twinging slightly at the sensation.
Holy. Hell.
My breaths were shaky and lagging by the time Chrollo pulled away, his gentle hands guiding me back around to his chest as he flopped down heavily beside me. The intensity died down—his fingers ran tingling brushes through my hair, his legs tangled to mine as he faced me, his half-open eyes shining dimly with post-sex exhaustion. After a quiet moment, though, he presented his still-bound wrists before me. I smiled lazily and worked with shaky fingers on unlatching the first cuff and tossing it off the bed with a low thud.
"I definitely didn't regret that," I murmured, my voice slow and partly a sigh as I did the same to his other restraint. "But you're brutal when you're determined to be top."
Chuckling softly, he shrugged and planted a kiss on my forehead, his arms encircling me now as he once again trailed his fingers through my hair.
"We'll get another pair of chains like that," he whispered in his velvety tone, which was tinged with an almost teasing undertone. "But you know, you don't have to tie me down to top me, my love. I'm perfectly compliant when I'm not being restrained."
THIS BITCH.
My brows furrowed, and I let out an exasperated groan, hiding the smile on my face by burying my head in his chest.
"Chrollo, you deceitful little shit," I huffed, tightening my arms around his waist and pressing my lips to his collarbones, which were trembling with laughter.
"I've heard Lucifer branded as the father of lies before," he noted quietly, grinning into my hair.
I rolled my eyes, inwardly finding peace in this small moment in time, this seemingly insignificant few minutes which stretched onward into an infinite pause, if only for the two of us, as if the clock had stopped turning in response to the perfect bliss of our love.
Everything's going to be okay.
Those words flitted in an echo around in my mind, sending relaxation into my sleepy body and security into my thoughts. Two weeks, at most—it wouldn't be long. I could do it.
"I've discovered something about myself," Chrollo stated gently, his slender fingers still stroking through my loose locks of messy hair, detangling the ruffled ball it had become.
"Hmm?"
My breathing had slowed, my heartbeat following suit, and although I knew we both needed to shower, I wanted to lie still against his chest for a few more moments.
"I believe my love language is words of affirmation," he whispered, thoughtful and pondering.
I laughed weakly and nodded.
"Definitely." Pulling away, I looked up into his pretty eyes with playful accusations. "I'm a firsthand witness. Sending me to heaven and hell at the same time and then expecting me to form coherent words... how dare you."
A wide smile stretched over his lips, crinkling his dark gaze.
"But it reminds you that I, and only I, can do the things I do to you, does it not?" he inquired. I inhaled his intoxicating scent deeply, nuzzling into his neck again with a secret smirk and a shy shrug. "Darling little lover of mine. Have you ever thought about your love language? Do you know what it is?"
I pursed my lips and wondered, truthfully finding that I'd never considered it before.
"I think it's touch, ironically," I mumbled sleepily. "But just for you—I like it when I can feel you beside me. It makes me feel safe."
With a low hum, he nodded over my head, his arms tightening around me in response.
"Would you like to shower now? It's only around nine—I can wake you up in a bit if you're too tired."
I sighed, a soft smile tugging at my lips, and locked my legs around him more securely.
"Wake me up in an hour," I decided, my voice dragging as sleep closed in behind my eyelids. "I love you, Chrollo."
He chuckled musically and trailed his fingertips down my spine, which was probably going to be sore in the morning.
Absolutely brutal, I thought to myself, but I wouldn't have traded that night for the world.
"I'll stay with you, then," he promised. "I love you, too."
Chrollo's gentle touch and his soothing tone was the last sensation I experienced before falling into a light, restful slumber, unbothered by any dreams.
But a fleeting realization made its way through my fast-falling mind, one I couldn't elaborate on just yet, one I filed off for later.
I need to call Kassidy.
——————————————————
*Chrollo's POV*
No sound permeated the stifling silence of the night—or, more correctly, early morning—as I collected my bags and threw one last glance in (Y/n)'s direction. I hated to leave her; I hated to hurt her. The separation was felt dearly in my chest and soul, a result of the trauma I feared might consume her lovely mind, and I could only hope that she wouldn't torture herself too badly with the torrent of emotions I was sure she would experience upon awakening. I cursed Heaven's Arena for what it was forcing me to go through.
I'd already spent at least half an hour at her side, brushing her still-damp hair back into her head and promising to her sleeping form that I would return as soon as possible. The blimp was probably close, if not landed, and it would have to wait my hour drive to the airport. But I didn't care—my brows slanted over my eyes as I set down my bags pointedly and strode back over towards the bed, to my (Y/n).
Her eyelids twitched and flickered in her sleep, that restless pucker in her nose and forehead apparent in her features as she laid unconscious in my empty bed. I wished I could take her with me, but I hadn't made any contact with Hisoka for a while, and I had no idea where he was or if he would be there. I could never allow myself to live down the risk she would be thrust headfirst into if he even laid eyes on her. So, it wasn't an option, as despondent as it made me feel.
"I love you," I murmured desperately, leaning down to cup her soft cheek and smooth the frown lines on her otherwise relaxed face. I'd probably uttered those words more times than one could count in the past hour I'd been awake. "I'll come back for you, my love. Always."
With one final kiss to her loose, parted lips, I backed away, forcing my body to move further from my only one. I threw my bags over my shoulders and gritted my teeth, shutting the door as quietly as possible, and leaving my lover to sleep alone in our bed.
The warmest bed I've ever known.
I'll return to you soon, (Y/n). I will. I promise.