{ Broke Bitch }

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chapter summary: Gon, balls deep in Killua's ass: "I'm straight."

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Friday.

Killua woke up in a hot, dreadful sweat—again.

And he remembered the entire dream in such vivid clarity that he could smell the sex in the air like salt and vinegar on his skin.

He kicked his sheets back and threw his head down on the pillow. "Fucking shit," he swore, hands over his face. He pushed his fingers through his hair before stilling, his eyes on his ceiling. Street lights were strewn across the pockmarked ceiling, and the dull hum of the New York streets pushed into his hollow room and the dreadfully hot shell that was his body.

He shivered. It was nearly October but he could already feel the winter sinking in his bones. God, did he loathe the cold, especially in New York City. He wasn't about to be caught reenacting The Day After Tomorrow. He'd rather burn in Hell—or, alternatively, in an Arizona hellfire. That too.

Killua pushed himself up and stilled at the visceral image of Gon Freecss stepping up to the bed, his knee between Killua's thighs. He propped his hand between his legs and clutched at the sheets, the other still gripping his hair over his tired, exhausted eyes. Not now... he thought, but his dick was already stiff against his thigh, pulsing and hot. He was hot all over now despite the sharp, damp chill in the air.

It didn't help that his mind's eye knew exactly what laid between Gon's legs—Killua, licking a clean stripe along the underside of his dick. Killua, with his head between Gon's thighs, swallowing him whole like he could pretend he didn't, in fact, have a gag reflex.

He imagined Gon's fingers following the trail Retz took along that fair, olive skin on his pelvis, hooking over his balls and stroking himself to life with a clear, glossy shine of lube on his fingers. He imagined Gon with those ridiculous fake glasses, reclining on his bed just days before. That same week, Gon had been in his bed.

Who knew when Gon had collaborated with Retz. Was it before? After? During?

"Fuck," Killua thought, getting to his feet. For all he knew, Gon had been wearing the chastity belt then.

He went for his computer. For the drawer on his nightstand.

He snapped open his laptop with a grimace. The light was blinding, and after dimming it a touch, he realized that he hadn't ever exited out of Gon's profile before calling it quits. He clicked the first available video, and in the light of his computer screen and the periodic passing of headlights several floors below, he shimmied out of his underwear.

He skipped ahead in the video, to the point where there was nothing between Gon's tanned, olive skin and those white bedsheets. Killua had always guessed that the guy was fit as fuck, but damn, did he underestimate those muscles because Gon was full of 'em. With one knee off to the side and the other pulled up, Gon propped his arm over his knee and, through the speakers, said, "I've never tried one of these before."

In his hands was a glass dildo.

Not just any dildo—an anal plug. It had more length to it than an average plug, and as Killua's groggy, pent up brain tried to catch up, he determined one thing: It was good for starters, but he could tell straight away that it wouldn't be reaching any sort of deep, penetrative orgasms.

Gon put his knee to the sheets and sat up, on full display and hard already. Geez fucking Louise, this guy doesn't give two shits, does it? Killua thought because holy shit, was this guy packing. Killua hadn't slept with too many guys—a handful, really, and that was back in his cursed, freshmen year existence. He somehow had a knack for targeting five-inch guys (for better or for worse, but he was satisfied regardless) who had a tendency to fuck right off after the deed was done (for worse, definitely for worse).

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