Chapter Text
Knuckle had a problem, and although it was severe he doubted any medical professional in the world could fix it.
The reason was that his problem stood right in front of him or rather stood with it.
Shoot’s yukata covered him from head to toe, the lilac fabric concealing most of his upper body and reaching down to kiss the top of his ankles. To make them less restrictive and more suitable for battle, there was a slit.
It let Shoot’s legs slip out from beneath the robes to run or kick or, in Knuckle’s case, make him agonisingly hard.
After the Chimera Ant Extermination, Knuckle’s perception of Shoot had shifted and over time, they both realised that their feelings had evolved into something deeper than friendship. Obviously, Knuckle made the first move back when Shoot was discharged from the hospital but to his surprise, albeit as a blushing mess, Shoot reciprocated.
(They were together. Lovers. Boyfriends. Significant others. Knuckle wasn’t well-versed in romance, he didn’t care about titles and formalities. All he knew was that he liked Shoot and wanted to see him happy, no matter what name society bestowed upon them.)
Shoot was shy. The first time they kissed, he almost blushed himself into a coma and while he had got better, mortification was in his nature.
They had sex but not without the lights off and even then Shoot hid his face and suppressed his moans. Their sex was gentle and loving including lots of cuddles and kisses. With all the pain Shoot had experienced in his life Knuckle thought he deserved to be treated with care.
They hadn’t talked about preferences or curiosities, Shoot would probably rather die than bring anything up— if he even had anything in mind. Knuckle once tried to pleasure Shoot’s hole with his mouth and promptly got kicked in the shoulder so hard he almost toppled off the bed because “it’s dirty, idiot!”.
Shoot never came— at least not with Knuckle— instead, he hurried to the bathroom to finish by himself.
Knuckle was fine with that, he was happy. He wanted Shoot to do whatever made him most comfortable and as long as he was enjoying himself, the rest was inconsequential.
Considering the faintness of Shoot’s heart, there was no way Knuckle could tell him about his problem— which was currently throbbing in the confines of his pants.
He watched Shoot dodge hits from Morel’s smoke puppets with both feet balanced on two of his New hands, practising the technique he figured out during the fight against Youpi. The fabric of his robes fluttered in the wind, occasionally revealing the milky white skin of his knees and toned calves.
Shoot jumped into action to destroy a smoke puppet, his right leg moving in front of him for balance. The robe shifted and Knuckle almost leaned forward to get a better look at those bandage-clad thighs. Instead, he leaned back and adjusted his pants, shame simmering beneath his skin. He was no better than a pervert peaking under women’s skirts.
He didn’t know what it was about Shoot’s legs that made him want to ravish and devour them, a thick bone to a starved dog.
It was getting out of hand, too. Whenever they had sex it took all of his restraint not to grope and kiss and bite every centimetre of flesh he could get his hands on— the intensity of his strange desire would scare Shoot off and that was the last thing he wanted to do.
But that didn’t make concealing his arousal easier.
With a frustrated grunt, he heaved himself off the bench to make a beeline for the showers. He needed to cool off.
The shower wasn’t helping, if anything it was making it worse. Naked and horny in a space devoid of distraction with only his imagination to keep him company and it wouldn’t stop conjuring images he desperately wanted to wash down the drain.
Shoot sitting down, thighs splaying on the surface.
Shoot getting dressed, wrapping the bandages around his legs and chest before putting on his yukata.
Shoot freshly out of the shower, moisturising as he runs his hand over his damp skin. First his slender feet, then his shins and calves, smoothing over his thighs and massaging the product in until slowly travelling higher higher higher until—
Knuckle bit his quivering lip to stop the noise from crawling out of his throat. One look downwards confirmed his suspicions. His cock had long since filled out and now stood proudly. He grabbed it by the base to take off the edge but as soon as his hand touched his shaft he was overcome by temptation.
It would be so easy to stroke his length, fingers grazing the head, smooth and wet from the water. Up and down until pleasure flooded his bloodstream and he spilt all over the shower tiles.
His cock twitched in interest and before Knuckle could stop it, his hand moved.
Fuck, it felt too good.
Images of Shoot’s mile-long legs flooded his mind and he lapped them up like cracked soil in a desert, seeping into every crevice.
He wanted to make a mess of them. Claim them with bite marks, suck hickeys into the supple skin as he squeezed and squished what he could reach.
Knuckle involuntarily picked up the pace. His free hand came to rest on the wall in front of him for leverage as he let his head fall forward. His wet hair was plastered all over his eyes but he just squeezed them shut.
God, he wanted to put his face between Shoot’s strong thighs and feel the muscles contract around his head until he could barely breathe. He wanted to watch Shoot’s beet-red face contort in a mix of pleasure and shame as he kissed the crown of his cock before taking him into his mouth. He wanted to make him whine and tug at his hair when Knuckle smacked the flesh of his thigh and watched it jiggle, leaving finger-shaped bruises Shoot would later blush at whenever he saw them.
A shameless moan escaped Knuckle’s lips before he could swallow it. His cock was burning with need, balls drawing up. He could feel his orgasm rapidly approaching.
The thought of marking Shoot’s thighs with spurts of hot, white cum sent him so violently over the edge that his knees buckled and he threatened to fall over.
He collapsed onto his knees, panting as he watched his spent cock soften in his grasp.
A sense of loyalty abruptly washed over him, the hairs on his neck standing up as he realised what he had just done. His eyes opened impossibly wide, rivulets of tears already running down his face.
He broke Shoot’s trust. He got off to the fantasy of something Shoot could never give him and the reality of that left him feeling colder than the hot water that had long since run out.
How could this even happen? How could he desire something Shoot wasn’t already giving him— Shoot was perfect and having sex with him was everything he ever needed.
There was nothing Knuckle wanted more than Shoot’s mere existence, so why was he jacking off to a fantasy like this like Shoot wasn’t enough?
Nausea churned in his gut. His head was swimming and he couldn’t tell if the ringing came from his ears or if the fire alarm was broken again.
He shivered as he shut off the water. Finishing up and trudging out of the shower was torture, going back to meet Morel and Shoot for lunch was hell. Knuckle felt like he was on autopilot, having no recollection of how he got to the kitchen when he arrived.
He had no idea how to face Shoot now that he had defiled him by subjecting him to his debauchery. Now that he thought of Shoot as if he was lacking.
He was no better than the assholes who made fun of Shoot for not having an arm during the Hunter Exam.
And Knuckle dared to call himself Shoot’s lover. He wasn’t worth his love, he didn’t deserve it.
“Are you okay?” Shoot asked at lunch and Knuckle abruptly stopped chewing. He hadn’t said a word since he arrived. Normally, he was all up in Shoot’s face so he supposed it was obvious his boyfriend was going to catch on.
He swallowed before uttering a reply. “Yeah, of course.”
Knuckle couldn’t even meet his boyfriend’s eye. The fantasies were bad but his actions and their implications burned in the back of his head, making it heavy with guilt and self-hatred. Knuckle counted the grains of rice on his plate lest he fell to his knees and begged for forgiveness.
The table went quiet. Even Morel stopped reading through the newspaper he had splayed out over the table. Panic began to prickle under Knuckle’s skin as he realised both of them saw right through his lie. He lifted his head slightly to catch the curious look Morel was sending their way.
Knuckle’s peripheral vision picked up movement to his left. Shoot was turning toward him, shifting his right leg over the chair and opening it enough for his yukata to ride up.
Knuckle flinched so hard he banged his knee on the table, rattling the cutlery, and shovelled the remaining rice into his mouth all at once. He stood abruptly, grabbing his plate.
“I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”
With that, he raced to the kitchen, threw the dirty dishes into the sink and all but sprinted to his room. He couldn’t bear seeing the rejection in Shoot’s face but his current predicament left him no choice.
He just prayed sleep would drown out the burning in his gut.
Unfortunately, the next day was just as horrible. And the day after.
He hadn’t caught more than a whiff of sleep, tossing and turning while everything replayed in his mind like a broken record. It left him with barely enough energy to function.
The second he saw Shoot, he was overcome with shame and desire, a desire he didn’t think he deserved to feel after what he had done. He kept their interactions curt and polite, hoping limited contact would slowly make him turn back to normal while trying his best not to make Shoot worry.
Every time he saw Shoot draw his non-existent eyebrows together in concern he felt ready to cry— all because he couldn’t get his shit together and be a normal boyfriend that respected Shoot’s boundaries.
He was distracted during training.
Today Shoot actually managed to knock him out because he was too busy gawking after the bandage on his right thigh had come off during the fight. Shoot apologised profusely but Knuckle felt like the one who needed to atone as he tried to will his erection away while Shoot fussed over him.
“Yo, Knuckle,” Morel called. He was standing a few feet away with an ice pack under his arm. “Come here for a sec, will ya? I need to talk to you.”
Knuckle gulped. That didn’t sound good.
“Let’s get inside and find somewhere to sit.”
Once seated in the living room, Morel inspected his head before placing the ice pack on the little bump that had already formed and now throbbed viciously. After a moment of silence, Morel took a big breath in.
“Okay, out with it,” he demanded. His voice was stern but it didn’t conceal the softness in his eyes. He was worried and for good reason, Knuckle was aware he was acting strangely.
“What the hell is going on with you and Shoot?” Morel continued. “I thought now that you got together you were doing well.”
Knuckle turned to him at neck-break speed as the world came to a halt along with his breathing.
“How did you—?”
“I’m old, not stupid.” Morel smiled. “I’m happy for you, don’t worry so much, idiot.”
Knuckle’s heart was pounding in time with his head, his vision was still a bit foggy which made it harder for his eyes to focus on his mentor’s face.
“We didn’t want to hide it from you, we didn’t— we just didn’t know how to tell you,” Knuckle explained. He chewed on his bottom lip.
“I’m not mad. As I said, I’m happy for you and you’re allowed to take your time but whatever is going on is affecting your training— and Shoot’s mental health.” Knuckle sucked in a breath. “He’s worrying himself sick.”
Knuckle rocked forward to put his face in his hands, his throat closed up as tears welled up in his eyes.
“I know,” he finally mumbled into his hands. “There’s something I don’t know how to fix.”
“Can I help?” Morel’s voice was thick with concern. Knuckle rubbed his forehead before running his hand through his hair. The thought of talking about bedroom stuff with his mentor tinted his ears red in embarrassment and he licked his lips.
Morel hummed. “So it’s that kind of problem, then.”
Knuckle nodded stiffly, avoiding eye contact and instead following the patterns of the wooden floor. They merged like branches in a flood, so deeply interwoven there was neither beginning nor end.
“I just…,” he started, swallowing around the lump that had formed in the back of his throat, “there’s something. Something that I w-want, you know, and… I don’t know how to get it out of my head. I betrayed his trust and I hate myself for it. Every time I look at him I just feel so guilty.”
Knuckle drew in a stuttering breath, trying to think of the least mortifying way to put his next sentence. “But it’s not just guilt though, it’s also— I just, I just want, you know, and that makes it so much worse.”
His cheeks were on fire, he was sure his entire face was red at this point but it felt good to let it out.
“Did you cheat on him?”
Knuckle’s blood boiled before his mind had finished digesting Morel’s words. The ice pack exploded in his hand, coating his hair and body in blue jelly. It was wet and cold but didn’t cool the smouldering rage roaring beneath his skin.
“No! I would never!” Knuckle all but screamed. “How could you even suggest that? I would rather cut my dick off than touch anyone who isn’t him!”
“Then why?” Morel asked. Knuckle turned to him, anger giving way to genuine confusion. “Why would you want to get it out of your head?”
Morel leaned back against the couch, putting his arm over the backrest as he rubbed his chin in contemplation.
“You don’t have to get into detail but you’re dating, so I’m just gonna assume you two…” Knuckle nodded. “Then why suppress it? Can’t you just, you know, do it?”
“No,” Knuckle stated firmly. “He wouldn’t share my feelings.”
“He wouldn’t or doesn’t?” Morel volleys. “Have you actually asked him?”
Silence filled the room. Knuckle didn’t need to look at his mentor to see the realisation dawn on his face. He noticed as he scratched the back of his head that the fingers holding the burst ice pack had gone numb.
“You haven’t talked about it?” Morel roared incredulously. “Are you stupid? Be lucky Shoot got you before me or I’d rip you a new one!”
“Oi—!” Knuckle threw his hands up defensively, spraying blobs of jelly everywhere.
“Ever heard of communication, kid?” Morel yelled, his face inches away from Knuckle’s own. The latter furrowed his brows as his expression soured.
“Of course I have, but it's Shoot!” Knuckle snapped back, “I don’t wanna put pressure on him or scare him off when he’s gonna say no anyway and I don’t want him to do it out of obligation either. I don’t wanna decide for him, especially when it comes to this!”
A strong hand came down on Knuckle’s shoulder, gripping the limb like a vice.
“And putting words in his mouth isn’t deciding for him?”
He didn’t know how long he had been standing outside of Shoot’s door already but the balls of his feet were numb and his back was aching. He nervously chewed on his bottom lip, the steady ticking of the clock above Shoot's door only served to fuel his agitation. His mind raced back and forth with ideas on how to go about this. He didn’t want to scare Shoot away but by keeping this to himself he was hurting him more than anything else. After his talk with Morel, he knew there was no way around a proper conversation. If only Knuckle knew what to say.
“Sorry I’ve been avoiding you, it’s just I’ve been fantasising so much about your naked body I was scared I was gonna cum at the sight of you” didn’t sound right to him. Shoot would strangle him with all four of his hands.
Lying wasn’t an option either, Shoot would know. Even if he didn’t, relationships relied heavily on trust so lying would only further damage their bond. Losing Shoot was the one thing he couldn’t afford, he was already fucking this up more than necessary.
But what else could he say?
“Arghh, this is so stupid!” Knuckle yowled exasperatedly. He dropped into a squat and buried his hands in his hair, pulling at the strands. “Why does he have to be so pretty that it makes me wanna suck his dick until he cries?! What am I supposed to do about this other than say “sorry I’ve been avoiding I just can’t handle how amazing you are because it makes my brain short-circuit and my dick take over?” I sound like a pathetic horny virgin, get a grip!”
“If you wanted to have sex, you could’ve just said so.”