Chapter Text
All the windows were open and the fan was on full blast.
“It’s gonna be another hot one, folks—”
“Yeah, no shit,” Killua said, turning off the TV with a sweaty scowl.
The remote rattled out of her hand onto the floor where she laid, the wooden surface of the apartment the coolest place she could find. She'd been there since morning, on her back in front of the fan, dressed in only black boxers and a purple sports bra.
It was approaching early afternoon and Killua still hadn’t moved beyond playing with her mess of snowy hair to keep herself entertained; it was too hot to even concentrate on video games. She had turned on the television in hopes of any news about the end of the heatwave but evidently that wasn't the case and it seemed she’d be condemned to melt face-up on the floor for the foreseeable future.
Thankfully, her roommate hadn’t been raised by cruel, wealthy assholes like she had and had instituted a regular cleaning schedule that kept their two-bedroom apartment—and its floors—spotless; she had even tried to teach Killua with mixed results. Not that Killua didn’t help with the cleaning, she was just used to having other people do it for her, which was a habit her roomie quickly broke her of once they moved in together after finding each other on the RoomieHunter app.
Speaking of roommates … Killua glanced up at hers through her damp bangs; on her back, her view made the other woman appear upside down.
Gon looked picture-perfect sitting at the kitchen table, curled into her chair with her long dark hair pulled up off her tan neck and into a messy bun. They both had foregone clothes for sports bras and Killua’s stash of breezy boxer shorts to keep cool, and Gon looked good in Killua’s clothes. Her fork clanged lightly against the bowl on the table as she forked a chunk of watermelon and brought it to her lips. She chewed slowly, idly, as she perused the latest copy of her favorite magazine, Hunter Geographic.
Feeling eyes on her, Gon glanced down to where Killua was splayed on the floor, a mirth in her eyes at Killua’s dramatic pose.
“You doing okay, Killua?”
Killua couldn’t keep the brattiness out of her voice. “No. It’s hot,” she whined, then squinted at Gon. “How are you okay?”
Gon shrugged, spearing another chunk of watermelon. “I’m from an island. It gets hotter than this during the summers there. I texted my aunt the temperature and she asked if I was chilly.”
Killua watched Gon’s mouth as she raised the melon’s reddish flesh to it, and noticed how its color complimented her lips. Killua absently licked her own, blinking when the piece of fruit paused on the pillow of her roommate’s lips. Her gaze slowly crawled up Gon’s face until she met her amused golden-brown eyes. Killua’s heat-fevered skin masked her blush.
“Wanna piece?” Gon asked around a particularly juicy bite, pinkish liquid dribbling down her chin which she lapped at and Killua suddenly had the urge to taste it, the intrusive idea to taste her—
But it was literally too fucking hot.
“I’m not moving. Moving just makes more heat,” Killua said stubbornly, trying to block out inappropriate thoughts about her roommate, her yes to Gon’s question a given. “Feed it to me … please.”
The chair creaked over Gon’s laugh as she stood.
“Of course, princess Killua,” she acquiesced with a demure bow.
Killua felt her body temperature rise to a molten churning at her very core as if having been struck by lightning, but she focused on training her face to give Gon a withering look as she proceeded to join Killua on the floor—the bowl between them—and read her like a book.
“What, you don’t like being called princess, princess?”
Little did she know, Killua’s fingers twitched at how much she liked Gon calling her princess.
“Please, respectfully, shut up and give me a piece of watermelon.”
Gon laughed, “As you wish,” and fed Killua from the same fork she had used.
It was a perfect bite of melon. Cool and sweet, its tender flesh practically melting on her warm tongue. Killua moaned around the fork as Gon slowly pulled it away—her teeth guiding the fruit off the prongs, chewing indulgently, lips pressed together to not lose a drop of juice—as she closed her eyes in pure bliss. When she reopened them, Killua met Gon’s wide amber ones, noted the slight surprise in her parted lips, and burned even hotter in embarrassment.
“What? ‘s good,” she muttered, swallowing, a little self-conscious. “… Can I have another?”
Wordlessly, Gon gave her a second piece and Killua made sure to react quieter this time, it seemed, to both of their relief. They shared back and forth like that, Gon feeding Killua then herself, switching between idle chatter and companionable silence like they'd been doing it for years.
“Sorry, that was the last one,” Gon said after a while, peeking into the bowl. “I’ll have to pick up some more at the store later.”
Killua whined and Gon laughed good-naturedly.
“You’ll be okay, Killua.”
“Will I though?” she grumbled. “I know I may look like I’m made of ice but now I’m starting to wonder if it’s true.”
Watching Killua wipe the sweat from her brow, how the heat made her pale cheeks rosy and eyelids droop over her cool sapphire eyes, stirred something in Gon and brought her suddenly to her feet.
Killua’s sharp eyes flicked to her—wandering up her strong tan legs, past the green-striped boxers of Killua’s she wore and the layer of softness that covered her muscular abdomen that secretly drove Killua wild, over her dark orange sports bra—and finally landed on the deep honey of Gon’s patiently waiting eyes. She tilted her head innocently at Killua, regarding her curiously with an amused expression.
“I’ve got an idea. Hold on.”
Killua couldn’t see Gon move about in the kitchen since she faced the living room, but she could definitely hear the other woman open and close the refrigerator. When Gon sat back down with a bowl of ice, Killua realized she had misheard the freezer door.
“Wanna try? I guarantee it’ll make you feel better,” Gon offered, lifting a cube. “I’ll even do it for you since you don’t want to move.”
Killua blinked twice to make sure the scene in front of her wasn't a mirage or a product of heat stroke. She stared at Gon, at the glistening ice already dripping between her fingers, and couldn't help but imagine them that wet elsewhere as Killua felt the molten core of herself empty and pool into her lower belly, and desperately tried to keep her thighs from pressing together at the sensation.
She swallowed, nodding silently, and Gon immediately started on her arms, tracing down her lean muscle and leaving a slick trail of cool water.
A rush of relief expelled through Killua’s nose as her eyelids fluttered shut and she relaxed into the floor.
“That feels so nice.”
Gon continued her ministrations, gliding the ice over the contours of her muscles, her athletic body sculpted by years of skateboarding; the plains over her impressive abs. She followed along paths of scars scattered all across her body from falls and scrapes and serious injuries and the family she rarely talked about like connecting constellations in the sky. She traced the lines and angles of her, the bones of her shins and ankles and feet, and back up the slopes of legs: her hard calves, the hills of her knees, her marble thighs, pausing on them to let cool water puddle and drip into the crevice between them.
She trailed the ice back up Killua’s arms and across the top of her chest, lifting and working around the shape and thick straps of Killua’s sports bra. She worked her way up her neck and back down, across the ridges of her collarbone, and let the drops of water pool in their hollows. Killua was blissed out, eyes shut in pleasure, clearly enjoying the lavish attention. Down near the curve of her neck, Gon found the faint traces of a hickey, light purple edges shaped almost like the petal of a faded flower. She grazed below the ear, a tender spot that made Killua laugh breathily, before coming back down again—always getting stopped by the fabric of her bra.
“Um, Killua …”
“Hm?” Killua hummed, a single gentle brow arching over closed eyes.
“Would you—um, could you? Move your straps off your shoulders …? So I can have easier access. You see, uh, I’ve been thinking about your strap–I mean, how the chest traps a lot of heat and I think that if you—”
As Gon rambled, Killua peeked her eyes open, drowsily watching. She blinked up at her blankly, interrupting matter-of-factly, “Gon, are you asking me to remove my top?”
Gon covered her mouth with her free hand. “Yes?” she squeaked, confused suddenly why she had asked in the first place. Like, it wasn’t really necessary, she could make it work, no problem. She opened her mouth to say so, forgetting one crucial detail—
Killua arched her back, crossing her arms over her chest to pull her bra up and off in one fluid motion with a pleased sigh.
—that Killua was shameless in this way; that she knew her body looked good and she carried herself as such. She had no issue with nudity; her personal philosophy was that everybody had a body so why be ashamed?
And Gon—having never seen Killua’s small perky breasts before or her light pink nipples—felt tingly in a way that made her fingers curl into the fabric of her borrowed green-striped boxers.
“Better?” Killua asked, eyes closed once more, settling back onto the floor.
And even though the fan was only circulating the hot air of the room, the artificial breeze over her nipples had already partially stiffened them.
Gon swallowed thickly. “Mhmm.”
Gon avoided the area for a while, her boobs generally, as long as she could, instead moving slowly across Killua’s ribs and over the tops of the swells of her breasts—the proximity alone making Gon bite her lip.
Gon had never considered their … unquestionable attraction to each other before, how quickly they had become close friends then best friends despite being strangers only six months ago; how weirdly and easily their lives had knitted together—with Killua on a first name basis with her aunt and Gon exchanging memes with Killua’s sisters almost 24/7—until now. And now , for Gon, it was painfully, achingly obvious why. Now, tasting the watermelon on her tongue, she knew how Killua’s mouth would taste, and Gon was suddenly, overwhelmingly aware she found that hot.
But … what if the attraction was only one-sided? Gon could hear Killua’s voice in her head calling her an idiot, while the actual Killua—her Killua—was laid out beneath her, breathing heavily as Gon ran a fresh ice cube between the valley of her breasts and ventured up one to glide over the nub, thumb accidentally grazing the sensitive skin as it fully hardened and Killua whimpered. Gon’s hand stilled and Killua peeked a half-lidded eye open to reveal a glimmer of sapphire with an apologetic smile.
“Sorry. I know, er, you don’t like that,” she said in her usual deep rasp. “I’ll try to be quieter—”
“No!” Killua blinked at Gon’s outburst. “I mean, no it’s okay. I, um, I don’t mind. You can, if you want.”
Killua’s brows furrowed. “I thought it bothered you when I did that?”
Not that kind of bothered, you dummy, Gon’s internal-Killua berated real-life Killua.
Gon’s cheeks colored a very uncharacteristic pink. “Oh, um, no actually I … I , um, actually really like when you make noise.” She looked away. “Like a lot.”
She could feel Killua’s intense gaze roving over her face and couldn’t meet it, instead watching the ice become a flake beneath her fingers on Killua’s pale skin. Respectfully, she shied away from staring at her breasts, looking anywhere else as she fished a fresh ice cube from the bowl, until she noticed the hint of a playful smirk fading from her friend’s lips.
“Okay,” Killua said easily, getting comfortable again, and that was that.
It was an onslaught Gon was not ready for—everything Killua had evidently been holding back, sounds Gon had only overheard through their shared wall when Killua had people over—unprepared to be confronted with them live and in-person on a random and sweltering Sunday afternoon. She didn’t hear Killua all the time during her hook-ups; when Gon wanted to sleep with someone, she usually asked if they could do it at their place since she, as Killua put it, didn’t mind or understand the concept of a walk-of-shame.
Which, of course she didn’t, because why would she be ashamed about having sex?
But Killua’s noises pulled her from those thoughts and maybe Gon understood a little bit about shame in that moment as she openly watched her roommate react to what at the start had been an innocent suggestion to help her cool down, and now had backfired to a unyielding warmth unspooling between her legs at Killua’s relaxed face and every twitch and noise coming from her parted pink lips.
And Gon listened—to every stuttered sigh and pleased whine and low hum telling her where it felt good—she herself out of breath at the deeply attractive sounds Killua made. Now she understood when Killua complained about being overheated—Gon was burning up and melting from the inside out all because of some ice.
Killua turned her head away from Gon, eyes still closed as she sought a more comfortable position, and her choppy white hair parted over neck. The motion wafted up the scent of her shampoo, sweet notes of fresh rainwater that always reminded Gon of the rainy season back home.
In real-time, Gon watched a bead of sweat form on the surface of Killua’s skin, glistening right where her throat was gently bared to Gon. Idly, she wondered what it tasted like and before she realized Gon dove without thinking, nose tucked under Killua’s jaw as she licked the droplet from her neck—and jumped back when she felt Killua immediately tense beneath her tongue.
“W-what was that?” Killua turned her head back toward Gon, eyes searching.
A blush radiated from Gon’s skin. What had she been thinking ? “Well, I figured since—no, I’m s-sorry, Killua! I don’t think I’ve ever been embarrassed before but I think this is what it might feel like? I p-probably made you so uncomfortable—” She stammered and rambled until she felt a hand on her knee and Killua looked at her with a different sort of heat in her cool blue eyes.
“No, I liked it. Do it again.”
Gon’s amber eyes grew wide as she quieted. Something had officially shifted. An illumination, a spotlight. A revelation. Whatever this thing was that they discovered between them, it was clearly mutual. Without a word, Gon nodded trance-like and moved slowly forward as if pulled by an invisible thread.
This time, Gon hummed at the salt on her tongue, at the uniquely addictive taste that was Killua.
The next time, she popped an ice cube into her mouth, warming it until she could crush it between her teeth and chew. She trailed Killua’s neck with her cold lips and felt the air leave Killua’s body.
“Gon,” she breathed out and Gon felt her stomach swoop. It was the first time she had her name slip from Killua’s mouth like this and it sounded like a moan.
Her name spilling from Killua’s mouth spurred Gon, lit her insides like fireworks, ignited a streak of challenge in her. She kept at it, moving around Killua’s body, cradling the ice of her tongue until it cooled her mouth, pressing her chilled lips to her pale, feverish skin—repeating the process until Killua was a blushing, breathy mess below her.
There was only one place Gon’s lips hadn’t gone.
“Can I kiss you?”
—okay, well, a couple places.
“Oh, so now you ask for permission?”
Gon’s cheeks pinked at the slight pant in Killua’s voice. “Killua …” She hung her head, feeling properly chided for her earlier misstep. She pressed her knees together. “I was overwhelmed. You’re just so … overwhelming sometimes.”
Killua sat up on her elbows, nudging her nose gently against Gon’s so that she could catch her eye. Amber melted into sapphire. “In a good way?” she asked softly and Gon grin’s grin lit up the room.
“In the best way.”
Neither was sure who moved first, only that their lips met and moved tenderly against each other—and that the kiss tasted like chilly mornings and hot afternoons; of long hours laughing, pressed against each other; of, somehow, minutes and days and months and years; and forever, of sticky-sweet watermelon melting on their tongues.