It was all his fault. Gon, that sweet bastard, had claimed HIS first kiss without much of a thought, as though it meant little more than, say, eating sweets. And it had been sweet; lip molding lip, innocent, almost chaste, with a hint of something deeper, something more. The candy he had just stolen was nothing compared to the sweetness of Gon's lips on his, period.

Then Gon had retreated, with that familiar, innocent smile on his face, and a light-hearted comment about how Killua was always taking his candy, and that he'd gotten it back this time, after a fashion. And that was that.

He had never been more pleased to return something he stole.

He'd first experienced addiction when he came across sweets. A nagging feeling would nibble at him, then grow into a want, a hunger. A need. And once an addiction reached that level, it was near impossible to kick. He'd want a sweet. Then two. A dozen. More.

It was much the same with the addiction he had this time.

Pleasure hummed from his lips and spread like wildfire through his body for the ninth time that day, and he knew that he'd given up on his sweet addiction for something even sweeter.

And with any luck, he'll never kick it.