A/N: Yes, you saw that right. Two consecutive updates! I actually have Chapter 32 ready since around April but was not able to post it immediately because of the lockdown and the mandatory closing of internet cafés in PH. I didn't expect that it was actually possible to post (I didn't even try because of the poor mobile signal in my location) via my old and bad phone. Somehow it worked with the help of my Bluetooth keyboard. Yay~!
So apparently, I have reached 100k views on Fanfic net. 1-2k views per month?! Just how bored are you guys to re-read this thing during the quarantine period? I refuse to believe I'm getting new readers given that I rarely post new chap. Also, you have no idea how much the last intimate scene in this chap pestered me for YEARS. I'm proud that I got this far! Back then I was doubting myself, 'will I ever reach this part where I can put this kind of scene without making it OOC?' but here we are! I'm so relieved! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this and stay safe, everyone!
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HXH
BETA: Aesclapia
Chapter 33: A Warm Teacup.
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Kurapika had to hold back his frown as he took in the view of the two-storey inn that Kuroro's given address indicated.
He entered and went to the reception, eyes lingering around the spacious and cozy lounge, and was warmly greeted with a smile by the female hotel receptionist. He stolidly stated that he was an expected visitor of one of the guests and gave the room number which the woman obligedly phoned for confirmation. It turned out that 'Tadano-san' had left his room but had already mentioned about Kurapika's arrival. The receptionist apologetically said she couldn't let him into the room yet and that he had to wait for Kuroro's return, suggesting him to wait in the lounge and have some coffee which Kurapika politely declined.
Annoyed that he had to wait for the bastard and feeling an awful anxiety at the thought of being seen by the receptionist together with him, Kurapika walked to one of cushioned rattan couches and fired off a vexed text to Kuroro. Where the hell that bastard could possibly have gone to?
His eyes absently lingered about the lounge. The glass walls showcased a view of a small garden to the right and a resto-bar to the left. Warm, orange lights were radiating from hanging lamps made of carved bamboo and on concrete walls were paintings depicting natives planting on farms or dancing in traditional clothes. He kept a stoic face on, but Kurapika was inwardly frowning at Kuroro's odd choice of hotel.
When Kurapika left to Kuroro the task of choosing their meeting place, he expected (and dreaded) that he would wastefully pick the fanciest hotel in town for the night since he tended to splurge when it came to him. But to his bafflement (and somehow relief), Kuroro booked a room in this elegant yet austere four-star homey inn along the coast of Akharin's mainland. It was a resort that featured the Akharin's renowned white-sand beach on its backyard and the rustic culture of its people through the handcrafts and artful displays and furnitures. The place's ambiance wasn't offering lavishness and luxury but accentuated simplistic and relaxing vibes. It was kind of a break from the towering five-star hotels Kurapika was used of going to. It wasn't crowded, too, lending a sense of exclusivity.
His brows knitted ever so slightly. The fact that Kuroro had chosen this inn for a relaxed and langurous coupling than to go for the usual expensive hotels just to satisfy an eight-hour long utilitarian intercourse irked him, yet he wasn't surprised. In fact, he wasn't as annoyed as he should be. Either because he was in a good mood after his successful mission of acquiring the Kuruta eyes or perhaps this routinely make out sessions and abstinence with Kuroro had inflicted a damaging change in him, but Kurapika could feel the barest tinge of excitement and anticipation to see the Spider Head tonight.
The tinted glass entrance of the lounge was pushed open and revealed a slightly disheveled and topless muscular man, a towel slung on his right shoulder. Kurapika wasn't able to hide his frown this time. Speak of the devil.
Kuroro, wet-haired and wearing above-the-knee swimming trunks with his sandalled feet dirty with bits of sand, apparently went to the beach. He looked like he had fun. He had his poker face plastered on, but Kurapika couldn't mistake that glint in his eyes. His frown deepened.
His heart, however, unpleasantly skipped a beat when Kuroro approached him. He tore away his gaze that somehow lingered on the man's exposed chest and slightly glared at him.
"Sorry, I'm late. Did you wait long?" Kuroro asked.
Kurapika didn't respond and curtly shook his head, not liking the way the receptionist looked at them. There was nothing judgmental about it; Kurapika just plainly disliked being seen with Kuroro, not to mention the suggestive notion of them sharing a room together in a hotel that was seemingly built to accommodate closely related guests. Really, Kurapika realized that he should have thoroughly thought it through before inviting Kuroro here.
Kuroro gave the receptionist a gentle smile while Kurapika walked about three steps away behind him. She bowed as they passed which saved him the trouble of having to look back at her. Kurapika could already feel the need to rebuke Kuroro on the tip of his tongue as they ascended the stairs. He held it back, mustering his self-control, until they reached Kuroro's room.
"That's audacious of you to actually go to the beach and enjoy yourself," Kurapika started the moment the room's door closed.
"Can't I?" Kuroro said, wiping his head dry with the towel before tossing it on a circular wooden table. With a casualness of a gentleman, he took the bag on Kurapika's one hand and the box containing the Kuruta eyes on the other. Kurapika let him, subtly unwilling. "I see. You beat me to a pair."
"I did," Kurapika said proudly. He didn't want him to pry into the details on how he did it and changed the subject. "Don't you think it's risky for us to openly proceed to this room together like that? It doesn't sit well with me."
"There's nothing to worry about," Kuroro placed both items on the table next to the towel. Contrary to what he was supposed to feel upon finding out that Kurapika managed to acquire the eyes without his help, he didn't look particularly dismayed at the loss. "This hotel prides on their integrity when it comes to privacy and exclusivity. There are only three other guests staying here beside us. The walls are thick and the backyard beach has little to no beach-goers. That's why I decided to give it a try."
Kurapika ambled further inside the room, eyes roving in inspection. There was a bed, a closet, and a cushioned rattan couch specifically made for two that was adjacent to a curtained, sliding glass door. Beyond it was a balcony and the stunning view of the darkening sky and sea of Akharin's beach. He resisted the urge to open the door and settled with just looking through it. He lifted a hand and loosened the knot of his necktie.
"You like it?" Kuroro asked. Kurapika could tell that he was smiling even without looking at him.
"It's not bad," he said, pulling at his tie. It was true. The place was good and the view was so captivating that Kurapika could feel his need to rant and sulk subsiding and secretly appreciated Kuroro's effort for choosing it. He shrugged his coat off next and felt a pair of hands helpfully removing it from his arms. Again with an odd feeling of tolerance, Kurapika let Kuroro do it.
"Missed me?" Kuroro asked, taking his coat and tie. His voice lacked the usual playful and mocking cadence whenever he threw those kind of rubbish lines. In fact, he sounded circumspect and eager for a serious answer. Kurapika looked sideways, eyes narrowing in mild suspicion, and was weirded out for a moment by the carefree look on Kuroro's eyes. Kuroro placed his coat on the table as Kurapika turned to fully face him, caught off-guard and suddenly receptive of Kuroro's open expression of longing and desire. It somehow communicated between them and Kurapika flushed. He fought the urge to look away and met Kuroro's eyes as the man inched closer, right in front of him.
It irked Kurapika that he had to look up just to keep their eye contact, but what was really bothering him was how the flaring eagerness in Kuroro resonated with him. There was the desire, roiling about and looming, almost tangible. There was no need to vocally answer the bastard's question; it was already obvious with their body language, frustratingly visible.
Kuroro cautiously leaned in and pressed his lips on his. Kurapika stiffened in tension, his usual initial response on their first contacts, but immediately relaxed and surrendered to the kiss. It deliberately turned into a deep, open mouthed kiss and further developed into an embrace, Kuroro's arms winding around his waist and Kurapika's palms flat against his back. The kiss broke only to reconnect again, closer and more eager the second time. Kurapika could feel the slight coolness of Kuroro's exposed chest against his body despite the fabric of his shirt between them, as well as the warmth of his lips that were becoming greedier by the seconds. Kuroro's hands slipped underneath his shirt and felt up the skin all over his waist and back. This alarmed Kurapika—if he let him Kuroro do as he pleased, things would no doubt escalate uncontrollably.
Breathless and dazed, Kurapika pulled back, one hand pressed against Kuroro's collarbone to push him away a bit. "Don't get cocky. I just arrived. Let me wash up first, at least."
"Okay," Kuroro backed off, giving Kurapika some space. "Do you mind if I join you?"
"Can't even wait for some measly minutes? I'm not in the mood to do it in the shower."
"Let's keep our hands to ourselves, then," Kuroro shrugged. "If I can't have my way then we can at least quickly wash up together and save time so we can start early."
"… Alright," Kurapika said. Kuroro had a point—every second wasted doing nothing was like burning precious jennies for this guy.
They went to the bathroom together. Kurapika removed his remaining clothes before the thought of beating him to it crossed Kuroro's mind. He went under the shower and turned it on without a care for whatever Kuroro was doing. Eeriely yet surprisingly, the awkwardness and self-consciousness he usually felt whenever he was with Kuroro without any clothes on weren't present, either because he wasn't directly looking at him now or he had finally gotten used to it. He reached for the soap and was about to scrub it against his wet shoulder when a hand from behind took the soap from his hand.
"Relax. I'll just wash your back," Kuroro said as Kurapika cast him a sideway glare then unceremoniously proceeded to work the soap into lather all over Kurapika's shoulders down to his back.
Kurapika stiffened and tensed up as Kuroro's palms, slicked with the body soap, began to scrub his back. Very well accustomed to his proclivity for playing naughty and stealing touches when presented with this kind of oppurtunity, Kurapika expected and even anticipated for those hands to try and test their boundary and feel him up. However, to his surprise, Kuroro's strokes were brisk and prefunctory; they moved as if to scrub and massage at the same time, but there was nothing lewd about it. His hands went down to his hips but they never reached any lower. About a minute later, Kuroro returned the soap to him then stepped back, letting Kurapika finish washing up.
Kurapika took the soap and hurriedly continued to wash himself, aware of the man standing behind him and waiting for his turn to use the shower. He rinsed and grabbed the shampoo bottle placed on the soap holder but didn't use it. Instead, he went to the tub, which was already filled with warm, slightly bubbly water and immersed himself in it, subtly observing Kuroro in his peripheral vision who was washing up with his back on him.
Kurapika shampooed his hair, silently narrowing his eyes in suspicion at Kuroro. The bastard didn't even ask him to return the favor and wash his back, too. It seemed to him that Kuroro was adamant to adhere to their deal and behave accordingly to his demand.
"Detach the showerhead and bring it here," Kurapika said when Kuroro turned off the shower. Kuroro obeyed without a word and dipped into the tub, sitting right in front of him. Fortunately, the tub was big enough to accommodate the two of them without having to huddle closer, yet their limbs were touching underwater.
Gathering his resolve, Kurapika moved and straddled on Kuroro's lap, shampoo bottle in hand, and witnessed how shock briefly crossed the man's face.
Kurapika initially believed that washing Kuroro's hair would be less personal and more comfortable for him than touching his body with a soap but realized how wrong he was for how close their proximity became. Awkwardness crept up in him as Kuroro waited for his next move. Kurapika flushed hard at the way the man gazed at him. Embarrassment and regret rose in him, but it was too late to chicken out now.
Keeping a straight face despite feeling as if it was on fire, Kurapika squeezed out some shampoo on his palm and steeled himself to reach out for Kuroro's dark hair.
Kuroro was considerate enough to lower his head for an easier reach (and helpfully avoid eye contact) which made the task a tad bit less awkward for Kurapika. He started to work the shampoo into a lather, fingers sliding through the black strands which were a little sticky due to salty beach water, then scratched the tip of his fingers against his scalp in what he considered a soothing scrub. He could hear Kuroro breathe softly at each stroke. His hands rested on Kurapika's waist underwater, his head occasionally leaning closer to his chest.
Awkwardness turned to subconscious willingness as Kurapika relaxed, just like how Kuroro grew more docile under his touch. Kuroro's arms wound around his hips. He made no snide remarks or pointless chitchat. No extraneous movements or lecherous acts. He just sat still, enjoying Kurapika's fingers combing through his hair.
Kurapika let the shampoo rest on Kuroro's hair while he hurriedly rinsed his own using the showerhead. The bastard leaned and rested his forehead against Kurapika's shoulder as he did so which made Kurapika's heart pound too hard for his liking. Way more up close and even considerably affectionate, Kurapika endured the shame and finished what he started by rinsing off Kuroro's stupid head next.
He placed the showerhead down the tiled floor and retreated to the other side of the tub when it was done. He huddled against the tub's wall, one hand resting on its rim, avoiding Kuroro's gaze.
Kurapika waited for the man to shoot a remark about his odd behavior. He even thought Kuroro would order him to stay on his lap or pull him forcefully back just like back then at the cruise, but silence settled and stretched between them. Gradually, upon realizing that he was too on-edge, he relaxed and attempted to stop overthinking.
"You're in a good mood," perhaps noticing his tension bleeding off of him, Kuroro risked a comment.
Kurapika didn't answer back immediately, mind occupied with what had transpired in the past hours.
He had safely escorted his client home, had successfully acquired the Kuruta eyes without dirtying his hands, and apparently Kuroro was fulfilling his part of their revised contract by not being an insufferable prick. He even went an extra mile and picked an excellent lodging. He couldn't say he was delighted, but at least nothing had gone astray so far.
"Yes, so don't ruin it," Kurapika responded without any real bite.
"How much did you spend for those eyes?" Kuroro threw a question.
"About a thousand jennies and some loose change, I think," Kurapika didn't bother to count when he dumped his wallet's contents on the donation box.
"I see," Kuroro lightly chuckled, amused. Maybe he just wanted to test the waters or he was growing bored when Kurapika felt one of his legs being lifted up. His knee bobbed out of the water. Kurapika raised his brow. "May I?"
"Couldn't really keep your word and hands on yourself, huh." When Kuroro just smiled guiltily, Kurapika sighed. "Do as you please."
Kuroro gamely moved at Kurapika's submission. Kurapika looked away and tried hard to ignore whatever the hell Kuroro was going to do with his foot. He could feel the tip of Kuroro's fingers idly dragging across his skin back and forth while his foot was flat against his warm chest. Too bad for him it didn't arouse him in any way and Kurapika even found his mind wandering back to Linos-san and Father Razel who, for some odd reason, seemingly sent him a message about moving on. In their own little different ways, they embodied human's ability to move forward on their lives, and Kurapika just couldn't help but notice the strange coincidence of him crossing paths with them in the same place at the same time. It was as if it was some work of fate—
"Hyah!" Kurapika flinched at the warm sensation of Kuroro's lips against the sole of his foot. And indeed, as he looked at the man, he caught him in the act of licking his toes. "What the hell do you think you are doing?"
"You said I can do as I please," Kuroro had the audacity to look annoyed at being interrupted. "Continue whatever musing you are doing and don't mind me."
"How the hell can I ignore that? That's disgusting and dirty—"
"Seriously?" Kuroro smirked then slightly raised his wet and clean foot as if contradict him.
"Stop it."
"Are you perhaps ticklish?"
"If I say yes, will you stop?"
"No."
Kurapika's brows knitted, his eyes glaring warningly.
"Come on, just a little bit."
Kurapika grimaced at the frisky expression on Kuroro's face. His frown deepened then he let out a repressed, defeated sigh. Right. Kuroro was entitled to do whatever he wanted to him and he was obliged to indulge his whims for eight hours according to their agreement, so if Kuroro liked to suckle his foot at his leisure then Kurapika ought to deal with it.
"Fine," Kurapika yielded, looking away. "But only that foot." He muttered under his breath. "This is ridiculous."
His heart skipped a beat and he visibly flinched the moment Kuroro began his mortifying act of molesting his foot. He had to repress his instinctive desire to kick Kuroro in the face and bear both the ticklish sensation and building shame at each swipe of Kuroro's warm tongue against the pad of his foot. He could feel the bastard keenly watching out for his reactions while kissing the underside of his sole which brought an unpleasant feeling crawling under his skin. Kurapika's grasp on the tub's rim tightened. An involuntary low moan echoed all over the bathroom.
"That's enough," Kurapika jerked up and retracted his foot. He huddled away from Kuroro's reach who was now explicitly satisfied. Infuriation bubbled up in him for being aroused by such pervasive act. He shot the bastard a deadly glare and said, "Pervert."
"Let's go back to the room, then," Kuroro said with a carefree smile then rose from the tub without waiting for Kurapika's response.
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To Kurapika's relief, Kuroro didn't voraciously pounce on him right after their shower. He even had the chance to put on a robe and dry his hair with the hair dryer readily available in the room. He sat on the cushioned rattan couch and absently relaxed, eyes looking out at the dark sky behind the glass doors. The refreshing bath helped to unknot the tension in his shoulders and subside his nerves it didn't even bother him when Kuroro sat next to him, wearing only a piece of towel around his waist. Casually, the man slipped an arm over his shoulders while the other settled atop his lap, a hand on his waist. He braced himself as Kuroro went closer and pressed his lips on his cheek, repeatedly nuzzling and kissing him there, until Kurapika paid him attention and faced him.
Their kiss was somewhat a continuation of their first engagement before the bath. It was longing, deep and brimming with passion. Kurapika's hand gripped Kuroro's arm and it slowly slid up to his bicep as if in encouragement. Kuroro's arm dropped from his shoulders to the small of his back and pulled him closer, diminishing all distance between their bodies. The kiss insistently deepened by the second, Kurapika's heart beating in consistent fast and loud thumps. Kuroro's arms tightened around him, their chests touching, and Kurapika could hear him moan ever so slightly against his lips. Longing and thirst bled in each kiss they shared Kurapika realized he was getting carried away, too. He could feel the desire to get closer, his body seeking more skin-to-skin contact, his hand itching to comb through Kuroro's hair for the second time tonight. Saying that he missed Kuroro was an understatement. His body was practically longing for his touch, which should be very, very alarming.
Kuroro raised Kurapika's legs up and placed them above his own lap before capturing the blond's lips again for a hungry kiss. His hand caressed Kurapika's bare legs, feeling up his skin, groping his flesh greedily as if taking all what he had missed for the past two months. His strokes were possessive and territorial, every kiss claiming and eager, and all Kurapika could do was yield and let the man dominate.
When they paused for a short break, they were both breathless from the intensity they could only look at each other, visibly surprised by what had happened.
It was Kurapika who tore away his gaze first, embarrassed with how Kuroro eyed him with interest and mild surprise. He flinched when the man brushed his own nose and lips against his cheek in what he could interpret as an affectionate nuzzle. He steeled himself to bear it and found that this seemingly cuddling gesture was harder to endure than the searing kisses. He realized that witnessing Kuroro doing these light, almost heartfelt actions was stranger and more disturbing than him being aggressive in bed.
"I'm glad that you're trying to fulfill your part of the deal to the best of your ability. Thanks," Kuroro said in a low voice, free of mocking arrogance. Kurapika felt the hair all over his body stand at how sincere Kuroro sounded and couldn't find it in him to spit a snarky comeback. He frowned and gave a timid nod then, with a heroic effort, leaned his head on the nook of Kuroro's neck.
They stayed still like that for a moment, Kurapika holding his head low, enduring awkwardness with his face blushing, until he couldn't take it anymore. He mustered all the confidence and courage to stand and pull Kuroro up by the hand.
Their fingers idly intertwined, they strode towards the bed. He maneuvered Kuroro to sit on the mattress. 'Take the initiative when you want to or when you think the mood calls for it,' Kurapika recalled a part of their formal deal, or more specifically, Kuroro's request. The desire was there in him, directing him what to do, and the atmosphere was blatantly screaming out that this was the perfect mood, and now this was really just a matter of his resolve.
Taking a deep breath and refusing to look Kuroro in the eyes, Kurapika reached out and tugged the towel loose around Kuroro's waist, revealing his awakened need. He averted his eyes from it and let his gaze linger on Kuroro's chest instead. Their hands entangled still, Kurapika slid forward to Kuroro's lap, snugly straddled it, and determinedly met his eyes.
The smug smirk he was expecting to see was nowhere to be found in Kuroro's expression; what greeted him was an appreciative look on his face, although Kuroro wasn't smiling. He was fondly looking at Kurapika's face, his usual unreadable eyes glinting with predatory endearment. Kurapika's display of valiancy, whether to defy him or to return his advances even if it was against his will, never failed to amuse Kuroro. The gaze wasn't insulting or discomforting and yet Kurapika felt a bizarre sense of mild shyness. Kurapika's eyes hadn't changed into scarlet yet tonight, so why was Kuroro looking at him as if in… utter admiration?
Hands faintly trembling in sudden nervousness, Kurapika undid the tie of his robe and let it fall down his shoulders. It pooled behind him and Kurapika left it as it was, letting Kuroro have a glimpse of his body without feeling completely exposed. Desire flared in Kuroro's eyes which were staring at Kurapika's body with unnerving focus. Kurapika felt his breath shudder.
He pressed his palms against Kuroro's chest in a gentle push. Kuroro laid down on his back and Kurapika followed, leaning forward with both of his hands flat on the sheets beneath the man's armpits. The robe covered Kurapika's lower back, but underneath it was his full nakedness against Kuroro's. The eye contact grew fiercer, and with dogged determination, Kurapika surrendered his weight on the man as he delved in for another kiss.
Reservation and self-restraint were severed the moment Kuroro caught him into a possessive embrace. His hands touched and groped everywhere with his lips devouring him in increasing demand. He was evidently holding back for Kurapika's sake, and this was perhaps the real, relentless desire he was craving to express right from the start, when they stepped inside the room together. He felt Kuroro's fingers on his opening, already fiddling there.
Kurapika pushed up and snatched a bottle of a nondescript lubricant he saw sitting on the bedside table, purposely placed there to be used, and gave it to Kuroro. Kuroro took it and resumed his task while Kurapika whimpered on top of him, his hands fists on the sheets.
When it was done, Kurapika did something that his mind had thought of numerous times but he never had the guts to execute; he aligned his loosened entrance to Kuroro's oiled manhood and carefully, with regret starting to well up in him because it hurt like hell, slid down.
Painful, uncomfortable and honestly hard to maintain (not to mention outright mortifying), this riding position wasn't as good at it sounded. It wasn't that Kurapika didn't have the reflexes to perform it and this wasn't about not wanting to be the one to move this time, but this really didn't sit well with his pride (and personality). But just like on the shampooing ordeal, he couldn't back out of this one, too, not now that he had gone this far.
"Kurapika," Kuroro sounded disbelieving, eyes wide while gazing up at him. "Are you serious about riding me like this?"
"No," Kurapika deadpanned. With hands cast on Kuroro's sides, he pushed up, not so sure if he was doing it correctly.
Kuroro laughed. The kind of brief, insulting and annoying laugh when someone was belittling and making fun out of another.
"You're damn aware that this is my first time, right?" Kurapika hissed in a mixture of anger and impeded pleasure caused by his clumsy movement. "And likely going to be the last," he vehemently added.
"Don't give up on your first try," Kuroro tried to mask the amusement on his damn face but it was still all over it. He clamped his hands on Kurapika's waist as if to assist and felt him adjusting his legs under him. "I'll build up the rhythm." And without any warning jerked up and breached, deep.
Kurapika cried out at the intrusion, eyes instantenously shifting into scarlet. His body instinctively squirmed away and arched to contain the sudden rush of pain that surged within, but he hadn't had the chance to collect himself as Kuroro, being true to his words, created rhythmic, torturous jerks. Moans spilled from his mouth; he could feel Kuroro's length pulsating inside him, his flesh being rubbed and stretched incessantly. Kurapika tried to match the movement with his hips, which was difficult at first until he found the proper position for his limbs.
They moved in synch in a slow, steady pace. Kurapika's knees buckled at the intensity of each thrust Kuroro did and he involuntarily shrunk in place, trying to contain the mixed sensation of overwhelming pleasure and stinging pain. His blushing face was obscured by the curtain of his hair, mouth ajar in silent pants and hisses. While he was vexed that he had to maintain this shameful position, Kurapika was determined to ride Kuroro to climax no matter how long it took.
To his relief (and shame), it didn't even take him more than five minutes. Kuroro already spilled inside him before he knew it, the bastard's muscles flexed and shuddered in the wake of his orgasm. Kurapika eyed Kuroro in a mixture of disbelief and disgust.
"That's way too quick!"
Kurapika swore he caught a hint of embarrassment crossing Kuroro's feature. "Well, it's not everyday that I can have you ride me like this."
Kurapika yelped in surprise when Kuroro's stomach muscles clenched and he was shoved to the side. Now lying on his back, Kurapika hitched up with his elbows on the mattress, staring at Kuroro who conveniently slipped between his parted legs. The man closed in on him, almost to a kissing distance, but stopped before their lips met.
"I want more."
Kurapika shuddered at Kuroro's low murmur. His dark eyes, which were usually unreadable and showed no emotion, were now glimmering with fiery desire and arousal. Without even looking directly, Kurapika noticed his newly awakened length that was just relieved a few moments ago. Kuroro leaned closer, half-surrendering his weight on him, their lips a hair's breadth away from each other.
Meeting each other eye-to-eye, Kurapika felt himself slowly relaxing. A fervent want to crush his own lips to Kuroro's rushed through him and made his lower lip quiver. There Kuroro was again, asking permission. A part of Kurapika was glad that he finally had learned some restraint and manner, but a part of him also wished Kuroro wouldn't do this anymore—for yielding was harder to do than enduring a forceful assault. Facing the truth that Kurapika wanted this as much as Kuroro did sting his pride more than reluctantly submitting to him.
Carefully, not wanting that secret, illicit thought to be discovered, Kurapika angled his face and brushed his lips against Kuroro's. From there, things slowly escalated; they were on each other's arms again, kissing, Kurapika caressing Kuroro's cheek while Kuroro pulled him closer with an arm. The man's lips moved down to his neck and nipped there, earning a silent whimper from Kurapika. Kurapika's arms gave away and his back slumped on the bed, making it easier for Kuroro to explore his torso with his lips and tongue.
Kuroro went all the way down, kneeling on the floor as he did so, and stopped right between Kurapika's thighs. Kurapika knew exactly what Kuroro had in mind—the thing that Kurapika kept telling him not to do because it was unnecessary and outright mortifying—but couldn't really do anything to stop him, bound by their revised agreement. He steeled himself, trying hard not to act as if innocent to this pleasure even as he felt Kuroro's breath blow against his skin, then repressed a flinch as soon as Kuroro applied his mouth.
Kurapika's legs trembled and flexed at each furling Kuroro's tongue did. He evened out his breathing as much as he could, but still evidences of his building pleasure were visible; his body arched, shifted and recoiled at the suckling and sliding Kuroro's mouth did. His eyes darted up, still in their faint scarlet hue, and his hands pulled at the covers. He could feel himself about to burst but he refused to let go that fast. Kuroro showed no indication of impatience at that. He grew more relentless as if taking it as a challenge.
"P-Pull back," Kurapika still breathed out in a silent moan even though he knew it would fall into deaf ears. He could feel it coming—one more nudge of that tongue and he was going to spill. Sensing this, Kuroro went down for a deep slide, making Kurapika come prematurely in his mouth.
Boneless and still convulsing, Kurapika slumped heavily on the bed. His eyes returned to their normal hue as he stared at the ceiling, letting his orgasm subside.
"Hey," Kuroro said, hovering above him. He slung both of Kurapika's legs above his own thighs. "I'll have another go. You don't need to move this time; just lie back and take a rest."
"Take a—are you kidding me?!" Kurapika exclaimed as Kuroro, amused and delighted with his reaction, penetrated him anew.
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Kurapika grumbled silently in his sleep and stirred awake, brows knitted in a deep frown. He shifted on the bed, careful not to disturb the covers too much, but wasn't able to drift back to sleep again even though drowsiness and exhaustion were there.
Still, he tried to doze off but for some reason, his mind was wide awake. He peered at the glass doors and found the sky still pitch dark. He searched for the digital clock on the wall, the time read 2:10 A.M. in red digits. Five and a half hours had passed since he arrived here, and he and Kuroro had been sleeping for no more than twenty minutes.
Both he and Kuroro were beyond spent. The bastard really took his money's worth so there he was, tired and sleeping like a log next to him five hours later. Kurapika inwardly laughed at him. 'You signed up for it. Suffer.'
With his attempts to fall back to sleep futile, Kurapika carefully sat up and reached for his discarded robe lying on the floor. He repressed a wince at a sharp pain on his hips. Yeah right, he was with Kuroro in this—he would have to suffer, too. It was a miracle Kurapika could still stand after that—ah, never mind. He lost count of the rounds and he honestly didn't care about it anymore.
He went to the restroom and lightly washed up to get rid of the sticky feeling on his skin and Kuroro's scent clinging on him. Once done, he padded to the rattan couch instead of going back to bed, taking his phone from the inner pocket of his coat as he went. He rummaged in his bag and pulled out a set of black earbuds and sat on the couch, still feeling the heaviness of his limbs.
Kurapika plugged the earbuds' jack on the phone and tapped his pin code then pressed straight the browser app. Remembering his mental memo earlier, he searched for the songs that Linos Escheria composed.
More than fifty titles appeared on the search engine; some were vaguely familiar to Kurapika, some were not. It seemed that Linos-san wrote songs for various singers regardless if they were popular or not, and most of the songs were expectedly love songs. Kurapika pressed a random album then placed his phone on the side, comfortably leaning his back on the couch as he closed his eyes.
The first song had an old and classic vibe in it. It was a narrative about an ambitious man trying to reach his dreams with his woman giving him full support despite all the hardships they had to go through. The next song was about a girl reminiscing about her first love, sung by a female artist with an angelic voice. The third was an instrumental piece that was mainly played by a flute that had a sad and longing feel in it. The music varied; the themes were different and there were mixes of pieces played purely by piano, flute, violin and even some unknown traditional instruments. It was successful in making Kurapika sleepy again but he tried hard not to doze off because he was still on the couch… and the music was so good it would be a waste not to finish the album.
Linos-san was no doubt a master in his craft. He was a good storyteller and his music left lasting impression. No wonder he was famous. He could also tell that most of his works' subject and inspiration was his beloved late wife. Her death must have been very devastating for the man.
Kurapika was admittedly green and foreign to the subject of romantic love. He was familiar with friendship and familial love and was experienced with being physical thanks to a certain bastard, but the thought of finding someone to love, cherish and spend the rest of his remaining life with never occurred to him. He was too young and eager to experience life outside Rukuso prior to the massacre, and was too full of hatred and invested in exacting revenge to even think about romance after it. While he knew the concept of romance objectively (and knew the mechanics of its physical manifestation more than enough by now), he was oblivious of its deeper essence.
He never had those cheesy moments of being love struck upon a sight of someone beautiful or attractive. He could appreciate and acknowledge them, sure, but there was never an erratic beating of his heart, or spacing out thinking about them, or stuttering when talking to them, or mindless and foolish smiling upon remembering being with them. His mind was too occupied with the more pressing subject of his life goals to even muse about romance, but Linos-san's music made him wonder, albeit fleetingly, how it felt like to fall in love.
Kurapika wasn't surprised when he felt the sensation of being watched and just opened his eyes. Sure enough, a pair of dark eyes was staring at him, hooded and unblinking.
Kuroro shifted ever so slightly between the covers, not looking away as their eyes met. His lips moved, presumably saying something, but Kurapika didn't hear because of the earbuds blocking his ears. Suspiciously though, he must have asked 'Can't sleep?'
"What is it? Haven't had enough?" Kurapika removed an earbud from his ear and asked without any real bite.
Kuroro wisely didn't answer the question but repeated. "Can't sleep?"
Kurapika realized he didn't have enough energy to be sarcastic so he gave an honest reply. "I dozed off a bit earlier. I'll go back when I feel like it."
"Okay," Kuroro said. Kurapika was about to plug back the earbud when the man added, sitting up as he did so. "You seemed to be preoccupied with something tonight. Is there something wrong?"
Kurapika cast him an unreadable gaze. He removed the other earbud from his ear, straightened up on his seat, and asked with a straight face.
"Were my behavior and performance unsatisfactory tonight?"
He asked without missing a beat, but deep inside, he was revolting. A part of him was worried as well; he was indeed dwelling on the uncanny coincidence of meeting Linos-san and Father Razel. Maybe the selfish bastard had noticed that his mind was elsewhere and was pissed off for not being the center of his attention. However, Kurapika had tried his best not to be distracted and was confident that he had pulled it off; he was adhering to Mami's tips to the best of his tolerance and ability. He absently wondered if he had done something wrong subconsciously or if he had looked very forced, but Kuroro's half-berating tone cut his musing.
"That's not what I meant," the man said, somehow defensive. Kuroro repressed a sigh. "I'm just wondering if something happened to you before you came here, but never mind."
Kurapika relaxed his shoulders that had somehow tensed. He was disarmed at the implied concern in Kuroro's words but decided not to dwell on it for long.
He was about to put the earbuds back when something crossed his mind. He subtly heaved a deep breath, plucked up the courage and spoke, "Point out if there's something lacking."
Kuroro, who was about to lay back on the bed, paused and gazed at him, face blank but his eyes were asking 'What do you mean?'
"Tell me if you're not satisfied with something. I can't promise I'll always comply, but at least I'll know what to adjust. I'm inexperienced, after all," Kurapika said as nonchalant as possible. He paused the music in his phone and was about to go back to bed to accompany Kuroro in case he wanted to resume their activity when the man threw a bizarre and completely unrelated question.
"Do you want to have some tea?"
Kurapika almost blurted 'Huh?' but cast him another stare instead.
"They offer good tea here," Kuroro supplied, as if reading Kurapika's unvoiced confusion. He also looked and sounded like he was expecting to be rejected right to his face.
However, things had changed now. It wasn't that Kurapika couldn't turn down his offers from now on, but he couldn't just disdainfully reject him all the time either. He promised not to be an insufferable brat, after all.
He was about to say 'No, thanks' without being outright rude when a different word came from his mouth.
"Sure."
Kurapika swore he saw Kuroro's eyes widened and blinked in utter surprise at his response. His poker face returned and he nodded, "Alright," then reached for the phone attached to the wall next to the bed's headboard to call for room service.
Kurapika didn't bother listening to Kuroro make the order and stuffed the earbuds back to his ears, wanting to block out the strange and disturbing conversation he was having with him. He was weirded out by Kuroro's offer to have drinks, but he was more bothered by his involuntary and subconscious acceptance of it. Maybe he was taking Mami's advices to the heart way too much.
Kurapika frowned in annoyance. Not only his absentminded reply was disturbing; why the hell was he blushing with his heart beating loud and fast for no apparent reason? Him sharing drinks with Kuroro wasn't something new, so why should he fret and be flustered like this?
He looked away and gazed outside the glass doors instead, deliberately ignoring Kuroro in hopes for the awkwardness to fade away. The music played on; the song this time was an abstract, heartfelt serenade sung by a male artist with a rich baritone voice. The song's theme somehow added to his indescribable feeling of restlessness but it fitted the room's atmosphere; serene, dim lit with moonlight, disturbed bed covers and clustered clothes on the floor. If Kurapika was not mistaken, this could be what love songs would pertain as… romantic.
As it turned out, listening to the music again just worsened his already messed up feelings.
The tea arrived in less than ten minutes. Kuroro opened the door and received it without letting the server have a peek inside the room then placed a tray that had a porcelain kettle and a teacup on the table. Kurapika observed all these through his peripheral vision.
Kurapika peered down the porcelain set, particularly at the lone teacup sitting on the tray. Did this mean that they had to share the same tea—
But before he could continue this line of thought, his view was blocked as Kuroro casually sat next to him, slipped an arm across his lap, wound the other around his shoulder, and leaned in for a kiss on the lips.
Ah, of course. Kuroro wouldn't do something like serve him tea without ulterior motive. Kurapika didn't resist—he didn't even flinch and let it happen. He waited for those hands to feel him up, waited for the kiss to deepen until he could hardly breath, waited for everything to escalate like it usually did at times like this, but beside the soft press of Kuroro's lips against his, none of his expectations happened even though more than a minute already passed.
Kuroro broke the kiss but didn't let go. His dark eyes gazed at him with lazy but unnerving focus, then he kissed him again, deeper this time, eyes fluttering close.
Kuroro kissed the corner of his lips next, then nuzzled lightly on his cheek, then pressed another kiss on his lips. His hands remained loosely wrapped around him as if giving him a chance to shrug him off if he wanted to, as if holding him in place but giving him freedom to move. An earbud slipped down from Kurapika's ear and the other was on the verge of getting tugged down, too. They remained like that for another minute or so, with Kurapika frozen stiff and lost of what to do.
Suddenly, Kuroro stopped but his eyes remained staring at him, hooded and even seemingly dazed and sleepy. Then he looked away and removed his arms from Kurapika, one hand about to reach out for the kettle—when Kurapika's hand shot up and grabbed hold of that hand.
Kuroro looked back at him, mild surprise swirling in his dark eyes. Steeling himself, Kurapika returned that hand back to where it was clutching earlier—on his own waist—then pulled Kuroro closer to him.
Kurapika's heart was a loud drum against his chest while his mind was in utter mess. One line resurfaced in his memory: 'Make a move if you feel the mood called for it.' This was definitely a mood, and his hand really, really wanted to cup that pale, sharp jawline and have those lips back against his.
His arm seemed to be heavier than it really was as Kurapika raised it, intending to touch and pull Kuroro closer but refusing to let go of control. Kuroro let him take his time, unmoving until Kurapika's palm finally made contact to his chin. Trying his best to relax his stiffened body, Kurapika let go of his tension and had a go—he slipped his hand to Kuroro's nape, pulled down and delved for an open-mouthed kiss.
Now chest to chest, they could do varied kisses more smoothly. Sometimes it was chaste, fleeting and soft. Sometimes it was deep and claiming but never aggressive. They would mutually break away if the kiss turned risky. They would angle their faces differently to seek each others' lips each time they parted. Somehow Kuroro had Kurapika leaning back on the couch, contentedly wrapped in his arms, with Kurapika's chin angled upwards as they continued to kiss.
Seconds ticked by, both of them likely oblivious of how many minutes had passed as well as the number of kisses they shared. Kurapika was growing dizzy by the minute but he couldn't care less and he only wanted Kuroro's lips back on his each time they parted.
This instinctive and whimsical desire shocked Kurapika beyond words, but what truly stunned him was how this act didn't seem to stir his carnal drive (that was well-spent tonight already anyway) and caused no reaction to his lower half. He could feel that Kuroro was the same, too, with the man's hands still on those safe places; on his waist and shoulder.
Breathless and dazed, they simultaneously stopped as if mutually judging than they had enough. Their eyes met, wet red lips slightly parted as they breathed in.
Carefully, Kuroro let go of him. Kurapika sat straight and composed himself, eyes glowing scarlet (when did they shift colors?) and sneaked a glance on his phone to check time.
Holy crap—they did nothing but kiss and cuddle for ten solid minutes!?
"Sorry, the tea has gone cold," Kuroro said but poured tea into the cup anyway.
"It's fine," Kurapka dismissively said, too flustered and busy to care about the drink.
"Alright, then. Goodnight," Kuroro said as he got on his feet, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, to return to the bed as if nothing happened.
And just like that, Kuroro went back to sleep, his back facing Kurapika. Kurapika's eyes lingered about the lying figure, still flabbergasted with everything that had transpired earlier. His lips felt slightly swollen, soft and wet, with his heart gradually mellowing down.
A smile almost tugged at his lips and he held it back. He felt confused and warm, but most of all, disbelieving. Something impossible happened for the first time and it baffled him. Kuroro instigated a kiss and it didn't end up into sex.
Kurapika reached out for the tea. Kuroro was right; even if it was lukewarm, the tea still tasted very good.
