Chapter 3
This is what Kurapika can't stop thinking about: the seductive allure of Kuroro's cologne, lingering on his suit jacket as if belonging to a clandestine lover; the light bruises on his throat, concealed beneath his shirt collar; the saccharine aftertaste of wine and decadent sweets in his mouth.
He presses his fingers lightly against his lips. The ghost of a kiss is still there.
"—Boss!"
Kurapika snaps out of his thoughts. "What?"
Linssen is standing before his desk, carrying a large stack of papers in his hands. He looks as if he's been waiting on him for a while. "I need you to look over some paperwork. We have some new clients."
Kurapika nods, keeping his features placid. "Leave them here."
Linssen sets down the papers on his desk, but instead of leaving the office, he lingers there awkwardly as if he has something else to say. Kurapika raises a questioning eyebrow, giving him the courage to voice his thoughts.
"Boss, I don't know how to say this, but..." Linssen shifts his feet on the carpet, slightly uncomfortable. "Lately, you haven't been paying attention and well… making an erotic face. Thinking about your girlfriend?"
Kuroro Lucifer, his secret girlfriend.
It's so ridiculous that he would laugh if he weren't so embarrassed.
Helpless against the rush of heat flooding his cheeks, he raises the back of his hand to cover his face. "Mind your business."
"I'm just worried about you," Linssen tells him. "It's nice that you're going out with someone, but it won't do you any good to be distracted all the time."
Kurapika coughs lightly to compose himself. "I'm not seeing anyone."
"You check your phone a lot more often and you're dressing nicer now," Linssen points out. It's true that Kurapika has been wearing more luxurious suits since he received them from Kuroro. "I know it's none of our business but... one of the guys saw you going into a hotel late at night."
Having meetings at hotels shouldn't be suspect, when it's not as if Kurapika was caught going into a love hotel. Even then, whatever he decides to do outside of the office is none of their concern.
"You're overthinking things," Kurapika reassures him. There's nothing he can do to change what has already happened, but he'll take greater care in the future. "But I'll make sure nothing interferes with work going forward. Is that all?"
Linssen nods, and finally excuses himself from the office.
When Kurapika is alone again, he brings the back of his hand to press against his cheek. His face still feels overheated, even more so with the revelation that his improper thoughts have been showing on his face. It's been days since his last meeting with Kuroro, and he still can't forget about everything.
With impeccable timing, the phone on his desk suddenly lights up with Kuroro's name. A moment of contemplation passes, before he picks up his phone to read the message.
Let's meet again tomorrow night.
Why don't you dress up for me?
Kurapika chooses not to respond. Not long after, his phone screen flashes with a notification that a large sum has been deposited into his bank account.
A transaction this large would have burdened Kurapika in the earlier days of their arrangement. Only now he thinks of investing the funds into more resources for furthering his pursuit of the Scarlet Eyes. As he considers this, another text message from Kuroro follows.
Use this however you'd like. I'll take you shopping another time.
Kurapika arrives before Kuroro for the first time. He knows what to expect from Kuroro's room—expansive windows that overlook a glamorous view of the city and a large bed with no signs of being lived in, all of the sheets perfectly made and tucked in place. Only this time there's something more intimate about the design of the room. Everything is adorned with an intense scarlet instead of a calm white, from the wallpaper to the carpet to the bed sheets.
He slips his feet out of his high heels, letting his feet move comfortably over the plush carpet. He could seat himself in the armchair, where Kuroro always waits for him while reading his books.
But instead Kurapika lies down on the edge of the bed. He rests his knees on the carpet, lowering his head into the cradle of his arms and making himself comfortable on the bed. The silk sheets beneath him are cool against his skin, a decadent smoothness that entices him to sleep. Kurapika lets his eyelids flutter shut, not intending to do anything more than rest his eyes as he awaits Kuroro's arrival.
The sound of the door being unlocked jolts him from his unexpected sleep. Sleep clings onto his body, leaving his eyes heavy and his limbs languid over the bed. Kurapika blinks, unaware of how much time has passed.
A slant of golden light passes through the darkness of the bedroom. Kurapika stares at the reflection in the full-length mirror adjacent to the bed, watching as Kuroro opens the door, quiet and unobtrusive. The light from the hallways highlights the broadness of Kuroro's shoulders, the perfect tailor of his three-piece suit over his body.
Kurapika turns his head so he can meet his eyes. His voice is calm when he speaks. "You're late."
Kuroro isn't even looking at him when he steps into the bedroom. There's the faint rustle of Kuroro shrugging his suit jacket off his shoulders, and he hangs his jacket on the coat hanger near the doorway.
"I'm sorry for keeping you waiting," Kuroro says, clicking the switch on the wall so that a faint light radiates throughout the room.
Kuroro finally looks at him, and stills in his steps. Genuine surprise flickers across his face.
Kurapika feels no self-consciousness in this ensemble, when he was dressed this way the first night he had Kuroro captured in Yorknew. This time is no different when he's catching Kuroro by surprise once more.
Kuroro covers the lower half of his face with his hand. "This is unexpected."
Kurapika paints an attractive picture against the bedspread. Kuroro appraises him wordlessly, dragging his gaze down the length of his body. His blond hair is tucked beneath his burgundy wig, the synthetic hair pulled back into a ponytail and slightly displaced from his slumber. A jeweled brooch seals the collar of his dress shirt, the same one he was wearing beneath the suit jacket of his receptionist uniform. A high-waisted skirt embraces the contours of his hips, stretching tightly over the curve of his backside and ending above his upper thighs. Kuroro's gaze darkens at the expanse of exposed skin above his garter tights, the sheer veil of gossamer over the rest of his legs.
Kuroro Lucifer is a man, too, after all.
Kurapika stretches his body languidly over the bed. The movement flashes Kuroro with a glimpse of lace beneath his skirt, and the weight of Kuroro's gaze feels like a physical caress over his body. "I thought you would enjoy this, but it seems that you have nothing else to say."
"I was just taken aback by how beautiful you are," Kuroro tells him with a quiet smile, but a questioning intrigue darkens his eyes. "What's gotten into you?"
"I dressed up," Kurapika answers indolently, "just as you asked."
Kuroro loosens his silk necktie with one hand, letting it fall weightlessly against the carpet. He approaches where Kurapika is resting on the bed, making the mattress dip with his weight when he kneels beside him. He reaches out with one hand and—
"I didn't say you could touch me."
Kuroro's hand stills, hovering over the curve of Kurapika's hip. With a wry smile, he asks, "Is this how you're going to be tonight?"
Kurapika's voice cuts through the quiet of the room. "Kneel."
"You're being so bossy," Kuroro answers, voice low and amused. Even with the questioning arch of his eyebrow, he unexpectedly obliges. He lowers himself to his knees at the foot of the bed, resting his hands in his lap in anticipation of further direction.
Kurapika rises to an upright sitting position, so that he's the one looking down on him at the edge of the bed. He wonders if it has always been this easy.
Beneath the darkness of his lashes, Kuroro's eyes are even darker with expectation. He looks immaculate as always, with his suit perfectly pressed and his black hair framing his face without a strand out of place. His face is still so calm and assured, although he was unexpectedly passionate during their last encounter.
Meeting his eyes with a quiet, challenging stare of his own, Kurapika raises his foot and delicately presses it against the strained fabric of his dress pants. The faintest breath hitches in Kuroro's throat.
It's what Kuroro deserves for keeping him waiting tonight. His pleasure rests in his hands now.
Kurapika slowly slides his foot across the length of Kuroro's cock, the softness of nylon meeting the hardness trapped beneath the confines of Kuroro's pants. The outline is more prominent now. As he approaches the tip, Kurapika gives a tentative squeeze between his toes. A quiet gasp relinquishes from Kuroro's lips, sending an unexpected thrill of anticipation through his spine.
His breathing comes faster as Kurapika continues stroking him through the fabric, slowly and deliberately. Eventually, Kuroro starts to come undone. Under the faint light of the room, a becoming heat blooms across Kuroro's complexion, a startling contrast against the pallor of his skin. The fall of his black hair sticks to his flushed cheeks, dampening from sweat. His brows are drawn together, and he's not even looking at him anymore.
Kurapika takes a certain sort of pleasure in seeing the subtle imperfections in his flawless composure—the nuances in his expression, the unsteadiness in his breathing. His cool façade being consumed by something more desperate and heated and intense.
Witnessing Kuroro on his knees, the strong lines of his body quivering beneath his touch, makes him feel powerful. He wants to unravel him, ruin him, the same way he has done to him.
Surprisingly, he manages to undo the button on Kuroro's pants with the flick of his foot.
"Kurapika," Kuroro breathes out, looking up at him again through the dark veil of his lashes. Treacherous desire burns low in his eyes, when he has always carefully guarded his expressions beneath complete control and discipline.
Kurapika lifts his foot away, denying him of any further friction. This is torture of the best kind—the kind of pleasure that he can give and take away at any moment.
Leaning forward, Kurapika rests his cheek in the palm of his hand and crosses his legs in an imperious manner. His skirt rides up on his thigh with the movement, exposing the fluid curve of his leg, and he doesn't miss the way Kuroro's gaze falls upon his bare skin. "Take off your pants."
Kuroro listens, divesting himself of his dress pants so that he's only sitting there in his black boxer briefs. For once, Kuroro is the one who undressed first—only there's a lack of shame in having done so.
Kurapika brings his foot back over Kuroro's lap, dragging across his length and finding him even harder with only the thin fabric separating them. He can feel the heat of his erection through the fabric, and he seems more sensitive now, reacting with each of his movements. Dampness seeps through his undergarments, slicking the sole of Kurapika's foot.
"You're being surprisingly compliant," Kurapika comments, his tone cool and dispassionate.
Kuroro's laugh sounds strained, as if he's placing all of his effort in keeping himself together. "I'm only playing along with you—"
Kurapika grinds down on his heel, forcing a startled moan from Kuroro. Satisfaction swells in his chest at the way Kuroro's eyes widen in stunned surprise.
Kuroro's head falls forward into Kurapika's lap. His soft black fringe brushes against his skin as he tilts his head and absently looks up at him. His eyes are dark and unfocused, clouded from covetous desire.
"Kurapika," Kuroro murmurs again, nudging his head against his inner thigh. The roughness in his voice sends an unthinkable flare of arousal to Kurapika's lower abdomen.
Kurapika reaches out to caress the curve of Kuroro's cheekbone, feeling his skin burning from a mild fever. He slips his fingers beneath Kuroro's chin, tilting his head up. "What do you want, Kuroro?"
Resting his foot over his erection, Kurapika feels Kuroro twitch in response to him calling his name.
"I want to touch you," Kuroro answers in a hushed voice, without any of the shame and uncertainties that dominated Kurapika's own feelings. The ease of his confession makes Kurapika envious, when accepting his decision in his heart was just as difficult as voicing it aloud. Even so, his skin prickles with the knowledge that Kuroro wants him just as much as he does.
Kurapika slides a gentle hand to the back of Kuroro's head, entangling his fingers into his black hair. How easy it would be to deceive himself into thinking that this is something soft and tender. Something like affection.
His hand fists into Kuroro's hair, forcing his head back at a painful angle. The aura simmering beneath his skin lusts for something more violent, threatening to surge to his fingertips and manifest into his impenetrable chains. "You want to touch me?"
Undiscouraged by the tight grasp in his hair, Kuroro lets out a quiet sound of affirmation. Despite not receiving permission to touch him, his hands come to rest over Kurapika's thighs, making his entire body tremble beneath the unexpected warmth of his hands.
"I want to be inside you," Kuroro says in a soft confession, sliding his hands higher until he reaches the exposed skin above his tights, "please."
Kurapika only meant to rouse a reaction from Kuroro, watch him fall apart beneath his touch. But Kurapika realizes that the only ruin here is his own. The heated attraction in Kuroro's gaze makes arousal smolder in his own abdomen, a searing need inside him that feels just as intense as Kuroro's, replacing the familiar burn of hatred that has once resided within him.
The realization sets all of the nerves in Kurapika's body alight, makes the sound of his heartbeat quicken in his ears. It's the yearning that frightens him most—this impossible yearning he has tried to ignore but has been feeling since Kuroro kissed him for the first time, leaving him wanting nothing more than to kiss him again.
The reality of their situation is this—he has slept with Kuroro once, something that should have been wrong and depraved, but instead of thinking it as the worst mistake of his life, he's willing to do it again out of his own volition. He can't fool himself any longer. Their relationship is never returning to the way it was before, when they have already transgressed unimaginable boundaries.
This time, Kurapika is the one to lean in first. His fingers forcefully twist into Kuroro's hair, but the threat of violence is never realized. Instead, Kurapika pulls him closer, cupping the back of his head as their lips meet in a demanding kiss.
A surge of pleasure floods through his body, sweet and heady. He's been longing for this for a while, yearning to see what Kuroro looks like after they've been kissing all night, blinded from unbridled lust. Kurapika doesn't fumble as their mouths press together, despite this being his first time initiating a kiss. Kuroro responds just as eagerly, his mouth hot and insistent over his own.
Kuroro's teeth drag over his lower lip, making Kurapika break the kiss with a sharp inhale. In his moment of distraction, Kuroro rises on his knees, forcing him back on the bed with a surprising push. Kurapika loses his grip on Kuroro, his fingers sliding out of his hair. His back meets the bed, knocking the breath out of his lungs, and suddenly Kuroro is leaning over him with his hands beside his head and his knees resting on both sides of his body. The sudden loss of control makes Kurapika's heart stutter in his chest.
Kuroro appraises the sight beneath him, and Kurapika echoes him in his regard. Only the sound of his breathing can be heard, fluctuating with every rise and fall of Kuroro's chest. Even with the tousle of his black hair, the light flush over his cheekbones, the smudge of Kurapika's lipstick staining the edge of his mouth, Kuroro still looks offensively handsome.
"Your eyes," Kuroro murmurs, and Kurapika can see the reflection of himself in his gaze.
Kurapika lies still as Kuroro brushes the burgundy fringe away from his eyes, touching him gently as if he were truly his lover. His eyes must have turned scarlet when Kuroro caught him by surprise.
Unwilling to surrender to their change in dynamic, Kurapika reaches out and wraps his arms around Kuroro's shoulders, dragging him down for another kiss. Kuroro is more than willing to oblige, returning the pretense of control to him once more.
Kurapika's grasp tightens over Kuroro's shoulders, his fingers digging painfully into his white dress shirt. He relies on all his strength to reverse their positions, shoving Kuroro on his back so that he can straddle him.
Kuroro collapses against the bed without protest, his black hair fanning loosely around his face, across the crimson bed sheets. It's a vibrant color that suits him. He stares up at Kurapika with apparent appreciation, a small smile tilting on his lips. It's infuriating that Kuroro continues acting as if he's only humoring him.
Kurapika's palms are splayed over the broad expanse of muscle beneath him, and he can feel the slow and steady beat of Kuroro's heart. His thighs are resting over both sides of Kuroro's hips, forcing their bodies flush together in a compromising position. The swell of Kuroro's cock strains against Kurapika's backside, pressing up against the silk of his lingerie. He can feel his length and thickness when there's nothing but the thin fabric of their undergarments separating them.
Kuroro glides his hands over the gossamer of his garter tights, exploring the shape of his thighs. His hands venture underneath his fitted skirt, wandering higher and holding no reservations as he acquaints himself with the smooth curve of Kurapika's backside. "Your choice in underwear is appropriate."
Kurapika presses his lips together in displeasure. "You're groping me."
"You're so sexy like this," Kuroro says with a deliberately teasing smile. Heat blooms across Kurapika's cheeks when he has never heard him say anything this improper—not that his words are improper, but they sound inappropriate coming from Kuroro's mouth when he has the vocabulary of a gentleman. "So I want to take what I can get."
Kurapika absently wonders if he should manifest his chains and restrain him properly. "I didn't give you permission to touch me."
"You kissed me when I asked." Kuroro gives an appreciative squeeze, making his entire body tense up. The furious flush of heat deepens on Kurapika's cheeks. "Are we doing it like this?"
Kurapika slaps his hands away. Swinging his legs aside, he shoves himself off of Kuroro. "Move up on the bed."
"Alright," Kuroro answers with a quiet sigh.
Kuroro moves up further on the bed, settling back against the plush pillows in a sitting position. Kurapika would prefer if Kuroro was resting on his back instead, but he follows him, returning to seat himself in his lap. With his legs spread out over Kuroro's thighs, Kuroro's eyes flicker down to where Kurapika's skirt is riding up again over his exposed skin. But his hands remain at his side, making no movements to reach out to Kurapika.
With the vestiges of control lingering in his hands, Kurapika unfastens the buttons on Kuroro's black vest and lets it fall over the bed. He does the same with Kuroro's dress shirt and eases it over his broad shoulders, but his hands suddenly clench tightly around the shirt, creasing the pristine fabric there.
Kuroro slides his hand over Kurapika's own. He interlaces their fingers in a soft gesture that should give him encouragement, but instead leaves his heart wavering. "You can touch as much as you want."
It's not the sight of Kuroro's body that stalls Kurapika's hand, but the glimpse of black ink staining his skin. Scarlet pulses in Kurapika's eyes with greater intensity at the unforgivable reminder on Kuroro's arm.
"Leave your shirt on," Kurapika tells him, an echo of Kuroro's request from one of their previous encounters. If Kuroro notices him averting his gaze, he doesn't acknowledge it.
Releasing his shirt and retracting his hand, Kurapika's fingers descend the contours of Kuroro's body and eventually settle over his hips. A moment of contemplation passes, before Kurapika slides his fingers under the waistband of Kuroro's boxers and eases it down his hips. The sight of his cock makes his throat feel impossibly dry.
Kuroro reaches for the small bottle of lubricant on the nightstand and passes it over to him. Clicking the cap open, Kurapika pours the gel into his palm and wraps one hand around the base of Kuroro's erection. He slides his hand up, slicking up Kuroro's entire length with the gel, considering the hot and heavy weight in his palm. The girth makes him slightly nervous, but if Kurapika was able to take all of him in before, then he shouldn't have any problems tonight.
With his other hand, Kurapika reaches beneath his skirt and pushes the soft silk of his undergarments aside, exposing his entrance. Having already stretched and prepared himself before arriving here, he can still feel the slick sensation of lubricant inside him. He positions himself over Kuroro's cock, his thighs trembling from anticipation and his skirt riding up higher with the movement. The thick head presses up against his opening, promising a fuller and deeper stretch.
Kurapika looks up at him through the fringe of his hair, and finds Kuroro watching him just as intently.
"You're going to put it in like this?" Kuroro asks, lowering his gaze to where Kurapika's hand is wrapped around him.
Kurapika conceals his slight nervousness with calm indifference. "I already prepared myself beforehand."
"If I had known, I would have rushed here earlier," Kuroro says with a small smile, but Kurapika doesn't answer.
With concentration furrowing his brow, Kurapika slowly lowers himself over him and guides his cock into his body.
The sensation of being full is just as strange as before. Kurapika's skin feels too tight for his body, when the sharp stretch of Kuroro's length inside him burns. He manages to take in the tip, but finds himself stopping when his thighs are shaking too much to proceed further.
Forcing himself to ease the tension in his body, Kurapika swallows past the tightness in his throat and presses in further. It's a slow and careful slide that allows him to take in more of Kuroro's erection, burying him deeper inside him, but Kurapika makes himself pause halfway again.
Kuroro's hands come to curve over his waist, over the violet fabric pooling above his thighs, but Kurapika doesn't mind this time when his hands are steadying him. It's almost comforting. He rests for a moment, reminding himself to breathe before moving again.
Without warning, Kuroro suddenly grips Kurapika's hips and shoves him down, forcing him to take in the rest of his cock with one harsh thrust. Kurapika cries out when there's no moment to adjust, no forewarning to brace himself for the unexpected intrusion. Kuroro is too much, too large to take in all at once, and he can feel his insides rearranging to accommodate him.
"Again," Kurapika gasps out, glaring at him through overstimulated tears. "You put it all the way inside without telling me."
"I'm sorry," Kuroro answers with a rueful smile. He brushes Kurapika's bangs behind his ear, leaning in to press a gentle kiss against Kurapika's damp cheek. "I was being too impatient."
Kurapika has to rest his hands on Kuroro's shoulders to steady himself when his entire body is trembling. Even when Kurapika is entirely clothed compared to Kuroro's state of undress, he can no longer deceive himself that he's the one in control. The stretch is so achingly intense that he doesn't know if he can move.
Kurapika tries to straighten himself up, but the movement makes him flinch when it pushes Kuroro deeper inside him. He gingerly presses one hand against his stomach, wondering what the strange sensation could be.
"Does your stomach hurt?" Kuroro asks, rubbing comforting circles over his hip.
"No, it's just—" Kurapika slowly raises his hips, wincing when he's not ready to move again. He splays his fingers over his abdomen, pressing down over the muscle there. "When we're doing it in this position, I can feel you all the way here."
"Kurapika," Kuroro says, low and dangerous. Before Kurapika can question the underlying warning in his voice, Kuroro holds him in place and slams inside him again.
Phosphenes flicker before Kurapika's eyes. A desperate gasp wrenches from his throat, threatening to turn into a sob.
"Wait, I can't—"
Kuroro pulls him up by his hips and drags him back down on his cock, filling him to the brim. Kurapika can't help but wail, feeling the impact in his stomach each time Kuroro thrusts all the way inside. It's too deep, too soon, too much movement.
Kurapika pushes his hand against Kuroro's chest. "Kuroro, stop—"
And Kuroro listens.
The darkness in Kuroro's gaze makes Kurapika's heart race, when his eyes devour all of the light that his face radiates. But his expression softens as he notices the tears stinging at Kurapika's eyes. "Does it hurt?"
"No." Kurapika wills himself to breathe, when the fullness inside him leaves him breathless. If anything, it feels overwhelmingly good. "I want to go slower. Just—let me move."
"Alright," Kuroro murmurs, giving him another surprisingly sweet kiss on his cheek. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I lost control for a moment."
Kurapika shivers at the term of endearment, and then the thought of Kuroro losing himself to his instincts because of him. His words resonate with the darkness of his own being, makes him want to give himself up to Kuroro's control, but he forces himself to suppress it.
Resting his hands against Kuroro's shoulders again, Kurapika settles more comfortably in his lap and lifts his hips up. Kuroro's length slides out of him halfway, nudging against his prostate, before sinking back inside him with every inch of his thickness. Kurapika takes his time as he adjusts himself to the feeling of Kuroro inside him. The tightness is slightly uncomfortable, but Kurapika's body opens up for him with greater ease and willingly accommodates the stretch of his erection. The discomfort and tension within him eventually give way to a more pleasant warmth pooling in his stomach.
"That's it," Kuroro breathes out in encouragement. His hand moves from Kurapika's hip to his lower back, rubbing and easing the tense muscles there. "Keep going."
Kurapika pushes his thighs up, tightening around Kuroro's hips, and lowers himself again. But this time, Kuroro thrusts up the same moment that he descends, making Kurapika arch his back with a startled gasp. Kuroro's hands grasp his hips again, slightly shaking from the effort of holding back from thrusting into Kurapika the way he wants to.
As Kurapika moves up again, he bites down on his lip to suppress any further noises. Kuroro drags him down with a slow, steady thrust, and Kurapika's mouth falls open wordlessly. He pushes himself down even further in Kuroro's lap, drawing in the rest of his erection until Kuroro is fully inside him.
"You feel so nice," Kuroro tells him, languidly rolling his hips and keeping himself deep inside Kurapika with a series of small thrusts. "I wouldn't mind being inside you all day."
Kurapika bites his lip to suppress his moan at the thought of sitting in Kuroro's lap, keeping his cock warm and feeling this fullness inside him for the entire day. His imagination wanders, depicting an inappropriate scene in Kurapika's office, making him tighten unintentionally around Kuroro.
"You have no idea how much I've wanted to see you in this outfit again." Kuroro's hand slips underneath his skirt and gropes his backside. "How much I've thought about doing this in the backseat of a car."
Kurapika's face flushes deeply, because Kuroro's imagination is even more shameless than his own. "I'm going to chain you up again if you don't stop talking."
A low, amused laugh rumbles from Kuroro's chest. "I wouldn't mind that either."
Refusing to continue this conversation, Kurapika raises himself and starts moving again. Every time Kurapika pushes himself down, Kuroro meets him with his thrusts, kindling the slow build of pleasure in his stomach each time he hits deep inside him. Kuroro suddenly pulls him closer by the waist, making Kurapika fall forward against his shoulder, and the movement makes Kuroro shift inside him. His cock presses more firmly against his most sensitive spot with this angle, and when Kuroro thrusts back inside, Kurapika makes a desperate sound of surprise.
His reaction doesn't go unnoticed as Kuroro withdraws and thrusts upward again, hitting the spot that makes Kurapika lose all of his inhibitions. He can't swallow the sudden moan that escapes him.
Kurapika does his best to match Kuroro's pace, meeting his thrusts when he lowers his hips. He wraps his arms around Kuroro's neck for leverage, burying his face against his shoulder. The intoxicating scent of his cologne fills his nose, the same scent that has been chasing him since their first night together. Their pace quickens, and Kurapika loses himself in the sensation of Kuroro filling him up.
With his knees still resting on both sides of Kuroro's hips, Kurapika finds that his rhythm is faltering. Pleasure bursts inside him with each thrust, sending a tremor through his thighs. When his movements slow, Kuroro hitches Kurapika's hips up and forces him down on his cock, wrenching a rough moan from Kurapika's throat. Kurapika stops moving in his weariness, giving himself up to Kuroro's pace and allowing him to use his body however he wishes.
Kuroro pulls him up, brings him back down, all while thrusting into him at the time. He pushes into him with all his strength, bottoming out with each thrust and reaching his deepest parts, where Kurapika needs him most. All he can hear is the quiet breathing beneath him, their skin slapping together with the slick sound of Kuroro's thrusts, the bed creaking under their movements. Kurapika can't suppress his own moans, and he's being so loud that the guests in the neighboring hotel rooms can probably hear him.
Kurapika clings onto his shoulders and focuses on the snap of Kuroro's hips, the fullness of his cock moving inside him. Being held in Kuroro's arms makes him feel vulnerable, when he doesn't have the strength to do anything but allow Kuroro to move however he pleases. He gives into the temptation of seeing Kuroro's pale skin, pressing his mouth against the vulnerable expanse between his neck and shoulder and marking him there. His lipstick stains the marks blooming over his skin. Kuroro lets out a quiet groan, giving Kurapika a sense of smug satisfaction even in his unguarded state.
Kuroro's grip on his hips tightens, holding Kurapika in place as he starts thrusting harder inside him. Pressure builds in Kurapika's stomach, an intense heat that is becoming difficult to ignore. The friction from his skirt is an unbearable stimulation on his skin, making Kurapika's erection brush against the garment. His entire body clenches tight around Kuroro, and he can't hold back anymore.
Kurapika's orgasm rises and swells within him, unable to be restrained. It fractures inside him, cresting with the force of a tidal wave as the surge of mind-numbing pleasure washes over him. He clenches down on Kuroro as he comes, making a mess beneath his skirt, feeling his muscles pull taut and contract from the inside.
The tightness pulls a groan from Kuroro's throat. Kuroro doesn't stop, only continues slamming inside him with harsh, desperate thrusts as he chases after his own release. Kurapika sobs, his body oversensitive from the intensity of his orgasm. Phosphenes burst before his eyes, thrumming through his head and pulsing with the force of Kuroro's movements.
Kuroro thrusts in one more time and shudders against him, and Kurapika feels the swell and burning pulse of Kuroro coming inside him. He holds Kurapika there as he comes deep inside, and Kurapika bites down on his shoulder, stifling the moan in his throat as the heat of Kuroro's release fills him.
Kurapika presses his forehead against Kuroro's shoulder, resting there in his state of numbness. His breathing is harsh against Kuroro's skin. It's as if there's something deep inside him that belongs only to Kuroro, satisfied with only the sensation of his release inside him. As if this is what his body has been needing, what he has been missing. He can feel his own come beneath his undergarments, Kuroro's come inside him, a pervasive warmth in his abdomen.
"Kurapika," Kuroro murmurs, stroking the small of his back while holding him intimately close. He touches Kurapika as if he is something meant to be treasured, instead of some plaything meant to be used at his whim.
Kurapika is too exhausted to respond. He stays where he is, slumped against Kuroro's shoulder, his head heavy and his limbs weightless. Kuroro makes no movement to pull out, and Kurapika secretly indulges in the persistent stretch. After some time, he raises his head to look at him properly.
Kuroro stares at him through half-lidded eyes. Kurapika reaches out with a hand towards him, curving over Kuroro's flushed face and the hair clinging onto his cheeks. It should make his heart sick to be this intimate with Kuroro, but Kurapika finds something inside him feeling fulfilled at seeing Kuroro completely unraveled from how he was earlier in the evening.
Kuroro takes his wrist in his hand and brings it closer to his lips. He presses a tender kiss against Kurapika's pulse, sending a wave of peaceful calm washing over him.
But Kurapika should have known that this feeling wouldn't last.
All of a sudden, Kuroro grabs his hips and raises him up, standing from the bed while being buried inside him. Kurapika lets out an embarrassing yelp as Kuroro starts moving across the room. He clutches his shoulders and crosses his legs around Kuroro's waist, but the grip Kuroro has on his hips is enough to prevent him from falling.
The force of gravity pushes Kuroro's cock deeper, deeper than he should be able to go, as Kuroro carries him to the other side of the room. Kurapika swears that Kuroro feels even bigger inside him like this.
Kuroro slams Kurapika's back against the glass of the floor-to-ceiling windows. Kurapika gasps out his name, but Kuroro smothers the sound in his throat with his lips. The kiss is as demanding as before, and the familiar heat of arousal pools overwhelmingly hot in his stomach. Kuroro tugs on his thighs to bring him closer, his fingers scraping against his thin tights, encouraging Kurapika to tighten his legs around his waist.
Kurapika gasps against his mouth when he finally parts, feeling Kuroro's length withdraw entirely from his body. The sudden emptiness inside him leaves him aching.
Kurapika shivers at the sensation of Kuroro's come dripping down his thighs. "What are you doing?"
Kuroro lowers him down on his feet, turning him around so that he's facing the windows. Kurapika presses his hands against the glass, barely able to stand up in his stupor. "Bear with me, Kurapika. I can't hold back any longer."
Kurapika's heart is beating faster in his chest. He feels more out of control in this position, different from the time in the bathroom when he can't rely on alcohol to distract him. Kuroro is a heavy weight over him, a solid presence that makes him feel smaller in his embrace. The warmth of Kuroro's hands returns to his backside, and Kurapika wills himself to stop thinking about the loss of control.
Kurapika stares at their reflections in the glass, seeing how debauched he looks even when he's still fully dressed. Scarlet burns even brighter in his eyes, incandescent in the faint darkness of the room. His burgundy wig is disheveled, revealing a glimpse of blond hair underneath it. His smooth dress shirt is creased from leaning against Kuroro the entire time, the jeweled brooch uneven on his collar. His skirt rides up all the way on his thighs, exposing his silk undergarments and Kuroro's release dribbling down the inside of his thighs.
Kuroro raises his skirt higher until all of the fabric gathers over his waist. His fingers slide beneath the seams of Kurapika's lingerie, and then the sharp sound of fabric tearing fills his ears.
Kurapika looks down with stunned disbelief. "Kuroro—"
"I'll take you shopping as promised," Kuroro answers nonchalantly. He pulls Kurapika's back against his chest, sliding the length of his cock against the curve of his backside.
Kurapika barely has time to think before Kuroro is pressing inside him again, the stretch of his erection aching just as much as before. Kurapika doesn't do anything, only stands there unmovingly and takes him inch by inch as Kuroro presses forward. The passage is slick enough that he pushes into him with ease, forcing his release back inside him. A soft gasp falls from his lips when Kuroro slides into him as deep as he can go.
Kuroro's hand grips onto the fabric of his skirt as he starts thrusting indolently inside him, holding Kurapika in place with each of his thrusts. Kurapika spreads his legs wider and raises his hips slightly to give Kuroro better access, giving into their change in dynamic.
But this doesn't seem to be enough for Kuroro. His hand fists into the ponytail of Kurapika's wig, making Kurapika's back arch and pulling him into his thrusts as Kuroro suddenly moves faster inside him. Kurapika barely manages to hold himself together, his legs trembling under the onslaught of his thrusts.
Gripping his hair tighter, Kuroro pulls back before slamming inside with the full length of him all at once. A strangled cry tears from Kurapika's throat. Oversensitivity burns inside him as Kuroro pushes into his body with harsh, forceful thrusts. Kurapika's hands are sliding down the glass of the windows, and he doesn't know how long he can last.
"So pretty, Kurapika."
Kurapika meets Kuroro's darkened gaze in their reflections in the windows and feels himself react, shivering at how the praise travels down his spine and pools warmly in his stomach.
"So fucking hot," Kuroro growls out, and Kurapika nearly loses it.
Pressed up the glass, Kurapika absently notices the hotel building across the street, the multitude of bright windows with their curtains drawn open. "What if—" He clears his throat when his voice is too hoarse. "What if someone sees us?"
"Let them watch. Let them want what they can't have," Kuroro tells him, far more possessive than anything he has ever heard from him. Kurapika finds himself tightening up around him.
One of Kuroro's hands slides to Kurapika's front, undoing the buttons on his dress shirt. The brooch clinks as it falls onto the carpet. His fingers splay across his bare stomach, as if Kuroro's trying to feel himself inside him, and Kurapika bites down on a moan. His other hand pulls on Kurapika's hair and tilts his head back, so that his nape is exposed to him. His breath ghosts over Kurapika's skin as he presses a gentle kiss against the back of his neck. It's too gentle, contrasting the harshness of his punishing thrusts inside him.
Moving his hand from Kurapika's stomach to rest over his hip, Kuroro starts pounding into his body as if he's forcing Kurapika to focus on no one except for him. He's moving faster, rougher, and Kurapika feels the coiling tension in his stomach, the impending pressure of his orgasm again.
"Kuroro, Kuroro, Kuroro," Kurapika finds himself saying, urging him on when he's unable to think coherently. "I can't—"
And Kurapika's coming untouched with a harsh sob, his entire body trembling from the flood of pleasure overwhelming him. Kuroro's hand tightens on his hip, and his rhythm falters the moment his own orgasm hits him. There's one last thrust, his cock bottoming out all the way inside, and Kuroro spills deep inside him. Kurapika's head spins at the sensation of being filled again with Kuroro's release, wave after wave of himself, burning in its intensity.
Kuroro keeps his hips flush against Kurapika's backside, his come overflowing from where they're joined together. He leans forward to press his lips against his sensitive nape again. Kurapika doesn't have the strength to move away, and his forehead falls forward against the cool glass.
"I've wanted to do this since the first night I saw you in this outfit," Kuroro confesses against his skin. He doesn't know what to think about the revelation that Kuroro has wanted him all this time. "You're the prettiest after I've ruined you."
Kurapika can't even argue. He feels entirely undone when it should have been Kuroro who was ruined tonight.
"Are you staying the night?" Kuroro asks, leaving another lingering kiss over his skin.
Kurapika closes his eyes, resting his head against the window. "I don't have any other clothes."
"You can wear the bathrobe to sleep," Kuroro suggests, although that doesn't solve the problem with his torn undergarments. "We can go shopping tomorrow."
Kurapika makes a small sound of affirmation, not minding that Kuroro will find something nicer to dress him in. When he finally pulls out, Kurapika loses his balance, but Kuroro seizes him by the arm to prevent him from falling. As Kuroro pulls him up by the elbow, he ends up collapsing against his chest.
Kuroro holds him close by his shoulders. "Let's take a bath together."
Kurapika stumbles over his feet as Kuroro leads him towards the bathroom. When he finally loses the strength in his legs, Kuroro sweeps him up in his arms, supporting his back and legs in a bridal carry. He closes his eyes and rests his head against Kuroro's chest, too tired to protest.
Notes:
This was supposed to be a slow and sensual chapter but Kuroro didn't want to listen again. It ended up being one of my longest chapters at over 7k words.
The next chapter will most likely be the last one. Feel free to let me know if there's anything you want to see them do before I wrap up this story.
Please leave a comment! I would love to know what you think about this chapter.
You can also find me on Twitter (ryuuseigai) or Tumblr (seiyuna).