Chapter 5


Kurapika was flustered, only because he couldn't believe that he kissed Kuroro first. When first kisses like that were meant for romance novels and movies, not for people he met online. He walked in front of Kuroro through the parking garage, passing by numerous sports cars and luxurious imports, all polished and shining under the lights above.

Guessing which car belonged to Kuroro was an impossible feat. As he slowed his steps, he registered a pressure against his shoulder, turning him towards a certain vehicle at the end of the parked cars.

"To your right," came Kuroro's voice, too casual for what Kurapika was about to take in.

With an undeniable aura of sophistication, Kuroro's car was embraced by a sleek black exterior and a prancing stallion emblem gleaming in the center of the front body. He shouldn't have been surprised that it matched Kuroro perfectly, that it looked nearly as good as the person who owned it.

Kuroro reached into his pocket and procured his keys, the trademark silver stallion shining on the black remote. When he unlocked the car, there weren't any strange or dangerous vibes coming from him, like Kurapika had feared. A small smile graced Kuroro's lips as he opened the passenger door for him, acting like a gentleman even now, and perhaps that was what made him feel more at ease. That was either good or bad, he couldn't decide.

Kurapika entered the passenger side and settled against the smooth seat as Kuroro did the same in the driver's side. There was the faint scent of leather as well as Kuroro's cologne, and he underestimated how close he would be next to him inside a car. Anticipation raced up his spine as Kuroro started the engine and gave him a sidelong glance in reassurance.

Kurapika sent him a curious look. "Where are we going?"

"We could go to the movies," Kuroro answered as he shifted into drive, and it was more innocent of a suggestion than he would have expected.

"I don't like movies very much," Kurapika teased, expecting that he would spend the entire time falling asleep in the theatre or stealing glances at Kuroro.

"Neither do I," Kuroro said with a soft laugh.

Kuroro pulled out of the garage into the busy streets, where women swept through the pavement in silk dresses while men bustled in their suits with phones in hand, always in a rush to get somewhere and nowhere at all. The city never slept, when countless lights painted the streets in a multitude of colors.

"Are you taking me to a love hotel then?" Kurapika joked when they passed by a few. Neon lights flaunted their names and prices of the rooms they offered, but Kuroro continued to drive past them. The traffic light flashed red, a single moment that triggered events of rapid succession as they slowed to a stop.

The inside of the car was dimly lit, illuminated only by the numbers on the dashboard and the headlights of passing cars through the glass windows. Kuroro turned towards him, a slant of light catching on the cut of his jawline and the sharp corners of his dark, dark eyes, and Kurapika was staring just like he had the moment they met.

"You are worth so much more, Kurapika."

There was something devastating in the way his low voice broke over the silence, how his words were so simple yet so certain, lacking any artifice or shame. It made Kurapika swallow what he had to say.

"We can head to my place," Kuroro suggested, taking it upon himself to take the edge off the tension that may have been his fault. His expression softened into something more gentle, more sincere. "If that's alright with you."

Goosebumps rippled across Kurapika's skin and a flush of heat swept across his cheeks. He was too uncertain of what he should say, of the words that might come out of his mouth, and all he could do was nod in answer.

It was a few minutes drive in silence before Kuroro pulled up to a high-rise building and parked in a reserved area. Kurapika barely had time to admire the sight before Kuroro took his hand in a manner that was almost too gentle. He led him inside, past the reception, to the elevators.

After the 13th floor was selected, the elevator doors slid shut. He never thought it would come to this—that he would be curious enough to come this far with Kuroro. Hopefully he didn't trust too easily, just because of how much he liked Kuroro's appearance and mannerisms. Something was going to change between them the moment they stepped out of these elevators, and there would be no going back from this.

The mirrored walls reflected Kuroro's appearance from all angles, and Kurapika didn't bother being subtle as he took in the sight. Just from the stitching of his suit jacket, Kurapika could tell that it was tailored and expensive. His clothes fit him in all the right places, from his jacket highlighting the broad angle of his shoulders to his dress slacks tapering his thighs. It was all black on black, and he had no doubt that he would find the names of high fashion brands stitched onto the inner labels if he looked.

Kuroro leaned against the wall, meeting his eyes with a smile. "Do you have class tomorrow?"

"My first class is in the afternoon, so I'm free all night." All it took was an amused glint in his eyes for Kurapika to blush. It was embarrassing to see his reflection surrounding him on the walls, pink blooming on his cheeks. "Ah, that's not what I meant. My school isn't too far from here anyway."

"What are you study—?"

Kuroro couldn't finish his question as the overhead lights flickered, before dying completely. The platform came to an abrupt stop. They stood still, looking at each other but not quite seeing in the darkness.

"I'm guessing this usually doesn't happen?" Kurapika retrieved his phone and turned it on, the pale light from the screen illuminating the keypad on the wall. The corner of his screen displayed a lack of network bars. "I don't have signal here."

"What luck." A quiet sigh came from Kuroro. "Let's call maintenance."

As Kurapika brought his phone closer to the wall, Kuroro leaned down and pressed a button on the keypad. The intercom crackled to life with the sound of a feminine voice.

"Hello, we're currently stuck between the 6th and 7th floor," Kuroro stated politely.

"We apologize for the inconvenience," came the terse response. "We are currently aware of the issue and will make an official announcement shortly. In the meantime, we have prioritized your call as an emergency call."

"How long will it take to fix this?"

"Approximately two hours."

"Two hours?" Kuroro echoed with a frown.

"We apologize, but we will do our best to complete the fix as soon as possible. Please feel free to speak to the front desk should you have any further questions." Her voice was followed by a click, and she was gone.

Kuroro sighed. "I'm sorry about this, Kurapika. This never happened before."

"It's not your fault—"

Kurapika jolted forward as a loud sound reverberated through the elevator and the platform shuddered beneath their feet. His phone nearly slipped out of his grasp and without proper lighting, he stumbled over himself ungracefully. With an outstretched hand, he searched for something to hold onto for balance, only finding the lapel of Kuroro's jacket, and he slammed into Kuroro at the same time.

As Kuroro was pressed against the wall, he pulled Kurapika in closely, steadying him with an arm around his waist. Kurapika was tense, only because neither of them expected this to happen, but the fact that Kuroro was able to support his weight eased his discomfort. The emergency generator kicked in, whirring softly until light returned to the elevator.

"Attention tenants," blared the intercom. "There has been a temporary power outage in the eastern wing. We apologize for any inconvenience caused by this disruption. Please contact the front desk for further information."

"Are you alright?" Kuroro asked, to which he managed a nod.

Blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights, he realized that his face was pressed against Kuroro's broad chest. The crisp scent of his cologne was even more noticeable now, and he breathed it all in. He could feel Kuroro's chest rising and falling as he breathed, rumbling as he let out a soft laugh. "I didn't think you would fall this hard for me."

Kurapika groaned, burying his face in Kuroro's shirt. "That wasn't funny."

An amused hum, and then Kuroro ran a hand through his blond hair. The gesture was comforting, when fingers weaved through his hair with ease and lightly ghosted over his scalp. As his bangs were swept away from his face, along with the tension in his body, he looked up at Kuroro.

Kuroro's lips curved into an apologetic smile. "What should we do?"

"I'm trapped in an elevator with a young CEO. Whatever could happen to me now?"

Kuroro chuckled, low and amused. "I could tell you what would happen in a low-grade erotica novel."

There was no room for misunderstanding as his hand slid to Kurapika's neck, appreciated the curve down his back, and settled at his hip. His touch was teasing and deliberate, and if Kuroro hadn't been so attractive, if Kurapika didn't want his touch, then he would probably be knocked out cold on the floor right now.

"Please don't remind me." Kurapika had to suppress a shiver. "When I worked at the bookstore, that series brought in the most sales in the time I was there. I hope you're not associated with that publishing company."

"You can rest assured—though, this could work if you were wearing your secretary uniform." The worst part was that he sounded half-serious. "You still haven't told me the story behind that photo."

"Maybe I'll let you know another time," Kurapika answered noncommittally. A part of him hoped that Kuroro would forget about the photo, but that didn't seem likely when he was clearly interested in it. "Don't tell me you want me to call you Boss."

He deliberately enunciated that last word, catching Kuroro off-guard. The grip on his hip tightened and he could have sworn that a light blush dusted across Kuroro's ears, just barely there.

"Unbelievable," Kurapika huffed. "Just what have you been thinking of?"

"Too many things," Kuroro admitted, leaning back to create some space between them. His gaze admired Kurapika's legs and waist, before moving to the opening of his v-neck sweater and appraising the expanse of skin and exposed collarbones. Dark eyes were framed by even darker lashes, and the intensity of his stare was nothing short of intoxicating.

Heat swept across Kurapika's cheeks, and he swallowed, throat suddenly dry. "Such as?"

Kuroro's eyes were dark with intent as they fixated on his lips. He reached out to caress his cheek before tracing his lower lip with his thumb. Kurapika couldn't help but mirror Kuroro's gaze in an affectionate echo, absently wondering what it would feel like to have those lips against his skin.

"You on your knees." Kuroro pressed lightly against his lip. "Your mouth around me." He tipped his fingers underneath his chin, turning his face towards one of the mirrored walls on the side of the elevator. Their eyes met in the reflection, and he noticed how his cheeks were stained pink and his lips were parted in a way that looked like he had just been kissed. "Or even here, against the mirror."

Kuroro's voice was warm and coaxing, the exact same way that Kurapika imagined when his messages came up on his phone screen, evoking the same feeling when he received such provocative images.

But Kurapika made a choked sound and pulled away from his touch. He buried his face in his hands. "I didn't think you'd actually say it out loud."

Kuroro coughed in a semblance of embarrassment. Perhaps he did want Kurapika that much, with the way he looked at him with every intention to marvel, but it was just as embarrassing to hear him say it. As Kurapika peeked up at him, Kuroro tried to hide the light pink on his cheeks and the unexpectedly shy look in his eyes by looking away, covering his mouth with his hand.

The sight was almost endearing, and such change in his behavior in a span of a moment was certainly new to Kurapika. He was curious to learn more. He had to admit that Kuroro's attention was not unwelcome and he couldn't deny that he wanted him too, with the utter recklessness of youth and the danger of it.

"Doing this in an elevator won't make for a very romantic first time," Kurapika murmured, "but I suppose I can indulge you."

Kuroro's breath caught in his throat, and it gave Kurapika confidence to push further. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to."

"I know." Kurapika blushed furiously and hoped that he wouldn't regret this. "I won't be very good at this, but I can try."

Kurapika didn't know what the proper conventions were, but with courage as his saving grace, he stepped closer, taking Kuroro's silk tie in his hand and tugging at it as he leaned in. It was only a gentle press of the lips, less hesitant this time, because he knew what he wanted. Kuroro didn't even startle, just met him where he was. No matter how slow and languid the kiss was, his heart was racing in his chest, his blood thrumming in his veins.

A swipe of tongues, and it was open mouthed now. He welcomed the press of Kuroro's tongue, the way he traced the shape of his mouth, and his next exhale trembled as it left his lungs. There was something so decadent about this, how Kuroro remained patient and pliant as he took the lead.

Kuroro's hands ghosted over his shoulders, tracing along his back again. The glide of his touch was delicate in its motion, but possessive in intent. A gasp tore from his throat as hands came to rest just above his backside, smoothing over his hips. He was pulled closer to Kuroro—while he was slender by nature, Kuroro was all firm muscle—and they sought out that direct, deliberate friction together. The warmth was tangible as it caressed his skin, pooled heat in his lower abdomen, making him shiver.

His hands found the fabric of Kuroro's shirt, holding on tight as they both fell deeper and deeper into each other. It wasn't fair that Kuroro was the only one touching his partner, so Kurapika dragged his fingers across his chest, revelling in how the soft and luxurious material contrasted the firmness of muscle, finding satisfaction in feeling Kuroro's heartbeat beneath his palm.

It wasn't long until they needed to catch their breath. Kurapika brought his hands to Kuroro's hair, finding a gentle thrill in messing up his styled hair, and pulled to break the kiss. Now, only the sound of their breathing could be heard in the quiet space.

"Just let me know if you want to stop," Kuroro said, giving him a reassuring peck against the corner of his mouth. His hand was steady as he stroked Kurapika's thigh, his fingers sliding up and down the fabric of his pants, his touch methodical and unhurried.

"Alright." He appreciated that Kuroro wasn't going to push him farther than what he wanted to do. Given his inexperience, there was a high chance this could end badly. "Alright, Kuroro."

Slowly, Kurapika sank down to his knees in front of Kuroro, his hands on his thighs. Never before had he thought he would be bold enough to do this for someone—never before had he realized that having someone look at him like that would be so provoking and thrilling. The gravity of it, the aching desire for it all, crept beneath the propriety he always prided himself on.

If it was even possible, Kuroro was still attractive from this angle. His black hair was tousled from when Kurapika weaved his hands through it, but his bangs still fell over his forehead. His eyes were even darker than they had been at the beginning of the evening, and Kurapika revelled in how he was able to command his attention.

Only a heartbeat of hesitation and his hand was at Kuroro's belt now, the metallic buckle clinking as he pulled the leather undone. The clasp of his pants followed, and he brushed his hand against his undergarments, surprised that Kuroro was already aroused. It was difficult to ignore how his erection strained against the confines of the material.

Kurapika slipped his hand beneath the waistband and pulled out his length, and a soft breath escaped from Kuroro. It should have embarrassed him, should have made him close his eyes to avoid the weight of Kuroro's gaze, but he continued to meet his eyes. He stroked Kuroro slowly, listening to his breathing and taking note of when it hitched in his throat, learning where to press and touch to make him feel good.

Kuroro's hand came to sweep his hair to the side, tucking in his bangs over his ear and exposing his crimson earring. He wasn't asking Kurapika for more, letting him proceed at his own pace, and that was exactly what he was going to do.

A quiet exhale was his only warning before Kurapika leaned forward and took in as much as he could, until the head was pressed against the roof of his mouth and the underside against his tongue. Kuroro's length was thick and heavy, and the stretch was going to take some getting used to. He had to swallow before drawing his head back, steadying himself with his hands on Kuroro's thighs.

Kuroro let his head fall back, hitting the glass with a dull sound, but he hardly noticed. His breath seemed to leave him in a rush as Kurapika took in more with his mouth.

"That's good," Kuroro said, breathless. His tone was so full of praise that Kurapika couldn't help but try to push more of him in. "You're doing well, Kurapika."

Kuroro's hand sifted through his hair, tender and intimate, too soft of a contrast to the hot and heavy weight of his cock. His fingers continued to card through his hair, keeping his bangs away from his eyes, and that affectionate touch just told him how much Kuroro was enjoying this, how much he liked seeing Kurapika on his knees for him.

Kuroro was looking down at him, so powerful yet gentle at the same time, taking in how his lips parted around him, wet and pink now; how his complexion flushed a deeper shade; how his tongue dragged against his length. How erotic Kurapika must have looked.

"God, you're beautiful like this."

A soft moan came from Kurapika, and he shivered. He kept going, pulling back slowly this time, before pushing his mouth around Kuroro's length again until he couldn't take anymore in. Kuroro gasped, ragged in the quiet space, and his hold in Kurapika's hair tightened, just a touch. It was enough to rouse a heat within Kurapika, make his own length throb when he couldn't touch himself.

Kurapika moved faster now, eager to please now when he knew what Kuroro liked. His hands folded over Kuroro's hips, tugging him forward as he pushed back in, swallowing around his erection.

"Just like that," Kuroro groaned, a catch of need in his voice, and Kurapika responded by deepening his movement. The grip was firm in his hair now, Kuroro's hand folding in pressure as he fell apart little by little.

It was so satisfying hear Kuroro's breathing ruined, watch how his gaze turned heavy with a yearning that was only for Kurapika. He drew back entirely, taking Kuroro's erection in his hand, slick from his mouth, and ran his tongue from the length to the head. He pressed his lips against the head before taking him in again, moaning around him, and Kuroro's fingers quivered in his hair.

The pressure of Kuroro's cock in the back of his throat, the hold in his hair, the sound of Kuroro's voice—it was all too much. Kurapika knew he was close and that he practiced a certain kind of restraint, his discipline smothering any movement to thrust into Kurapika's mouth. And he nearly came untouched at the thought, overwhelmed from the idea of causing Kuroro to lose control.

"—want your eyes." A moan escaped from Kuroro's lips, the sound decadent and low and beautiful. His gaze was dazed and dark as he lost himself further in the wet heat of Kurapika's mouth. "Look at me, Kurapika."

Kurapika looked up as he pressed against a sensitive spot, making Kuroro gasp softly and buck into him. Kuroro quelled a shudder as he came undone with a rich, rich moan, overcome with pleasure, and Kurapika couldn't pull away entirely in time with the grip in his hair, holding him in place. He spilled across Kurapika's lips and cheeks, and it was such a heady feeling, making Kuroro lose himself while becoming a sight too obscene to bear himself.

Kuroro's chest rose and fell with each breath, his black hair disheveled and wild, his pale skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat now. He was flushed and vulnerable, gorgeous in his ruin.

"You are so pretty," Kuroro murmured, dragging a thumb across his cheek. "You're so ridiculously pretty."

"I could say the same to you," Kurapika said, not surprised that his voice was hoarse. He caught his reflection in the mirrored wall and while he looked like himself, he did not at the same time. With Kuroro's come on his face and his knees spread on the floor, his expression was wanton, his eyes hazy. It was so strange, but Kuroro apparently loved it.

"Sorry, Kurapika," Kuroro said softly. He retrieved a handkerchief from the pocket of his suit jacket and bent down, wiping away the mess on Kurapika's cheeks. He pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I'll take care of you now."


Notes:

My headcanon is that Kuroro's birthday is on Christmas, so I'm glad I at least got this part out on time. Happy holidays!

This chapter is honestly not something I'd usually write, so I found this both hilarious and embarrassing.. The chapter was supposed to be around 8k words long, but I had to split it into two chapters since my attention span while editing died halfway. The elevator scene will continue the next chapter, and we'll see K.L. again once they actually get out the elevator. And with Kurapika's secretary uniform, I think that warrants its own chapter too.

Also, I need to tell you guys something—you might know that I graduated university this year and currently am a working professional now. But I will need to spend all of next year to my further professional and academic goals. I will still try to update my fics, but it might not be too frequent. Let me know if you'd still be interested in reading.

Please leave a comment—I would love to know what you think about this chapter. +:) Thanks for always motivating me!

You can also reach out to me on Tumblr at seiyuna.