[That gasp earns a self-satisfied snort. That's right, get shocked. Removing the prude from Kurapika won't take much more than inundating him with touch and sensation, all the stimulation he's denied himself thus far, but Akira's going to have fun with him while this is all so novel and mortifying.
What monster will Kurapika become when he's soaked up everything Akira has to teach him and put his own spin on it? That thought excites Akira too, prompts shivers and little eager laughs that melt on the tongue.
Akira takes his time feeling up the hard muscle hidden beneath Kurapika's pants. Tight glutes, tighter quads, all on a deceptively svelte frame. Akira would both love and hate to be on the business end of Kurapika's kicks.
In the midst of his groping, he makes time to help Kurapika out, taking one of those awkwardly lingering hands and guiding it to his head. Here. Play with his hair. It's one of those universally enjoyable feelings, right?]
[ Ah, thank god for the guidance. Any sense of embarrassment he might feel over it is overshadowed by the relief he feels simply tangling his fingers in Akira's hair. The way his fingers flex around his curls feels almost meant to be, as if his hand belongs right here, and he isn't afraid of the feeling as he runs his fingers through it.
He puts a gentle pause on their kiss, lips slick with saliva as he presses a chaste kiss to the corner of Akira's mouth. ]
What's so funny?
[ His words are soft and breathy, his breathing already slightly irregular. This doesn't amount to much in the scheme of things, but when you've starved yourself of this sort of thing for long enough, even a grain of sand can feel plenty heavy.
Kurapika is aware that Akira's laughter comes from some sort of giddiness, but can he really be blamed for wanting to hear it vocalized? ]
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What monster will Kurapika become when he's soaked up everything Akira has to teach him and put his own spin on it? That thought excites Akira too, prompts shivers and little eager laughs that melt on the tongue.
Akira takes his time feeling up the hard muscle hidden beneath Kurapika's pants. Tight glutes, tighter quads, all on a deceptively svelte frame. Akira would both love and hate to be on the business end of Kurapika's kicks.
In the midst of his groping, he makes time to help Kurapika out, taking one of those awkwardly lingering hands and guiding it to his head. Here. Play with his hair. It's one of those universally enjoyable feelings, right?]
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He puts a gentle pause on their kiss, lips slick with saliva as he presses a chaste kiss to the corner of Akira's mouth. ]
What's so funny?
[ His words are soft and breathy, his breathing already slightly irregular. This doesn't amount to much in the scheme of things, but when you've starved yourself of this sort of thing for long enough, even a grain of sand can feel plenty heavy.
Kurapika is aware that Akira's laughter comes from some sort of giddiness, but can he really be blamed for wanting to hear it vocalized? ]
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