[Damn it, Kurapika, you're the one who's supposed to keep cool and act rationally so in situations like these. Akira can't be trusted to hold onto his inhibitions in a situation like this, content only to take what he's given and demand so, so much more.
At least he isn't alone in that bottomless hunger. A shame about all the fumbling (4), but that's what happens when you've only just realized how starved you've been for physical touch, for connection, for whatever this mess is that they've entangled themselves in.
Akira is no better at tugging off shirts than Kurapika is, but maybe they shouldn't be trying to strip each other at the same time? When they next break for air, Akira lifts his arms to accommodate Kurapika's eager fingers. Don't chicken out on him now.]
[ Akira's mouth is so pleasantly warm, his lips slotting perfectly against Kurapika's, that it's easy to get lost in the feeling of another person. He's held off from this simply out of a need to focus on his own goals, and the realization that he's been sorely missing out is hitting him a lot harder than he ever expected it to. Yet, he can't help but feel somewhere in the back of his mind that this is a feeling he should have allowed himself to feel at all.
He sits back, pink-cheeked and eyes still very much red, as Akira lifts his arms. Does he just... tug on his shirt? Is that how this goes? Is that the proper order to all of this? Kurapika reaches out to do just that when—
[That unexpected knocking against the door nearly shocks the soul right out of Akira's body. It's a miracle they didn't concuss each other after hearing that oddly unnerving rhythm, and when Akira sits up to see who, or rather what, is at the door...]
...Oh boy.
[Yamato, you fucker. Do you have any idea what your stupid vacuum just interrupted?
It's... fine, actually. They were getting carried away and wouldn't have stopped on their own accord, and within weeks of knowing each other, they shouldn't... y'know. Embarrass themselves by being this damn eager.
If it's all the same to Kurapika, Akira's just gonna scoot to the edge of the bed and straighten out his clothes. Talk about a close shave.]
Seriously? I'm surprised you haven't mauled that thing.
[ His eyes have cooled back to their usual brown by this point, but his cheeks are still flushed, Kurapika's body still radiating the heat that has already simmered down in his chest. For just a moment, he watches Akira straighten out his clothes, but it becomes too much and leaves him feeling so awkward that he looks away. ]
...Yamato cares about that thing, though, and I don't really mind him that much. He's not the worst person to share a floor with.
[No good. The mood's totally shot, and even if it wasn't, that damn robot has a lot of nerve... but if anyone's to blame here, it's Akira himself. He could've salvaged this, he thinks, but there's no turning back once he catches sight of the look on Kurapika's face.
Damn it. He fucked up big time.
Akira swings upright with a heave-ho and a guttering sigh, padding over to the window and tossing it open.]
Man, it's super stuffy in here. You need to do something about that.
[In reality, it's their own fault for stifling themselves in a layer of UST so thick they'd need a dehumidifier to get under control. Parking himself on the windowsill with his legs dangling in the breeze, Akira summons his broom beneath his feet.]
Anyway, I need some air. Good luck with your vacuum problem.
[He's an asshole for tucking tail and running. He knows he is. Nevertheless, Akira hops onto his broom and flies off into the starless night.]
[ He could say something to Akira, let him know that he doesn’t really need to leave, but he doesn’t. Instead, Kurapika watches in silence as Akira sits on the windowsill and summons his broom.
It isn’t until Akira has disappeared into the darkness that he lets out a breath, shaking his head in an attempt to clear it. Briefly, he considers closing the window, but it really is stuffy in here, so he makes a beeline for his bed, flopping back onto it.
Maybe this is the best outcome anyway. Akira needs to learn his place and stay away from Kurapika, after all. He has no business trying to get in the way of his goals when they haven’t even known one another for that long, telling him that he deserves a new life.
As if Akira could ever know what Kurapika deserves.
He sighs, letting his eyes slip closed. This is a much easier end to his problems. This way, he doesn’t have to do the pushing away. ]
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At least he isn't alone in that bottomless hunger. A shame about all the fumbling (4), but that's what happens when you've only just realized how starved you've been for physical touch, for connection, for whatever this mess is that they've entangled themselves in.
Akira is no better at tugging off shirts than Kurapika is, but maybe they shouldn't be trying to strip each other at the same time? When they next break for air, Akira lifts his arms to accommodate Kurapika's eager fingers. Don't chicken out on him now.]
1/???
He sits back, pink-cheeked and eyes still very much red, as Akira lifts his arms. Does he just... tug on his shirt? Is that how this goes? Is that the proper order to all of this? Kurapika reaches out to do just that when—
A familiar object bumps at the door, getting stuck against the door jamb in a very strange rhythm. ]
no subject
no subject
Picking up the roomba with a movement that can only be described as full of hate, he sets it back down just past his door. ]
Yamato is lucky I haven't thrown you out the window.
done
He clears his throat. ]
That happens often.
no subject
...Oh boy.
[Yamato, you fucker. Do you have any idea what your stupid vacuum just interrupted?
It's... fine, actually. They were getting carried away and wouldn't have stopped on their own accord, and within weeks of knowing each other, they shouldn't... y'know. Embarrass themselves by being this damn eager.
If it's all the same to Kurapika, Akira's just gonna scoot to the edge of the bed and straighten out his clothes. Talk about a close shave.]
Seriously? I'm surprised you haven't mauled that thing.
no subject
[ His eyes have cooled back to their usual brown by this point, but his cheeks are still flushed, Kurapika's body still radiating the heat that has already simmered down in his chest. For just a moment, he watches Akira straighten out his clothes, but it becomes too much and leaves him feeling so awkward that he looks away. ]
...Yamato cares about that thing, though, and I don't really mind him that much. He's not the worst person to share a floor with.
[ So Musashi gets to live another day. ]
no subject
Damn it. He fucked up big time.
Akira swings upright with a heave-ho and a guttering sigh, padding over to the window and tossing it open.]
Man, it's super stuffy in here. You need to do something about that.
[In reality, it's their own fault for stifling themselves in a layer of UST so thick they'd need a dehumidifier to get under control. Parking himself on the windowsill with his legs dangling in the breeze, Akira summons his broom beneath his feet.]
Anyway, I need some air. Good luck with your vacuum problem.
[He's an asshole for tucking tail and running. He knows he is. Nevertheless, Akira hops onto his broom and flies off into the starless night.]
no subject
It isn’t until Akira has disappeared into the darkness that he lets out a breath, shaking his head in an attempt to clear it. Briefly, he considers closing the window, but it really is stuffy in here, so he makes a beeline for his bed, flopping back onto it.
Maybe this is the best outcome anyway. Akira needs to learn his place and stay away from Kurapika, after all. He has no business trying to get in the way of his goals when they haven’t even known one another for that long, telling him that he deserves a new life.
As if Akira could ever know what Kurapika deserves.
He sighs, letting his eyes slip closed. This is a much easier end to his problems. This way, he doesn’t have to do the pushing away. ]