[ 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—
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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. ]