The Wardrobe, or, "I Feel Pretty!"


Things were rapidly getting heated. Kurapika allowed Leorio to roll them over so he was on top - it wasn't so bad to concede every now and then, really - pressing down hard against him and kissing enthusiastically and open-mouthed. He could feel the evidence of Leorio's desire against his thigh; feel the answering ache between his own legs. They ground against each other, slowly but with growing fervor. Leorio's fingers were already fumbling with the ties of Kurapika's clothing.

"Mm… let me." He broke the kiss to make quick work of his top layer, and regarded Leorio with heavy-lidded eyes. His lips were kiss-bruised, face flushed with passion… this was a sight Kurapika liked to look at. He couldn't manage to get tired of it.

With growing anticipation, he started on the buttons of Leorio's shirt, quickly undoing them, and pushing the obstacle aside.

To find… fabric.

"What…?" Kurapika yanked the first shirt almost all the way off, staring at the second in perplexity. Leorio never wore two shirts. Never. Why would he start now? The man was being oddly silent, too, breathing still a bit ragged, but expression probably as mild as it could manage to be while he watched his partner's face.

Kurapika frowned slightly, and employed a certain amount of caution when undoing the second shirt.

Revealing a third.

That was it. "How many layers are you wearing?" he burst out, glaring at Leorio in complete exasperation.

The man had the nerve to raise an eyebrow at him, as if this somehow proved some sort of point. "Now you know how I feel," he announced with a certain gleeful satisfaction, and stole another kiss before Kurapika could yell at him.