smokebombsandmirrors:

He almost felt cherished. He pressed against him now in a fever. Wanting more almost needing it. Hakuba’s hands trailed over his body and he gave into the pleasure he was offering. He kissed him back desperately and suddenly almost as if a damn opened up on him. Moving his hands up he framed Hakuba’s jaw and part of his neck.

And during all  of this he couldn’t stop himself from thinking that HE DID NOT LIKE HIM.

God it was incredible. Hakuba felt himself melt against him, pressing closer, giving more. The breaths he took through his nose and his mouth in the brief moments of parting were ragged with wanting, heart pounding as he found himself tangling his fingers in his hair and–

December 24th, Last Year (“A Little Carried Away?”)

“Saguru.”

“…kissing the corner of his mouth and…”

“Saguru.”

“…fingers grasping, curling with desperation into my uniform, wishing that I could express what I…”

“Saguru.”

Hakuba paused. “Hm?”

“As much as I appreciate the gorey details of your scandalous affair, I really don’t think that you need to be giving a verbal essay about your feelings for this boy to your agent.”

The following silence was enough to tell Jones that his client had, once again, gotten ahead of himself and had been embarrassed into silence. But, again, it wouldn’t last.

“Aha… ha, yes. Quite right.”

“So you made out with him, and then?”

“And then… I left.”

“You left?”

“Yes. I left.”

The Previous Week (“Oh My God What Have I Done?”)

Reality hit with a sudden gasp as common sense finally lined back up with the detective’s senses. Hakuba recoiled from the passion, eyes wide and staring, face heated and flushed. What was he doing? Why was he kissing Kuroba Kaito? Oh god. Oh GOD. 

He took a step back, mouth hanging open as he took in the sight of him, shoving that desire and want as far down as it could possibly go until he felt the twist of sudden, horrible anxiety in the pit of his stomach.

“A-ah…” Hakuba’s voice came out in an almost frightened squeak. He cleared his throat, then tried again, bowing as was customary – he thought??? he suddenly wasn’t sure – and took another step back and away. “Apologies. H-happy Christmas, Kuroba-kun.”

Hakuba bowed again, then stepped back, nearly losing traction before he moved into a brisk stride, leaving the area as quickly as he could without running, one hand held up to the side of his face. Fleeing the crime scene.

OH GOD! 

smokebombsandmirrors:

Kaito wanted so bad to push him back, to punch his lights out for forcing himself on him but it felt way too good and it had been so long since he was held by someone. As Hakuba’s hand trailed over his spine and side he arch towards him. He shivered as the soft press of his fingers brushed along his sensitive scars. He felt the detective shift and he shifted with him so they fit better. 

That was one thing he notice through the fog that they fit. He hadn’t been able to find something like this when he was active. That was months ago and he was getting exceedingly frustrated with himself and Hakuba was … everything he looked for, physically, in a partner but this was still Hakuba. ‘You’re Kaitou KID’ Hakuba.

Its all a mask isn’t it, Hakuba?

The realization that the detective was always wearing a mask brought forth more emotions than he wanted for the other. His hands stopped pushing, trembled then wrapped them selves in his lapel.

It was a mask. Everything was a lie. Everything but this, this stolen moment. This expression of feeling that he’d kept bottled up for so many months, out of fear, out of caution, out of feelings of inadequacy. Hakuba knew that Kaito would never return his feelings, but for that brief moment he could almost swear that he was kissing him back. Almost. 

He wanted it to be real. Something in him screamed with red warning flags waving furiously in his mind, but he kept kissing him anyway. Kissed him over, and over again, fighting for control of himself, of the situation, of his life. Each kiss was a little more desperate, a little more heated, a little more feverish, as if it would somehow tell Kaito exactly what was in his heart and in his mind. As if it would make things all right.

Hakuba’s hand moved between them, up and over his chest, over the scarf, back to his neck and then to his face, cupping his cheek. He so badly wanted to hold him, to love him, to protect him. But as those thoughts came through, it began to show in the way that he kissed, too. There was no loss of passion, but his hands held him carefully, his lips moved more fully, each caress meaning something that he couldn’t bring himself to say. 

smokebombsandmirrors:

“What the hell are you doing?! LET ME GO!” Kaito shouted and nearly dropped the bags in a desperate attempt to claw and bite at the hand on him.

He did not take to being man handled unless he wanted it and said when and certainly not in some dark alley way where no one can see you to help just in case. Not that he thought the detective would try anything, it was just a precaution that was wise to take. 

December 24th, Last Year (“I Can Explain!”)

“Thank god one of you had sense.”

“Well…!”

“You do realize what that looked like, right? You’re lucky he didn’t kill you.”

Hakuba frowned, folding his arm over his chest again while setting his mobile on the floor so that he could stretch his other arm. “As I said, he’s not the murdering type." 

"So, to recap, my six foot tall foreign, broad-shouldered, angry-looking, potentially racist and nationalistic client dragged a young, vulnerable, and defenseless Japanese kid into a dark alley…”

“You’re making it sound a lot worse than it is.”

“…to make out with them.”

“Uh.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong.”

“…Uh.”

“God help me, you’re such a disaster.”

“Please, Jones, let me finish!”

“If you can somehow turn this into a case of not dubious consent, I will fly out to London tonight and personally deliver a fruitbasket to your home for Christmas.”

“Uh. Well…”

The Previous Week (“In Retrospect, Not a Good Idea”)

That… that was not the attention that he wanted or needed. “Kuroba-kun!” He hissed, trying in vain to keep his cool. It wasn’t working.

Hakuba let go of Kaito, glanced back out to the crowd, which was largely obscured by the wall and the deep shadows, and ran a hand through his hair, frustrated and embarrassed and still oh so intrigued.

But mostly, he was panicked. There were people out there. Paparazzi. Rabid fan girls. Stalkers. Friends of his father and co-workers and oh god if anyone from school… and Kuroba wasn’t keeping his god-damned poker face in tact and…

Before he even knew what was happening, Hakuba stepped right up against him and kissed him. Not the same sort of kiss from before – chaste and cute and teasing on the forehead – but a deep and passionate kiss right on the lips. One that didn’t stop. 

Somewhere, in those seconds, he shed the weight of the supply bags, leaving them in the snow in favor of grasping the other teen. One hand went for his shoulder, then to the back of his head, the other went for the scarf, pulling him closer, eyes closed as he kissed him.