Tease

{ Hit Lists And Other Sexual Endeavors }

a/n: This is a lil 8k side story about A Day In The Life Of Kurapika hehe so if you don't like kurokura, DON'T READ

"I've got my sights on bigger things—and better. But mostly bigger."

"I've got a booty call to attend to."

"That's good shit. Is that Kurapika's?"

"Yeah, a different supplier, though."

"God, you almost got me to believe that you don't give a single shit."

"That's because the only shit I give is getting paid."

"I don't believe that."

"No, I'm pretty sure that's the shit you were smelling. Unless—was it—? My Dior cologne?"

"You don't wear cologne or Dior."

"And in what world would you know that?"

"The one that has my lips written all over those hickeys."

Rewind.

"I've said it once and I'll say it again: You should stop working for my brother."

Kurapika hesitated, both hands clasped to the grinder. He looked up past his hands to the sight of Retz reclined on a chaise lounge like she was ten seconds away from asking Kurapika to draw her like one of his French girls. Her blonde hair was spun back into a messy bun, and without all of the treatments, the attention, her hair was limp and borderline thinning. She didn't like to put on a facade for Kurapika like she did for the camera over the two years she had been a camgirl.

He screwed off the top of the grinder. "Maybe so," he said.

"Kurapika, you know he's cheating you," she said, but Kurapika didn't entirely care at that moment. He made enough for his apartment, his schooling, and was even able to afford his growing dependence on weed.

He didn't care if Omokage was paying him an unfair cut of each sale. The quality wasn't even that great, either.

He picked out a seed from the grounds and flicked it across the room. Retz brought her knees up, her feet touching the floor as she leant over to watch Kurapika fill the vaporizer. He set it to a low temperature and cleaned the spout before offering the first hit to Retz.

She took it. "I don't understand you sometimes. I can't tell if you're motivated or not most days."

"I'm not exactly looking to buy a house with this career choice," Kurapika said. "I'm just living, you know?"

The vaporizer hissed as she took a deep breath of smoke in. She held it in her lungs for a moment before letting it fade out between her teeth. She shook her head and handed the vaporizer back. "You're missing the point. There's more to life than just living, hun."

"What, like getting fucked on camera? No thanks, I'm good," Kurapika said.

"A girl's got an appetite," she said with an easy grin. She leant back on the lounge's armrest, propping her head up on her closed fist. She shrugged. "And I like my job. Do you like your job?"

Retz was a special case. Her overbearing brother had prompted her to leave her parents' house at the early age of sixteen when she kicked off her cam career. Kurapika had known her from high school—Omokage had been dealing then as well and, unbeknownst to him, Kurapika was running weed to his little sister under the table. But when he graduated and got his own place, he put Retz up for a month or two while she got her footing. She started as a camgirl in high school and freelance gigs—selling photos to older, rich men with a fetish for her Lolita-esque appeal.