Tools of the Trade
by Mina Lightstar

Leorio lets his friends pick up the tab tonight, and excuses himself as they are getting ready to leave the nightclub. Usually, Leorio isn't the type to even go to nightclubs (he's more of a cafe-with-a-pretty-girl kind of guy) but tonight is a special occasion. Tonight, they are celebrating the end of term.

It's not like Leorio spends a great deal of time in class, or that he has any difficulty keeping up with his studies; his passion for the medical field makes mastering it easy. On the other hand, he is going to appreciate the two weeks off, because he can do anything and go anywhere he wants.

He misses his closest friends, and wonders what they're up to, where they are. Before he realizes it, his cellphone is in hand and he's pushed the number one. He stops himself from pressing "send," though. Speed dial number one is Kurapika, and the blond is probably busy -- or asleep. He thinks about calling Killua or Gon instead, and hits speed dial number two, which is the green-clad boy. Where Gon is, chances are good that Killua is not far behind.

Before he can activate the call, though, he hears a scream. He freezes, senses heightening automatically, muscles tensing as he prepares for a fight. Leorio doesn't think himself a fighter so much as he does a defender; he's strong and he knows it, but he would rather use his hands to wrap wounds and give booster shots.

And rescue beautiful damsels in distress.

There's another scream, and Leorio takes off in its general direction. It's past two o'clock and the streets in this small city are practically deserted, but surely someone else must be hearing this? It isn't like York Shin, where no one would bat an eye at the sight of someone's throat being slashed on the corner. Where are the opening windows, the confused on-lookers, the frightened housewives and their husbands calling the town watch?

There's yet another scream when he reaches the alley they're coming from, and now that Leorio is closer he can determine that, perhaps, he is being a little too hasty. Upon closer inspection, it isn't a blood-curdling scream of terror. Rather, it's a shocked, overwhelemed scream of euphoria. Like someone getting mind-blowing head for the first time, and not having a clue how good it could feel.

Leorio coughs into his fist. Well. It doesn't matter if it isn't a murderer, someone ought to tell those kids that there are love hotels for this kind of thing. So he marches right into the dimly-lit alley and tries to look every bit the dashing, experienced oniisan.

"Hey, now," he starts, "what's with all the noise?" The last word dies in his throat.

She's obviously a hooker, and she taps her foot impatiently when she sees him, and then plays with the red strap of her dress -- if it can even be called a dress. Leorio is having trouble deciding if she wants him to leave; the tapping says "yes," but the coy look and the fingers on the strap say "no." Sitting at her feet, propped up only by the brick wall behind him, is a young man. He looks... asleep?

"Dangerous profession, miss," Leorio says eventually, still taking in the scene before him. The screamer, then, was this boy?

"For the boys," the girl replies with a smirk. She takes a step away from her unconscious customer and holds Leorio's gaze with her own. "You want a go, too?"

Leorio likes it when women chase him for a change -- whores or not. What Leorio doesn't like is when a hooker responsible for a young man's coma tries her hand on his wallet.

He takes a step back. "Miss, what did you do to that boy?" He might still have to fight. It's possible she really isn't a hooker, just lures unsuspecting victims with the act before she does whatever she wants with them.

She takes another step forward, and Leorio's eyes narrow. She moves like many others he's seen during his travels; she moves like a fighter. "I gave him the best three orgasms of his life, is what I did. You want some?" She looks him up and down. "You have stamina? Maybe you could handle five or six?"

Best? Three? Six? Leorio takes another step back, not wanting to fall into a trap. He's not so gullible these days, not so eager to put his hand on a woman's breast. Hoping to maybe lower her guard, Leorio jokes, "Six, really? Are you here every night? Because I have a cute blond friend who could really use a good--"

"Is he big and masculine like you?" she purrs, coming closer yet again. She rakes her gaze over him again, and licks her lips. "Tell you what, you can have a free sample."

Leorio blinks as she reaches out. "What? Free -- what?" And he reaches up to stop her hand --

( and it's like his nerves are on fire, a thousand pairs of lips and a dozen hands carressing him, from the inside out, the outside in -- and it's so good, everywhere: it goes right to his cock, his prostate, his perineum, his balls -- there's one hand on his skin and it's making all of him feel like heaven and he can't think and how is she doing this )

-- and he explodes.

When he blinks away the stars in his vision, he's leaning against the wall, resisting the urge to slump down to the ground. The girl is standing over him, hands on her slim hips, wearing a triumphant smirk.

"What," Leorio rasps, "what did you do?" His voice is hoarse; maybe he screamed like the boy did. Then he sees the fading glow of her nen, and his jaw drops. "Nen!" he exclaims, and shakes his head to try and clear it. "You're using nen to--?!"

"Skip the middle-man," the girl explains. "It's easy money, the guy gets what he wants, and I don't have to get myself dirty." Her smirk, if anything, increases in smirkiness. "It's perfect."

It reminds Leorio of the woman Kurapika talked about once -- Veze, a woman who could control someone with a kiss. "You..." nen was so... "wait, what are--?"

She touches him again, and his world becomes white, and he can't do anything but feel.

He isn't sure how much time has passed when he wakes up, but the young man who fell victim before him is gone, and so is she.

"A hooker with nen," Leorio whispers, and he just feels so good that he can't even bother trying to process any of it.

When he stands up, he realizes his wallet is in the front pocket of his slacks instead of the back. He counts his money immediately, and finds he's out 10,000 zeni. He shakes his head, undecided if he's amused or angry.

One orgasm was free, the other wasn't.