[God damn. Between the two of them, only Akira is capable of calmly, rationally laying out some of the many instances their relationship has approached a public spectacle. Hikaru's eyes are already closed, unable to close any tighter, while his fingers curl inward even more, trembling, near to his covered knees. He hasn't been able to extricate himself from his dress pants, either. He fared far better with the jacket, and the tie, and he did unbutton his dress shirt most of the way, but that's as far as he got with his sensitive, simmering skin. Every time Akira lists off something else, Hikaru has another vivid recollection of Akira's bare skin and how good it felt against his own. How good it's going to feel, soon enough.
Having sex isn't all that different from playing Go, which is undoubtedly why Hikaru likes it so much. Principles of offense, defense, invasion, reduction, problem-solving, unpredictability--they're all accounted for in one form or another. And it didn't take very long for Akira to master all of those principles, and to speak on them as he does everything else: as an authority. Hikaru makes a softer, throatier sound in response, a helpless moan he didn't mean to let go of. It isn't much of a competition if he's already resigning before they've even started.]
Mmm, but it's not my fault you make it impossible to be subtle. [Even a complete beginner would know how that nearly omnipresent bruise on his neck came to be. It's up near his ear, highly visible, the bit of territory Akira has long since claimed for himself. Hikaru would touch it now, as he often does, but he's regripping the door handle and trying to breathe.] And if your libido weren't so unreasonable, you wouldn't have had to cart me off early all those times. You didn't even mention what happened during our Coming of Age Day, when you were the most... just ridiculous... [He'll never forget the look on poor Akari's face when she walked in on them, when Akira was supposed to be helping him get dressed--] Akira, [he says, strained, still out of breath,] I'm starting to think you're kinda addicted to sex. [There's no criticism in what he's saying, none whatsoever; his own libido matches and at times exceeds Akira's in capture for capture. His tone is bright and expensive, like a winner's trophy melted down for its gold, as he again pulls down on the handle of the door.] Or maybe it's just...
[It's more than a little dramatic, the way he opens the door with single-minded determination, until he's positioned there on his knees and he's staring at the back of Akira's head. Hikaru looks like he wrestled with himself and then lost, his two-toned hair all askew, his clothes clawed out of place, breathing harder for the oasis ahead of him. His hands present no delay in curving onto and over Akira's shoulders, leading him into a sort of embrace from behind. His chin settles against that abundance of long, dark hair, just as he's wanted to do for the hours they spent playing each other. There's no comparison to facing off against someone within the Room of Profound Darkness, with the weight of memories like higher gravity all around. Likewise, there's no comparison to spending a lazy morning on the front porch, in the warmth of a sunbeam, buried in the arms of that same someone.]
Maybe it's just that you're addicted to me.
[His fingers, dexterous as ever, find the knot of Akira's necktie and work to loosen it up. The heat radiating off of him--the both of them--is ten times the intensity of sunbeams, and Hikaru isn't surprised to feel sweat trickle down the back of his neck. Probably, he should apologize for breaking one of their important rules. Or Akira should apologize to him for playing so seductive a game that, win or lose, it gave him an erection he had to get creative about hiding.]
You slut, [he whispers, as he drags the tie up and out of the way.]
no subject
Having sex isn't all that different from playing Go, which is undoubtedly why Hikaru likes it so much. Principles of offense, defense, invasion, reduction, problem-solving, unpredictability--they're all accounted for in one form or another. And it didn't take very long for Akira to master all of those principles, and to speak on them as he does everything else: as an authority. Hikaru makes a softer, throatier sound in response, a helpless moan he didn't mean to let go of. It isn't much of a competition if he's already resigning before they've even started.]
Mmm, but it's not my fault you make it impossible to be subtle. [Even a complete beginner would know how that nearly omnipresent bruise on his neck came to be. It's up near his ear, highly visible, the bit of territory Akira has long since claimed for himself. Hikaru would touch it now, as he often does, but he's regripping the door handle and trying to breathe.] And if your libido weren't so unreasonable, you wouldn't have had to cart me off early all those times. You didn't even mention what happened during our Coming of Age Day, when you were the most... just ridiculous... [He'll never forget the look on poor Akari's face when she walked in on them, when Akira was supposed to be helping him get dressed--] Akira, [he says, strained, still out of breath,] I'm starting to think you're kinda addicted to sex. [There's no criticism in what he's saying, none whatsoever; his own libido matches and at times exceeds Akira's in capture for capture. His tone is bright and expensive, like a winner's trophy melted down for its gold, as he again pulls down on the handle of the door.] Or maybe it's just...
[It's more than a little dramatic, the way he opens the door with single-minded determination, until he's positioned there on his knees and he's staring at the back of Akira's head. Hikaru looks like he wrestled with himself and then lost, his two-toned hair all askew, his clothes clawed out of place, breathing harder for the oasis ahead of him. His hands present no delay in curving onto and over Akira's shoulders, leading him into a sort of embrace from behind. His chin settles against that abundance of long, dark hair, just as he's wanted to do for the hours they spent playing each other. There's no comparison to facing off against someone within the Room of Profound Darkness, with the weight of memories like higher gravity all around. Likewise, there's no comparison to spending a lazy morning on the front porch, in the warmth of a sunbeam, buried in the arms of that same someone.]
Maybe it's just that you're addicted to me.
[His fingers, dexterous as ever, find the knot of Akira's necktie and work to loosen it up. The heat radiating off of him--the both of them--is ten times the intensity of sunbeams, and Hikaru isn't surprised to feel sweat trickle down the back of his neck. Probably, he should apologize for breaking one of their important rules. Or Akira should apologize to him for playing so seductive a game that, win or lose, it gave him an erection he had to get creative about hiding.]
You slut, [he whispers, as he drags the tie up and out of the way.]