[Were Akira kinder, he'd be helpful in extricating himself out of his clothing for Hikaru. But the demanding fumble of Hikaru's hands is more pleasurable than the act of being kind, and Akira likes to be undressed like this, frantic, his body jostled through Hikaru's attempts to claim it. A moan jumbles out of him, dislodged when his shirt is yanked down and away from his shoulders. He breathes out something, not quite coherent, when he's thinking just as vividly about consummating their desires in the Room of Profound Darkness. No darkness, no history, no staggering memory of brilliance past would be able to oppress the perfection of their joining. With the way Hikaru plays, owning the fearless, unbending dominance of any coup, his uprising amongst all the weathered professionals who underestimated him for years... the Room and its Darkness should find it an honor to be graced with Hikaru's sweat, his saliva, if Akira were to fuck him face down. Just the thought of leaving such an indelible presence in that place has Akira's voice bubbling out of his throat, a fount of abundant grenadine. He's pleased when Hikaru moves to accept that from his mouth. He'd be just as pleased to grant Hikaru mouthful after mouthful of any taste he chooses...
Even as they barely part, Akira can hardly allow himself to let Hikaru speak to him. Hikaru's jealousy is taken in bite by bite, with Akira finding his lips against moment after moment. Maybe it seems like Akira isn't listening, too busy with catching the corner of Hikaru's mouth, and then up closer to his nose, but this stutter of a prolonged kiss does remain attentive. Akira's jealousy festers, too, in ways of his own. He doesn't mind being seen, at all, and he doesn't actually mind if Hikaru is seen, either. Just so long as they're seen together. Just so long as everybody is aware only Akira can perform whatever lustful fantasies anyone else might have. He hopes the time keeper is touching herself tonight. He hopes the commentators couldn't bear to look at each other as they left the room for how their minds lingered on what the looks exchanged between Akira and Hikaru meant. On his way out of the Room of Profound Darkness, following after Hikaru, Akira had looked back over his shoulder. All he meant for any of those onlookers was clear in just that glance: not for you. He settled his hand at Hikaru's elbow. One woman cleared her throat behind her hand.
It's good. But it's good, too, to be coveted so fiercely by Hikaru. Akira has long since confessed that he'd wanted that from Hikaru: he had wanted to be chased, and even to be captured. I wanted you to want to catch me. If the span of Hikaru's grasp is all-encompassing, Akira approves of it. His approval leads his hands up to Hikaru's collar, and he tugs at it, jerking him as close as he can possibly get, even if only a millimeter closer than they were before. His head dips down, sharp but shallow, when Hikaru's hand finds him through the front of his pants. It's a good start, but not nearly enough, and in his kneeling, Akira spreads his knees, so he can push his hips forward. He's hard already, of course he is, and he wants Hikaru to feel all of that. When he says Hikaru's name again, it's with no admonishment. It's a confirmation, somewhere between encouragement and plea, and it's a catechism, condensing all that Akira wants into three thermic syllables.
It was Akira who first went against convention and called Hikaru by his given name. They had been sitting in Akira's bedroom, in the Touya family home, both occupied with their own activities. Hikaru was on Akira's computer, muttering irritably as he tried to navigate some web form or other, aggravated as he clipped haltingly against the keyboard. Akira was sitting cross-legged near an opposing wall with a book. He'd read it for a while, but eventually grew distracted by the sound of Hikaru's erratic typing, and he watched Hikaru over the pages. He pursed his lips. His book covered the sight of his mouth when he said, into the air between them, "Hikaru." He stalled there, a little overwhelmed by his own voice, really having said that just to say it. Just to see what it would be like. Then he said, "Come here a moment."
That's what he means now. Come here, and closer, and closer, and in, and everywhere. He's far from forcing Hikaru out.] Just this once. [It's heady, and probably dishonest. Maybe intentionally dishonest. It's feeling good, to make Hikaru want him this badly, when their rules have been so stringent.] When you... [His breaths come inconsistent, in deep, bursting exhales, and mellifluous little gasps.] When you played 12-5, I wanted it all over me... [One of his hands shifts over to grasp at Hikaru's, guiding his touch further between his legs, while he moves his hips again.] You can stay, tonight. But I need you, Hikaru, [and now he's the one to fumble with Hikaru's belt,] to help me make it until morning, because it's driving me mad... When you sealed that envelope... [His pulse is so hot, so hard, radiating from his jugular so near to his jaw. It exudes desperation.]
I felt like I could have come when I was watching you do that.
[In the end, he has more luck with the belt buckle than Hikaru did. Then he wrenches open the button to Hikaru's pants, and his hand pushes down into Hikaru's clothes with no other preamble. He finds the hottest part of Hikaru's body, and he's pleased with the feel of Hikaru's thigh, and he's pleased with himself for getting Hikaru's dick this hard.]
So if you stay, [and he's already working his hand, even within the confines of insufferable clothing,] then I need you to make me come, [and he's graceless in rolling his own hips,] so I can stop thinking about how much I wanted to come when I saw that. [It sounds convincingly like an ultimatum, even when he knows Hikaru is capable of doing any number of things to bring him to orgasm. Even so, he asks,] Can you do that for me?
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Even as they barely part, Akira can hardly allow himself to let Hikaru speak to him. Hikaru's jealousy is taken in bite by bite, with Akira finding his lips against moment after moment. Maybe it seems like Akira isn't listening, too busy with catching the corner of Hikaru's mouth, and then up closer to his nose, but this stutter of a prolonged kiss does remain attentive. Akira's jealousy festers, too, in ways of his own. He doesn't mind being seen, at all, and he doesn't actually mind if Hikaru is seen, either. Just so long as they're seen together. Just so long as everybody is aware only Akira can perform whatever lustful fantasies anyone else might have. He hopes the time keeper is touching herself tonight. He hopes the commentators couldn't bear to look at each other as they left the room for how their minds lingered on what the looks exchanged between Akira and Hikaru meant. On his way out of the Room of Profound Darkness, following after Hikaru, Akira had looked back over his shoulder. All he meant for any of those onlookers was clear in just that glance: not for you. He settled his hand at Hikaru's elbow. One woman cleared her throat behind her hand.
It's good. But it's good, too, to be coveted so fiercely by Hikaru. Akira has long since confessed that he'd wanted that from Hikaru: he had wanted to be chased, and even to be captured. I wanted you to want to catch me. If the span of Hikaru's grasp is all-encompassing, Akira approves of it. His approval leads his hands up to Hikaru's collar, and he tugs at it, jerking him as close as he can possibly get, even if only a millimeter closer than they were before. His head dips down, sharp but shallow, when Hikaru's hand finds him through the front of his pants. It's a good start, but not nearly enough, and in his kneeling, Akira spreads his knees, so he can push his hips forward. He's hard already, of course he is, and he wants Hikaru to feel all of that. When he says Hikaru's name again, it's with no admonishment. It's a confirmation, somewhere between encouragement and plea, and it's a catechism, condensing all that Akira wants into three thermic syllables.
It was Akira who first went against convention and called Hikaru by his given name. They had been sitting in Akira's bedroom, in the Touya family home, both occupied with their own activities. Hikaru was on Akira's computer, muttering irritably as he tried to navigate some web form or other, aggravated as he clipped haltingly against the keyboard. Akira was sitting cross-legged near an opposing wall with a book. He'd read it for a while, but eventually grew distracted by the sound of Hikaru's erratic typing, and he watched Hikaru over the pages. He pursed his lips. His book covered the sight of his mouth when he said, into the air between them, "Hikaru." He stalled there, a little overwhelmed by his own voice, really having said that just to say it. Just to see what it would be like. Then he said, "Come here a moment."
That's what he means now. Come here, and closer, and closer, and in, and everywhere. He's far from forcing Hikaru out.] Just this once. [It's heady, and probably dishonest. Maybe intentionally dishonest. It's feeling good, to make Hikaru want him this badly, when their rules have been so stringent.] When you... [His breaths come inconsistent, in deep, bursting exhales, and mellifluous little gasps.] When you played 12-5, I wanted it all over me... [One of his hands shifts over to grasp at Hikaru's, guiding his touch further between his legs, while he moves his hips again.] You can stay, tonight. But I need you, Hikaru, [and now he's the one to fumble with Hikaru's belt,] to help me make it until morning, because it's driving me mad... When you sealed that envelope... [His pulse is so hot, so hard, radiating from his jugular so near to his jaw. It exudes desperation.]
I felt like I could have come when I was watching you do that.
[In the end, he has more luck with the belt buckle than Hikaru did. Then he wrenches open the button to Hikaru's pants, and his hand pushes down into Hikaru's clothes with no other preamble. He finds the hottest part of Hikaru's body, and he's pleased with the feel of Hikaru's thigh, and he's pleased with himself for getting Hikaru's dick this hard.]
So if you stay, [and he's already working his hand, even within the confines of insufferable clothing,] then I need you to make me come, [and he's graceless in rolling his own hips,] so I can stop thinking about how much I wanted to come when I saw that. [It sounds convincingly like an ultimatum, even when he knows Hikaru is capable of doing any number of things to bring him to orgasm. Even so, he asks,] Can you do that for me?