pslplz | Futureverse

For the remainder of the ride, it's like this. Yukimura kisses him long and slow and deep. He holds him, filled with bittersweet nostalgia over this body he knows so intimately well even two years later. His hands eventually leave Akaya's hips and instead find those hands hanging loose by Akaya's sides to intertwine their fingers.

This should have been what made him feel better-- and it does, on the surface. Yet deep underneath, he knows something is wrong. For Akaya to just be standing there, not putting forth that spirit that is so unconquerable and uniquely his, something is deeply wrong, and Yukimura knows what it is. And underneath that calm, content exterior, it's fermenting into a well of frustration and grief and inescapable dread that he doesn't know what to do with. He clings to those fingers as though it might somehow keep Akaya from slipping away from him.

What's his name?

It's a question burning at the front of his mind and the tip of his tongue. It's a question he won't allow himself to ask. Not when it would give the whole game away.

Desire, he understands. Even if all those months ago, Yukimura ended things with him, it doesn’t change the obvious chemistry that still exists between them. Akaya also understands obsession, this dark and chaotic instinct that drive him to do irrational things (like get in the cab). But tenderness he finds confusing, because it radiates something more profound, a longing, a warmth. Love. So when Yukimura reaches for him and twines their fingers together, his breath hitches for a moment.

He can almost taste the bitter sadness in Yukimura’s kiss. Why should he feel this way? Isn’t this what Yukimura wanted? Akaya loved him more than anything, but it wasn’t enough for him. It pisses him off.

His fingers curl tightly around Yukimura’s as his breath falls hotly on his cheek.

It's too dangerous. Yukimura feels those fingers clinging right back like a whisper of hope that maybe it's not too late. Is that really a door he should try to open? He's well aware already that wanting Akaya to be indefinitely his like this-- without the commitment of being Akaya's back-- is utter chickenshit. What is he supposed to do, though? They don't work.

Why can't he let Akaya go, then? What is it you really want, Seiichi? In times like this, he envies Akaya for how sharply and directly he can ascertain what he wants and go after it, neither flinching nor looking back over his shoulder at what he left behind.

The cab comes to a stop and slides open its door to the building that Yukimura's penthouse crowns. It's a moment that comes too soon and not soon enough. Yukimura draws back from Akaya and steps halfway out before he hesitates, keeping himself in the doorway and blocking Akaya's exit. The cameras. He was so caught up in Akaya and his own thoughts he almost forgot about the throng of paparazzi that tend to camp out around here hoping for a glimpse of anything remotely suspect that can be photographed, picked apart, and marketed for rumor.

He thinks again of the kiss he saw, and he sees a chance. If the papers caught wind of this--

Yukimura banishes that dark thought immediately and turns back around to face Akaya. He sheds his windbreaker and holds it out for him to take.

"Cover yourself completely. I'll guide you in."

Edited 2020-11-22 12:44 (UTC)

The cab doors open. For a while, it felt like the ride would go on forever. When Yukimura first told him to get in, he complied without a thought. This time, as he looks at him holding out the windbreaker for him to take, he feels more in control. How many times before did they dodge the photogs, pulling on random disguises and giggling at each other’s appearance? Or get a stupid thrill out of getting away from them and stealing kisses ducked behind an empty alley?

There’s something more deliberate about his movements this time, as he reaches for the windbreaker and pulls it around himself. He gives him a conspiratorial grin.

Yukimura sees a little bit of Akaya's usual spark coming back. It makes him smile.

"They're more ravenous than usual-- because of that single. Be careful."

He pulls the brim of the cap down to hide his eyes and exits the vehicle, making a beeline for the elevators. There are flashes within seconds.

A couple of the drones fly in with an effort to get a better look at Akaya. Yukimura is very rueful in that moment that he doesn't have his racket and a few balls. If he'd known he'd be coming back with Akaya in tow... They'll just have to run for it this time.

"Closing in at 5 o'clock!" He warns, and makes a dash to the call button on the elevator. The door slides open.

Like reflexes, it all comes back. Akaya knows exactly which angle they like to come in from, and how to avoid being captured on camera. The media isn’t as crazy in his corner of the industry, but he’s seen enough of it both from his own experience and from when he was with Yukimura to know.

They get through the gauntlet and he makes a dash for it, slipping through just as the elevator doors slide shut behind them. The momentum propels him right into Yukimura. He grabs at his shirt and they slam against the wall of the elevator. He laughs, breathless from the sudden sprint.

Yukimura wasn't quite ready to be body-slammed, and he lets out a noise somewhere between a grunt and a gasp as Akaya collides with him. That laugh. That same laugh that started this whole detour into heartache when he heard it from the other side of the street. It sends a flutter through his stomach even now.

He wraps his arms around him. "You're as reckless as ever," he scolds, not unkindly. Without letting go, he shifts over to scan his retina and says to the computer, "35th floor."

Ever so slightly, the floor seems to dip as the acceleration begins.

“I got through it, didn’t I?” Akaya says, cocky as ever. You’ll see. All the photogs have captured would be a blur and the windbreaker. He wraps his arms around Yukimura’s waist as the elevator begins to move.

"Getting through isn't the part that makes you reckless." He doesn't wait for an answer. The best way to end with the last word is to follow it with a kiss.

It’s all the same. Momentum, it drives them forward just like this. Does Yukimura think they’ll run of steam in the end? Akaya never thought so. He has reserves he hasn’t begun to tap. Maybe that makes him reckless. He doesn’t care.

He presses his body flush against him and kisses him back, pulse still racing fast and cheeks flushed from the exercise.

They're still kissing when the chime sounds and the lift slows to a stop on the 35th floor, opening into the lobby outside Yukimura's home. He steers them out of the elevator car without letting go-- the only others with access to this floor were the small circle he'd approved, like Hokuto, and the authorities. He breaks the kiss to unlock the front door and let them spill into the genkan, where he takes off his shoes and hangs Sanada's hat on a hook.

"You have 20 seconds to get completely naked."

Yukimura doesn’t have to encourage him. But Akaya’s never one to back down from a challenge regardless. He’s already kicking off his shoes. The windbreaker is on the floor.

He starts backing up into the apartment, pulling off his jacket.

“You better start counting, then.”

"I'll do it in 10," is all he says back, whipping his t-shirt off his head and slinging it to wherever it may land. He's already working on his buckle and fly.

“Are you counting all this, too?” Akaya says, with a quick flash of his wrist. He’s got some bracelets and his necklace on, part of his typical casual look. He did say completely naked.

The jacket’s on the floor, followed quickly by his t-shirt. He pulls open his fly and steps back toward Yukimura, sliding his palm across his bare waist. If Akaya gets ten more seconds, he can afford a little detour.

Akaya might feel like he can spare a detour, but Yukimura cannot, which means ignoring that hand in favor of bending forward to push his jeans and underwear both down at once, losing his socks as he steps his feet out of the holes.

"Everything," he says back as he does. Honestly, he probably wouldn't have even thought twice about it if Akaya hadn't asked, but since he did and he seems to think he's got time to spare...

“You got it.”

Akaya might be impressed that Yukimura isn’t deterred in the slightest. He was always competitive as fuck. His hand slides down teasingly over Yukimura’s hip, across his abs and almost...but not quite lower before he steps back. He uses his teeth to loosen the leather buckle bracelet on his wrist, grinning.

Yukimura can almost hear Sanada telling Akaya he was going soft. Taking such a lackadaisical approach to the timed challenge-- he wasn't even going to try to match the 10-second limit Yukimura had imposed on himself? Yukimura would take it as an affront to his pride to have been given twice the time as though he needed a handicap.

It's doubly odd considering the bratty impatience he's showing to get to the fun part, those teasing touches that make Yukimura's eyes gleam with the desire to-- well. Why should he need to wait? The last touch for him is his wearable, a wristband with a magnet closure that separates with a good yank. He tosses it onto the coffee table and tackles Akaya to the floor before he can get out of his pants.

"Your undressing schedule may have hit a snag."

If this were any other challenge, Akaya might have given himself the same ten second time limit just to show that he can. But he’s drawing out his own twenty to their full extent for Yukimura’s benefit (or annoyance?). And he can tell it’s working, from the gleam in Yukimura’s eye.

His bracelet falls loose and to the ground but he doesn’t get to anything else before he’s tackled down to the floor with a surprised gasp. When he catches his breath, he looks at Yukimura, reaching up to touch his fingertips to his face.

“That’s too bad,” he says, cheeky.

"For who, though?" Yukimura counters, undeterred. Oh, he knows this game well, and he went into the tackle fully expecting it. Give him a little credit, Akaya.

He dives down to Akaya's neck and gets started on a fierce hickey above his collar line while his hands feel out the bare skin of his waist for that special spot that drives him wild. He won't speak for Akaya, but he's not here to dally around.

For me...but also for you. His grin seems to say as much. Akaya isn’t above a little self-restraint to get Yukimura worked up. And whether that’s the reason why, it doesn’t really matter, he gets what he wants. He groans appreciatively as Yukimura’s mouth finds his neck, a sharp sensation that sends a deep shiver down his spine. He arches into it...and then gasps breathlessly when that hand slides across his waist, right there.

Edited 2020-11-22 19:47 (UTC)

Yukimura smiles into Akaya's neck at the way he gasps and moves under him. This is how it should be. This lean body, this familiar scent, these sounds of pleasure, here is where all of it belongs. With him.

He continues to suck and nibble at Akaya's neck until his mark is prominent and durable. In the meantime, he glides his hand from that spot on Akaya's stomach to his hip, down the top of one thigh and back up on the inside of it, just missing him before settling back onto his waist.

It’s definitely a shame he’s not naked already as Yukimura’s hand slides down his thigh, outside, inside, and just close enough to make him give a eager sound in the back of his throat. His hands move down the lean sides of Yukimura’s torso, down his back over his hips. Exploring this body like he owns it.

The answered call is welcome this time. Yukimura plants a trail of kisses and suckling across Akaya's neck to the other side where he concludes with a rough bite. Like the hickey, this mark is meant to last for days.

Akaya hisses under his breath sharply when Yukimura bites him, his fingers digging in to that hip with equal force. For the moment, he doesn’t consider what it means to have angry red marks on his neck or why he puts them there. He’ll have plenty of time to contemplate it later, as they’re not going to fade any time soon. He hooks his leg over Yukimura’s hip, pulling him close against himself.

Yukimura shifts himself just enough to get his leg pressed against Akaya's groin. He grabs a fistful of dark curls and pulls Akaya's head towards one side, better exposing his neck and jawline for another string of kisses. Yukimura wants his mouth all over him, reminding every inch of skin how it feels to be with him. The heat and electricity, the shivers of pleasure. And he wants to remember himself, exactly how he tastes, each curve of muscle and every noise he makes.

It's not so much that he's forgotten any of this. He just wants to pay special attention to it all this time, so that the memories don't fade anytime soon.

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