pslplz | Futureverse

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.

If he needed any reminding, it’s certainly coming back to him now, the forceful pull of Yukimura’s fist in his hair, the hot touch of his mouth that moves across his skin, the urgent press of his leg against him. Every gesture feels familiar, hungry, heated. Maybe he’s falling too easily back into this place he once knew so well, the push and pull that has always defined their relationship. The gravitation of it, unmistakable in the moment where he reaches back to grab for the thing that some might call unhealthy or obsessive.

Akaya reaches down between them curls his fingers hard around Yukimura. Twenty seconds were up a long time ago, but who’s counting anymore? There’s always the next challenge, and you can bet Akaya is ready to coax it out of him. A sound will suffice, for now.

Yukimura grunts with the slightest hesitation to his body when he feels that hot touch around him. This is familiar too, the forwardness, the impatience, the curl of his hand. He wills himself not to push his hips against it.

He knows the hunger. It would be easy to surrender to it without thinking about the consequences that would be waiting at the end of it. But he won't allow this to be quick, if Akaya shows any signs of angling for instant gratification. This time is going to last. It's going to count.

He covers Akaya's collarbone with his mouth, tracing the outline of bone with his tongue to the shoulder before moving down his chest. He bathes his chest, paying special attention to the sensitive skin of his nipples. And Akaya can be damn sure that when he moves to the stomach the same kind of attention is going to that spot that Yukimura knows so well.

Has he found it, too? Yukimura isn't sure which answer would be worse.

A grunt is all he gets, which isn’t quite so satisfying. It doesn’t seem like Yukimura is in the mood to indulge him either, as he moves further down, out of his reach. Akaya makes a slightly impatient sound, which eventually turns into another gasp as Yukimura’s mouth shifts further and over his stomach. It sends a shiver down his spine, his fingers moving into Yukimura’s hair and fisting tightly.

Sorry, Akaya. Yukimura knows it's got to be disappointing for now, but he's confident he'll be more than making up for it over the course of it all. Tonight will either be the resurrection of a relationship long thought dead or their final goodbye to this magic they shared. Either way, it deserves to be made extra special.

The only question is which outcome he's aiming for. That grip Akaya has around his hair will let go when the time comes. Can Yukimura hope for the same of the grip Akaya has around his heart?

He focuses on that lean stomach for the next couple of minutes, occasionally letting his hands glide down over the fabric of those pants that Akaya didn't quite manage to get off in time: over a hip, down a thigh, across a pocket. Finally, he pulls back and looks at Akaya's fly.

"It's too bad, but it doesn't look like I can go any lower than this," he teases. Eventually, yes, the pants will come off, but a little lighthearted penitence to pay first seems like a fair price for Akaya's mischief. And perhaps, for all that Yukimura truly believes they should savor the night for its own sake, and that pacing themselves will make the end all the more intense when they finally get there, there's also a part of him that really just wants to see Akaya get so bothered over him he can't stand it.

Edited 2020-12-13 03:22 (UTC)

Yukimura knows exactly how to touch Akaya to get him aroused, whether with his hand caressing teasingly across his hip or with his mouth that leaves a hot trail over his skin. He’s not afraid to show it either, because what’s the point in holding back? Isn’t it already obvious how maddening it is to share a space with him again? Which is maybe why he doesn’t quite understand what Yukimura’s game is now.

He loosens his grip on his hair and runs his fingertips across Yukimura’s cheek, tilting his head so he can gaze down at him.

“That’s never stopped you before,” he says with a smirk.

The gentle touch of Akaya's fingertips on his cheek is almost jarring. Has it been that long since he felt it? Yukimura looks up to meet those eyes, the knowing smirk, and he feels a renewed swell of affection for this impossible troublemaker whose life has intertwined with his own since all the way back to junior high.

"That's correct. God himself couldn't keep me from this." Which was to affirm in this flirting banter that it was his choice not to give that to Akaya yet, and being called out on it wasn't changing his mind.

He clasps his hand around Akaya's extended wrist in a light grip and seeks out its partner with his other to clasp their hands together. Yukimura turns his face in, nuzzling the surprisingly sensitive skin of the inner wrist. He tongues it briefly, a prelude to his shift to Akaya's palm and fingertips. Starting at the pinky, he takes each digit into his mouth and spends an agonizingly long minute sucking lightly.

At the same time, his fingers play with Akaya's other hand, tickling traces of the palm and fingertips.

All right, then. They’ll do it his way, for now. Akaya exhales as he feels Yukimura’s lips graze over his wrist and palm, and sucks his breath back in sharply as his finger slides into his hot mouth, one followed by another.

He can draw it out as long as he wants. Sometimes it can be like this, breathlessly slow. Whatever sound or shiver Yukimura wants, he’ll give him willingly. What he’ll demand in return, is yet to come.

Akaya seems to have acquiesced for now. Yukimura has a feeling he's not heard the last of him, but that's something they can address when the time comes. For now, he starts another trail of tasting kisses at the inside of his wrist. He follows the line of a blood vessel up Akaya's forearm to the inside of the elbow, another area with a surprising number of nerve endings. This path takes him over the inside of the bicep and just along the edge of the armpit to the start of the pectoral. Back to where it began.

He finally tugs indicatively at the hem of Akaya's pants for him to lift his hips so this obstacle can come off.

As Yukimura’s mouth travels up his arm, he tenses and relaxes it in turn, each brush of lips and tongue sending a subtle, erotic sensation down his spine. Such a little thing, but it makes him ache for more. Akaya’s hands reach down to cover Yukimura’s at his hem as he helps push down his jeans over his hips.

The jeans come off. The boxer briefs don't. Yukimura isn't done teasing just yet-- only at the point that the pants are indeed in the way. His touch travels over the front of the hip, just missing him. He goes down one leg, hitting the inside of the thigh, the underside of the knee, the curve of the calf, the anklebone. He takes a couple of minutes to massage Akaya's feet, then performs the same path in reverse up the other leg.

This time, as he returns to the hips, his nose and lips brush over the bulge in his underwear, his breath falling hot against the thin fabric between them.

The subtle caress continues, down the length of his legs now and back again, as if Yukimura is exploring his body all over again. Reacquainting himself with every part of him that once knew his touch so well. Akaya moans, fingers twining into Yukimura’s hair as he breathes hotly on him, sending another shiver down his back. He arches into it.

Credit where due: Akaya has been dutifully patient through this self-indulgent nostalgia tour over his body. Is it cathartic for him to revisit this kind of lovemaking that they did in the past, back before their nights together were spontaneous hookups with an old flame that refused to burn out? He seems strangely unreadable to Yukimura now, and that bothers him. Who is Akaya thinking of when he feels that mouth so close to him?

Yukimura pulls down the hem of the briefs, exposing him to the air. He runs his fingers down the length of his cock. This, too, he's going to take his time refamiliarizing himself with. For the next several minutes, he attends to every stroke, nuzzle, lick, kiss, and squeeze with this sense of purpose. Perhaps, as he showers all of this attention on this most personal of spaces, it's also reminding Akaya who it belongs to at the end of the day. Who he belongs to. This is, after all, a question that Akaya will have to answer before they part company.

Because Yukimura understands now what it is that he wants out of tonight, and what he's going to do to achieve it. Whatever happens, he'll ensure he can greet it with no regrets.

No more regrets.

And that means Playtime is over. Yukimura closes his mouth around Akaya and takes him in as far as he can go.

If Yukimura finds him unreadable right now, it would be because Akaya doesn’t even know, himself. He would find a murky mess of thoughts if Akaya were forced to pry open and examine what’s inside his mind. There’s no concern of what will come later. He doesn’t want to touch upon that complicated reckoning yet. He wasn’t prepared for it. Maybe he never would’ve been.

The past, strangely enough, doesn’t linger in his mind either. At least, not in a conscious way. There’s no how it was or what could’ve been, no why or why not. If there is a piece of their past he fixates on, it is this familiarity - every touch and gesture that his body remembers. It is visceral, and the stroke of that hand and the mouth that closes over him right after can coax out a noise from the back of his throat that sounds almost like a cry. His fingers tighten in Yukimura’s hair. The warmth spreads down across every inch of his body down to his toes, a natural high that Yukimura can take him to. Is that because this is the one obsession he can never seem to shake? Or because of something else that he wanted, now within his grasp again? Yukimura is entangled in that mess of emotions, desire, pain, pleasure. It’s hard to say what part of it he feels when he touches him like this.

Just because Playtime is over, of course, doesn't mean that Yukimura has changed his mind about the pacing. Akaya's finally getting direct attention where he wants it, but it's going to be drawn out. For the sake of savoring it; for the sake of making it that much more electrifying in the end; for the sake of hearing more of those beautiful sounds he makes. Remember every ounce of this intensity, Akaya, the pleasure and euphoria so strong it makes your toes curl. Remember because there's no choice. Remember because that's the only way this is guaranteed to end well for you.

Yukimura brings him right to the edge of relief, then eases off. He stops because they're not done yet, and that's one thing he knows they agree on. He marks Akaya's midline with another trail of kisses, this time working from the bottom up to the stomach, the chest, the collar, the neck, the ear. He threads his fingers through the hair at Akaya's nape and cups the back of his head, cradling it close to him in a moment of silent intimacy, a pause from the passion and the pleasure to simply focus on the presence.

There are no words for this feeling. It's fulfilling, painful, cherished and yearning all at once. Akaya.

It’s crazy, all the little things the body remembers. The curl of fingers around him, the way the tongue slides across just so, all the subtle gestures that make him want to pull him closer still, over and over. And surely Yukimura remembers too, he must read him like a book, every groan and shiver that he gives him. And so he knows when to stop - not a moment too soon, just when his body tenses to the point of falling. Akaya is flushed and breathing hard by the time Yukimura travels back up his torso, leaving him achingly unsatisfied. But he would’ve stopped him anyway, if he hadn’t already. Because whatever this is, this undefined moment in time, he at least knows it needs to be like this - something he shares with him.

He cups Yukimura’s cheek with his palm and pulls him back just enough to look up at him. There’s an adorable pinkish hue on Yukimura’s face that he slowly caresses with his thumb. And maybe the moment is supposed to be charged with emotion that leaves him breathless (and it is) but really, he can’t help it. He giggles.

“Yuki.”

How Akaya manages to giggle like that is something beyond Yukimura's comprehension. It isn't a bad thing. It's simply a quality that Yukimura himself has never quite possessed, this lightness and inner joy that brightens the room and warms the soul. He's forgotten just how it felt to be in the presence of this spirit when it shines like this.

He doesn't say anything back, but he thinks Akaya understands anyway, at least this time. Maybe this started with jealousy and possessiveness, maybe it was fueled on by a need for control and a desperation to prevent this loss from becoming irrevocable. But what's here now is none of that, nor is it the simplicity of a thirst for a hot body to touch on a lonely night. It's a toast to all the good things they had together. And it's a confession that some things are beyond his power to change. Despite his best efforts over the last two years, he still loves Akaya. And, somewhere deep underneath his selfishness and heartache, that love also means he wants him to be happy, and for that light to continue to glow.

He leans in and kisses him slow and deep. No words right now, Akaya. Just breathe.

Yukimura probably has no idea how cute he can look sometimes. It’s not really a trait that people commonly associate with him, but Akaya does. Just in these brief glimpses where he’s unguarded and vulnerable. Maybe he doesn’t show it to a lot of people, but that would be why Akaya finds it so captivating.

He can feel that now in his kiss. He inhales slowly as their lips meet, his hand slipping up Yukimura’s face and brushing over his ear as he pulls him closer. He does understand. This kiss is different. It’s like the way he used to kiss him, the kind of kiss that is in the moment, suspended in time.

And here it's like starting over again. Like the last several minutes never happened. Like the last two years never happened. Yukimura takes his time with the kiss, and when he does draw back, he matches Akaya's gesture, the two of them gazing at each other inches apart, hands caressing cheeks.

"Let's move this to the bedroom."

There’s something about those words that sends a satisfying shiver down his spine. Akaya gazes up at him as his hand slips down to trace the line of Yukimura’s jaw with his fingertips.

“Yeah.”

He puts a hand to the floor and pushes himself up to sit, bringing Yukimura up with him as his lips seeking out the other’s with a smile.

Yukimura welcomes the next kiss. It's an effective bridge for the mood while they relocate, an annoying but necessary pause in the action.

He holds Akaya's hand as he leads the way back to his room, little changed since the last time Akaya saw it. He gets the lube out of his drawer.

"Which do you want: the bed or the wall?"

When Yukimura turns away to rummage in the drawer, Akaya steps behind him and grabs him by the wrist. He spins him around and pushes him against the wall, pinning the wrist to it hard as he presses up against him.

“You think it’s that easy?”

Really, location doesn’t matter. But don’t think he’s letting Yukimura choose the pace the whole night. It’s only just beginning. He grins sharply and leans in to breathe hotly against Yukimura’s neck as his free hand glides down his torso with deliberation.

Edited 2020-12-14 17:29 (UTC)

Of course it's not that easy. Yukimura can appreciate that fact, though. He wouldn't say no to having some of that attention returned. He allows the pin of his wrist and meets that fiery aura with a gaze equally daring, equally wanting.

"Come at me, then."

Hot breath falls on his skin, warm touch over his chest and stomach. Yukimura relaxes against the wall and exhales, turning his neck just slightly for that mouth. He snakes his free hand around Akaya's waist, feather-light fingertips tracing the curve in the small of his back.

Yukimura bares his neck to him, and he teases it slowly at first with his lips and tongue, exploring with ease the curve of his throat, collar bone, chest. He traces back up the rapidly cooling trail with his mouth again, hot. Meanwhile, his hand slides down, down the chest lightly over his nipple and across his stomach and abs. He curls his fingers almost tenderly over his cock, a stark contrast to the bite that he gives him on his neck, sharp enough to shock the senses.

There's a certain art to this technique of contrasts. Hot and cool; gentle and rough. Yukimura sucks in a breath and instinctively pulls taut against Akaya's back at the bite. He knew it was coming, because he knows Akaya. That takes nothing from the effect of it, that tingle in his spine from the mingling sensations of pain and pleasure, and the way it makes him feel almost lightheaded. He rewards Akaya with a low moan.

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