pslplz | Futureverse

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.

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.

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