Uh… somehow there isn't any porn in this at all. I guess that's coming in the next piece. Which… you might have to wait until Porn Battle XIV for. …Sorry?

Prompts: black, wrist, push, afraid, breathe, opening, move

Juxtaposition VI – On the Line

Their eyes lock as they take their seats – Shindou's holding a challenge that Akira meets head on. They nigiri, and Akira wins black. Good, he can make his statement right away; no need to wait for Shindou to open. Without bothering to look down, Akira dips his fingers into the goke, flips a stone up into the play position with practiced ease and makes his move with a sharp pachi.

The crowd gasps, but Akira ignores them. There is only one person's reaction he cares about right now, and his eyes are still locked with Akira's, though Akira knows Shindou can see the board as well as he can. Shindou's eyes glow with that brilliant passion he's come to crave, and without hesitation, Hikaru answers Akira's 5-5 with a 5-5 of his own. The moves call out to each other – they are vulnerable moves, moves only the most skilled players can make with confidence, but Akira thinks it is time to put himself on the line for Shindou.

It's an intense game, neither of them backing down; both of them pushing their stones together so hard Akira is sure there should be sparks. Instead it's all just background noise from the crowd as sweat drips down Akira's back, and he's biting his lip, but no matter how he looks at it, he can't save himself. He knows he's lost, and yet he doesn't resign like the game calls for – he sees it through to the end; to the end with Shindou.

The officials count the territory, but Akira already knows he's lost, and yet somehow he feels like he's won. Shindou's lips quirk upwards ever so slightly, and Akira grins. Then it's a flurry of questions and polite discussion and pictures and Akira wishes he could just grab Shindou and flee because he's been waiting for this moment for weeks, months, years – probably his entire life – and he damn well does not want to wait any longer. But he does, whether from his good upbringing or to avoid having to explain later, he's not sure. When they're finally free, though, as soon as they're out of that room and away from prying eyes, Akira grabs hold of Shindou's wrist and leads him to the train at a pace akin to a sprint.

They ride the train in silence, their words too personal for a public place. Akira refuses to let go of Shindou, and it earns him some strange glances, but Shindou doesn't pull away, and that's all that matters. Then they're moving towards Akira's apartment and all he can think is finally, finally, finally.

When Akira shuts the door, he pulls Shindou in and kisses him, long and deep and with all the emotions he's been afraid to feel. His hands don't wander – he doesn't want Shindou to mistake this feeling for anything else – and instead he grips him tightly, holding him close enough to make it hard to breathe. Still, Akira wants to be closer. He wants Shindou in ways he didn't know he could; in ways that he could only want Shindou Hikaru. Nothing could ever compare.

Shindou pulls back, his eyes searching Akira's face with a closely guarded hope that makes Akira's chest tight.

"I'm sorry," he says, leaning his forehead against Shindou's, drawn in by calculating green eyes.

Shindou swallows, and Akira feels it more than sees it. "I don't want an apology. There's only one thing I need to know." Shindou's hand trails down Akira's face, floats lightly over the skin of his neck, and comes to a stop over his rapidly beating heart. Shindou's voice lowers into a bastardized mix of gruff and husky as he says, "Am I in here?"

There is only one answer to that.

"Yes."