Notes: 817 words. My knowledge of cannon ends with Volume 12 of the series, but this story takes place two years after Hikaru passed the pro test.
For:dorrie6. This was originally supposed to be for the porn_battle, but I took too long and the porn never really appeared.
Waya fit his key in the lock on the third try and opened the door. He probably would have only missed once if it weren’t for Isumi standing behind him.
-Little too much Sake, Waya?- Isumi’s voice sounded in his head.
-No more than you,- Waya thought back.
Waya took several steps into the darkened apartment, turning to look over his shoulder at Isumi as he did, and promptly tripped over something on the floor. His feet tangled and the world began to tilt.
Then, Isumi’s hands were on him, steady and firm, pulling against gravity and alcohol-dulled reflexes. The clumsy, dancing, tug-of-war succeeded in redirecting Waya’s stumble and pinning him against the wall, facing Isumi. Isumi’s breaths came out in short, harsh puffs, causing Waya’s bangs to flutter with each exhale.
His breath smelled sweet, almost like peaches.
Waya realized his breathing was fast and shallow as well. Isumi was suddenly very, very close, and he was staring at Waya’s mouth. The laughter Waya had felt bubbling up, lodged as a hard lump in his throat that he could not swallow. There was a look in Isumi’s eyes that Waya had not seen since their final days together as Insei: a desperate intensity, at war with self-doubt.
Isumi’s eyes darted up from Waya’s lips and in the brief moment he made eye contact, in the light shining in from the hall, Waya saw the flash of doubt and fear. Isumi drew back, his hands dropping from Waya’s arms.
Waya shot forward, palms pushing against the wall, tilted his head up and pressed his lips over Isumi’s. It was quick, clumsy, and finished before the implications of what he had done began to sink in. He dropped back against the wall, looking anywhere but at Isumi. There was a sudden, dull pain, just beneath his ribcage and Waya blinked rapidly at the suddenly blurry floor.
Oh God. Isumi was just standing there in front of him. Silent. Seconds passed. More depth charges went off in Waya’s stomach. Head down, stomach churning, Waya took advantage of the space between them and lurched toward the light, toward the open apartment door, thinking only of escape.
“Yoshitaka!” Isumi’s arm came down in front of him barring the way. “Where do you think you’re going you idiot?” Isumi sounded both amused and exasperated.
Angry now, as well as ashamed, Waya blurted out, “I-I shouldn’t have…! I- I’m sorry Isumi! Now let me go!” This last came out almost pleading. Arms crossed in front of his body, Waya felt his eyes burning and tried to fight off the panic threatening to overwhelm him.
Isumi gripped Waya’s shoulder and turned him back against the wall. With a hand grasping each of Waya’s upper arms, Isumi leaned close till their foreheads touched and let out a shaky laugh.
“I never could keep up with you, you know? You’re fearless, Waya. I’ve always envied you for that. And as much as it gets you in trouble, your mouth never lies. I’m just not as brave as you,” he confessed.
Waya finally met Isumi’s gaze. Isumi slowly began to trace a thumb over Waya’s bottom lip, never breaking eye contact. The question was not asked aloud, but Waya heard it anyway:
-Can I really have this?-
-Yes.-
Isumi’s left hand slid up to grasp the back of Waya’s neck and the gentle torture of his caressing thumb was replaced by the soft press of his lips. As he deepened the kiss, the fingers of Isumi’s right hand made their way upward to curl and tug at the hair at the base of Waya’s skull. Waya shuddered, and closed his eyes, reaching out to clutch at the front of Isumi’s denim shirt. His falling eyelids set loose his unshed tears, and two rolled down his cheeks to splash against Isumi’s face.
Isumi lifted his mouth from Waya’s in surprise, and his brows drew together in concern. His lips parted as if to speak.
This time, when Waya followed Isumi’s withdrawal, he attacked with confidence and captured Isumi’s partially open mouth in a hot, wet kiss. He wanted to leave Isumi no doubt as to his state of mind.
Waya finally pulled back from the kiss, breathless and grinning madly. Isumi grinned back at him, but then his eyes lit up with an uncharacteristically wicked gleam. Isumi leaned forward, placed his mouth at the end of one tear track and gently began to trace the salty path with his tongue and lips, ending with a soft, butterfly kiss beside Waya’s left eye.
Completely undone, Waya moaned. His head was spinning, his heart was pounding, and he was ready for battle, but surrender seemed so much better. His one clear thought was, More.
“Oh, there will be more, I promise you,” Isumi whispered in his ear. “But I think maybe we should shut the door first. Don’t you?”