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"Check," Akechi sneers, yet it's somehow not biting, more overeager.
"Don't get cocky. You know where that got you last time," Akira jokes, swirling his finger around a bishop.
Akechi rasps out a laugh, piercing a gaze between Akira's eyes. "Planning to shoot me again?" Akira prods, shuffling his rook to cover his king.
"Shoot you? I could never," Akechi mocks offense, knowing damn well he would. Akechi flicks his eyes down, scanning the board, he could easily take Akira's rook with his queen and put Akira on the defensive once again, but instead, he settles for a pawn across the board, nowhere near Akira's king.
"Even if I wanted to," Akechi continues, his gaze switching to meet Akira's. "I am sure Maruki has figured out some way to erase the existence of weapons—especially guns," Akechi gripes, his princely veneer rubbing away the longer they pursued Maruki.
Akira looks at Akechi wryly, unable to understand his partner's thinking. He flicked his eyes up to Akechi's face, scanning his scowl and furrowed brows. His lips were only slightly chapped but perfectly kissable.
Akira shook his head, ruffling his curls, the shake did little to dislodge his doubts, but at least it was something. "Always stinging and overzealous, aren't we?" Akira chuckled, covering his urge to kiss Akechi with that charming joker persona.
He exhaled sharply and moved his bishop, cornering one of Akechi's pawns. Akechi smirked, licking his lips and pushing himself slightly forward. The move gave Akira a view of his ears and how his hair draped over his shoulders.
Akira stared back dumbfounded, not noticing that Akechi had stolen another piece. "Your turn," He smirked, tucking a stray hair behind his ear.
"Are you trying to get," as Ryuji would say, "Fucked?" Akira questions, his slight fluster from people-pleasing also eroded with time.
"If I wanted to kill you or fuck you, we would already be doing it, criminal," He adds searingly, tipping a pawn back and forth, his hand resting on his cheek.
"Why do you have to be like that?" Akira almost whines, Akechi's aloof and biting nature stinging from time to time—they were dating after all, well, sort of.
"Be like what? Perfect? Well, you know, shitty father and a false reality—a nauseating one at that," Akechi replies with perfected nonchalance. Akira almost wonders if Akechi likes him at all.
After a few seconds, a small smile peaks under his dull countenance, and his eyes sparkle with mirth concocted just for Akira—and he knows. "Better answer than your 'I will break them' and 'attic trash' comments," Akira chuckles, fiddling with his glasses as he steals Akechi's knight.
"Hmm," Akechi hums, ignoring Akira's chiding (it wouldn't go forgotten for long.). "Check. I love vulnerability in my enemies, especially the ones beneath me," Akechi chides, yet it's loving in its own fucked up way.
"Too bad I am not beneath you," Akira bites back, his agitation overtaking his urge to placate. "Also, Check," Akira finishes, a pointed stare at Akechi's scowl, seeing the way he could worm under his skin. "You left an opening. What was I supposed to do? Not exploit your weakness? You always yell at me too. I am simply taking your advice."
It always ended like this, a stalemate. Akechi always curbed his talents in the name of seeming like a gentleman, but after, he still couldn't overtake Akira. "You insufferable trickster," Akechi hissed, nabbing Akira's last form of protection: "Checkmate."
Akira smirked, grabbing Akechi's face and kissing his lips, knocking all the plastic pieces over. Akechi clashed his teeth against Akira's, the heat of hunger adding to Akira's own.
Akira’s hands ran through Akechi’s strands, pushing him closer and forcing their noses to bump against each other. Akechi’s teeth pulled against Akira’s bottom lip, sucking. Akira moved them somehow closer till not even a centimeter of breath could be theirs.
Akira pulled away, still looking quaff, but his saliva-slicked lips gave him away. Akechi looked wrecked, his hair disheveled and eyes pin black. "You are just insufferable trash, after all."
"You continue to taunt and babble looking like that? But I am the insufferable one?" Akechi growls in response, pushing back to stalk his prey.
"You asked for it, you're going to die, and I will make sure it works this time," Akechi spits, straddling Akira, looking down at him haughtily.
“Oh, so intimate—such resolve! How shall you kill me? You can’t, you need me, and you know that.”
Akechi scoffs, wiggling his hips against Akira’s. “Need you? I would never need you. I could take Maruki out alone, you and your friends too,” he says brusquely, Pushing himself against Akira in a dingy attic with the smell of coffee and sex thick in the air.
“I have no doubts about that, but you don’t want to, despite your words,” Akira retorts, his fingers worming up the back of Akechi’s shirt.
“Don’t want to? Don’t make me laugh. Of course, I want to, but you force more diplomatic means. I still don’t see why I can’t just kill him,” Akechi growls, borderline screaming, his voice scratchy and demanding as Akira places kiss after kiss on his neck.
“A change of heart is worth more than murder,” Akira pleads, his fingers placed into the divots of Akechi’s spine, working out some of the tension.
Akechi goes quiet, almost silent, only the huffs of breath letting Akira know he’s still alive. Akira has the urge to stop, to pull away and make sure Akechi is okay—it’s just their typical flirting, right?
“Akechi?” Akira attempts, pushing his disheveled hair out of his face. Akechi’s cheeks are stained with tears. Akira thumbs them away, holding his face still so he can’t look out nor escape Akira’s calming presence.
“What is it with you? Getting people to spill their darkest feelings so easily, it’s infuriating,” Akechi’s voice was still full of hate. Still, his exhaustion showed clearly on the bags under his eyes and how he slumped into Akira, silently asking for comfort.
“World’s greatest mystery, now tell me about your childhood,” Akira joked, attempting to lighten Akechi’s mood. His arms laced tighter around the other boy, bringing him into a snug embrace.
“Don’t mock humor with me,” Akechi growled into his shoulder, his arms limp and heart pounding. “You’re so lucky,” Akechi whined, and Akira felt almost lucky to see the other boy so vulnerable.
“Me? Lucky?” Akira clarified, rubbing soothing circles on Akechi’s back.
“Yeah, you are loved and wanted,” he paused, lowering his voice, “handsome.” Akechi pushed his forehead further into Akira’s shoulder.
Akira’s heart all but stopped, racing a mile a minute and holding Akechi tighter. He wanted to kiss the other boy, the rare compliment causing his whole body to shake in joy.
“You’re wanted and loved,” Akira opted for instead, gulping hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing against Akechi.
“Wanted? Loved? By who? My father? Maruki? Is that a sick joke?”
“Me. I love you, Goro,” Akechi drew back, his head snapping to look at Akira, fingers dug into his shoulders. His eyes were wide like he had never heard those three words.
“I mean it. I love you,” Akira repeated as if that would do anything to help the most emotionally repressed person in the world. Akechi stayed still, still in shock. Rubber bands wrapped around his lungs, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Every muscle screamed to say it, but his jaw wouldn’t open.
“You don’t have to say it back. I just thought you should know,” Akira backtracked, kissing Akechi’s lips, his body rigid and unable to reciprocate.
Akechi coughed. His lips wobbled, opening and closing like a dead fish. “You, love, me,” Akechi finally croaked, his gaze off somewhere so far it would take years to bring him back.
“Yeah,” Akira smiled, “I love you.”
The reality finally began to sink in, Akechi’s gaze a bit less hazy, and he viably relaxed. Tears ran down his cheeks, staining everything red. His whole weight pressed into Akira, his body wracked with sobs.
As shitty as Akira’s life had been at home, he knew people cared for him. He couldn’t imagine how Akechi felt. All he could do was mindlessly kiss all over Akechi’s face, neck, and collarbones chanting, “I love you, Goro. You are wanted.”
Akechi looked at Akira hazily once the tears had stopped. His lashes were dewy, reminding Akira of rain-speckled roofs after a storm. Akira kissed his eyes and lips, the kiss ensuing much more tender, just hazy lips pressing against others, a transference of affection no words could describe.
After a few moments, they pulled away, Akechi’s reddened face replaced with resolve. “Akira, I think I love you too.”
Akira pressed more kisses onto Akechi, nipping and licking his cheeks and neck affectionately like a cat would groom its mate. (he was around Morgana too often).
Akira couldn’t help himself, leaving love bites and kisses everywhere, letting Akechi go limp in his grasp, not a trace of lust in the tender moment, just two traumatized young adults who may finally get to be truly happy.