Hikaru No Go Fan Fiction ❯ The Extent of Denial ❯ The Harsh Light of Reality ( Chapter 17 )

Waya discarded his shoes at the door and took a few steps into the `living room' of his studio apartment, Isumi hot on his heels. He could practically feel the heat of the other's boy's presence against his back, and it raised the fine hair on the back of his neck.

 

He recalled with a twinge of anxiety that the sink was full of dishes and that clothing was strewn all over the floor in his bedroom. He paused, turning to look up at his friend.

 

Dark blue eyes searched his, returned his regard heatedly. “Have you changed your mind?” Isumi whispered, reaching out to lightly brush his thumb over Waya's lips.

 

He felt his throat tighten. “No…I just…the place is a mess.” His voice sounded squeaky and strangled to his ears.

 

Isumi smiled tenderly. “What's new?”

 

“You! That's an awful thing to say! Ha!” But he smiled back through the tension that sent fine tremors through his entire body. Waya looked down to where the other pro's hands hung slack by his sides and reached out to take one, cradling it in both of his.

 

Isumi's hand was warm, the nails clean and trim, fingers slightly calloused from playing Go for so many years. It was slightly larger than his own, paler. He brushed his thumb over the other boy's knuckles and backed up, pulling his friend into the bedroom with him.

 

Waya did his best to suppress the feelings that were trying to overcome him and seduce him. Excitement for Isumi being here tingled within him, adding to the heady arousal that he was already struggling with. He could feel the heat in his face, his flushed cheeks.

 

He'd hardly been able to keep his hands off of Isumi in the car, impatient to resume what he'd begun in the theater.

 

The idea of the other boy being in his space like this, soon to be in his bed, sent goosebumps down his body, and he repressed a shiver.

 

Perhaps this hadn't been the best idea. He'd never done this with Isumi in his own personal space, and somehow it made things more immediate. He felt less capable of disassociating from it, and if he did this here and now, surely those memories would taint his private space…

 

He clenched his jaw and turned them so that Isumi's back was to the bed - and kept pushing.

 

“What are you…?” Isumi began, expression one of confusion.

 

“Be quiet,” Waya commanded, forcing his friend down onto the rumpled bed. He followed, pressing the dark-haired boy into the mattress with his weight.

 

The other pro frowned. “Waya, don't order me—“

 

He kissed Isumi hard, pouring his entire being into it, and circled the other boy's wrists with his hands, pinning them to the bed on either side of where their bodies lay.

 

Those serious eyes fluttered closed and Isumi made a soft sound deep in his throat.

 

Waya absently traced the lines of his friend's jaw as he explored his mouth, feeling a painful sweetness growing between them. He wasn't sure if it was Isumi's fault or his own. He finally pulled back the slightest bit, brushing dark bangs out of blue eyes, and locked gazes with the other boy.

 

“Waya, we have to talk,” Isumi murmured, half pleading, pain in his eyes.

 

He swallowed, closing his eyes to shut out what he couldn't deal with. “We will.”

 

Isumi began trying to sit up, pulling against Waya's hold.

 

Waya bore his lover back down to the bed. “Please,” he whispered into the other boy's ear, punctuating it with a nip as his grip tightened. If the dark-haired boy truly wanted to fight him, he'd lose. He was smaller, slighter.

 

His friend froze for a long moment, then slowly relaxed, melting back into the bed.

 

He bit his lip, taking a few seconds to savor the warm solidity of his lover beneath him. He then released one of Isumi's captured wrists and slowly undid the buttons of the other pro's crisp blue shirt, flipping it open to allow his fingers to wander over the torso of the boy that was half-pinned beneath him. He tried to memorize the texture of Isumi's skin, the sound of those hitched breaths. The breath that couldn't come easily when he was near, the composure that his touch disturbed. He relished the effect that he had on the other boy.

 

He knew that those blue eyes were watching him, searching for something to say, or for some clue as to why he was acting this way. But he didn't even know, so how could the other boy decipher his behavior?

 

All he knew was that he was losing control in the interactions between the two of them, and that it had to stop. He had to gain some leverage. Just being close like this and feeling Isumi's gaze upon him was enough to make him tremble. Waya didn't even want to consider the shaking weakness that sunk its claws into him when he and the other boy had sex.

 

He nipped at the soft flesh of Isumi's stomach and side, wringing gasps from his friend. Slowly, he moved down, leaning in to kiss and tease with his tongue as went. Waya brushed his cheek against the hardness under the other pro's jeans and Isumi bit back a moan, arching against him.

 

Gentle fingers ran through his hair. “Waya, please,” Isumi breathed huskily.

 

He looked up into the other boy's intense gaze, satisfied with what he saw there. He was definitely the one in control right now. “What is it?” he asked with feigned innocence.

 

Isumi's jaw tensed and something changed in that gaze. “Waya,” he said again, but there was a note of hurt buried in the tone this time.

 

Waya quickly turned his face down and brushed against Isumi again, trying to distract him. Dammit, things weren't supposed to go like this.

 

He pulled open the jeans and roughly dragged them off of his friend, along with boxers, flinging both violently behind him. Before the other boy could say anything or protest, he began touching him with sure, heated hands.

 

In the midst of Isumi's moans and tightly closed eyes, he reached up under his pillow and discreetly retrieved the lubricant that he had stowed there right before leaving to go to the movies this morning.

 

He wanted to prepare as much as he could before allowing his lover to know what he was up to. He had a feeling the other pro wouldn't exactly be agreeable. Waya leaned down and took Isumi into his mouth, concentrating fiercely on overwhelming the dark-haired boy with sensation and pleasure.

 

When his friend was panting hard and completely oblivious to the rest of the world, Waya quietly prepared his fingers with the lubricant and slowly attempted to slip a finger into Isumi.

 

“Ah!” the dark-haired boy gasped, pausing in his slow thrashing.

 

Waya released Isumi for a moment to whisper, “It's okay, relax, relax.”

 

His lover didn't really seem inclined to blindly obey. He took the other boy into his mouth again, applying himself with a vengeance, and received a loud cry and bucking hips for his trouble. That was better.

 

Despite the fact that all of his attention was taken up with trying to keep Isumi distracted, it didn't change the fact that all of this had aroused him to the point of pain. Why did he have to react this way to another boy? To this boy?

 

Isumi, I might…I feel…NO!

 

Waya finished easing his finger into Isumi's slightly more relaxed body. This wasn't going to be easy.

 

His attention was drawn out of his inner world by the sound of his partner's voice.

 

“Waya…wayawayawayawaya…” Isumi's breath was caught up in sobbing moans, hands clenched tightly in the comforter. They twisted over and over as he watched in fascination.

 

Waya closed his eyes and continued his ministrations, silently pleading with Isumi to give him what he needed. He needed to be in control for this to be okay.

 

When he thought the other boy was ready, he prepared himself with his unoccupied hand. It proved rather difficult to keep his concentration on the other things he was doing, but he finally succeeded.

 

Waya suddenly withdrew his mouth and fingers from Isumi and positioned himself, gripping the other boy's hips and lifting them.

 

Isumi's eyes opened slightly, dazed and somewhat confused. “Wa…ya…?”

 

“I'm here-“ he began, slowly pressing forward the smallest bit into the other pro.

 

His friends blue eyes opened wide, and Isumi's hands flew up in an attempt to keep him from moving his hips. “Waya, what are you—“

 

He took the other boy's hands in his and squeezed them as he entered Isumi a bit at a time. It was torturous.

 

“Ahh…ah…” Isumi's back slowly arched, mouth open, eyes closed tightly.

 

The hands imprisoned in his spasmed, and his lover's body tightened around him as he settled fully. It was unbelievable, and now he understood why Isumi always wanted to be the one doing this. Not that receiving his friend wasn't just as wonder…ful…

 

Waya hissed at the tone of his thoughts, and resisted the urge to say the things filling his head to Isumi. He wouldn't say a single one. They had no place being in his mind. He waited until his lover's body had relaxed and adjusted to him, then withdrew slightly, taking a shallow breath before pushing very slowly into him again. And again.

 

I don't mean to hurt you. It just happens.

 

The dark-haired boy thrashed under him, breathing wildly erratic and constantly interrupted by helpless little noises of pleasure. Isumi's hair was swept away from his face and slightly damp from their exertions, pale cheeks deeply flushed. Beautiful.

 

I don't want you to be near anyone else. I want you to only be near me.

 

Waya took a deep breath and closed his own eyes, not wanting to look upon anything that would endear the other boy to him further. Every time he looked at Isumi, he found one more thing about him to…to enjoy. The lines of his collarbones, the angle of his jaw, the depth of his eyes, the play of the muscles beneath his skin, the strangely graceful column of his throat… Could boys be graceful? And all of this aside from the things from within Isumi that he treasured, like his mind, his patience, his understanding and his dry humor.

 

I don't care for anyone as much as I care for you. And I don't want that.

 

Waya had ignored the building tension in his body for as long as possible, trying to prolong this, but he couldn't take any more. He folded over and tucked into the curve of Isumi's body, reaching one hand down between them to touch the other boy.

 

Lightly, he kissed the side of Isumi's still open and gasping mouth. One blue eye opened the slightest bit to regard him. That color was not just `blue' to him. It was sapphire blue. Deep ocean blue. A boy shouldn't have such beautiful eyes. It made him think the wrong things. “Mm… Way…a…hah…”

 

“Yes?” he whispered, kissing the skin beside his lover's eye.

 

“Love…you…” Isumi's arms came up to embrace him tightly. “Can't…hold…”

 

Waya was on the edge of losing control himself. He increased his pace, ignoring his desire to bite Isumi, thereby leaving marks for anyone to see. His release rushed up on him, drawing away his sense of self, sweeping away his perception of everything else but where his skin touched Isumi's. Nothing else existed. Only those places.

 

Only us. What if I wanted…this with you? If I let us… Would it be…okay? Would you smile again?

 

He was vaguely aware that he was crying out too loudly and clawing at Isumi's shoulders. He could also hardly breathe because the other boy was clinging to him so tightly. His lover's heated breath was coming in frantic gasps, and he cursed himself for not being able to give his full attention to some of the best noises he'd ever heard from Isumi.

 

Strange. He still trembled, even when it was like this. Even when he was in control and dominating this person that compromised his stability, he felt shaken and vulnerable.

 

Waya allowed his face to rest in the warm curve of his friend's neck. Since no one would see it, he smiled. Perhaps he should withdraw from the other boy before relaxing, as he might receive the same treatment as he'd given Isumi that first time. He moved to do so, but Isumi's arms tightened, preventing him.

 

“That was…nice,” the dark-haired boy managed to whisper into Waya's hair.

 

“Mm. Need to clean up.”

 

“No. Stay like this for just a minute…since you dragged me to some horrible movie…just for this.”

 

Waya stiffened slightly. “How do you know I didn't want to see that movie?” he demanded indignantly.

 

“Known you for too long,” Isumi replied breathlessly. There was a smile in his voice.

 

A comfortable silence stretched out between them. The other pro broke it a moment later, seemingly somewhat recovered. “That was a dirty trick, Waya. You never asked if I wanted that.”

 

“You want anything I give you, don't you?” he replied casually. He knew he'd said the wrong thing as soon as he felt Isumi's body stiffen and withdraw from his the slightest bit.

 

“That's just the problem, isn't it?” Isumi's voice was cool. “That attitude.”

 

“I said something wrong?” he murmured tentatively.

 

“Dammit, Waya!” the other boy snapped. “Why are you always like this!” His lover pushed away from him and got up, bent on retrieving his far-flung clothing.

 

He absently noted the scratch marks that he had apparently left on those shoulders, and wished that he could be pleased, but nothing could penetrate the anxiety that choked him.

 

Waya sat there and watched the other pro's tense, jerky movements, unable to do or say anything to remedy the situation. The things that would keep Isumi here would also undermine his own control and balance.

 

He felt a cold lump growing within him, and it was lodged in his chest. It felt terrible. He didn't want Isumi to be like this, to leave this way.

 

Waya propelled himself up and off of the bed, interposing himself between his friend and the doorway. “Don't…Isumi.”

 

Guarded blue eyes examined his face. “Don't what, Waya?”

 

I didn't mean to be an asshole.

 

He took Isumi's hands in his. “It…was true, though, wasn't it? So why did what I said upset you?”

 

Isumi's eyes narrowed at him and his hands were shaken off. “How can you be so ignorant? You shouldn't just state things so obnoxiously like that. You take advantage of me, and you take my feelings for granted!”

 

With that, Waya was firmly pushed aside.

 

The dark-haired boy strode towards the door without looking back, the sharp movements of his body still loudly proclaiming his anger. His hurt?

 

Was Isumi hurt?

 

He opened his mouth to call out, to apologize, to something - and the door to his apartment closed behind the other boy.

 

Waya clenched his fists. “I'm sorry. Isumi. I care, I…I…we're friends, I…” He looked down, frustration and anger growing within him. “Fuck it!” he snarled, turning and punching the wall.

 

Pain throbbed in his abused hand, but he ignored it and stormed off into the bedroom, intent on taking a shower and forgetting everything that had just happened.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Isumi got into his car and leaned back in the seat, taking a deep breath. I will not cry.

 

Every time he drew close to Waya, the other boy hurt him like this, just a careless backhand to his emotions. “You want anything I give you, don't you?”

 

“No, Waya, I don't. I don't want this pain. I don't want your stupid remarks, and I don't want to have to beg for you or play these stupid games!” He slammed his fists against the steering wheel, inhaling through his clenched teeth.

 

Calm, calm. He needed to calm down. Isumi lifted a hand to cover his eyes, trying to concentrate on anything but what had just happened. Which was somewhat difficult, considering he was in a little pain, both physically and emotionally.

 

Why had Waya done that to him? He recalled the intensity glimmering in the other boy's amber eyes, the parted lips. He had managed to open his eyes only a few times to look up at his lover, but each time revealed Waya deep in the throes of his own passion, looking vulnerable and desperate.

 

He wasn't sure how much more he could take of this. He wanted a relationship with Waya, not a tortured denial. He didn't want to be used, or cast aside over and over for the sake of the other boy's self-deception. He was caught between a rock and a hard place - his strong love for Waya, and Waya's issues.

 

When he thought he was ready, he started the car and drove the relatively short distance back to his own apartment. He wasn't really looking forward to facing Hikaru and Touya, but thought he'd survive it. He just wouldn't say anything.

 

When Isumi arrived, he parked next to Hikaru's car and got out, double-checking to make sure he had locked his door before going up the stairs.

 

Dark clouds were gathering in the sky, cutting off most of the sunlight. “Figures,” he muttered, letting himself into his apartment.

 

Both boys were on the couch playing what looked like a racing game. It seemed Hikaru was training Touya. Amazing.

 

Hikaru paused the game and turned to look at him, smiling. “How was your movie?”

 

Isumi shrugged. “It was mediocre. You know movies these days.”

 

“You were gone a long time - for like, six hours.” Hikaru's gaze was expectant.

 

“Ahh…well, we went out to eat.” His stomach chose that moment to growl loudly.

 

The bleach-banged boy arched a brow.

 

“It was before the movie. I'll eat something again now. We were just…you know, hanging out while we were waiting for it to start. I know I said I thought I'd be late, but I'd mistaken the movie time, and we really had quite a lot of time, so…” He cleared his throat, realizing that he'd been rambling. “So. It was fine.”

 

“Uh…okay.” Hikaru's translucent green eyes were fixed on him, suspicious and almost knowing. They flickered over him as if looking for clues, then returned to his face for further examination.

 

Touya was looking at Hikaru with a frown, apparently trying to figure out what the other boy was on about.

 

His cell phone rang at that moment. Reluctantly, Isumi drew it out, knowing exactly who it would be. “Yes,” he answered brusquely, in no mood to be bitched at again.

 

“Isumi,” Waya said quietly.

 

“Yes?” he replied a little sharply.

 

“I didn't mean to say…you know. I'm sorry.” The other boy's tone sounded uncertain.

 

“Hmm.”

 

“You're not saying much,” Waya remarked. “Are they still there?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“For how much longer?”

 

“I don't know,” he replied flatly.

 

“Isumi…are you angry?” Waya asked softly, sounding the slightest bit insecure.

 

He slipped outside again, ignoring the questioning looks of the others. After he had safely shut the door behind him, he responded. “You tell me. Good old reliable Isumi never gets angry, does he?” He couldn't help it - his tone was a bit snarky.

 

There was a brief pause, and he could sense that his friend was gathering himself for something. “Fine. That's just fine. But it'd be better if we could actually have a fight face to face for once, don't you think?”

 

Isumi scowled. His heart was pounding and the adrenaline pouring into his system was making him feel nauseous. “I'm not the one that has a problem with that. I mean, I don't know - do you think that you could handle seeing my face for that long? Wouldn't that throw a wrench into your pat denial? Would it make you sick or something, since you can't even bear for me to stay close to you after we make love? Oh, excuse me, I'm making things emotional again. After we fuck, I meant to say.”

 

There was a slight intake of breath from Waya, then a long, long silence. It lasted an eternity. He listened to that silence with every fiber of his being, waiting for it to be broken by something better.

 

The sudden dial tone surprised him. He pulled the phone back and stared at the `call duration' information in disbelief. Waya had hung up on him. He honestly couldn't believe it.

 

Isumi clenched the phone in his hand, resisting the almost overpowering urge to hurl it over the railing and across the parking lot. Deep breaths. Deep breaths were necessary. Calm, calm.

 

He would need tranquilizers soon if he had to endure any more of this.

 

Turning back to the door, he went back inside, trying to smile at his guests. This time Touya looked suspicious as well.

 

“Is everything okay?” Hikaru asked gently.

 

“Fine, just fine. It's lovely outside, isn't it? Very nice day. Unfortunately, it's going to rain. But other than that, there's a good breeze. Nice.” He smiled again to reassure them.

 

“Uh…” The other boy still seemed somewhat concerned.

 

“Just fine,” he repeated, going straight to the bathroom to take his shower and hide where no one could analyze him. Where no one would ever guess that he was perilously close to falling apart.