Pairing: Waya/Hikaru
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine. If they were the series would still be going on.

By Datenshi Blue

Shindou's breath feels damp and hot against his shoulder. He is panting, as though he was trying to learn to breathe again. The sound of Shindou's heavy breathing is a familiar one, a sound that makes him feel at ease, relaxed and satisfied. The sight of Shindou's parted lips, and the small accomplice smile curving them up are Waya's home. He doesn't need to look to see a whole world of light burning brightly within those half-lidded green eyes. He doesn't need to speak to make Shindou understand what he means to him. Even if Waya wasn't trying to catch his breath, the motions of his hand tenderly caressing the sweaty skin of Shindou's back would be enough. And Shindou's calloused fingers lazily tracing circles on Waya's stomach make any word unnecessary.

"We should get moving or we're gonna be late." It's Waya's voice that finally breaks the silence. It sounds hoarse and tired and he knows Shindou is smiling teasingly even without looking at him.

"I couldn't care less," comes the cheerful answer. Shindou throws his leg over Waya's as if he was trying to immobilize him. A waste of effort, in Waya's opinion. He doesn't feel like moving any more than Shindou does.

"It's your party."

"I guess it is."

Shindou's fingers are slowly moving downwards. Very slowly. And very teasingly. Waya feels his heartbeat quickening and he covers his eyes with the back of his hand in a feeble attempt to isolate himself from the world. To isolate himself, especially, from those wise fingers that are pushing his buttons in a precise way, comparable only to the way Shindou plays Go. Purposefully. Almost frighteningly so.

"You know... we shouldn't arrive lat--"

Shindou is definitely cheating, replacing his fingers with his lips.

"Why not?" he says, in between placing wet kisses around his navel.

"The press... and everyone will be there. You just took the Meijin title away from Touya." The jerk. Except he is Shindou's friend, for some reason Waya can't understand, so he needs to be careful. Even in this situation.

"I don't care about the Meijin title," Shindou says, even as his fingers move even lower, eliciting a moan from him. "I wanted the Honinbou one."

"You..." Waya remembers the distinct feeling he used to have around Shindou when they were kids, as if not even Shindou himself was sure why he had ended up in that strange world of pro players, except that he wanted to be acknowledged. By Touya of all people. All those secrets and strange stories for which he has never found an answer.

Unless you count what Waya and Shindou have built together all through the years as an answer.

Just as Shindou's fingers finally reach their destination, moving so deftly that Waya's back arches in tune with them, he decides to give up. There is stuff Shindou needs to take care of as the new Meijin holder, but while Shindou has always taken Go so seriously that it was scary at times, even with his lack of knowledge about anything related to the Go world except the basic guidelines for playing the game, he has never exactly followed the courtesy rules. Not when he was a child, unable to keep his seiza sitting or his manners in front of the adults that took care of them in the Go Institute.

Not even now that they are adults who are still walking the path they chose when they were kids.

The Meijin title.

Shindou might have been invincible these last years, collecting this title as a reward for his efforts. But Waya is the one who feels unparalleled when Shindou's body wraps itself around his, the green light in his eyes looking only at him, and the calloused fingers cradling his face carefully even as he leans forward slowly to steal a kiss from Waya's lips, tender and lustfully. Waya is the one who feels unrivaled as their bodies join and he realizes that Shindou chose him over Go for once, in such an important moment of his career.

And Waya feels invincible when, after they push each other over the edge, Shindou collapses on top of him, holding onto him almost desperately and whispering words of love with a rough voice that is making him tremble.

"We are late now, you jerk," Waya says, his voice full of mirth, when he is able to breathe normally again.

Shindou only laughs in response.