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Two more shorties for the IJ porn battle. Again, I failed at porn. But I'm strangely okay with that. Mostly posting this here for my own archiving.
Divine Move
Fandom: Hikaru no Go, Akira/Hikaru
Prompt: finding the hand of god for realz
Wordcount: 272 words
Disclaimer: This is fanfiction and I do not own the source.
It had always been about Go for him, for as far back as he could remember. He didn't play boys' games, playground games, because he had a better game, one that consumed him whole, his hours and days. If that made him weird -- and it did -- it didn't matter because he had lost interest. No. He'd never had an interest.
But Hikaru invaded his game and then he pulled him out and made him play the other game. Made him care what some stupid boy thought about him when all he should have cared about was the moves on the board.
The flowers in the field were a humming yellow cloud and Akira pushed Hikaru down before he followed him, a tangle of limbs and eyelashes and Hikaru's tongue like a little dog licking at his mouth. He pushed him away, back -- and Hikaru said, "Huh?" as confused as he'd been the first time they played.
So Akira pressed their lips back together. He felt hands close tightly on his hips and he wanted to twist away but he didn't and yellow-brown hair got in his eyes and he didn't want to play Go ever again, all he wanted to do was stay here and let Hikaru do whatever he wanted to him.
He thought maybe he'd messed up when Hikaru laughed at him, but then he unzipped Akira's shorts and moved his mouth down over his belly, that mouth that never stopped, and Akira thought about unexpected moves, about things you couldn't see coming no matter how good you were, about mistakes that weren't mistakes, and then he didn't think at all.
Untitled
Fandom: contemporary classical music RPF, Esa-Pekka Salonen/Gustavo Dudamel
Prompt: passing the torch (my own prompt)
Wordcount: 263 words
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not purport to describe actual lives or relationships.
Gustavo is flushed, exhausted and high after an extraordinary concert. The soloist leans in and kisses him on the cheek again, then goes, her black dress swishing on the stairs. Gustavo turns to him, shakes his hand - again - and then laughs and hugs him. Sweat-soaked curls brush against his cheek and he breathes in a little sharply. He's still lost in the music, as is Gustavo, he can feel it in the way his fingers dance over his back. They're both hard as rock under their suits. Then the second violin comes by and a benefactor taps his shoulder and they're each pulled away to other greetings and conversations.
Later, after everyone has gone, they'll stand outside in the gardens, next to the silver domes and crests of Disney Hall and he'll kiss him, unmindful of stray security people. Kiss his soft mouth and those beautiful, talented fingers. Those fingers he still can't believe he's had on his skin.
He'll be traveling for a while, conducting and composing. He needs to get out of town for a bit to let his successor have a chance to establish himself without Salonen watching over him. He misses his orchestra already. It's this bright young face, though, that draws him, makes him wish he could stay, more than any of it. This amazing man. He wants to give him everything. And now he has. But it means saying goodbye.
Then in the spring he'll return and finish the concerto he's working on. He can already see him conducting it: hands flying, mouthing the notes like a lover.
Remember how I said I wanted this? Well, I saw Dudamel conduct and then I came home and wrote this. Uh, I do feel a little weird about that. Especially since Esa-Pekka was possibly in the audience. That's one reason why this is set in the future. *draws lines in the sand and watches the tide come in*
Divine Move
Fandom: Hikaru no Go, Akira/Hikaru
Prompt: finding the hand of god for realz
Wordcount: 272 words
Disclaimer: This is fanfiction and I do not own the source.
It had always been about Go for him, for as far back as he could remember. He didn't play boys' games, playground games, because he had a better game, one that consumed him whole, his hours and days. If that made him weird -- and it did -- it didn't matter because he had lost interest. No. He'd never had an interest.
But Hikaru invaded his game and then he pulled him out and made him play the other game. Made him care what some stupid boy thought about him when all he should have cared about was the moves on the board.
The flowers in the field were a humming yellow cloud and Akira pushed Hikaru down before he followed him, a tangle of limbs and eyelashes and Hikaru's tongue like a little dog licking at his mouth. He pushed him away, back -- and Hikaru said, "Huh?" as confused as he'd been the first time they played.
So Akira pressed their lips back together. He felt hands close tightly on his hips and he wanted to twist away but he didn't and yellow-brown hair got in his eyes and he didn't want to play Go ever again, all he wanted to do was stay here and let Hikaru do whatever he wanted to him.
He thought maybe he'd messed up when Hikaru laughed at him, but then he unzipped Akira's shorts and moved his mouth down over his belly, that mouth that never stopped, and Akira thought about unexpected moves, about things you couldn't see coming no matter how good you were, about mistakes that weren't mistakes, and then he didn't think at all.
Untitled
Fandom: contemporary classical music RPF, Esa-Pekka Salonen/Gustavo Dudamel
Prompt: passing the torch (my own prompt)
Wordcount: 263 words
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not purport to describe actual lives or relationships.
Gustavo is flushed, exhausted and high after an extraordinary concert. The soloist leans in and kisses him on the cheek again, then goes, her black dress swishing on the stairs. Gustavo turns to him, shakes his hand - again - and then laughs and hugs him. Sweat-soaked curls brush against his cheek and he breathes in a little sharply. He's still lost in the music, as is Gustavo, he can feel it in the way his fingers dance over his back. They're both hard as rock under their suits. Then the second violin comes by and a benefactor taps his shoulder and they're each pulled away to other greetings and conversations.
Later, after everyone has gone, they'll stand outside in the gardens, next to the silver domes and crests of Disney Hall and he'll kiss him, unmindful of stray security people. Kiss his soft mouth and those beautiful, talented fingers. Those fingers he still can't believe he's had on his skin.
He'll be traveling for a while, conducting and composing. He needs to get out of town for a bit to let his successor have a chance to establish himself without Salonen watching over him. He misses his orchestra already. It's this bright young face, though, that draws him, makes him wish he could stay, more than any of it. This amazing man. He wants to give him everything. And now he has. But it means saying goodbye.
Then in the spring he'll return and finish the concerto he's working on. He can already see him conducting it: hands flying, mouthing the notes like a lover.
Remember how I said I wanted this? Well, I saw Dudamel conduct and then I came home and wrote this. Uh, I do feel a little weird about that. Especially since Esa-Pekka was possibly in the audience. That's one reason why this is set in the future. *draws lines in the sand and watches the tide come in*
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