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Goro wasn’t sure how this had happened. Well, he knew it had probably started with Akira calling him ‘honey’. And then continued when Goro played along. And then ramped up when Akira stepped right into his space when he returned to Leblanc that one time. And then gotten even worse when Goro kissed him on the cheek in order to one-up him. And then gotten really out of hand when Akira kissed him on the lips by way of saying goodbye. And then gone completely off the rails when Goro pushed him up against the wall and kissed him until neither could breathe.
Okay, so maybe he did know how this had happened. That didn’t mean he was happy with it. With Akira’s arm slung over his chest, his head tucked into the crook of his neck like it belonged there, his stupidly soft hair brushing his jaw and his breath hot against his neck. He smelled like coffee. Coffee and metal and brown sugar. Goro was drunk on it. It never should have gone this far. Goro never should have let it get this far. Being rivals was one thing. Whatever this was was—
He clenched his jaw. They were still rivals. All this was just one long competition. To see who would fold first. Yes. It was just rivalry. Nothing more. Nothing less. So what if it had escalated? So what if his dick had been in Akira’s mouth last night? So what if he’d returned the favor until his jaw ached and his throat was raw? So what if the sounds of Akira’s moans were playing relentlessly in his mind on an endless loop, or if his hair between his bare fingers had almost been enough to send him over the edge, or if the taste of him on his tongue, the quiet thrill at knowing he was the one making him claw at the sheets like that, made him stupid and soft and sentimental enough not to protest when Akira pulled him into a kiss and threw the covers around them both and whispered sweet nothings to him until they both fell asleep tangled together in a cocoon of warmth and comfort? It was just— It was just —
Goro extracted himself from his rival swiftly and quietly, stepping gingerly on the creaky floorboards and trying not to think about how he instinctively knew which to avoid after so many days and nights spent loitering this room. He gathered his clothes and dressed himself as fast as he could, refusing to let his eyes catch on the hickeys on his neck, refusing to let himself hesitate for even a moment, because if he did— he just didn’t.
The sun peeked over the horizon as he straightened his tie and slipped on his shoes, turning back to grab his phone still on Akira’s shelf of souvenirs where he’d left it and— Grey eyes watched him from under long lashes. Goro froze. Akira stared at him silently, covers pulled up to his nose and hair an absolute fluffy mess that Goro’s fingers did not itch to smooth into place. He laughed. Sweet and sheepish. Like when interviewers asked the Detective Prince an uncomfortable question. And not like when Goro Akechi got caught trying to sneak away from his friend, lover, boyfriend, inevitable downfall rival undetected.
“Ah. Akira. Good morning.” He said, inclining his head in a nod as his fingers inched closer towards his phone.
Akira’s eyes snapped to his hand at the movement and Goro stopped immediately. He laid there silently for a long moment, just staring at him, eyes strangely sharp in an utterly unfiltered way. It was somehow worse than when he’d cock his head at him and slowly and meticulously pick apart his lies until only the raw truth remained. At least then he had his glasses and conscious thought as a filter. Now there was nothing between him and those unnervingly perceptive eyes, and Goro was utterly frozen in his tracks, some instinctual part of him telling him to stay. Still.
Then, suddenly, Akira yawned, his body stretching like a cat’s, arms thrown up over his head and back arching off the bed. And Goro did try not to let his eyes catch on every inch of soft, pale skin that was revealed, with dark bruises in the shape of his mouth and teeth, with red crescents and scratches from where he’d run his nails down his sides just for the way he threw his head back and moaned— well. He tried.
“Mornin’.” Akira mumbled, settling back down on his rickety bullshit excuse for a bed like a model on a photoset, arms draped lazily over his head and covers low around his stomach. Goro clenched his hand around his briefcase’s handle and took a slow, even breath. This was fine. This was just fine. He’d throw out some line about urgent business and— Akira’s lips quirked up into a lazy smirk. His eyes curved up with sultry amusement. And Goro was— Goro was— “Leaving so soon?” His rival purred, and Goro was hit over the head with the fact that he knew exactly what effect his little display was having on him.
Fucking bastard. “Ah, yes, well, between detective work and school and our infiltrations of Sae-san’s Palace, I have quite a lot on my plate.” He said, forcing his lips up into a bright, somewhat regretful smile, like he didn’t want to throttle this absolute fucking moron.
Akira hummed thoughtfully, cocking his head at him, black curls stark against the white pillow. “Too busy to even say goodbye?” He asked, pouting theatrically, fingers playing with his hair in a deliberate way that reminded Goro just how soft that goddamn hair was—
He gave another little laugh, shifting on his feet, very much ready to leave and go back to his own apartment and pretend he’d never have to return to this godforsaken place ever again even though he came voluntarily every time. “Well, you were sleeping so peacefully, and I know you’re not a morning person, so I didn’t want to—”
Akira moved abruptly, striking with the deadly precision only a thief could achieve, grabbing Goro’s wrist and yanking in one smooth movement that he would have immediately retaliated against were it not for the soft, pink, warm lips abruptly on his own. The careful fingers cupping his cheek. The scent of coffee and metal and brown sugar in his nose. He blinked rapidly as Akira pulled back, an unbearably smug edge to his smirk, one Goro desperately wanted to wipe off his fucking face once he remembered how to do anything but stare mutely.
“I can be a morning person for you.” Akira said with a wink, and Goro opened his mouth to retort only to close it again, scrambling for something to say with the soft touch of Akira’s lips burned into his skin and his fingers scaldingly hot around his wrist and coffee-metal-sugar in his lungs.
He cleared his throat, licked his lips, started to speak— Only for Akira’s eyes to narrow in that telltale ‘I win’ way that made his blood boil . So, foregoing unnecessary verbal communication, Goro leaned forward, threaded a hand through Akira’s stupid fucking hair, just as soft as it always was, and pulled him into a kiss. Akira let out a pleased noise against his lips, releasing his wrist to cup his cheeks with both hands, easing back onto the bed with an air of smug contentment. And Goro didn’t fucking care for that shit at all .
He fisted a hand in Akira's hair, yanking his head back one-too-kindly and getting a sharp gasp in return but no ‘stop’, because Akira was a masochistic adrenaline junkie and Goro had yet to find out where his limits lay, if they even existed. He surged forward before his rival could recover, climbing onto the bed and throwing his suitcase aside as he locked their mouths together harshly, kissing with a hint of teeth. Akira breathed sharply through his nose, hands slipping from Goro’s cheeks to the back of his neck before he threw his arms around his shoulders, kissing him back desperately, back arching into him helplessly, and—
Goro drew back. Before he could get to lost in the sensations of Akira’s arms around his shoulders and his tongue in his mouth and his hair between his gloved fingers. Before they had a repeat of yesterday. He stared into his rival’s dark eyes with their pupils blown wide, Akira’s heartbeat frantic against his chest as he looked back at him with a glazed sort of passion, any and all cocky smugness gone from his face. Goro smirked. Allowed himself one last moment to press his thumb against kiss-swollen red lips and drink in Akira’s answering sigh. That was better.
Then, he pulled back fully with a sweet smile, tucking a lock of Akira’s hair behind his ear despite the fact that it made very little difference, just for the way it made him shiver. “I’ll bear that in mind.” He said sweetly, Akira’s eyes quickly clearing at the words.
He got to his feet before he could retort, easing Akira’s arms away from his shoulders and reaching to grab his suitcase, pointedly ignoring the grey orbs now burning a hole into the side of his head. Akira had a habit of making him do anything so long as they were making direct eye-contact. And Goro would rather leave this place with victory still his. He pocketed his phone and turned away with a sense of self-assured finality, making it all of one step before Akira’s fingers closed around his wrist again.
He turned back with a barely quelled sigh, opening his mouth to tell him that he really did need to go, only to see— Akira watching him with a small, uneven smile. It looked fond. And soft. And strangely, horribly sad. “Wake me up next time.” He said gently. Goro stared at him silently and tried to keep himself breathing.
Wake me up next time. Next time. Implying this would happen again. Implying he wanted it to happen again. Implying this could be a habit, a recurring event, another thing shared just between the two of them that never should have happened in the first place. Implying they had time to let this happen again. To see where it led. To let it take shape into something more. Implying Goro wouldn’t shoot him dead in cold blood in just under two weeks.
“Okay, Goro?” Akira asked after he’d been silent for too long.
Goro stared mutely. He cleared his throat. Please don’t look at me like that. “Alright.” He said, voice coming out weaker and far more earnest than he would have liked. Please never leave me.
Akira smiled warmly at him and squeezed his wrist in an effortless way that made Goro’s heart twist strangely, and when he tilted his head up Goro leaned in without a second thought. Akira kissed him sweetly and briefly, like the habit that had formed between them, the chaste ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye’ kind of kiss, the barest brush of lips that was over far too soon and always left him wanting so much more.
Both of them leaned back at the same time. Akira smiled warmly at him, and Goro couldn’t quite place the cold, sinking feeling taking shape in his chest. His rival huffed a fond laugh and ran his fingers through his hair, reaching down to straighten his tie before pulling back, and it was all so... domestic. Goro clenched his hands tight as he pulled away. Domesticity. Fondness. Care. Love. Words that had no business being connected to a being as spiteful as himself. Words that he craved more than anything. He swallowed thickly and forced himself to move away from the warm, caring boy in the bed behind him.
“Goro?” Akira called when he’d taken his first step down the stairs. Goro held his breath as he waited. “Have a good day.” He said. Like this was more than a competition. Like they were more than rivals.
Goro breathed through the strange way his throat closed up and his lungs constricted. “You too, Akira.” He replied. And left before he could think better of it.
It wasn’t until he was standing on the street with the door to Leblanc closed behind him that he realised he was shaking.