??? | Goldenrod Radio Tower | Broadcast;

[usedlaserbeam]

[Ladies and gentlemen of Johto, we interrupt your regularly scheduled programming this evening for a Very Special Radio Broadcast™, coming to you direct from Goldenrod Radio Tower...and conveniently lacking in all those pesky little bits of red tape like authorization and advance permission that just get in the way of the showAs such, the usual

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action; never too late to tango

[usedlaserbeam]

[It's a good thing Niou doesn't voice those concerns aloud, because Atobe wouldn't be the only one offended by the implication that he'd ever drop one of his partners-or indeed, that he'd be careless enough to be anything other than in complete control of the situation. And for the moment, it is the two of them together, Atobe's arrogance and Yagyuu's dominance meshed together into one; Atobe's face with Yagyuu's eyes searching, for once unshielded by lenses of glass.

The tango isn't Yagyuu's favorite dance, but it's the one that Atobe would prefer, and in some ways, it was the right one for this situation-not a gentleman's dance, with bows and changes, but something more energetic, more charged. It's equally Atobe's touch that the room is littered with a veritable blizzard of red rose petals, courtesy of the flower shop in Violet City. But it wasn't Atobe moving his favorite partner across the floor with precision and control a minute ago, and it's not Atobe who's making no move to let that partner up now.

It's different like this, safe beneath a wig and an ego the size of a mountain, when he can shift back and forth as much as he likes. Atobe can have whatever thoughts he chooses about the girl in his arms, and so long as they're his, then Yagyuu never has to wonder if he shares them.]

Have I left you breathless already?

[Atobe's arrogance. But whose question?]

action;

[futariniousama]

[ Bits and pieces of Niou struggle for the right to represent him in this situation. The competitive, Rikkai-loyal streak wants to take offense at Atobe, so fantastically self-assured and infuriatingly charismatic; the girl he's pretending to be wants to surrender to those same frustrating qualities and be swept away; some well-hidden part of Niou can see nothing but Yagyuu, serene and confident and predatory, like some breathtaking jungle cat all Niou's own. Still and all, there's something in him that won't let go of their surroundings, listening intently as the next song cues up and keeping an ear out for the loud voice of the law approaching.

So it takes him a moment to answer, searching for the right response and the right voice to deliver it in. At last, feminine but strong, unfaltering: ]

Oh, honey. You're gonna have to try a little harder than that if you're looking to leave me breathless.

action;

[usedlaserbeam]

[This isn't the first time he's seen this guise of Niou's in action, but it's the first time he's seen it that, strangely, he finds he doesn't want to break it. It's different when they're both safe behind someone else's identity-even when that someone else is simply each other-when the things they say can mean less, so it's easier to voice the ones that mean more. And so he's glad, in a way, that his response comes in that smooth alto he's been enjoying all night, because it means this illusion, the one they're sharing, will stay intact a little longer.]

An encore already?

[As he shifts, raising his partner slightly before dipping him back even lower than before, even more off-balance. This is the part he-one of him, at least-loves the most: the sheer control over every aspect of their situation.]

How selfish of the lady.

action;

[futariniousama]

[ The motion makes Niou's heart and stomach drop in a delightful way, the sensation trickling down to add to the warmth coiling low in his stomach. He breathes in, a silent gasp, and is gratified by the sight of breasts swelling with the action, just inside his peripheral vision. He's got one foot out the door right now, like he's watching himself from a distance, and he knows he needs to give it up and go under, but he's fascinated. The effects that Atobe has on the girl are different, and he can't see them if he's busy having them.

Despite his fence-straddling, he manages to keep his voice and expression in-character, and he swears to himself that he'll go all-in after this. ]

It's a lady's prerogative to be selfish with a gentleman, and a gentleman's pleasure to indulge her.

[ His smile is quick and secretive, and though the amusement is his own, the curve of his lips is purely a woman's. ]

action;

[usedlaserbeam]

[There's a part of Yagyuu, the one buried deep beneath the surface, that's acutely attuned to the shift and flow of their personas; there's a certain fluidity to it that he's long since learned to read, and it's always strange and fascinating-particularly when he's seeing it in himself, feeling the reactions coming unbidden and knowing that it's all just a testament to this, how good they are at this, how easy it is to escape beneath the guise of someone else. And he can see it in Niou, too, like adjusting the lens of a camera-one blurs while the other comes into focus, and sometimes in the middle it's hard to discern between either.

After another moment, he pulls them both up with ease, returning his partner to his-her?-feet as he instinctively draws himself up, seeking those extra few centimeters of height over her-him?-her. And while Yagyuu remembers the echoes of a past conversation-you'll enjoy what I give you; gentleman's prerogative-Atobe has other things to focus on.]

Oh~? And do you think I'll find it a pleasure, indulging you?

action;

[futariniousama]

[ With that smile, Niou finally forces himself to let go of the view and just be - be this girl, this lucky girl, trapped in the arms of a confident, attractive man who has no intention of letting her go, just two missteps away from some other preoccupation nearly as sensual as the tango they just finished.

She allows him to right her, that smile growing ever more mischievous as she steps nearer to her partner. ]

You certainly found it a pleasure the first time. Why should the second be any less enjoyable?

action;

[usedlaserbeam]

[It's she, there's no doubting it now-and that's his cue to do the same, to sink back completely and embrace the illusion rather than fighting it. This is instinct now, the culmination of a week's practice at learning to be someone else entirely, and while he may never create as perfect a facade as his partner can, it's about as close as it can get.]

The second time, I'll have something to compare it to. Which means you'll have to outdo yourself-if you can.

[He doesn't back away, but tilts his head instead, meeting the challenge while keeping those precious few centimeters of space between them.]

action;

[futariniousama]

[ She tilts her head as well, angling back to present her lips as a suggestion. All sorts of thoughts are bubbling to the surface - are his lips softer than hers? Does he kiss like he was born to? Does he get rough? Does he get loud? She'd love to find out, but this is neither the time nor the place. They're waiting for the cops; they can't get caught with their pants down, figuratively or literally. She'll have to settle for the dance. ]

Oh~? I didn't realize the burden of impressiveness was on me.

action;

[usedlaserbeam]

Impressiveness? That's not what I said.

[One hand comes up, drifting to rest against the curve of her cheek, but this isn't designed to be gentle or fond, it's a challenge; the arrogance is palpable, the superiority is flagrant, and he acts like it's his god-given right to make this contact, to touch her and move her as he so chooses.]

Let's see if you can outdo your own selfishness. And make me enjoy it.

action;

[futariniousama]

[ Niou absolutely loves the challenge, the attitude - he'd be glad to surrender to it, but he's not here right now, and the girl who is is decidedly less keen on being dominated. She angles her head away ever so slightly, just barely enough to take her skin away from his, and offers him a smirk to rival the best of his own. ]

I don't need to make you enjoy it. By the time we're done here, you'll be glad I'm selfish, honey.

action;

[usedlaserbeam]

[Oh~? Now this is amusing; Yagyuu may like a fight, but Atobe is intrigued at the prospect of being entertained. His eyebrows raised, he tilts his head in an acquiescing gesture-go on, then. Prove it-and runs his hand down the length of her neck, shoulder, and arm, catching her fingers in his and raising them to his lips for a kiss far too arrogant to ever be called chivalrous.]

Then you'd better get started.

action;

[futariniousama]

[ She holds steady, doesn't bat an eyelash at all the contact, but her skin betrays her - goosebumps race along in the wake of his fingers.

When he lifts his lips from her hand to speak, she twists her wrist deftly to catch his hand, and her other arm drops from his shoulder to wrap around his waist. She takes the first step of the dance in time with the music, and she's unmistakably leading.

Go on, then. Take it back. ]

action;

[usedlaserbeam]

[The first step is purely instinctive, following along because it's the natural thing to do-and somewhat because they'd bump into each other if he didn't-but that moment is all it takes for it to sink in. Is she-

She is.

And perhaps it's his first true slip of the night, the predatory look that darkens in his eyes, the sudden wedge that drives between the truth and the facade as Yagyuu's instincts flare beneath Atobe's mask.

Oh, no, she's not.

It's a matter of steps before a chance arises, and he's good enough at this to take full advantage of the opportunity; one carefully adjusted step gives him the leverage to manipulate her into a firm, almost rough turn, one with which she'll be forced to follow through or risk breaking the rhythm avoiding it.]

action;

[futariniousama]

[ She smirks her triumph and follows right along, letting herself be turned and now led, without so much as a hint of displeasure. She forced him to take the lead back, and that in itself is a small victory. The rest of the win is in the dance, and how well she does it. She doesn't intend to miss a step.

It isn't difficult, though it is taxing. Niou is the dancer, but it's a much easier identity to own as the girl than as himself. She isn't self-conscious, she isn't uncomfortable in her own skin - or is it that he isn't uncomfortable in hers? Whatever the case, she's sure she's keeping Atobe on his toes. ]

action;

[usedlaserbeam]

[He knows he's been baited even before he sees the flash of that smirk, beautiful and dangerous, but it's difficult to care with his thoughts so intensely focused on the more compelling matters at hand-the rhythm, the changes, the intuitive effortlessness of moving a partner around the floor.

He's Atobe, or is supposed to be, and so he does remember to accentuate his steps with some of his persona's flair; the movements are wider, more grandiose, more sweeping and expansive in contrast to Yagyuu's more favored style of sleek precision.

But he'd vowed to leave her breathless, and he makes an excellent effort toward it, taking her through more spins, more dips, more perfectly controlled falls that beg the indulgence of complete trust in his abilities. And it is different, somehow, the way the facades color the familiar movements-that somehow it's Niou but not Niou he's dancing with, and he isn't quite himself either, and the experience is all the more satisfying for it.

He barely even realizes he's humming along with the music until he feels the vibration when he parts his lips to breathe, and so the next time she draws close, he spins her around halfway and slides an arm around her waist, bringing her shoulders back to rest lightly against his chest as he ducks his head toward her ear so she can hear it, too.]

action;

[futariniousama]

[ Her heart drops out of her chest every time she feels herself falling. Niou, tucked far beneath the girl, knows instinctively and without reservation that Yagyuu, well-hidden behind Atobe, won't drop him. He's too good for that, too proud for that, and there's no fear, deep down. But the girl doesn't trust Atobe, not completely, and there's a giddy rush of terror in the moment before she's back in his arms, steadied and safe.

And there's no hesitation, no uncertainty, no question of what does this mean or what are we doing or should we stop when she finds herself leaning into him, his satin-smooth voice in her ear and against her back. She lets the chills race down her spine and rolls her head back onto his shoulder, exposing her throat and collarbone, and she revels in his proximity.

She's aware, faintly, as though on the inner edges of her consciousness where Niou lies, that she's letting him do the dancing, that she's all but abandoned her efforts to match him. And she thinks (and Niou thinks) that it's hardly the worst thing - because Atobe will be nearly as gratified if she allows him to reduce her to a breathless, shivering, heartracing doll in his arms. And she won't be too displeased, herself. ]