??? | Goldenrod Radio Tower | Broadcast;

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[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

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[You'll have to outdo yourself, he'd taunted her, and there's no doubting that she's succeeded in it as they've progressed through this dance, periods of rapid, elegant footwork interspersed with slower moments like these, the ones where he simply holds her and feels her move without steps. It's never enough to merely move through a series of choreographed motions, he'd learned long ago; of equal importance is the connection, the trust, the emotion that the partners bring to each performance.

There's no doubting that part, either. They've got it in spades.

And it's tempting to just stay this way, possessive and snug, riding out the high of the adrenaline and the music and the movements with his partner locked tight in his arms, but he also knows full well that the song will only last so long, and that an opportunity like this comes too rarely to waste even a moment of its time.

He'll bring them back like this when the song ends-the same message telegraphed through different motions, holding her close instead of holding her up, I've

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[futariniousama]

[ Her feet move without her permission, keeping her balanced and upright when he spins her away again, despite how loath she is to leave him. That reluctance is broadcast in the grasp of her hands, the magnetic draw of her hips to his, the way every inch of her lithe body tries to mold to his in the seconds when she's close to him. She wants him, more than she wants the dance; the steps are just an unfortunate preoccupation. She lets him know it with her hands, her eyes and her body, in every available moment.

When they finally still again, she's back where she wants to be, willingly trapped in his embrace, her heart outpacing her deep, slow breaths by miles. His hands on her are electric, the rise and fall of his chest a seductive rhythm behind her shoulder blades. Once again, she lays her head back, offering the skin of her throat, the curious bump of her Adam's apple, the feel of her pulse and the dips in her collarbone, and this time, her hands find the back of his head to draw him down slowly. ]

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[It doesn't take much more than a touch when she reaches to draw him down; he's known since the last interlude that she would've been just as content to remain stationary, too, and in a way he'd reveled in that control over her, the power to keep her from what she wanted until he extended her his permission.

The fact that what she wants is him just makes it all the more satisfying in the end.

And he'll let her, but slowly, always at his own pace and his own discretion, bringing his head down to lay a kiss where her neck meets her shoulder as his arm tightens more firmly around her waist, bringing their hips more securely together in an understated yet unmistakable reminder of who is really in control, and that every liberty she takes now is a gift, is because he let her.]

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[futariniousama]

[ The possessive edge is almost tangible in his movements, the precise control of them; he's indulging her, almost as if he'd like to pretend that all of this, his lips on her skin, his hips against her backside, are all for her benefit. And she doesn't mind, really, she doesn't, because she is selfish, and she likes to be indulged - but he's also not the only one who feels a little smug when his partner's desire is nothing short of obvious.

So she exhales, letting the breath make her tremble a bit, and then her hand turns forceful, long nails digging into the back of his neck just hard enough to prove she means business. She arches her back just so, leaving the swell of her breasts beneath her dress as the focus of the picture, and presses herself back against him with purpose, lips parting on a soft pant.

Here's your permission, Atobe. ]

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[usedlaserbeam]

[There's one thing that no one could possibly deny about the girl in his arms, and it's that in all things, she knows how to put on a show. It's bait again, and he knows full well it is, but her shudder still catches him off-guard long enough for the abrupt sting of nails digging into skin to elicit a sharp intake of breath-and he answers it with teeth, firm enough to leave marks blooming red against the rest of her skin before dragging his way up to her ear.]

Play nice.

[And then it's his turn for force, his free hand finding the side of her face, guiding her head toward him in search of a better angle, never stopping to consider if the twisting is discomforting her before capturing her open lips with his.]

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[futariniousama]

[ The soft, breathy sounds she was making turn into a gasp, a high note of pain and keen pleasure escaping her throat. Her skin prickles, the same feeling of crawling electricity that his hands imparted earlier now racing down her spine. Play nice, he says. Well, one of them should.

The kiss prevents her from retorting, but she doesn't complain. Even the ache in her neck isn't enough to make her protest or break the kiss. She opens her mouth to him more, eager and firm, her nails at the back of his neck now drawing teasing circles. ]

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[If Yagyuu were paying full attention, he might've spent a moment marveling at how different this kiss feels from the last he'd had with this girl (who Yagyuu, of course, would know isn't precisely a girl at all), and what a strange sensation that is, that something as simple as thinking he's someone else could change the experience in such a notable way.

But Yagyuu isn't paying full attention, because his veil of Atobe's arrogance is still secure and in full effect, and what Atobe cares about at the moment is making certain the girl is nothing but awed by his prowess (and, perhaps, breath control). And so he keeps it on his terms, responding to her urging only when he cares for it, sometimes denying her further contact just for the sake of doing it-

And when he finally draws away from the kiss to let her gasp for breath, he watches her through amused eyes unhindered by glasses as he leans in and brushes noses with her with almost mocking gentleness.]

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[futariniousama]

[ She realizes she's trembling when she can finally breathe again, tiny, helpless breaths, nothing like the exhausted gasping that comes after a hard match. He's looking at her and she feels mocked; it makes her bristle and recoil slightly, but she can't quite escape him, and she realizes soon enough that she doesn't care to, anyway.

Because if she gets away from him, she can't try again to drive him mad. She can't use the slight distance now between them to keep her curves ever-so-slightly apart from his body. She can't lean in, chest pressing gently to his, to breathe and brush her lips along jaw and ear and jugular. She can't target his libido with a well-blended mix of stark seduction and maddening helplessness in the wake of him.

But since he's so intent on keeping her there, she can and she does. She deliberately tempts and then she falters, breathless and flushed; she touches and teases and then she shivers, the motion bringing her closer to him for one heated second before she's leaning back again. ]

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[And if her aim is to drive him mad, it's working; it's not the deliberate actions that catch at him so much as it is the seemingly involuntary ones-the shivering, the faltering, the tacit admissions of his effect on her. It's Yagyuu that wants the fight and Atobe that targets the weakness, and the both of them reveling in the shift and tilt of power as it moves between them.

And it's hard to say who it is that breathes in sharply at the brushes, whose fingers tighten at the feather-light contact of her lips on his skin, who leans after her when she ducks in and draws away, instinctively trying to keep contact even a moment longer. It's hard to say whose arms move to support her, one hand finding the back of her neck, the other securing her waist against any mishaps with those impossible heels.

But it isn't hard to say whose leg moves to sweep her feet out from under her, arms already placed and poised to catch her as gravity takes its hold. That's all Yagyuu, devilishly amused behind Atobe's smile.]

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[futariniousama]

[ She yelps a little, despite herself, caught completely off-guard by the sudden drop. There's that split-second of terror again before she's safe in his arms and already glowering up at - at Yagyuu?

She falters slightly and Niou resurfaces in the eyes, a little taken aback and his heart thumping hard in his ribcage. It's not just Yagyuu, it's Atobe, too, but the illusion isn't quite solid anymore, and Niou would be lying if he said that seeing Yagyuu through that smirk didn't make him want to drop the girl entirely.

But he can't, not yet - he retreats again, leaving the girl awash in indignation. She's breathless, but it doesn't detract from her sassy tone. ]

Has anyone ever called you a prick?

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[usedlaserbeam]

[Atobe would be far too straightforward to resort to tricks like that one, he thinks to himself, drinking in that flicker of Niou behind the subtle crack in the illusion-and he takes a minute to muse if that wasn't exactly why he did it, that one intentional flaw to draw attention like a beacon. It's not a mistake this time, not a lack of control; on the contrary, it's the confidence that a momentary break in character won't undo the whole thing, and this time he's confident in it.

Niou is somewhere in there, too-a thought he indulges for a single fleeting moment-and Yagyuu, somewhere in here, hasn't forgotten that.]

What can I say? I like it when beautiful women fall for me.

[But then it's back to arrogance once again.]

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[futariniousama]

[ She makes a disgusted sound in the back of her throat, irritation mixed with disdain and a roll of her eyes, and she lifts one leg to drape it around his lower back. Some small part of her is reluctant to take one foot off the ground, but she thinks that if she can get a rise out of him, it's worth it.

She arches her back just so, letting her weight lean further back over his arm, and turns her head away with an expression of acute disinterest. ]

Isn't it less rewarding when you have to make them fall?

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Not when they answer like that.

[By which he means her shift in stance, but it might also be the tilt of her head; she may be looking away, but he's more than willing to take that arched back and newly-bared line of her neck as an invitation. The hand that isn't supporting her weight slides from her waist, running down over her hip and along the outside of her thigh in appreciation before he reaches to show the same admiration for her throat.

It's a steady, confident motion, but it isn't enough to disguise the slight twitch in his fingers, or the way he can't seem to turn his gaze from her face.]

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[futariniousama]

[ And while her gaze remains markedly dispassionate, she can't conceal the goosebumps racing in the wake of his touch, or the way her very skin shivers when his fingers pass over it. They're playing at something stupid here, she thinks, and Niou agrees. Niou has more patience for these games than she does, though, and so she moves again, deliberate, but quick and impatient.

She returns her foot to the ground, a sliding motion down the back of his thigh and calf, then shifts, moving her other knee to seek between his and creep steadily upward.

Let's see how long you can stand this. She doesn't speak, but the challenge is clear when she turns her head to meet his eyes. ]

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[Now that, that is a dangerous game in more ways than one, and he knows it shows in his eyes when she looks at him. It's not much of a reaction, but he's willing to bet it's still one that she wants, and it'd bother him more except for the fact that he currently has two very pressing concerns on his mind, one of which involves what she's doing and the other of which involves not dropping her while she does it.

Which is why he's not precisely gentle as he hauls her back up, his fingers still trembling slightly as he battles to keep control. All games aside, the chances are high that he'll drop her if she keeps this up-and given that challenge in her eyes, she clearly plans to for quite some time-and that's not an outcome he's willing to let happen, no matter what he has to sacrifice to prevent it.

What he doesn't do, though, is stop her; surrender is also an outcome he's not willing to let happen, not in a game like this. So instead, once he gets her upright, he leans in toward her ear and murmurs an echo of her own words, putting