Checkmate.
“What does the winner get?”
“You’re such a nerd, you know that?”
“You’re just sour because you’re losing.”
Danny scratches his head and looks down at the board on the floor. A weighted sigh is pushed from his chest and he rests his head in his hands dejectedly, lips projected in a pout and brows furrowed. “This is a stupid game.”
The blonde sat across from him chuckles at his companion’s childish behaviour. “C’mon, Dan, you were the one who wanted to play. This is how you learn. You think I was born magically good at it?”
“Of course you were,” Danny yawns irritably. “You grew up playing with lightsabers, chess pieces and models of time-travelling cars, Tom – you’re a natural geek.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. Focus. You’ve only got your king, two pawns and a bishop left,”
“But I can’t move anywhere,” Danny moans. “I give up!”
Tom sighs and uncrosses his legs, crawling over to sit beside his opponent. “You can win if you put your mind to it, Dan. All it takes is a clear head…”
The novice’s shoulders sink, and he stares determinedly at his four remaining pieces sitting alone on the board. Denim eyes squash with frustration as he tries to deduce a manoeuvre, and although he tries not to let Tom see, the chess expert somehow knows. Soft hands sneak over the back of Danny’s shirt, spreading a cool reassurance to his shoulders, and he leans back into the touch. Tom’s chest lightly presses against his spine, knees either side of him, and the cool fan of his breath paints his ear.
“Relax,” he mumbles, sifting through chocolate-shaving curls with his fingers. “It’s just a game…”
The only response Tom gets is a choked groan from Danny’s throat. He smiles softly, and trails his fingertips over an exposed collarbone.
“There are two possible moves you can make, one of which can set you up for checking my king,” Tom continues softly into a freckled neck. “Think about it…”
“Mmm,” Danny acknowledges dazedly, not really paying attention. “What does the winner get?”
“I think… that’s for them to decide…” Tom whispers, lips dusting the warm skin under Danny’s ear as hands move towards his thighs. Goosebumps on the brunette’s torso flare and he attempts to exhale calmly, suppressing a slight grin. He refocuses his attention on the chess board in front of him, trying to remember everything Tom taught him ninety minutes previously. He reaches out a hand, unsure, and Tom guides it to the bishop.
“Haha, yes!” Danny cheers as he takes out one of Tom’s pawns. “Let’s see you get out of that!”
Tom pauses for a second, before making one quick move.
“Checkmate.”
Danny twists his head round, a look of pure loathing on his face. “You did that on purpose.”
Tom smirks deviously. “Where’s my prize, Danny?”
It will take Tom and Danny hours to locate all the missing chess pieces that quickly become scattered as the pair playfully crash to the floor.
“You’re just sour because you’re losing.”
Danny scratches his head and looks down at the board on the floor. A weighted sigh is pushed from his chest and he rests his head in his hands dejectedly, lips projected in a pout and brows furrowed. “This is a stupid game.”
The blonde sat across from him chuckles at his companion’s childish behaviour. “C’mon, Dan, you were the one who wanted to play. This is how you learn. You think I was born magically good at it?”
“Of course you were,” Danny yawns irritably. “You grew up playing with lightsabers, chess pieces and models of time-travelling cars, Tom – you’re a natural geek.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. Focus. You’ve only got your king, two pawns and a bishop left,”
“But I can’t move anywhere,” Danny moans. “I give up!”
Tom sighs and uncrosses his legs, crawling over to sit beside his opponent. “You can win if you put your mind to it, Dan. All it takes is a clear head…”
The novice’s shoulders sink, and he stares determinedly at his four remaining pieces sitting alone on the board. Denim eyes squash with frustration as he tries to deduce a manoeuvre, and although he tries not to let Tom see, the chess expert somehow knows. Soft hands sneak over the back of Danny’s shirt, spreading a cool reassurance to his shoulders, and he leans back into the touch. Tom’s chest lightly presses against his spine, knees either side of him, and the cool fan of his breath paints his ear.
“Relax,” he mumbles, sifting through chocolate-shaving curls with his fingers. “It’s just a game…”
The only response Tom gets is a choked groan from Danny’s throat. He smiles softly, and trails his fingertips over an exposed collarbone.
“There are two possible moves you can make, one of which can set you up for checking my king,” Tom continues softly into a freckled neck. “Think about it…”
“Mmm,” Danny acknowledges dazedly, not really paying attention. “What does the winner get?”
“I think… that’s for them to decide…” Tom whispers, lips dusting the warm skin under Danny’s ear as hands move towards his thighs. Goosebumps on the brunette’s torso flare and he attempts to exhale calmly, suppressing a slight grin. He refocuses his attention on the chess board in front of him, trying to remember everything Tom taught him ninety minutes previously. He reaches out a hand, unsure, and Tom guides it to the bishop.
“Haha, yes!” Danny cheers as he takes out one of Tom’s pawns. “Let’s see you get out of that!”
Tom pauses for a second, before making one quick move.
“Checkmate.”
Danny twists his head round, a look of pure loathing on his face. “You did that on purpose.”
Tom smirks deviously. “Where’s my prize, Danny?”
It will take Tom and Danny hours to locate all the missing chess pieces that quickly become scattered as the pair playfully crash to the floor.