The look in Sanada-san’s eyes should have warned him.
But Akaya was in a mood. In fact, Niou-senpai was unkind enough to call it a tizzy. Akaya didn’t think that was particularly fair, but he was restless, on the edge of agitated; he felt like a cat with a thunderstorm just over the horizon. So he invented new shots with bizarre spins to use against Marui-senpai, and when Marui-senpai called it quits he played against Yanagi-senpai, and even though he lost he took a certain satisfaction in the mild exasperation on Yanagi-senpai’s face when he declared that Akaya’s game was sixty percent more chaotic than usual, which took some doing.
And, whenever he had a moment between games, he came to brush against Sanada-san or look up at him with wet, parted lips, inviting Sanada-san to touch and take. Akaya wanted something strenuous enough to calm him down again, and even tennis wasn’t enough, today. Sanada-san would be, though, if Akaya could tempt him into it.
The look in Sanada-san’s eyes really should have warned him.
But Akaya was distracted, and took the glint for simple anticipation, and didn’t notice the looks the rest of the team were exchanging by the time practice ended.
“Akaya. Walk home with me,” Sanada-san directed, as they all changed and departed, trading last minute critiques and homework reminders.
Akaya agreed, demurely, and spent the walk congratulating himself, and the tight self-control with which Sanada-san quietly closed the bedroom door behind them, and began to undo Akaya’s shirt, only made his own anticipation stronger. He was breathing fast by the time the last of their clothing fell to the floor, and when Sanada-san pulled him up off his feet a low sound escaped his throat before Sanada-san’s mouth covered his. He didn’t think he’d ever be tired of this particular feeling, being lifted up against a powerful body and feeling every line of muscle against his bare skin. The force of Sanada-san’s kiss promised the kind of unrestraint Akaya wanted, and he sighed as Sanada-san laid him back on the bed, and moaned softly as large hands spread his legs apart.
Sanada-san leaned over him, one hand stroking down Akaya’s body to close around his cock. He smiled at the sound Akaya made.
That smile, the extra curl at one corner, finally combined with the light in Sanada-san’s eyes to warn Akaya, but it was really a bit too late.
Whatever Akaya might have asked was swallowed in his gasp as Sanada-san settled between his legs and breathed across him, heat without touch. And then there was touch, too, as Sanada-san closed his mouth over Akaya’s head. Sanada-san’s tongue stroked, firmly, and Akaya cried out, staring blindly at the ceiling as his back arched and his hips tried to flex up into that slick, soft, hot touch. Sanada-san’s weight pinned him down, even when Akaya tried to twist as Sanada sucked on him and the wonderful, maddening touch of his mouth turned hard.
Sanada-san shifted, and his fingertips rubbed deep, gentle circles just behind Akaya’s balls. Akaya shivered at the tingle and warmth that welled through him. Sanada-san’s mouth gentled, too, and his tongue took up the same circles, softer and wetter, coaxing Akaya, rather than driving him, with pleasure. And, just as Akaya’s body began to tighten, he drew back, leaving Akaya panting and dazed.
“Sanada-san?” he managed after a moment.
That dangerously amused smile was back. “You should remember, Akaya, that I told you I would teach you a lesson about teasing,” Sanada-san said, pleasantly.
Akaya could feel his eyes widening.
“So pay attention,” Sanada-san, concluded, and lowered his head. His teeth closed on the inside of Akaya’s thigh, and Akaya groaned as he bucked futilely into that sharp rake of sensation, hands grabbing at Sanada’s arms. The purring rumble of Sanada-san’s chuckle vibrating between his legs didn’t help in the least.
Nor did it help that Sanada-san closed his hands around Akaya’s wrists and pressed them to the bed before his mouth closed over Akaya again. Akaya was finding, very quickly, that feeling Sanada-san’s strength holding him down made him even hotter than being lifted up by it, and he spread his legs wider even as he tried and failed, once again, to thrust up against the slide of Sanada’s tongue. When Sanada-san hummed, thoughtfully, around him, Akaya nearly screamed with the sudden electric thrill reverberating through him.
And then Sanada-san drew away again, and Akaya was just pulling in a breath to scream for real, with frustration, when his mouth was covered by Sanada’s, gentle and soothing.
“You wanted something to wear you out, today,” Sanada-san murmured, against his lips. “And you teased me all afternoon with your willingness in a situation where you knew I would never touch you, purely to inflame me enough that I would wear you out when I did. Congratulations; it worked. I’ll give you what you want, Akaya. But surely you admit that turn about is fair play?”
Akaya was admitting no such thing, but he found it hard to deny, either. Sanada-san laughed, and nipped at his throat, making Akaya gasp with the spike of heat it provoked.
“Relax, Akaya,” Sanada-san told him, moving down again. “You’ll enjoy this.”
He was right, despite the fact that Akaya lost track of how many times Sanada-san drew him back from the edge, whetting his pleasure sharper and sharper. Akaya did enjoy, very much, the touch of Sanada-san’s mouth on him, first light and then hard, wet and silky and then almost rasping. He enjoyed the light nips and deep, soft bites on his thighs and stomach that made him start and then cry out, trembling, by turns. He enjoyed Sanada-san’s careless strength, pinning him to the bed. He enjoyed the almost-ticklish touch of Sanada-san’s fingers, stroking his skin, massaging him, rubbing gently against his entrance, but never entering him.
It was that last that finally broke his patience completely, and when Sanada-san started to draw away again, Akaya threw composure to the winds.
“Sanada-san, don’t stop!” he gasped out, voice tight and pleading. “Please, don’t stop! I need… touch me, please…”
His moan, as Sanada-san’s mouth tightened over him again, and Sanada-san’s fingers pressed harder, was equal parts relief and burning bliss. The fingers thrusting into him were the last straw, and the tension Sanada-san had wound tighter and tighter finally snapped. Heat wrung Akaya like a rag, and every fibre of his body released, strained outward with enough force to lift even Sanada-san’s weight, pulsed through Akaya and dropped him back to the bed, chest heaving as he tried to remember how to breathe.
Sanada-san moved up to lie beside Akaya, smiling down at him. Akaya blinked back.
“Feeling better?” Sanada-san asked. His smile took on a very satisfied edge when Akaya nodded.
Which Akaya found slightly odd, as it came to his attention that there was something quite hard pressing against his hip. On the second try, he managed to make his voice work again.
“Sanada-san? You haven’t…”
“It isn’t a problem,” Sanada-san told him.
Akaya gave him the best You’re joking, right? look he could at that moment, and pressed his body against Sanada-san’s. “Yeah, it doesn’t have to be,” he agreed.
Sanada-san looked bemused. “Are you familiar with the word insatiable, Akaya?”
Akaya sniffed. “‘M perfectly satiated,” he mumbled against Sanada-san’s shoulder. “It’s just… I like it when you’re inside me. When you fill me like that, it feels good.” It made him feel protected and supported and appreciated. It was actually a lot like he had felt when he and Sanada-san played tennis, just before Yukimura-san got sick, only minus the edge of competition and plus a definite edge of mind-blowing pleasure. But Akaya was far too tired to explain all that out loud just now.
“Mm. I can hardly deny that it feels good to be inside you,” Sanada-san said, against his ear. Akaya smiled. It was nice to get his way.
Sanada-san tossed the pillows against the headboard and sat back against them, lifting Akaya to lean back against him, in turn. Akaya wriggled a bit, getting comfortable on his impromptu recliner, and let his legs fall open over Sanada-san’s. He breathed out a soft sound of enjoyment when Sanada-san’s hands parted his legs further, gently massaging the lingering twinges out of his thighs.
“Like it when you do that, too,” Akaya murmured. “When you spread me open like that.”
“Do you?” Sanada-san asked, with a laugh running under his voice. “Tell me if you like this, then.”
And those large hands were under Akaya’s hips, lifting him and spreading his cheeks until he felt cool air against his entrance. And then something smooth and hard, pressing against him. And then Sanada-san was sliding into him, slow and easy and deep.
“Oohhh, yes,” Akaya moaned, letting his head fall back on Sanada-san’s shoulder.
“Good,” Sanada-san said, deep voice just a bit rough.
Akaya found himself breathing in little sighs at the slow, hard, hot slide as Sanada-san flexed into him and back out, strong hands guiding Akaya’s hips out and back into the curve of his own. Released from any overwhelming urgency, Akaya could savor the stretching open and the fullness with each thrust, could listen to Sanada-san’s deep groan in his ear as he moved a little faster, a little harder. The rough press inside him as Sanada-san’s rhythm broke into quick, jagged thrusts, the sudden heat of Sanada-san’s mouth on his shoulder, and, through it, the gentleness of Sanada-san’s hands on his hips, careful not to grip tight enough to bruise, caught his breath short. Akaya shared Sanada-san’s shuddering sigh, as he relaxed, winding his arms around Akaya’s waist.
“Mmm,” Akaya commented softly, turning his head into the curve of Sanada-san’s neck. “So good.”
“Very,” Sanada-san agreed, his chuckle just as soft.
They were quiet for a while, as late afternoon sun filled the room.
“So,” Akaya said, at last, “are you sure you wouldn’t touch me on the court?”
Sanada-san’s head thumped down on his shoulder. “Akaya,” he said, muffled.
“Up against the fence?” Akaya suggested, stifling a grin. “The tennis uniforms are easy enough to get around.”
“Akaya,” Sanada-san’s voice dropped to something between a growl and a purr, “do you really want the entire tennis club to watch me pin you against the fence and fuck you until you’re screaming my name?”
With that voice in his ear, Akaya actually had to stop and think about it for a moment.
“The club you will have to captain in the not too distant future?” Sanada-san added, pointedly.
“Well, no, I suppose not,” Akaya sighed. “Not that I wouldn’t want you to do it, but the audience could be a problem.”
“I think I must have incurred more bad karma than I previously realized,” Sanada-san mused.
“Excuse me?” Akaya said, insulted.
Sanada-san tumbled Akaya off his lap to the accompaniment of a faint squawk, and leaned over him, winding one hand through his hair.
“To have acquired the company of an exhibitionist,” he explained, between kisses, “who’s sweet enough that I don’t want to be rid of him.”
Akaya lifted a hand to trace the line of Sanada-san’s face. “You will, after this year, though,” he said, quietly.
“Perhaps.” Sanada-san gave him a longer, deeper kiss, lingering over him. “What happens will happen. But don’t borrow trouble, Akaya. If our lives go as Renji expects for the next ten or twenty years, I doubt I’ll ever quite be rid of you, whatever the details.”
Akaya felt his face heat, and bit his lip, looking away. He was not going to do something pitiful like tear up, he was not. Sanada-san’s fingers caught his chin, turning him back.
“If nothing else, you keep saying you’ll beat me at tennis. And you have quite a ways to go before you manage that, Akaya,” he said, smile lurking behind stern eyes.
A laugh drove away the hot feeling in his eyes, and then Sanada-san’s hand tightened in Akaya’s hair, and a devouring, demanding kiss swallowed the laugh.
“So, Akaya,” Sanada said, smile turning dangerous again. “Are you ready for the next lesson?”
Akaya was sure his eyes looked like saucers, as Sanada-san’s body pressed him down.