“That wasn’t necessary,” Tezuka told him.
Shuichirou tossed aside his towel and smiled over his shoulder. “Yes, it was.” As he turned back to his locker for fresh clothes, Tezuka’s hand wrapped around his wrist, not quite firmly enough to hurt.
“There were other ways it could have been done.” That cool deep voice was close behind him, now. Shuichirou shivered as he turned back to face his friend and captain.
“It was worth it.” Which was only the truth. The club had needed to know Tezuka was back as strong as ever. And, then, too, Shuichirou didn’t often get a chance to push Tezuka that hard on the court; receiving that much of his strength made for an exhilarating match.
The shadow of a smile said that Tezuka heard the double meaning. He shifted his grip on Shuichirou’s arm and tugged him closer.
“There are easier ways to get a demonstration from me. Ways that don’t involve stressing an injury right before major games,” Tezuka pointed out.
“No there aren’t,” Shuichirou contradicted with a chuckle. “You never show off.”
“Perhaps not in public,” Tezuka allowed. The way he stepped into Shuichirou and pressed him back against the wall, though, added the unspoken rider that they were in private, now. And Tezuka was, apparently, still just a little wound up from their match. That made two of them. Shuichirou closed his free hand in Tezuka’s shirt and pulled him in tighter.
Tezuka’s mouth found his, hard and demanding, and Shuichirou forgot the slight chill of the wall at his back. A hand slid down his stomach and shoved down the waist of his boxers, calluses scraping just faintly. Shuichirou made a harsh sound and his hips jerked into the touch; Tezuka’s grip on his hardening erection was as firm as his grip on Shuichirou’s arm. He wasn’t quite rough, but the urgency in his hands added an extra tingle to the heat flushing every inch of Shuichirou’s skin.
Distantly, Shuichirou wished there were a way to predict Tezuka a little better. Sometimes a hard game made him pensive and gentle. Sometimes, like today, it made him aggressive. Both were good, each in its own way, but it would be nice to know which was coming. Well, he could worry about that later.
Shuichirou yanked on Tezuka’s shirt. “Off,” he demanded. He couldn’t tell whether Tezuka’s slow smile was for Shuichirou’s answering urgency or for his obviously limited coherence. In any case, Tezuka shed his clothing with customary efficiency before leaning back into Shuichirou. Shuichirou moaned softly at the smooth resilience of Tezuka’s body againt his chest and legs contrasting with the smooth hardness of the wall behind him. Tezuka’s sleek muscles shifted under Shuichirou’s hands as they searched over Tezuka’s back and shoulders. They sighed together, swallowed into a kiss, as one of Tezuka’s hands smoothed down Shuichirou’s spine in turn. The other hand pressed between Shuichirou’s legs again, and his sigh broke into a louder moan.
“Tezuka,” he said, hoarsely, as strong fingers, stroking, spread heat through his stomach.
“Hmm?” Tezuka murmured, and bent his head to nip Shuichirou’s neck with sharp teeth.
“Ah! Tezuka…” Shuichirou leaned his head back against the wall, panting now. “You took me slow once already today. Hurry up.”
Tezuka laughed low in his throat at this interpretation of their match. “If you like. Turn around, then.”
Shuichirou turned, bracing his arms against the wall and resting his forehead on them while the sounds of brief rummaging came from behind him. Then Tezuka’s warmth was at his back, and Shuichirou found himself pressed full length against the wall. Tezuka’s hand closed around him again, slick this time, sliding fast and tight, even as long fingers pressed against Shuichirou’s entrance. Shuichirou gasped and his entire body bucked at the insistent sensations. Tezuka was certainly taking him at his word, he decided, slightly dazed.
Tezuka’s fingers drove into him, and Shuichirou shuddered, slumping into the wall as his body opened, clenched, relaxed again. Tezuka’s fingers worked him roughly until Shuichirou was straining against the warm press of Tezuka’s body, legs spread wide, almost clawing at the cool plaster in front of him, gasping for breath between the flickers of electric heat snapping down his nerves.
When Tezuka took his fingers away and replaced them with his cock in a long, hard thrust, the sound he made was as harsh and breathless as the sound Shuichirou made. Shuichirou smiled, teeth bared for a moment. Whether it was on the court or off, he took a certain satisfaction in making Tezuka pant and sweat. Then Tezuka thrust again and Shuichirou lost the thought on a long moan at the stretch and burn and force of it.
“Good?” Tezuka gasped, sounding as though he was speaking through his teeth.
“Yeah.” Shuichirou pulled in another breath. He almost never said things like this to Tezuka, but today it seemed appropriate. “Tezuka. Fuck me hard. Fuck me as hard as you play me.”
A deep, wordless sound answered him. Both Tezuka’s arms were around him, now, holding him, and it was a good thing as Tezuka drew his thumb over the head of Shuichirou’s erection and thrust in again. He drove Shuichirou hard up against the wall each time, drove fire up his spine higher and higher, and it didn’t take long at all before Tezuka’s powerful strokes unraveled him, just like they did on the court. Shuichirou jerked against Tezuka’s hands, almost thrashing as orgasm snatched away the tension of his muscles in a burst of heat and sharp, drenching pleasure.
Shuichirou leaned, laxly, against the support of Tezuka’s arms, grinning at Tezuka’s choked off moan as he thrust against the lingering clench of Shuichirou’s body. He was relaxing again when Tezuka followed him, rhythm breaking short, and they both finally stilled. Tezuka’s arms settled around Shuichirou more loosely, and his breath brushed the back of Shuichirou’s neck as they rested against the wall for a few moments.
“Thank you,” Tezuka murmured, at last.
“Definitely my pleasure,” Shuichirou told him, laughing a little.
Tezuka’s mouth pressed to Shuichirou’s bare shoulder. “For both.”
Shuichirou turned around, muscles twinging and complaining a little. He sighed, pleased, as Tezuka’s hands dropped to his thighs and rear, massaging the complaints away. “You know you don’t have to thank me for either.”
Tezuka looked down at him, bittersweet brown eyes lightened with calm. “Yes. I do.”
They smiled, quietly, at each other.