Sanada Genichirou had promised his friend and captain that their team would not be defeated while Yukimura was gone. After a very little consultation with Yanagi about the teams opposing them in the coming year, Genichirou had decided that, in order to keep that promise, some extra effort was in order. After all, while he knew he could take Atobe, he hadn’t played Tezuka in a competitive match in years. The withdrawal of Seigaku’s top player from this year’s round of inter-school seminars and camps had rumors flying, but there was no solid information on just how disabled or not Tezuka might be, and Genichirou didn’t believe in counting on luck.
No matter what that annoying little red-head from Yamabuki might say.
The problem, of course, lay in finding an actual challenge he could advance against. In theory, the high school division welcomed juniors who wanted to improve their skills, whenever time was available; in practice Genichirou was already better than most of them and it would be bad for morale to flaunt the fact. The street courts were useless. Genichirou, personally, thought most of the “professional trainers” were even more so. And it was frowned upon, to track down players from other schools and challenge them outside of competition.
That left the tennis schools, where he might hope to find another talented player or two looking for the same thing he was. And, in fact, luck did appear to be with him, there, as his current match demonstrated.
Sasaki Kouji was definitely a worthwhile opponent. The fact that he was also the current captain of Rikkai’s high school team gave Genichirou the pleasant feeling that Rikkai’s standards were being held up by someone besides his own team. Sasaki’s play was fast and sharp, precise in a way Genichirou rarely saw, and powerful enough to overcome even his strength, so far. It was exactly what he needed.
Sasaki, too, seemed to appreciate a challenging opponent. He treated Genichirou almost as a team member, offering pointers when Genichirou seemed stuck over some particular move, and goading him when he flagged. Genichirou thought well of his dedication, which clearly extended beyond Sasaki’s own team to encompass a player who would never be his to direct.
In a way, the absolute effort that Sasaki demanded whenever they played was a break for Genichirou. It left no room for worrying about anything else, pushed down even his fear for Yukimura under the simple focus on the ball, the court, the person across the net.
And if Genichirou felt just a touch guilty, afterwards, for letting himself forget, he needed those brief interludes of peace too desperately to stop. So he just pushed himself harder, gave himself even more totally to the focus of the game, strove that much harder to match Sasaki.
He was getting there. He could see it in Sasaki’s own game. He recognized the way Sasaki’s eyes brightened, the closer he came, recognized the smile he saw today on his opponent’s face, the sudden lightness of Sasaki’s movements, calling him, daring him. He recognized his own willing response, his answering speed, recognized the passion that reached over the net to touch his opponent’s game.
He recognized it… from playing Yukimura.
The thought snagged in his mind, and the shock of it caught at his feet. The last ball whizzed past a good fifteen centimeters from his racquet.
It didn’t help at all when Sasaki pushed back dark, feathery hair with an impatient hand, and gave him exactly the same look Yukimura did when he thought Genichirou was behaving foolishly in some way.
“What was that about, Sanada-kun?” he asked, in the voice of a captain demanding an explanation of his best player.
“Excuse me, Sasaki-san,” Genichirou said, as evenly as he could. “Perhaps I’m more tired today than I had thought. Would you mind if we ended here?”
Sasaki gave him a skeptical look, but nodded, letting him keep his silence on whatever the problem really was. That perception and forbearance just twisted Genichirou’s heart more sharply, and he withdrew as quickly as he could, leaving Sasaki gazing after him in obvious speculation.
Seiichi…
Normally, at least of late, the visits Genichirou and Renji made to Seiichi were a time when nothing outside the three of them intruded. Today, though, Genichirou found himself rather distracted, despite the fine almost-spring afternoon and despite Seiichi’s returning strength, and it had probably been too much to hope for, that Seiichi wouldn’t notice it. His observation was sharpening again, as he regained control of his body.
“What are you thinking about?”
Definitely too much to hope for.
“Just a match I played recently,” Genichirou answered, trying to stay casual. Which only went to show that he wasn’t thinking particularly clearly just then, because Yukimura always wanted to know about interesting matches.
“Who were you playing?” he asked.
“Sasaki Kouji,” Genichirou told him, taking an interest in the view out the window.
“The captain of Rikkai’s high school team,” Renji noted. “How did you arrange a match with him? I thought you decided to stay away from the high school practices.”
Genichirou sighed. “You remember the tennis school I started dropping by last month, to see if I could find some stronger players? He plays there too, sometimes.”
“Have you won yet?” Yukimura asked, a bit of sparkle lighting his eyes. The implicit assumption that Genichirou would win, sooner or later, made him smile back at his captain for a moment. Then the memory of the match returned to nag at him, and he turned his gaze out the window again.
“Not yet.”
“Genichirou.” Seiichi was watching him more narrowly, now. “What happened?”
Genichirou never could decide whether he preferred Seiichi’s manner, who invariably drew whatever Genichirou was thinking out of him, or Renji’s, who rarely asked since he could usually be assumed to know already.
“It…” he sighed. “When we played, he was… I just…”
Light fingers brushed over his lips, and Genichirou paused and looked up, startled, to see Seiichi laughing, quietly.
“Genichirou, you’re sputtering,” he said. “And while there’s a certain rarity value to that, it doesn’t tell me what happened.”
Genichirou looked down at his hands. “When we played, he reminded me of you,” he said, voice low.
Seiichi’s brows rose. “My style?”
“No. Nothing that simple.” Genichirou felt a sardonic twist curl his mouth. “His… brightness was like yours.”
Seiichi was silent for a long moment. “And did it draw you, the way mine does?” he asked at last, softly.
Genichirou flinched. “Seiichi…”
“I can’t think of any other reason it would trouble you, since I know you’ve been fascinated by other players’ talent before,” Seiichi continued, thoughtfully. “Or is it just that I’m not there right now?”
That was exactly what Genichirou had hoped to get away without saying. What could be more contemptible than seeking a replacement for a friend and lover when he was ill? Self-disgust twisted his stomach.
“Genichirou, you can think yourself into such ridiculous corners, sometimes,” Seiichi sighed. “That wasn’t what I meant.”
Genichirou stared at him, disoriented by such a calm response. Seiichi shook his head, and leaned forward. His hand touched Genichirou’s face, coaxing him down to a soft, lingering kiss, and Genichirou’s arms found their way around Seiichi, with the helpless protectiveness Seiichi always roused in him. The sweetness of Seiichi’s lips moving so gently against his almost made him shudder with how much he had missed his friend’s presence and touch.
Seiichi finally drew back and ran his fingers though Genichirou’s hair, looking serious. “Does Sasaki make you feel like this?” he whispered.
“No,” Genichirou answered, without a shade of doubt or hesitation, and water-gray eyes smiled at him.
“Then I don’t see anything to worry about. Have a little faith in yourself, Genichirou,” Seiichi admonished. “It’s no injury to me, if you want me there enough to see my likeness in other people.”
Genichirou blinked at the astonishing common sense of that statement. Renji was laughing, softly, from the other side of Seiichi’s bed.
“Seiichi, you have the gift of taking the single action that’s more convincing than hours of reasoned debate could ever be,” he said. Seiichi, still in the curve of Genichirou’s arm, gave Renji a pleased look before continuing.
“As for the rest of it,” he said, “you’ve always been taken up with other strong players, as I shouldn’t have to remind you, after last year.” Renji chuckled and Genichirou threw him a half glare. “If you want to go to bed with this one, as long as he doesn’t presume, where’s the problem?”
“I’m sure it would be good stress relief,” Renji put in, absolutely straight faced.
That rated a full fledged glare. “Renji,” Genichirou growled.
The hand Seiichi pressed over his mouth totally failed to muffle his laugh. That, alone, was enough to reconcile Genichirou to the teasing. He remembered far too clearly the day, not long after Seiichi had come off the respirators for the last time, that some doctor had said, a little too cheerily, that there was only a thirty percent chance of a relapse. He had held Seiichi for over an hour, while his friend shuddered with silent terror against his shoulder. The sight of Seiichi so broken had terrified him in turn, and he’d spent that night curled up in a knot while Renji stroked his hair until he finally fell asleep. Seiichi’s smile was still far more fragile than he liked, much of the time, and if his spirit was recovering enough to laugh, Genichirou was content to be the object of fun for him.
“Is this what you’ve been so tense over?” Renji asked.
Genichirou shrugged agreement. Renji’s hand settled on his shoulder.
“Perhaps next time I’ll ask sooner,” he said.
Which was as close as Yanagi Renji was ever likely to come to admitting that he had miscalculated the cause of Genichirou’s reaction. A corner of Genichirou’s mouth quirked up.
“That presumes you can get me to answer you,” he observed, getting another chuckle from Seiichi.
Renji, though, only turned his hand up to brush the backs of his fingers across Genichirou’s cheek. “You’ll tell me, if I ask, Genichirou,” he said, deep voice both soft and sure.
Genichirou wound his fingers through Renji’s and closed his eyes, savoring the closeness of these two who were most important to him. Seiichi was right. Nothing could replace this.
And, now that he wasn’t avoiding the thought, he could see perfectly well the glint of appreciation in Sasaki’s eyes.
“A much better game today, Sanada-kun,” Sasaki told him, clasping his hand over the net. “At this rate you might just overtake me by summer.”
“That’s certainly my hope, Sasaki-san,” Genichirou answered, seriously.
“Hm. Don’t work yourself so hard you forget to enjoy this.” Sasaki smiled to take away any sting from the admonition.
“I doubt there’s any chance of that.” Genichirou didn’t change expression at all, but Sasaki gave him a considering look anyway and he thought Sasaki had probably heard what hadn’t been said.
“Really? When was the last time you played at one of the street courts, just for fun?” Sasaki challenged.
“A long time ago,” Genichirou had to admit, as they packed up.
“There’s a rather nice one down by my house,” Sasaki said, lightly. “You might come check it out.”
Genichirou almost laughed, less at the invitation than at the humor that lit Sasaki’s pale gray eyes as he made it. The dance of euphemism and innuendo clearly amused him, and for a moment, Sasaki reminded Genichirou far more of Renji than of Seiichi. Genichirou shouldered his bag and gave Sasaki a direct look.
“I would like that.”
“I hope you will, Sanada-kun,” Sasaki said, voice suddenly much lower, and Genichirou’s breath caught. Anticipation feathered through his stomach, as they left. He knew what the offer he had accepted was, knew what he was heading into, but the knowledge had not grown out of anything he had shared with Sasaki. Since they had staked their places together in their first year, he and Renji and Seiichi had traded pieces of themselves back and forth like good books, reading each other’s histories and fantasies and footnotes, and pleasure had simply been another added chapter. By comparison he barely had a nodding acquaintance with the man walking beside him. This felt… reckless. Impulsive.
He found, however, as he let Sasaki escort him through a quiet house to a bedroom painted in rather fanciful swirls of green, that he didn’t care.
When Sasaki slid a hand around Genichirou’s waist, and stroked his hair back with light fingers, Genichirou also found that there were some lines he had to draw for his own peace of mind. He caught Sasaki’s hand in his, stilling it as it slipped down his neck.
“Sasaki-san,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady, “I don’t… I don’t think I can take this if you’re gentle.”
Sasaki’s brows rose, and he studied Genichirou for a long moment. He freed his hand and lifted Genichirou’s chin the little bit necessary to put them eye to eye. Genichirou returned his gaze, unflinching.
“Who is it?” Sasaki asked, at last. “The one who’s gentle with you?”
Now Genichirou closed his eyes, briefly. “Seiichi. Renji.”
After a blank moment, Sasaki blinked. “Yukimura and Yanagi?” he asked, and chuckled when Genichirou nodded. “Well, I suppose I owe Nishiki an apology, not that I intend to tell him so. I thought he must have been hallucinating when he said the three of you were together that way.” Then his thumb brushed against Genichirou’s jaw. “I remember hearing that Yukimura was ill this winter.”
“It’s getting better,” Genichirou said, with no expression. “He can breathe on his own again.”
Sasaki inhaled sharply, eyes widening. “That bad?” he asked, softly. When Genichirou nodded again, silent, Sasaki’s mouth tightened. And then he pulled Genichirou against him, paying no mind to his stiffness, and, abruptly, Genichirou was too tired to bother with reserve. After a moment’s hesitation he let his head drop to Sasaki’s shoulder.
“Sanada,” Sasaki said, eventually. “Why are you here with me, instead of with them?”
All the reasons tangled together in Genichirou’s throat. He laughed a little as he decided on the simplest answer.
“It was your game. Yukimura calls it my strongest weakness, that I get so focused on other strong players, sometimes so focused it hurts my own playing. And you… you’re so bright when you play. I touch that through the game, and I want to reach out to it outside of the game too.”
“But not gently?” Sasaki asked, a smile in his voice.
Genichirou lifted his head. “Not gently,” he agreed.
Sasaki’s gaze turned more serious. “I don’t like the idea of hurting you, Sanada.”
“Good,” Genichirou said, one corner of his mouth quirking.
Sasaki threw his head back and laughed. “So,” he said at last, tone turning speculative, “rough and slow, then?”
Genichirou felt heat wash over his entire body, and tried not to think about the fact that his face probably showed it. He nodded, and Sasaki’s lips curved. His arm tightened, sharply, around Genichirou, and Genichirou shivered a little at the unaccustomed sensation of a larger body pressing against the length of his. Sasaki wasn’t, he supposed distantly, really that much taller or significantly more heavily built, but the difference was noticeable like this. And it sent a jolt down his spine when Sasaki’s hand tipped his head back before kissing him. The hard demand in it called out a longer shudder, and Genichirou’s hands closed tight on Sasaki’s back as he answered, opening his mouth under Sasaki’s.
He gasped when Sasaki’s teeth closed, sharp and stinging, just under his ear, and groaned, sagging against Sasaki, when he sucked there. This was the intensity Genichirou wanted just now, and he threw himself into it and let it close over him, pressing into Sasaki’s touch.
Sasaki slipped around behind him, one hand moving between Genichirou’s legs, kneading roughly. Genichirou’s knees weakened at the sudden rush of sensation, and his hips bucked into Sasaki’s hand.
“Or, maybe, not so slow,” Sasaki laughed in his ear, undoing Genichirou’s pants and sliding a hand inside to touch skin. Genichirou could only moan in answer, leaning against Sasaki as his fingers closed tight and stroked Genichirou hard.
There was barely enough left of his thought process to raise his arms, when Sasaki tugged his shirt off, and those calloused hands skimming over his hips to push down the rest of his clothing drowned that last bit. When Sasaki turned him to face the wall, Genichirou simply leaned on his forearms, trying to recover his breath and listening to the faint rustling behind him.
His breath left him again when he felt the heat of Sasaki’s body against his back, and Sasaki’s hand, slick, rubbing against his entrance. True to his word, Sasaki was slow, not seeking to press further yet, but his hand was not gentle. He worked his fingers hard against Genichirou’s muscles until Genichirou was almost clutching at the wall, moaning at the tingling burn as he opened under that demanding touch. He arched his back, pressing his hips against Sasaki, inviting, and Sasaki accepted. Thumbs spread Genichirou apart as Sasaki pushed into him, slow but unstopping, a long, hard thrust that pressed him full and left Genichirou panting.
“Good?” Sasaki murmured.
“Yes,” Genichirou gasped. “Sasaki…”
He lost whatever he had meant to say when Sasaki’s still slick hand wrapped around his cock and pumped. His involuntary jerk moved Sasaki a little out of him, and then Sasaki surged forward, chest pressed into Genichirou’s back. Not slow any longer, he drove into Genichirou, pounding him against the wall, only Sasaki’s own hand, stroking him so roughly, pulling him back again. Genichirou lost himself in the harsh rhythm, hearing his own voice without knowing what he was saying, feeling only the heat and pressure of Sasaki’s movement, the swelling rush of pleasure that surged up like a wave and threw him down so hard he almost lost awareness completely.
Leaning about equally on the wall and Sasaki’s arms, Genichirou waited for his breath to calm and his pulse to settle just a little before he tried to stand on his own. He could feel a roughness in his throat that told him it was probably a good thing no one else seemed to be home. He heard the same roughness in Sasaki’s voice, when he spoke, though his tone was contemplative.
“If I were the only one you were with, I would be more concerned about what you want from me. But I have to admit,” he said, running a hand over Genichirou’s shoulders, “there’s an attraction in someone as strong as you asking for something like this. Was that what you were looking for?”
“Yes,” Genichirou murmured.
“Good.” Sasaki nipped at the back of his neck, tugging a low noise out of Genichirou. “Let me know the next time you need to be distracted from the world, then.”
Genichirou turned, slowly, to look at Sasaki. He was sure he hadn’t actually said that that was why he was here, when Sasaki had asked. How did he manage to draw, and be drawn to, such overly-perceptive people? On the other hand, he could hardly deny the truth. So he nodded.
“Thank you.”
Genichirou expected Renji to tease him, and, indeed, there were a few comments on the statistics of “early maturation” delivered perfectly deadpan. He did his best not to react, silently blessing his previous practice. It took a while for any other side effects to catch up to him, but they did so with a vengeance the day Renji touched his arm as they were heading out to afternoon practice.
“Genichirou, did you do something to your shoulder?”
“No, why?” Genichirou asked, paying more attention to the start of a match between Akaya and Yagyuu.
“Because it looked like you had a bruise,” Renji told him.
Genichirou frowned, sifting back through the last few days for anything that might have caused…
Oh.
He had no idea what expression might be on his face, but both Renji’s brows were lifted.
“Genichirou?”
“I’ll tell you later. Not here,” Genichirou said. After a long moment of scrutiny, Renji accepted that, and moved off.
Genichirou managed to get through practice and all the way home before Renji’s patience ran out.
“All right,” Renji said, rather clipped, as he closed the bedroom door behind them. “First of all, show me.”
Genichirou suppressed a sigh, pulling off his shirt and turning to let Renji take a look at his back. For all the other two might say he was the most overprotective of them, he thought that Renji won hands down once he made a decision to interfere. It just didn’t happen very often. Light fingers brushed his skin.
“It seems to be along the bone of the shoulder,” Renji reported. “It doesn’t hurt?”
“I didn’t even know it was there until you told me,” Genichirou assured him.
“It probably helps that it’s your off hand side. Now. You obviously know where it came from.”
Renji, Genichirou reflected, had a talent for demanding information without asking a single question. “It’s probably from yesterday, when Sasaki took me up against a tile wall,” he said, evenly.
The silence behind him turned resounding.
“Renji…” he started, only to break off as Renji’s arms came around his waist. The body at his back was shaking with silent laughter. The strain of suppressing it showed in Renji’s voice, too.
“I suppose it’s a good thing no one else noticed, while we were changing, then. Can you imagine their expressions…?” Renji broke off, burying his head in Genichirou’s shoulder and laughing out loud.
Genichirou growled, wordlessly, and Renji managed to get himself back under control.
“Just be careful, all right?” he said, more seriously.
Genichirou looked back and raised a brow at him.
“I know you can take care of yourself, Genichirou. I mean more than that. Your penchant for violence; it’s stronger, lately. Be careful how you handle it.” Renji’s arms tightened around him.
Genichirou turned in those arms to take Renji’s shoulders. “Renji. You can’t think I would let it spill onto us.”
Deep, hazel eyes looked at him quietly. “I know you wouldn’t, normally. I just worry about how much pressure you can take.”
Genichirou drew Renji close against him. Yes, Renji was definitely the more overprotective one. “You worry too much,” he said, softly, in Renji’s ear. “Let me show you?”
“You and Seiichi, and your language of actions,” Renji murmured, the laugh back in his voice. “How did I wind up with two such terribly direct people?”
“If I’m so direct and unreflective, you can hardly expect me to have an answer for that,” Genichirou pointed out, and closed his mouth on Renji’s earlobe.
“Very direct,” Renji sighed, leaning into him. “I suppose it has its merits.”
It was Genichirou’s turn to laugh.
Renji let Genichirou undress him, smiling tolerantly at the care he took. Genichirou had to admit, he didn’t often go this slowly, but today he found himself wanting to keep things… tranquil. He knew he wasn’t the only one who had been under pressure, nor the only one who still was. He wanted to relax and reassure his friend, to see him stop worrying for a little while. Renji seemed almost bemused, as he lay back on the bed, that Genichirou was spending so long just stroking him, as if to memorize his skin or map the body he already knew.
Renji closed his eyes with a low sigh as Genichirou licked, slowly, at the inside of his wrist. Genichirou knew it was one of Renji’s more sensitive spots, and lingered over it. And over the space just under Renji’s lowest rib. And the arch of his foot. When he tongued the delicate skin behind Renji’s knee, it drew out a soft moan, and Genichirou smiled.
“Enjoying yourself, Genichirou?” Renji asked, archly. The effect was, perhaps, a bit spoiled by the fact that he was spread out, naked, in bed, but not by much. Genichirou was impressed all over again by Renji’s poise. He stretched out beside Renji and kissed him until his mouth relaxed from its sardonic curl.
“Enjoying watching your body calm because of me?” he murmured. “Yes, I am.”
“Such a taste you have for getting your own way,” Renji teased, smiling more gently.
“Now there’s a case of the pot and the kettle,” Genichirou commented, nibbling on Renji’s ear again. “You’re every bit as headstrong as I am, Renji, for all you prefer manipulation to force.”
“Mmmmmm. It’s hard to argue when you’re doing that,” Renji breathed.
“Then don’t. The subject will keep for later.” Genichirou kissed him again, slow and deep. “Turn over?”
Renji obliged, stretching out on his stomach, and purred as Genichirou trailed fingers down his spine. The sound he made when Genichirou nipped at his rear was considerably sharper. That was one of the sensitive points his partners didn’t get around to as often.
When Genichirou spread him open and ran a soft tongue around his entrance, Renji’s hips flexed into Genichirou’s hands and he muffled a rough moan against the sheets. Genichirou coaxed Renji with his tongue, teased and soothed him by turns, until Renji was panting, hips raised and legs parted in a wordless invitation. Genichirou reached forward to close a hand around Renji’s cock and stroke him slowly. The feeling of that lean, powerful body tightening under his touch, the sound of that cool voice heated and hoarse on the syllables of Genichirou’s name, was deeply satisfying, and Genichirou nipped, gently, one last time so that he could watch Renji come undone in his hands.
When the last tension wrung out of Renji’s body, Genichirou let him down and curled up against his back, pleased.
“You know,” Renji murmured, drowsily, “I can tell without even looking that you have a smug expression on your face, Genichirou.”
“Perhaps,” Genichirou allowed.
“I’m afraid you’ll just have to deal with my worrying, though.”
Hadn’t he been thinking something about overly-perceptive people, just a while ago, Genichirou mused. “Renji,” he said, seriously, leaning up on an elbow and tugging his friend over to look at him, “tell me you don’t honestly believe that I would deliberately hurt you or Seiichi.”
Renji laid a hand along the side of Genichirou’s face. “Never deliberately.”
Genichirou relaxed again, and dropped back down to rest against Renji’s side.
“Just be careful, Genichirou. Please,” Renji said, quietly, against his shoulder.
Genichirou considered this. Obviously, Renji saw some danger, and considered it fairly likely, if he was willing to press Genichirou like this. And he had spent two solid years trusting Renji’s calculations of these things. He ran his fingers through Renji’s straight, heavy hair and nodded when his friend looked up.
“I promise.”
End