Kirihara Akaya was in a contrary mood, and had decided, early in the day, that Sanada-san would be the perfect recipient for it. The team whip-cracker was in exactly the right kind of anal-retentive mood to be annoyed by it, and an annoyed Sanada-san had all sorts of possibilities. Accordingly, he had set out to tease his vice-captain. It was good entertainment for everyone. The first time he had stepped close enough that they could feel each other’s body heat, and tipped his head back to cast a look of invitation up through his lashes, Sanada-san’s eyes had widened with what might have been panic in anyone less controlled.

Niou-senpai had dropped his serve, he’d been laughing so hard.

As Akaya continued to brush his fingers over Sanada-san’s hand when accepting some extra tennis balls, or stretch along the back of a bench as suggestively as he could manage, Sanada-san’s expression had gone from startled to harassed to downright bothered.

Akaya smiled as demurely as he could manage when Jackal-senpai gave him a scolding look. It wasn’t easy, with Marui-senpai snickering in the background.

It actually wasn’t until Sanada-san took a hasty step to Yanagi-senpai’s opposite side, as Akaya approached with an innocent question about footwork, and Yukimura-buchou was attacked by a not very convincing fit of coughing, that Akaya realized he was doing this in front of Sanada-san’s real partners, and might be stepping on some toes. He let Sanada-san escape in favor of approaching his captain, instead.

“Yukimura-buchou?” he asked, with a penitent glance up.

Yukimura-buchou and Yanagi-senpai exchanged a look. Yanagi-senpai turned a hand palm up, and Yukimura-buchou nodded. Akaya had no idea what they had just communicated, but it was obviously significant. Yukimura-buchou cleared his throat, though his eyes still laughed.

“As long as it doesn’t interfere with practice, Akaya,” he said, very quietly, patting Akaya on the shoulder. “Just remember I’m not going to save you from the consequences,” he warned, as Akaya grinned broadly.

Akaya lowered his lashes to hide his eyes. “Of course not, Yukimura-buchou,” he murmured.

Yanagi-senpai’s snort said he wasn’t buying it. When he spoke, though, there was amusement in his voice along with a certain clinical edge that almost made Akaya rethink his plans.

“Enjoy yourself, Akaya.”

Almost. Akaya nodded and went back to work.

By the end of practice there was a dangerous light in Sanada-san’s eye, and Akaya congratulated himself as they all got changed. The familiar chatter of the doubles pairs, and the murmur of Yukimura-buchou speaking with someone about exercises for next practice rose and fell around him as the third years left ahead of him.

The only particularly jarring note was the click of a lock being thrown.

Akaya turned away from his locker to see Sanada-san standing at the door. Three long strides brought him back across the room, and he caught Akaya up off his feet.

“Do you remember what I said about teasing, Akaya?” he asked, softly.

Pressed against the length of Sanada-san’s body, so tightly he could feel as well as hear the deep, smooth voice, Akaya couldn’t hold back a triumphant grin.

“That it works?” he suggested, breathless.

Sanada-san’s eyes narrowed. He freed a hand and ran it up Akaya’s neck, tracing his jaw with a thumb, combing through his hair. “I think,” he said, sounding contemplative, “that I will teach you a lesson about that after all. But not right now.”

“What’s right now?” Akaya asked, tucking his chin down to give Sanada-san a coy look.

Sanada-san’s fingers tightened in his hair, drawing his head back until Akaya arched over Sanada-san’s arm.

“Wait and see, Akaya,” he whispered against Akaya’s throat, and Akaya’s breath caught when he remembered the last time he had heard those words. His knees were a little weak at the thought, and when Sanada-san let him back down to his feet he clung to the broad shoulders, gazing up, asking if Sanada-san was serious.

Sanada-san held his eyes, as his hands slid down over Akaya’s hips, pushing down the last of his clothing, leaving him bare to Sanada-san’s touch. It felt like Sanada-san’s hands were charged, electric, tugging at Akaya’s nerves as they passed over his skin. Akaya’s lips parted on a shaky breath, and Sanada-san pulled him close and kissed him hard before setting him a little away and stripping off his own clothing. Akaya didn’t have much time to look, though, before Sanada-san stepped into him, bearing him back against the wall. Akaya’s shoulders jarred against it, hard, and a subtle twist of Sanada-san’s body put his legs between Akaya’s; Akaya could feel the flex of muscles against his inner thighs, and let his head fall back with a faint moan.

The moan returned, unrestrained this time, as Sanada-san reached down, firm hands sliding over Akaya’s rear, and pulled Akaya up his body, slowly, until Akaya could wind his legs around Sanada-san’s waist. Akaya could feel that Sanada-san was already as hard as he was. Sanada-san’s large, powerful hands gripped his rear, spreading him open as they supported him, and he could feel that hardness rubbing between his cheeks, promising. Akaya shuddered.

“Sanada-san,” he gasped, legs tensing as he pushed into that promising touch. Sanada-san’s chuckle did enticing things, where Akaya’s cock was pressed up against Sanada’s stomach.

“So impatient, Akaya,” he said, chiding. Akaya groaned as Sanada-san moved one hand to rummage in the locker nearest them.

A small part of his mind noted that Sanada-san’s choice of this particular wall had clearly not been random, because that was his own locker. The rest of him, however, was almost writhing against Sanada-san’s body, because Sanada-san’s effortless strength, holding him up, holding him open, made Akaya hotter than he’d thought possible. On the courts, that strength was an irritation and a challenge, the thing Akaya needed to surpass. Here, though, it was a lure, the potential for as much sensation as Akaya wanted, as much as he could take, and just maybe enough.

Akaya shivered as long fingers spread coolness over his skin, gasped as Sanada-san’s cock pressed, carefully, into him, just barely inside him, and paused. Akaya’s eyes were wide; Sanada-san felt incredibly thick inside him, and the abrupt stretch had him panting already.

When Sanada-san thrust into him, sudden and deep, Akaya heard his own voice echo back from the walls.

Sanada-san drove him up against the wall again, and again, fast and hard, and Akaya made no effort to restrain the sounds Sanada-san was calling out of him, barely registering the bared teeth in Sanada-san’s smile. He reveled in the strength that held him, while the rough force of Sanada-san thrusting into him spread a burning heaviness through every muscle in his body. Sanada-san was filling him so hard, Akaya thought he might tear apart from the weight of sensation. Sanada-san drove him open, wider and wider, until the heat seized hold of him, overwhelmed him, snapped like a shock, and he was arching desperately into the unyielding body pressing him against the wall, voiceless as pleasure wrung him again and again.

He collapsed forward onto Sanada-san’s shoulder, almost sobbing for breath. He didn’t even have enough to moan at how hard Sanada-san still thrust into him. By the time he did, it was over and Sanada-san’s hands, gentler now, were setting him down and supporting him as he wavered on his feet. Akaya kept his arms wound around Sanada-san’s shoulders, and leaned against him as those hands rubbed his back.

“You make an engagingly appreciative bedmate, Akaya,” Sanada-san murmured to him, a bit breathless himself, Akaya was pleased to hear.

“‘S no bed,” he mumbled. He was also gratified when Sanada-san stifled a helpless laugh in his, now very mussed, hair. He smiled, sweetly, up at him, and stood on very shaky tiptoe to collect a kiss, relaxing into Sanada-san’s arms as they lifted him again.

“You may just be the most contrary creature I’ve ever met,” Sanada-san said in his ear.

Akaya’s smile was one of great accomplishment.

End