The Perfect Practice
"Do it again. Again."
If the phantom passer wanted to learn layups now, the forward wasn't going to hold back with the drills. Friend or not—the Touou Gakuen ace wasn't going to let a little absence of light stop him from coaching.
When asking for the Teikou alumi's assistance earlier that afternoon, he had predicted a few hours of routines, then eagerly anticipating a fist bump to call it a day. Apparently, it's been some time since they last practiced together, because there was no break or compromise in sight.
No. That was a complete lie. Kuroko already knew that, only wishing he was an exception. That was a lie too. When you're instructed by Aomine Daiki, you train like Aomine Daiki. No ifs, ands, or buts.
His fingertips were no longer capable of any feeling, just as disjointed as the rest of his upper body. The object he loved time after time suddenly became cumbersome between his palms. Sweat gleaned off his pale neck, stagnating at his clavicle. Had he been wearing his uniform or a hefty winter jacket earlier, Kuroko was now reduced to a loose t-shirt and pants. Aomine couldn't help but be distracted by the glow of the perspiration trailing down Kuroko's skin. He would ignore the equally radiating pheromones for the time being.
Standing at the free throw line for so long, Kuroko could picture the three point line with his eyes closed. Not that he didn't know where it was already. The tanned confidant's lenses traced the outline of lethargy weighing upon those milky shoulders. Even from the side of the half court, he could sense the strain in Kuroko's tendons as the shorter teen's arms quivered with much resistance. Aomine had engaged himself so that he didn't even notice the distance his feet had carried him onto court. Hands found themselves raised around his mouth, ready to call in. Don't interrupt just yet. Here's where the time is critical. Falling short now wouldn't help anyone.
A silent sweep before a solo sound of rubber hitting asphalt signaled triumph. Now. "Good! This time just pretend the ball is in your hands. Focus on your form." With precise cue, aqua-gleamed orbs slowly closed as his head arched itself, greeting the stars. Frosty wind escaped between roseate lips while arms raised themselves at the ready.
Maybe the lack of vision caused Kuroko to stifle, or the warmth capturing, intertwining his fingers—or just the fierce presence upon his unclaimed lips. Whatever the reason, he had been shaken. The caress was long enough to leave a lingering memory, but short enough to spark yearning. Lips parted, chilled breaths quickly replaced them. Glowing pools, visible once again, recognized the culprit with a blank stare.
"Was that part of practice?"
An evenly matched poker face gazed back. "Of course it was. When you're on the court, you need to always expect the unexpected." Owner of his hands once again, the taller fellow pulled up the neck of his jacket, satisfied and ready to leave. "Hey, let's head back to my place. I'll rustle up something for us to eat."
"Aomine..."
Within seconds, maybe less, Kuroko captured him by the collar and reached up, leaving him speechless—with a chaste kiss. He could have sworn he felt a small lick on his bottom lip, remaining moisture proved his point. "I'm putting your teaching into practice."
Aomine could not help expose the hidden delight on his face. "Tetsu. I think you're gonna have to work on that a lot more."
"Then teach me everything you know."