You know you love him, and you've accepted that by now, but you still don't know what to do with him.
Your hair itches the back of your neck where it is wet and sticking, and you skin is sensitive from the hot water of the shower. His arms drip all over your nice, dry shirt and his equally wet nose nudges your cheek as he leans around you. You grimace and elbow him in the stomach, but he just chokes you and you both end up on the hard floor, wrestling aimlessly.
He laughs when you pin him and his eyes sparkle mischievously. If you thought he was that smart you'd think he had planned all that out just to get you on the floor with him. Ever since you've arrived you've been denying him sex on the grounds that you need your sleep for the training, and then you never have time during the day. But now he has captured you, even though it is you who is holding him down.
It is quite obvious what is going on between your bodies. Even if you had been denying him sex didn't mean you hadn't been wanting it too.
"Don't, idiot," you murmur feebly as his hips roll up and the tip of his erection nudges the front of your tented boxers. You lean down anyway and your breath is sweet with calories where it ghosts against his skin. His eyes are dark, pupils dilated with lust. You have to let go of his hands; you need to free your own for pushing into his hair, sliding across his chest. His go down to your hips, your ass, and you groan when he squeezes you close.
He smiles against your lips as if he has found a brand new toy, but really he is just rediscovering an old one with the eyes of one who has been long-denied.
You don't go all the way, not here, but his fingers and tongue are enough. Together you pant and get sweaty again, rocking into your entwined fingers and arching back and forth.
"Shit...!" he whines between clenched teeth, eyes rolling back into his head as he makes the final, jerky moves. You can feel yourself getting there, watching him. And he spills this warm, sticky fluid all over your fingers, and you close your eyes for a moment, just feeling him go through it. You didn't hear him say it, but it was so close, so there. You come so suddenly it's impossible to choke back his name, shuddering.
The cool night air comes upon you quickly, blowing the blissful after-effects of orgasm away. Tachibana is crawling to his futon and out immediately, mouth hanging open and body sprawled onto your mat. It takes you some longer moments to collect yourself, wiping yourself off, and finding the newspaper you picked up that morning.
The cool air brings you down fast from your high. Hayamazaki defeats Ishigawa, 77-69. You wonder what would have happened to you had you gone to that school, and then he says your name in a rough, sleep-sounding voice. His face is serious, and he knows what you were thinking, but now you are only thinking of him.
Smiling indulgently, the smile you relearnt just for him, you put down the paper and come back indoors. His smile matches yours when he flings out a blanket and an arm in invitation.
There is only one day and one night left in the training camp. You can make it.
When they come to wake you up in the morning, they find him sprawled on top of you, shoving his body every which way, drooling on your shoulder, mumbling in his sleep, hand under the blanket in a suspicious area. You sleep much as you always do, still and silent, but with the smallest of smiles still lingering on your face as you laugh in your sleep at the boy who clings to you so.