Promenade
'I didn't think you lived in this direction.' Gakuto hikes his tennis bag higher on his shoulder.
You smile and adjust your glasses. With a shrug you casually reply, 'I don't. I visit my uncle on Thursdays.'
'Oh,' he replies his lips forming a perfect circle. 'We could walk together then.'
'We could.'
'Want to stop at the arcade?' he asks.
Two-Step
Gakuto's hair sticks slick and wet to his face with exertion, but the triumph exceeds all exhaustion and he launches himself in your direction. Your opponents are decimated and your newly minted tennis partnership is declared a success.
His tennis racquet clatters to the court and with a whoop he leaps. The collision winds you and he accidentally knocks you in the head with his elbow, but you don't care. His shirt hitches up, your hand sliding across the skin of his back, the blood rushing and stirring your cock.
He leans in, sweat slicked cheek against yours. 'We are so in synch,' voice trembling lightly over unsteady breaths. 'I can feel you the whole time. Where you are, what you're thinking…' His hand curls against your neck, fingers just grazing through the wet ends of your hair.
You lean in your face pressed to his neck, hair flicking against your lips.
Side-Step
'I heard you were sick.'
'You brought me romance novels?' Gakuto slumps against the door frame, shaking his head.
'To keep you distracted and in bed.'
You notice the slightest twitch of a smile and wonder if it means what you want it to mean. 'There are other ways to keep me distracted,' he replies.
You want to ask if there are other ways you could keep him in bed, but it's too soon. 'I thought a round of tennis would be a little too energetic,' you sidestep.
Adage
You usually enjoy the atmosphere of Atobe's parties. The sardonic commentary as Atobe narrates the exploits of his socialite neighbors, whom have all been invited, of course. A sense of restlessness causes you to shuffle distractedly through meaningless conversations, fiddle with your drink and wander aimlessly. Did Atobe not invite him? You frown and place your drink down on the nearest table. Atobe was elitist for certain and Gakuto wasn't his favorite person at the best of times, but it was not his practice to exclude anyone on the team.
'He's inside.' Atobe's breath brushes across your cheek.
'Sorry?'
'You're looking for Mukahi-kun. He's inside. Guess all these girls aren't his thing,' he smiles knowingly and pushes you towards the door.
Pas De Duex
He smiles at you and turns back to the TV. For a moment you feel hurt, but then his body shifts up against your leg and his head slowly droops until it rests against your thigh.
You are both staring resolutely at the television, not really listening to the music but still commenting on the bands as if there wasn't an entirely different conversation happening between your bodies.
The sensation of his hair sliding across the fabric of your pants is unbearable, because you'd give everything to feel it slide across your bare skin. You'd give everything to touch him and you do.
His red hair parts over the back of your hand as you push your fingers through. His head pushes back against your hand with a shaky moan.
Even this simple touch makes you ache with lust. You stop stroking his hair, but don't remove your hand. As graceful as always, he unfolds his body to stand up. Your hand trails along his neck and chest and rests on his waist. One knee on the couch, he leans over his breath staccato against your skin. When you press your lips to his he doesn't resist.