Title: Punishment Detail
Characters/Pairings: Imayoshi and Aomine
Summary: Imayoshi demonstrates what happens when Aomine decides not to be his best self during practice.
Notes: Adult for smut; dominance games. Continuing on from "A Cheerful and Willing Heart" and the inevitabilities it suggested. 3881 words.

Punishment Detail

He had to hand it to the brat: he made it a lot longer than Shouichi had really expected him to before suffering a relapse. Or not a relapse, but rather a fit of laziness, one that made him unwilling to trade good behavior during practice for extracurricular rewards. Shouichi didn't suppose it really mattered which it was: the end result was that after a couple weeks of playing nicely with the other children, Aomine broke out as badly as ever. He picked a fight with Wakamatsu and just about reduced Sakurai to tears by stealing his bento and then critiquing it mercilessly, and drifted through practice itself with an attitude that combined all the charms of a cranky toddler in dire need of a nap with the joys of performing dentistry on a badger with a toothache. Everyone's temper had begun to fray by the end of practice; Momoi-chan herself seemed to be on the verge of crying, too, though Shouichi privately thought it was from her disappointment rather than Aomine's delightful mood.

"This is almost a relief," Harasawa-kantoku remarked just before they called the end of practice. "I had started to think he'd been replaced with a pod person."

"I suppose that the leopard doesn't change his shorts easily," Shouichi conceded. Fortunately he hadn't expected it to go any other way. So. On to the next step in his plan for civilizing overly talented basketball brats. He raised his voice and clapped his hands sharply. "All right, people, let's call it a night! Everyone clear out of here and go home. I'll see you all tomorrow."

Shoulders dropped all across the gymnasium and most of the club left what they were doing without any additional prompting. "No, don't bother," Shouichi said when they began to round up stray basketballs. "Leave the clean-up alone and get out of here. We've all had enough for one day. Not you, Aomine-kun." He let his voice crack like a whip as the brat tried to slip out with the rest of them. "You stay right where you are."

Aomine started, looking awake for the first time all evening, and he began to smile. So did the other members of the club as they headed for the locker room, though Shouichi figured it was for entirely different reasons.

"Do you have this?" Harasawa-kantoku asked, for his ears only.

Maybe he did, maybe he didn't. Shouichi shrugged. "I reckon I'll find out, won't I?"

Harasawa-kantoku tipped his head, acknowledging that, and left him to it.

That left Momoi-chan to approach next; her mouth was red with how much she'd been chewing on her lips during practice. "Imayoshi-san—"

Shouichi lifted his hand, stopping her. "Don't look so worried. It's not as though I'm going to turn him over my knee and spank him, no matter how richly he deserves it." The pity was that Aomine would likely take that as an enticement, not a punishment.

Momoi-chan smiled at that, sort of, but her forehead remained creased. "He's been doing so well. I don't know why…"

Shouichi held his tongue and shrugged. "He's a mystery to us all, isn't he? Run along home, Momoi-chan. I see whether I can't straighten him out."

Momoi-chan looked up at him, more miserable than any pretty girl ought to be. "I wish you could."

"Have a little faith," Shouichi told her. "Now go on, I figure the two of us are gonna need a little privacy."

Momoi-chan pressed her lips together and went, and that left only two.

Shouichi tucked his hands into his pockets and strolled over to where Aomine was managing to lounge while perfectly upright on his own two feet. "Seems to me that it's a crime, the way you make that young lady worry about you."

"What, Satsuki?" Aomine rolled his eyes. "That's just what she does. Couldn't stop her if I tried."

Positively criminal, and that was a fact. "Maybe, maybe not. Way I figure it, you could try not to give her extra reasons to worry."

He might as well have been speaking to the wall for all the good it did; Aomine just scoffed at him. "Whatever."

One baby step at a time. Shouichi nodded at the scattered basketballs. "Get those cleared away."

"Seriously?" Aomine demanded.

Imayoshi headed over to the stage and hoisted himself up to sit on its edge. "Yes, seriously. If you don't hurry, everyone will be dressed and gone before you finish up." The brat shouldn't need any hints like that, but Shouichi was hardly going to rely on his ability to pick up on subtlety.

"Aren't you even going to help?" Aomine demanded. Maybe he'd been expecting this discussion to go differently than it had before.

Shouichi didn't have the slightest idea what he'd done to give the brat that idea, but it was time to disabuse him of it. "I am helping. I'm making sure you do it properly. Now get busy, we're burning daylight."

Aomine fussed some more, but once he figured out that Shouichi had no intention of budging, he got to work rounding up the stray basketballs. He certainly wasn't in any hurry about it, which was just fine by Shouichi. Proud as he was of his club, there was no denying that some of them could dawdle like champions at the end of a practice. He only spoke up once, when Aomine went to start picking up the traffic cones that had been part of the day's drills. "No, leave those right where they are for now."

Aomine frowned at him. "Why?"

"Never you mind about that." Shouichi snapped his fingers at him, impatient. "Put it back where it was, brat."

Aomine squinted at him and then shrugged before dropping the traffic cone that he held.

Shouichi enjoyed the sight of his clueless look of suspicion and let him get on with it until he'd finally lobbed the last of the basketballs into the bin. He slid down from the stage. "Time to hit the locker room."

"Fucking finally," Aomine said.

Shouichi smiled at the gleam in his eyes and gestured Aomine ahead of him. "Now, I seem to recall something about us agreeing that there would be consequences for it if you decided to misbehave at practice," he drawled as they entered the deserted locker room. "Tell me, brat. Do you think you were your best self today?"

It was a real shame that his phone was in his locker; Shouichi would have liked to have had a photo of Aomine's expression just then to keep for posterity. "What?"

"Don't be obtuse." Shouichi raised his eyebrows. "Do you think you were naughty today or not?"

Aomine screwed his eyes shut and shook his head. "Do you even hear the shit that comes out of your mouth sometimes?"

"That doesn't answer my question." Shouichi sharpened his tone. "Do you think you deserve a reward for how you behaved today?"

The third time was the charm; Aomine shrugged. "Guess not." He grinned then. "What are you gonna do, spank me?"

"I'll spank you when I feel like you've earned it." Shouichi pointed at the locker next to his own. "Shorts and underwear off, then bend over and put your hands flat against the lockers."

Aomine swaggered over, entirely too smug for someone who was expecting to be punished in short order. Shouichi didn't say anything about it until he'd followed instructions, shameless and already starting to get hard. "Close your eyes," he said, waiting to open up his own locker until Aomine had obeyed. "Now keep them shut."

It was a largely unnecessary precaution, but Shouichi didn't care to spook the brat. Not yet.

"How long are you going to make me wait?" Aomine complained as Shouichi retrieved the items he'd stored against this inevitability.

"Funny you should ask that." Shouichi reached around him and fitted the strap around Aomine's cock, snugging it up against the base and passing the other strap around his balls before fastening it. "As it so happens, that's for me to know and you to find out."

"What the fuck?" Aomine demanded. He began to straighten and turn, but Shouichi planted a hand between his shoulders to hold him in place. "What the fuck is that?"

"It's a cock ring, of course." Shouichi held him and slicked lube over his fingers, single-handed, and pushed them into Aomine, who swore and pushed back against them. "You'll be waiting on my pleasure today, brat."

Aomine sputtered. "You can't do that—" He broke off, grunting as Shouichi curled his fingers. "Fuck!"

"That's just the thing." Shouichi slid his hand down Aomine's side and along his hipbone to his cock, which was filling rapidly now. "You don't seem to believe me when I tell you that I will have your obedience as long as you are part of my team. Way I see it, an object lesson is in order here."

Aomine groaned as Shouichi ran his fingers over his cock. "What does that mean?"

Shouichi smiled and slipped his fingers free of Aomine's body. "Well, since you asked…" He ran his slick fingers over the plug and set the tapered head of it against Aomine. The brat groaned as he pressed it into him, one smooth stroke start to finish, until his body had closed around the flare and taper of it and it was seated inside him. "You did a disgraceful job of practicing today, so now you're going to run those laps and repeat those drills, and this time you're going to do them properly." He patted Aomine's ass and stepped back. "Get dressed."

"You're joking," Aomine said after a moment of not moving; his voice had taken on an interesting rasp. "You have got to be joking."

Shouichi took another step back and reached for his captain voice, letting it turn hard. "When I'm joking, you'll know it on account of how I'll be laughing. Get dressed, Aomine."

Aomine straightened up and made a sound, one that was wordless with surprise, as the plug shifted inside him. He turned slowly, moving gingerly, and it took all of Shouichi's self-control to keep himself from cracking a smile at the uncertain, distracted look on Aomine's face. The brat drew an unsteady breath. "Imayoshi-san, I don't think—"

He stopped when Shouichi folded his arms. "For every ten seconds you make me wait, I'm adding five laps and a full set of drills."

The brat opened his mouth, maybe to protest, but then Shouichi began to count off the seconds ticking past.

Aomine moved, scrambling for the abandoned pile of his clothes. Every motion of his body was far less graceful than usual, and he made soft sounds every time the plug shifted inside him, which it did with every move he made. By the time he'd gotten his shorts pulled up again, his cock was hard enough to tent them noticeably and his face was flushed dark and damp with sweat.

"…and twenty-three seconds," Shouichi finished. "Ten extra laps and two extra sets of drills it is. Let's get going, I don't have all night, you know."

Aomine passed his tongue over his lips. "You're really serious," he said, half a question. "Aren't you."

Shouichi applauded. "And light begins to dawn at last. Yes, I'm serious." He smiled at Aomine, trusting that the brat would be able to read the specious virtuousness in it. "Since ordinary practices bore you so much, it's my duty as your captain to find a way to keep your interest, isn't it? Now move it before I start adding more laps."

"Imayoshi-san—"

"What's that?" Shouichi cupped his hand around his ear. "You want fifteen extra laps? All right, I reckon I can see my way clear to that."

Aomine shut his mouth; after staring at him, searching his expression like he was hoping to see that Shouichi was going to laugh it all off as a joke, he turned and began to shuffle out of the locker room.

Shouichi ambled after him, grinning at how gingerly Aomine was moving. "Pick up the pace." He punctuated the command by slapping Aomine's ass.

Aomine yelped, strangled, and shuffled a little faster. "You're a sadist."

"When the circumstances require it," Shouichi agreed. "Which is maybe something you'll wanna keep in mind hereafter." They hit the gym again. "Thirty-five laps, now, please, and make 'em snappy."

Aomine swallowed hard and took a breath before breaking into a jog, one that really wasn't much more than a fast shuffle. Shouichi returned to the stage to perch there and watch Aomine. He counted off the laps every time Aomine passed by—the brat didn't seem to be in any condition to do it himself. Shouichi could see as much from the look on his face, which showed every time his stride jolted the plug inside him. He seemed to be fairly preoccupied with that, in fact; it had wiped away his usual scowl and left him looking dazed.

Shouichi gave him a few laps of that before putting his fingers to his mouth and whistling for his attention. "You're all warmed up now," he called. "I want to see some running." Aomine said something, or shaped the words anyway—Shouichi laughed at him. "You'd better not kiss your mother with that mouth. Get a move on!"

There was no mistaking the gesture Aomine made as he broke into something that might charitably have been called a run. Encumbered as he was, Shouichi supposed it was respectable effort. "That's more like it," he called, leaning back on his hands and watching the brat struggle through a few more laps.

In normal circumstances, Aomine could do laps, even with extra ones thrown in for punishment, without losing his breath, but by the time Shouichi counted off the final lap and the brat staggered to a stop, he was panting for breath and his shirt was soaked dark with sweat. "You've made your point," he gasped, leaning over and bracing his hands on his knees. "We don't need to—"

"I'm sorry, but when did I get demoted?" Shouichi asked. "I don't recall anyone handing you the captain's hat. Was I not looking when it happened?"

Aomine looked up at him, dismay creasing his expression. "Oh, come on, you aren't serious—"

He stopped, choking on his words as Shouichi reached into his pocket and flicked the switch on the remote into the on position. He grinned at how wide Aomine's eyes went as the plug began to vibrate inside him. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that. You wanna run it by me one more time?"

Aomine groaned. "You can't expect me to do drills like this."

"Can't I?"

Aomine swallowed; when he spoke again, his voice was thick. "Please, Imayoshi-san…"

He was tempted, he really was, but Shouichi hardened his heart against the brat and said, "As I recall, we were working on precision today. Let me see just how good you really are, brat." When Aomine didn't move and kept staring at him, he added, "Unless you don't think you're good enough to pull it off?"

"I know what you're trying to do." Aomine's voice had gone unsteady. "I'm not stupid—fuck!" He shuddered as Shouichi nudged the dial a little higher.

"You know, I'm actually inclined to agree with you on that." Shouichi hopped down from the stage and fetched a basketball from the bin while Aomine hunched over himself, panting. "You're not stupid. You're just lazy and have a monomania for basketball." He pushed the basketball against Aomine's chest, prodding him with it until Aomine straightened up enough to take it. "I don't think the monomania is so bad, myself, and laziness can be cured. Which is what I aim to do."

Aomine's eyes had already begun to glaze over, so there was no telling whether he was actually hearing a word Shouichi was saying. That was fine, though. Way he figured it, he could repeat himself and the lesson if it came to that. Then Aomine spoke. "Why do you care?"

Huh. Chalk another one up to natural genius. "I have my reasons. For now let's just say that I can't abide a waste and leave it at that." He pursed his lips and moved along briskly, before Aomine could begin to puzzle his way through that. "I'll tell you what, brat, I'll make a bet with you. If you can run through a perfect set of the drills we did today, no mistakes, I'll forget the rest of them. If you can't do that, well… I guess we'll just have to make a late night of it. What do you say?"

Aomine looked at him, and for all the haziness of his expression, Shouichi could see the gears turning in his head. Then he said, "All right, you're on."

"Mm, that's my boy." Shouichi stepped back and waved a hand. "All right, brat, impress me." And then, because he'd never claimed not to be evil, he dropped his hand into his pocket and turned the vibrator up another couple of notches.

Aomine grunted and swayed on his feet, grimacing as the sensation hit him. Shouichi had to admit, that mix of pleasure and torment looked rather good on him. He reached down and palmed his own cock through his shorts, enjoying the view. "Whenever you're ready, of course."

Aomine showed him his teeth and looked down at the basketball. As Shouichi watched, he took a deep breath—one that shook—and turned towards the traffic cones. He bounced the ball a couple of times—getting a feel for it and how the plug was upsetting his usual equilibrium, Shouichi decided, rubbing himself and breathing faster as the friction curled heat low in his belly.

Then Aomine began to move, slowly, leaning into the pattern of the drills with exaggerated care. Shouichi could see it in the way he controlled his movements, breathing harshly as he passed the ball from hand to hand as he wove in and out of the cones. It wasn't a patch on his normal speed, but Shouichi didn't give a damn about that. Speed was nothing compared to Aomine's focus and concentration now, the way he was controlling the ball and himself even with his ass filled up with a toy and his cock so hard that there was a dark, wet patch on the front of his shorts. Shouichi supposed he must have had a little bit of basketball monomania himself, because the show made his cock throb against the pressure of his palm.

Aomine rounded the last cone and stopped, his shoulders heaving, and let the ball drop from his fingers as he looked towards Shouichi, who smiled and said, "Come here."

Aomine obeyed the order instantly. "Are we done now?" he rasped when he closed the distance between them.

Shouichi smiled and slid off the stage. "Not yet." He reached up and planted his hands on Aomine's shoulders. "Get on your knees."

Aomine closed his eyes, shuddering, and groaned as he allowed Shouichi to press him down. He looked up at Shouichi from beneath his lashes as Shouichi cupped his head and pushed his pants and underwear down far enough to take his cock in his hand. "You know what to do," Shouichi told him.

Aomine wet his lips and parted them, letting Shouichi guide his cock between them, sliding it over Aomine's tongue until he hit the back of the brat's throat. Aomine closed his eyes again, groaning, and leaned forward, swallowing him down without being asked for it.

Shouichi swore, surprised by that and the tight ripple of Aomine's throat moving around him, far more sensation than he'd expected. "Aomine…" He cupped Aomine's face between his palms, breathing hard as Aomine pressed forward until he couldn't go any farther and then pulled back a little before pressing forward again. Shouichi groaned again through the fireworks of pleasure going off behind his eyelids and rocked forward, fucking Aomine's throat with short thrusts and feeling his orgasm building at the base of his spine, inexorable, until it crashed down on him all at once, wringing him with the long spasm of pleasure as he came down Aomine's throat. Shouichi gasped, shuddering even after the feeling began to subside, and held Aomine's face between his palms, stroking his thumbs over the blades of his cheeks.

Aomine let him slip free of his mouth. "Imayoshi-san," he said, hoarse, nearly pleading. "Please…?"

Shouichi took a breath and tucked himself away. "On your hands and knees," he ordered, stepping around Aomine. His knees were feeling a little unsteady; it was a relief to kneel next to Aomine as he shifted forward—he was rocking his hips just a bit, flexing them and making urgent, quiet sounds in his throat.

He groaned as Shouichi pulled his shorts and underwear down, baring his ass and the flushed, dripping length of his cock. "Imayoshi-san, please…"

"Hush, brat," Shouichi said as he raised his hand. He brought it down heavily and Aomine cried out, his hands sliding out from beneath him. He didn't seem to care about that and rested his cheek against the polished gymnasium floor, eyes squeezed shut, as Shouichi brought his hand down on the raised curve of his ass again. The look on his face stole Shouichi's breath—it was nearly transcendent, wholly different from his usual sneer, and wasn't it just a pity that this was what it took to elicit it?

"Please," he moaned as Shouichi spanked him, each blow steady and heavy. "Please, sir, please…" Shouichi groped for the remote and turned it the rest of the way up. Aomine cried out, his entire body jerking against the increased vibrations. "Please…!"

He was drawn taut as a bowstring, trembling with it as Shouichi brought his hand down again, and he screamed as Shouichi reached for the cock ring and unfastened it. The sound echoed off the rafters as he came, striping the floor beneath him before he collapsed. He fell onto his side and curled in on himself, still trembling and moaning and his cock twitching even after he'd spent himself, until Shouichi turned the plug off. Then he simply lay there, his chest heaving and his face wiped blank of anything but his pleasure.

Shouichi watched him, feeling almost as stunned as Aomine looked, and couldn't keep himself from reaching over and stroking his finger through the sweat-soaked spikes of the brat's hair. Aomine leaned into his fingers, smiling, and it was a long time before he opened his eyes and turned a dreamy gaze in Shouichi's direction. "Not bad, brat," Shouichi told him, still petting him, and didn't know what on earth he was supposed to make of how sweet the brat's answering smile was. So he didn't make anything of it at all and injected a bit of severity into his tone. "But you'd better remember this. Next time you decide to act up during practice, I won't go so easy on you."

It was distinctly unnerving when Aomine only smiled a little wider and murmured, "Yes, sir," but if the lesson didn't stick, well, that just meant that Shouichi'd have to think of one that would.

end

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