A series of one-shots featuring and centred around Aomine and Kise and the many possible facets of their relationship. These chapters are by no means all set in the same universe, timeline or to be read in chronological order and I expect to add a new one-shot every week. They will vary in length, thematic, intensity, smuttiness and genre, ranging from lighthearted fluff to dark angst depending on whatever scenario pops into my head for the pairing to appear in. That being said, this collection of short stories is and always will be rated M for a multitude of reasons, the most prominent of which is the varying degrees of explicit smut, strong language and adult themes so consider yourselves warned.
Now, to start off, something delightfully fluffy.

1st Q: Sweatpants

Or: In which Kise has a photo shoot and Aomine decides to tag along wearing questionable legwear.

Instinctively and without much direction from the many people surrounding him, Kise moved in front of the camera. Years of experience along with a natural sense for the job had him moving automatically, striking just the right pose in just the right moment, shifting his glance right when it was needed, adjusting his expression to fit the requested mood on command. And thus his thoughts were free to stray to different things. Not to the soft, tailored fabrics clothing his lean frame or the smell of hairspray or the blindingly bright lights. To something that had absolutely nothing to do with either the job or the product he was showcasing. Instead, the blond man's thoughts lingered on a much more pleasing matter. On the piercing set of blue eyes that he could feel peeling the designer clothes off his body from across the room and the tall, dark figure to whom they belonged. Never before had he brought anyone along to a shooting and the younger, taller male had never voiced an interest in going. Not because the model was ashamed of his job or, as he knew, because his mercurial lover did not care enough to take an interest, but simply because opportunity had never presented itself. Their shared passions were different ones, basketball chief among them. And yet, there he was. Leaning against the back wall of the studio, unnoticed by most people present, Aomine Daiki was watching, an unreadable expression on his features and his talented hands buried in the pockets of black sweatpants. And despite all the silks, cashmeres and elegant cuts of fabrics that currently made the blond the best dressed man in the room, there was no doubt in his mind: there was nothing hotter on the face of the earth than Aominecchi in sweatpants and trainers.

For a moment, a split second, the blond miracle's camera-ready grin turned into a loving smile meant only for the guarded eyes of his fellow prodigy. How could he not smile, when the irony of the situation presented itself so openly to his thoughts? How could he keep a straight face when, instead of the models waiting in the lounge off set, he could imagine nothing more seductive than the tall, leanly muscled stature of his friend turned lover wearing an outfit that would have most designers in a hissy-fit? No pressed dress pants, no crisp, white shirt, no fashionable jacket or tie. Instead, there were sneakers, black sweatpants, a white v-neck shirt, a charcoal hooded jacket and a grey beanie covering messy hair. The kind of clothing that one wore on long shuttle rides to basketball games, on the way to the gym or to practice (from which the blue haired male was notoriously and perpetually absent) or when lounging at home. Not the sort of outfit that one wore to fashion shootings, as Kise had tried and failed to explain to the hotheaded jerk who now, simply by cocking a navy eyebrow challengingly, threatened to end all logical thought in the blond model's head. Sighing inwardly, he fought the urge to shake his head in disbelief and instead remembered the conversation centred around those sweatpants that now clung to his lover's hips.

„Aominecchi...?"
„Uh-uh...?"
„Those are sweatpants."
„No shit. Your point being?"
„Err...That you're not wearing sweatpants to a fashion shoot."
„True. I'm wearing sweatpants to the park where I will pound your ass into the ground after the shoot, the centre of attention of which, ironically, is also your ass and not mine." A mixture of annoyance and amusement inspired by the very obvious double entendre lend it self to Aomine's deep voice.
„But...they're sweatpants...why sweatpants?"
Sitting cross-legged on the edge of the bed, freshly showered and dressed to the nines in flattering, grey jeans and a trendy, blue shirt with a graphic print, Kise eyed his still very naked boyfriend with a mixture of adoration and hatred for the disputed garment in his hand.
„Because they were the first thing that my hand touched when I reached into the drawer. They're clean, they fit and that's all there is to it. So what the hell is your problem, Kise?"
„It's just so typical," the blond whined, burying his face in his hands to hide his frustration and block out the distracting image of naked, tan skin over taut muscle, „here I finally get to take you to work with me and then you go and decide to ruin it by looking like..."
His melodramatic wailing was suddenly interrupted when his hands were pulled from his head and in one swift motion, pinned above his head as he was pushed onto his back, straddled by the blue-haired force of nature who, apparently, had enough of the discussion already.
„Finish your sentence, I dare you," a husky voice challenged, somewhere much too close to his ear and Kise gulped, his heartbeat instantly picking up the pace and his breath hitching in his throat. Warm lips ghosted across his neck and left a trail of fire in their wake, earning their owner a strangled moan and releasing a dark chuckle in return.

„Ah...I...Uh!...No fair...Ao...mi...ne..cchi..."
„Never been fair...never will be," Aomine murmured, shifting the wrists of his all too willing prisoner into one hand before running his fingers over the hard, lean muscle underneath pale skin. Another moan, halfway between a gasp and a sigh, left the blond's throat as he struggled to hold on to his righteous frustration.
„Now, here's what's gonna happen, okay? First, I'm gonna fuck that defiant frown off that pretty face of yours. Then, once we're done, I'm gonna get dressed, we're gonna go to that shoot of yours, you're gonna buy me lunch and then we're gonna go down to the court with Tetsu and that idiot boyfriend of his and play a couple of baskets. And you're gonna shut up about my sweatpants and like it, damnit."
Between the low growl in which the words reached the silenced small forward's ear and the hot trail of increasingly teasing kisses that the taller male placed down across his collar bone, Kise was temped to acquiesce, as he always did, to the uncompromising demands of his dominant paramour. But the stubborn streak, that was as much of a defining feature of his personality as his perpetually sunny mood and gentle disposition, allowed for no such show of weakness and so he refused the answer that he knew the blue-haired animal above him to crave. Instead, he looked up, a rebellious glint in his amber eyes, an unspoken challenge. Midnight blue gleamed dangerously and had they been strangers and stood on opposite sides of a basketball court, Kise would have been awestruck and afraid. But right then and there, pinned safely underneath the hardened, warm-blooded body of the man he knew better than anyone else, all he felt was excitement and gradually fading frustration, hiding away until coherent thought was appropriate once more.
Then, the hand that had held his wrists fell away and instantaneously, the blond tangled his fingers in the short strands of navy hair that crowned his assertive lover's head. Aomine then made good on his promise, sliding in between the jeans-clad legs of his pouting play mate and proceeding to to all the things that he had learned would reduce the typically confident copycat to a moaning bundle of lust and make him come apart.

Half an hour later, panting and still coming down from the high that had both of their hearts pounding against their rib cages, Kise watched his lover rise, a glistening layer of sweat coating every inch of the tan skin. Running a hand through his tousled, blond locks, he shut his eyes for a moment and when he opened them again, the first thing that he saw was the retreating form of the miracle ace disappearing into the bathroom for the second shower of the day. And when they left the apartment a short while later, a soft smile lay on Kise's lips as he stole a glance at Aomine's form to his right. He was wearing sweatpants.