Summary: An ex-MVP. A team's ace. A deserted locker room. An obsession. One shot.
Slam Dunk is not mine.
Beyond Control
It irritated the hell out of him that just a gaze, a quick smoldering gaze, could quicken his heartbeat. It annoyed him greatly that every time he dunked, his t-shirt would ride up his body, exposing his torso, tormenting him. He wanted to touch the smooth skin, and he hated himself for feeling that way. He hated the way their fingers would briefly touch while he's passing the ball, and how his skin would tingle from that mere contact. He loathed his fancy scorings, because he looked so damn good doing them. But most of all, he hated the way the younger boy seemed so oblivious to his tortured senior.
But he had it all under control.
Practice was over, but he stayed behind in the locker room, looking out the window. He wanted to clear his head, but subconsciously, he was waiting for his junior to return. The boy would always stay behind; practice his shots, his footwork. Practice, practice, practice. He wished he could stay and watch that magnificent body move, with him being the only spectator.
He shouldn't. He had to control himself.
The rhythmic squeak of basketball shoes against the floor. Squeak. Squeak. Squeak. Screech. He could sense another presence. The younger boy opened the door. Senpai. He smiled secretly. He loved that word, the title, which the boy uttered to acknowledge him. The younger boy cautiously approached his own locker, unsure if his senior was in a right state of mind.
That's right. Come closer. Closer so I can look at you openly, without inhibitions. Come…
He fingers yearned to touch, to caress. But he stopped himself. Control.
Senpai? There it was again. The wonderfully treacherous word. He could not stop himself. He turned from the window and his hand shot up, grasping the paler boy's arm tightly. The fear was evident in his junior's eyes. Good.
He leaned forward for a taste. A nibble. A nip. A sigh. I want him. His need was great, but he could control it. He didn't want to scare the poor boy away before the fun had even started.
But the younger boy desperately twisted away from his grasp, and backed himself against the lockers. I need to shower. I need to clean myself. I need to…
You need to get away. He realized what he meant as theboyhurriedly grabbed his towel from his personal locker. He was too brutal, too aggressive, and it had driven the boy away instead.
The younger boy stopped at the doorway. Senpai, don't go yet. With a nod, Hisashi Mitsui sank to the floor.
The flowery scent of soap mixed with warm mist made him open his eyes again. His teammate, half naked and fresh from the shower, was packing his things into his duffel bag. Mitsui lazily stood up and straightened his body. He approached the boy from behind and wrapped his arms around the boy's body. A sniff. Addicted to his scent.
Senpai. He could control this. The younger boy was shaking. Fear? Hush. He soothed. Slowly, he turned the boy around to face him and gently closed the locker door. Click. He backed the younger boy towards the locker till the boy's back brushed against its cool metallic surface. It's okay.
When their noses touched, Mitsui pushed the boy roughly against the lockers with his body, and connected the lips. His hands were ferociously tracing every part of the boy's body, as though memorizing it. Finally. It was even better than in his dreams.
The younger boys wove his arms around his senior's neck, and furiously grind his body against his senior's. His licks, his sighs, his moans. He wanted to hear more from his junior. Hisashi. The feverish sound in his ear. No. Not Hisashi. He coaxed as he trailed his hands up the lean boy's arms, slowly, painstakingly slow. The younger boy moaned in agony. Senpai.
Good. He's now under my control. He broke the kiss, and the younger boy leaned forward, as though searching for more contact, and whimpered softly when he realized his senior had other things on his mind. Mitsui gave a satisfied smirk. He traced a path from the boy's arms, up to his shoulder, then down his beautiful chest, his firm torso, and stopped when he reached just below the belly button.
Sen...pai... The boy couldn't take it anymore, and let his head fall back against the lockers. Mitsui leaned forward to lick his exposed nape. A long, slow lick, and a sharp bite, and then a loving blow to the heated spot. Branded. Property of Hisashi Mitsui. All the while, his hand remained at the same spot, only his thumb fingered the waistband of his jeans. A nuisance piece of cloth.
He allowed his fingers to slowly massage the spot, keeping clear of the younger boy's hardness. Senpai. He moaned. This was pure torture for the poor boy, and Mitsui was enjoying every second of it. He's controlling the boy.
Let him feel what I had gone through. Everyday, every practice session, the unnoticed looks, the tingles, the slight catch in his breath. Every torturous thing you had unknowingly did to me. Do you feel it, pretty boy? The need? The want? Goddamnit. I feel like that every fucking day.
I'm sorry Senpai. He gasped. He bucked under his senior's touch. I'm sorry. You'd better be. Mitsui started nibbling lazily on the taller boy's jaw. And then he felt it. It was just a light touch. But his breath caught, his heart froze, and then started beating rapidly, as though he had just finished a marathon. Cheeky bastard. The younger boy continued caressing his senior's butt, gently kneading the cheeks, and then stroking his back thighs.
Mitsui cupped the boy's jaw and turned his head around to face him. As the icy blue of his teammate's eyes greeted, he knew, and then he started to fall.
Fuck it. He gently stroked the boy's lean back. Maybe this was how it was meant to be. Mitsui's back was now pressed against the lockers, and the younger boy was engrossed with licking his senior's earlobes. Maybe everything was beyond my control in the first place.
Maybe, Mitsui Hisashi will always be at the mercy of Rukawa Kaede, Shohoku's ace.
-End