Kunimitsu's kisses drown Kuranosuke in fire, drench him in heat, that make him shudder and rake his nails down Kunimitsu's back. He doesn't even remember how they began this.

Except that it began at a bookstore.

A fucking bookstore.

"I didn't know you worked here, Tezuka-kun," Shiraishi says, pushing his book across the counter so that Tezuka can scan the barcode on the back cover.

"I need the money for some extra tennis rackets that I'm going to buy, and I don't really like relying on my parents for everything," Tezuka answers. He looks strange in the bookshop uniform. Shiraishi's used to seeing him in Seigaku colours.

"You look weird in this uniform."

"So I've been told." Tezuka offers him a half-smile along with a receipt, and his book in a small bag.

"You look weird when you smile."

Tezuka looks at him properly, then. "You look weird with the bandages on your arm."

"You look weird in general."

"You too."

Shiraishi laughs. Tezuka smiles.

Him smiling actually isn't weird at all.

He really, really doesn't remember how they end up trying to get each other off behind the shop. Maybe Shiraishi hit on Tezuka. Maybe Tezuka hit on Shiraishi. Maybe Shiraishi's just looking for a quick fuck to get over his abandonment issues. In the end, they drag each other to the place.

"I didn't know you were so immoral, Tezuka, doing this at your workplace?" Shiraishi drawls. Tezuka pins him against the wall, and with one hand, pushes back the silver-brown hair hanging over his eyes to stare at him. Shiraishi almost goes numb with the arousal that courses through him. He wants - he fucking wants - to -

"I haven't done these kinds of things with anyone, anywhere, ever before. You're the first. Celebrate the corruption of my morality."

Shiraishi doesn't hesitate to kiss him when he hears that.

Tezuka kisses like he's trying to inhale everything that makes Shiraishi who he is and Shiraishi just wants to get their clothes off and get the fucking clothes off and oh god Tezuka -

Shiraishi turns them around so it's Tezuka with his back to the wall, and sinks to his knees.

"What? Why are you - " Tezuka begins the question, when Kuranosuke, with shaky, impatient hands unbuttons his trousers and shuts Tezuka up, pulls the waistband of his boxers down and takes him into his mouth -

Tezuka moans, probably for the first time in his life, and Shiraishi can't hold himself back; he undoes his pants - no underwear - and grasps his cock and begins to stroke -

incoherence is bliss? ignorance - no, incoherence, what -

Shiraishi can only feel his hands on his cock, going up, going down, thumb rubbing the slit on the head, and Tezuka fucking his mouth. Shiraishi doesn't choke, even when Tezuka hits the back of his throat, oh god, fuck his mouth forever, make him feel like this forever, don't bring him down from this high -

Tezuka comes, and slides down the wall to sit with his legs on either side of Shiraishi, after shakily pulling his trousers and boxers back up.

Shiraishi swallows it, and doesn't let his hands stop, no, never, just -

Tezuka reaches for the glasses he threw away some time ago, but decides to kiss Shiraishi instead.

The feeling of his fellow captain's lips on his is so different from the way Keigo's lips feel, or Ryoma's -

Shiraishi pulls away from Tezuka and freezes.

Fuck.

What the fuck is he doing? Revenge sex? What the fuck, revenge sex, Kuranosuke, you asshole

Get the fuck out of here.

But before he can do it, Tezuka knocks away Shiraishi's hands, replaces them with his own, and covers Kuranosuke's mouth with his own once more.

They're insistent kisses, insistent strokes, that try to push Keigo and Ryoma out of his mind, but Shiraishi can't do it, no matter how much he wants to, he can't forget the way Ryoma says 'I love you' or the way Keigo holds his face first thing in the morning, it's what he always does, wakes up and automatically reaches for Kuranosuke, bites Kuranosuke's lips, good morning, darling, coffee or tea?

Tezuka tastes salt on his lips and realizes Shiraishi is crying.


"What are you doing in Tokyo, anyway?" Tezuka asks, breaking the suffocating, awkward silence.

"I… live here now."

"Oh. Alone?"

"No, with two other people."

"Ah." Tezuka doesn't inquire further. But Shiraishi impulsively tells him, "My boyfriends. Keigo. Ryoma."

Tezuka starts coughing, startled at the news. Startled. Shiraishi wants to rub his back to ease the cough, but can't bring himself to touch Tezuka anymore. The wall of the shop is hard against his back. It hadn't felt so hard ten minutes ago.

"So, I… made you cheat," Tezuka says slowly. Shiraishi says, "I take the blame. You didn't know. I did. I knew. I knew."

Tezuka is silent.

They sit like that.

For a minute. For five minutes. For ten. Twenty.

Eventually, the sun begins to set.

"This… never happened," Shiraishi says, getting up.

"It didn't." Tezuka gets up as well.

Shiraishi leaves without another word after getting his book from inside the store.


"Where were you the entire day?"

Shiraishi steps back, out of Ryoma's embrace, afraid that he can smell the scent of sex on him, that he can see bite marks on his red lips. "I just wanted to buy a book, but instead ended up spending the entire day at the bookstore."

Ryoma pauses. "Oh. Also, you stink of sweat, go take a shower, Kanpeki."

Sweat. Okay. Okay. He can breathe.

"Yeah, going there right now. Fuck this summer heat."

Ryoma hums in agreement, going back to his textbooks.

Kanpeki. He calls you perfection every morning, afternoon, evening what the fuck have you done Shiraishi what the fuck did you do what the fuck have you done you've fucked it up fucking die you've ruined

every

thing

what will you tell them when they find out


Keigo finds him three minutes later in the shower, wrapping his arms around him and clinging to him, whispering his name in his ear.

Shiraishi tries to pretend the water running down is face is from the shower and not his eyes, but Keigo's Insight is a very inconvenient thing sometimes.

So Atobe just kisses him. They keep kissing in the shower until their skin turns wrinkly and the hot water runs out.

He doesn't ask why Shiraishi was crying. Shiraishi doesn't tell him.


The guilt weighs him down. Not like a rock on his back or an anchor drowning him. It makes every cell of his body feel heavier. It burns away the light hair on his arms and legs. It cracks his joints. The arm with the gauntlet seems impossible to lift now.

He does it, because he's got inhuman strength, and because he's a fuck-up.


He goes to the bookstore the next day, too.

Tezuka is still there.

They make light talk, ignoring the fact that Shiraishi was sucking Tezuka's dick yesterday.

Small, insignificant words that end up disintegrating in the crushing tension in the air. Colours. Bleeding into everything. Black is white. Green is orange. Blue is still fucking blue. This fucking guilt isn't letting Shiraishi see straight. There better not be any tennis tournaments coming up, he'll lose and die he deserves to die he -

He ends up staying till Tezuka closes down the shop. Then, because Tezuka's a considerate shit who asks if he's still sane, Shiraishi follows Tezuka home to his apartment. Tezuka lives alone now, apparently. Moved out in search of independence.

Tezuka's strong arms hold him close when the door shuts behind them.

Shiraishi forgets he also has a home to go to.


"Are you sure th-that you're a virgin? I mean - ah - Tezuka, oh god, harder, fuck me fast, fuck me hard, make me never forget -"

Tezuka's eyes burn him, an inch away. "Yeah - yes. Yes."

Shiraishi spreads his legs wider, raises his hips higher, and screams as Tezuka slams into him, still holding him close, like a lover, like two he's abandoned at home. "Again. Again. There. Ohh."

Surely, Tezuka's back must be bleeding by now. Shiraishi's fingernails are red.

"Are you sure?"

"What?"

"That you've never had sex with anyone?"

Tezuka stops. Shiraishi immediately regrets asking the question, moving himself to get Tezuka to move. Don't fucking stop moving.

"Yes. You're the first. Are we celebrating the corruption of my innocence yet?"

"Fuck you," Shiraishi half-moans, half-smirks, pushing Tezuka off him, out of him, pushing him down and getting on top of him.

"Celebrate," he adds.

Agonizingly slow, he slides down.

Tezuka's pupils are blown.

"Buchou - " Shiraishi gasps, calling out to him. "Buchou."

"Shiraishi," he calls back brokenly, hands searing Kuranosuke's hips.

Shiraishi doesn't go home that night.

He realizes Atobe and Ryoma don't even know he's not home, when in the morning, his phone has nothing new to tell him, when his voicemails are all over five weeks old.

"Have they called?" Tezuka's sleepy voice sounds strange, unfamiliar. He's used to good morning, darling, coffee or tea? And there are no lips biting his today.

"No. It's their anniversary. They don't fucking care."


Except that they go stock-still when Shiraishi comes home, looking utterly wrecked.

Not sex-wrecked. Shiraishi took a shower before going home. Availed himself of Tezuka's laundry service.

Wrecked as in I was gone the whole night and you didn't even fucking notice.

"Happy anniversary, royals," he murmurs bitterly, right in their stunned faces. "How many years? Ten? Oh, fucking amazing. I'll be out the whole day, so you get the time and space to fuck in every room in this gigantic house. Celebrate!" And then he laughs, because he remembers Tezuka's words, kissed into his skin.

He saunters off, looking for his tennis uniform and rackets.

He's still the fuck-up in the picture.


Tezuka calls in sick to the bookstore, and they go to the street tennis courts and defeat everyone with minimal effort.

Shiraishi strokes his racket fondly. No need for Perfect Tennis today. No need for anything except tennis today.

Tezuka takes him to a court near a train station.

The first serve sends thrills through Shiraishi's body. The second draws him in. By the third, they're both playing all out, and Shiraishi has missed this feeling of exhilaration.

They keep hitting the ball to each other till it's five in the evening and Atobe's voice interrupts Shiraishi's laugh.

"Hey."

The ball blows past Shiraishi. Atobe doesn't catch it, too sick of the drama associated with it. He just stands there, waiting for Shiraishi to turn so they can go home.

Home.

"What do you want?" Shiraishi asks. "I'm busy."

"Let's go home."

"How was your day, honey?"

"It was fine. Except Ryoma cried himself to sleep and I lost the ring I wanted to give you."

"What ring?"

"At least fucking turn around."

Shiraishi turns around. Atobe notices his opponent then. "Oh, hello, Tezuka, it's been a while."

"Good to see you," Tezuka answers carefully.

Atobe nods once, before grabbing Shiraishi's hand. "I'm taking him, now, sorry. Match postponed due to a fucking thunderstorm."

Shiraishi slips his hand out of Atobe's, who promptly grasps it again, and pushes a platinum ring into his palm.


They don't go home yet. Atobe drags him into an alleyway that seems too unclean for him, but he obviously doesn't care as he says, "So where the fuck were you yesterday night?"

"Having sex with Tezuka. It was amazing. I loved it. He was so good."

"Oh, don't fuck with me," Atobe says disparagingly.

Shiraishi smiles at him. "I'm Shiraishi Kuranosuke, and I'm the third wheel in the relationship I was dragged into. However, I'm too deeply in love with the two assholes who brought me in to get back out."


Groans. Keening sighs. Filthy sounds that make them both shiver.

Keigo rarely spreads his legs for anyone, and when he does, it's only for Shiraishi. Only. Ryoma watches. It's addictive. Showing off and being showed off to.

But no one's watching this evening, as Shiraishi fucks Keigo into the wall.

"Do it harder, Kanpeki, or have you lost your touch?" Keigo sneaks in a coherent insult every now and then, only to be silenced by a particularly deep thrust or a hard bite.

Shiraishi is presented with Atobe's back, and he does not hold himself in check.

Keigo's loud today. It's - it's like they're doing more debauched things than they are. Or maybe they are. In their minds, they're a lot more wild, growling, freer than this world will let them be -

oh, god.

Shiraishi comes before he can pull out. Keigo moans. "I love you," he keens. He loves it. He fucking loves the feeling of being filled like that. Shiraishi jacks him off slow, hard, hot, and it doesn't take too long for Keigo to come, too.

Shiraishi drops to his knees behind Atobe, going to lick it out, Keigo really does love it, though, loves how a tongue feels back there, but Shiraishi is stopped today. "Let it stay. We'll wash ourselves when we get back," Keigo says, pulling his boxers back up, buttoning his trousers.

Shiraishi is surprised, but doesn't press for reasons. He does the same, making sure Atobe's still pushed against the wall with his body. Atobe mutters a half-hearted 'hey, let me move' but otherwise doesn't struggle.

They finish making themselves presentable, and walk the entire way home.

As they enter the house, Atobe says, "Wait. I forgot something."

And then he extends his hands to cup Kuranosuke's face, leans in to bite his lips, and whispers, "Good morning, darling. Coffee or tea?"

He smiles at him, a smile that's loving and caring, a smile that makes his beauty spot even more beautiful, and adds, "You're the most important person for the both of us. I love you so much. I'm so sorry I've been a jackass. This anniversary's pointless, it leaves you out, and we love you too much."

Shiraishi smiles back. Maybe things will get better.

He collapses on top of the first sofa he sees, and falls asleep. He wakes up next morning between Keigo and Ryoma, and only pulls them closer before falling asleep again.

Who the fuck is he even kidding.