A Prince of Tennis fanfic.
SanaYuki pairing a.k.a. alpha pair
Story: Love Symphony - Chapter.3
Rating: M (WARNING: SERIOUS LEMON)
Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis belongs to Konomi Takeshi.
Author's note: I love the last part. Anyway, please review, but I would appreciate it if there's nothing along the lines of "you can't write smut" or "you're getting it all wrong". If there is any, I apologise for the inaccuracies. Btw, it's not PWP, it actually plays a bigger part later in the story. I have warned you. Please do not read it if you don't like it, I don't like getting flamed. But thank you to those lovely people who give wonderful, motivational reviews. Thank you very much.
Note: Omamori is a charm.
Please review.
3. Agitato
Sanada visited Yukimura every day.
For Yukimura's sake, he always wore a smile. Truthfully, however, his chest seized in a disabling pain every time he saw those dead, hollow eyes. On July 17th, two weeks before the Kantou Finals, Yukimura was finally hospitalised. There was, however, not much difference between visiting Yukimura at his house or at the hospital. The worn-out smile on Yukimura's face was still the same. And as always, it stabbed Sanada's heart.
He visited Yukimura with his team at the hospital. "We'll bring you the trophy," Sanada said.
The corners of Yukimura's lips lifted, but the smile soon waned.
There was a metallic clang when Kirihara kicked the fence. "Without Yukimura-buchou, there'll be a blind spot..."
"Don't let it overwhelm you..." Yukimura cut him off. But he did not finish the sentence. He looked down at his hands. The team silenced. Everyone avoided each other's eyes. They all shared the same thought that Kirihara voiced.
"Yukimura," Sanada finally said, "we'll bring you the trophy."
To keep his promise, Sanada pushed the team harder. He issued fifty laps every morning and afternoon practice. When they were too slack, he gave them racquet swings, squats, sit-ups and push-ups. Sanada did the regimen as well, but no matter how drenched he was in sweat, the dreadful emptiness in his heart would not go away. He tried doubling and even tripling his own training, but Yukimura could not be wiped from his mind.
At home, he tried to meditate, but the usually calming pose irritated him. He could not concentrate. Sleep was impossible and so, he spent the nights designing regimens for each individual on the team. When he finished that, he made his lunch for the next day. After that, he cooked breakfast. The little tasks were proven to be of distractions to certain extents. He was able to forget Yukimura; until he turned on the radio, tuned it to the classical music frequency and heard Brahms' fourth symphony. Passion was the word Yukimura used to describe it.
As Sanada listened on, he realised that perhaps Yukimura had felt a connection with this magnum opus. The lush romance and swelling emotion were dramatic, similar to Yukimura's own personality. The second movement, with its requiem-like air, reminded Sanada of Yukimura's grave illness. The music intensified and he balled his fists, tortured by images of Yukimura's sickly, pale face. It sounded like a premonition of death. He switched the radio off and turned on the television instead. A shampoo ad was on.
He wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. He did not know that this requiem-like movement was followed by a joyous, exuberant third movement.
Sanada handed Yukimura a box of takoyaki. Yukimura looked at him in surprise. "Thanks for going out of your way to get this," Yukimura said. "You know, you didn't have to. I only mentioned it briefly."
"I passed the shop coincidentally..." Sanada pulled his cap down, hiding the darkening blush of his cheeks.
"I would believe you if the shop wasn't all the way in Tokyo." Yukimura grinned and plopped a takoyaki into his mouth.
"It was a coincidence," Sanada insisted. His face was burning up.
"Okay, okay." Yukimura said and continued to eat the takoyaki. Sanada watched Yukimura munch on the snack contently. His heart warmed. Yukimura's pallid cheeks seemed to have regained a bit of colour. "How's tennis?" Yukimura asked when he finished.
Sanada knew that this time, the question was not out of obligation. "We haven't dropped a game yet," he reported.
Yukimura nodded approvingly. "Well, it's just the beginning. Don't drop your guard."
"You sound like Tezuka."
"On that note," Yukimura's smile disappeared, and his tone darkened, "be careful of Seigaku. They might beat Hyoutei and advance to the Finals." Sanada nodded. He had no doubt in Yukimura's judgement.
"I will never lose."
Yukimura did not reply, his hazel orbs brighter than usual. Sanada wondered if the glimmer in his eyes was uncertainty. Suddenly, Yukimura stood up and walked to the window, looking out. "Sanada, would you gamble on your life?"
"Depends."
Yukimura fell silent. Then, he took a deep breath and said, "I am going to."
Sanada grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around until they were facing each other. "What do you mean?"
"I want to undergo the surgery that might cure this illness." A delighted smile lit Sanada's face, but it was soon dimmed by Yukimura's grave expression. "But the rate of success is only 50%. I might die if it fails. Do you understand?"
Sanada could not speak for a moment. "Will you die if you don't undergo the surgery?"
"No."
Sanada took a deep breath then circled his arms around Yukimura, holding him tightly. "Then please don't undergo the surgery. Please. Your life is more important than anything else."
Yukimura pushed him away. "You're wrong."
Sanada shook his head. "Tennis is insignificant compared to your life. I will not allow you to do something so rash! You could die! How could I live if you're not with me?!" Realising what he had said, he took a step back and looked away. Yukimura's hand touched Sanada's cheek gently. Sanada looked into the hazel orbs again. "Why?" His voice was broken.
"Tennis is not the reason I'm undergoing this surgery," Yukimura said softly, a sad smile barely lifting the corners of his mouth. "You are."
Sanada went home, his chest heavy with the sense of commitment. He slashed his sword at the straw doll, swift like the wind. The top half fell onto the tatami mats. Sanada took a step forward. The straw stuck to his socks. "Yukimura, I'll win." The halved doll did not reply.
The ring of the large, bronze bell reverberated through the temple. Sanada clapped his hands thrice and closed his eyes. After a few moments of complete silence, he opened his eyes and put the omamori in his pockets. He had never believed in the supernatural, but this time and perhaps just this once, he prayed that the charm would work.
"You're late, the team has already left," Yukimura stated when Sanada entered the room. Sanada did not speak, simply nodding in acknowledgement and apology. Yukimura slid off the bed and picked up the jacket on the chair and draped it over his shoulders. "Let's go," he said and Sanada suddenly realised that Yukimura was not wearing the usual patients' green uniform, but dressed rather in a plain T-shirt and white track pants.
To Sanada's surprise, they exited the hospital and continued until they reached the bank of a river a few kilometres away. "I have permission to come out," Yukimura said casually when he caught the uncertainty in Sanada's expression. "I need to ask you a question."
"What is it?"
"Will I go to heaven or hell?"
For a moment, Sanada's mind blanked. "Heaven, of course," he said finally. Yukimura parted his lips to speak, but Sanada did not allow him. "But you won't be going any time soon. So stop pondering and asking stupid questions like these."
Yukimura ignored Sanada's last sentence and spoke, his voice gentler and more affectionate than usual, "But without you, even heaven would be hell."
"Yes, my life cannot be whole without you," Sanada said, pulling Yukimura into an embrace despite being in a public area, "so please, stop thinking about death."
"I will, but promise me one thing."
Sanada released his grip. "I'll promise whatever you want me to."
"Tomorrow is the day of the Kantou Finals and my surgery..."
"I'll bring you the trophy."
"No. I mean, of course, bring me the trophy... but that's not what I want to say. Will you promise me that you'll be there before my surgery? I want to see you as they inject me with anaesthetic. I want to go into surgery knowing that you are outside, waiting for me." By the end of the sentences, Yukimura's voice was barely above a whisper, his face as red as the horizon behind him.
Sanada leaned in slightly and looked into Yukimura's eyes. "I will." Yukimura smiled and extended his hand. Sanada took it and they shook upon the promise.
The thought of losing Yukimura was unbearable. He was already too much like an angel, statuesque and graceful with a halo of gold cast onto his soft hair by the setting sun. Will he really... become an angel?
They walked back to the hospital without another word. Before he left, Sanada slipped Yukimura the woven omamori and another crane.
When Sanada disappeared around the corner, Yukimura extended his palm. He placed the omamori into his pocket for safe-keeping, hoping that – even though, like Sanada, he was a non-believer – it would prove its effectiveness. Sitting in the centre of his hand was the crane, the metallic paper radiating gold under the lights of dusk.
Gold, Yukimura mused, for victory.
More than an hour ago, Sanada had called to inform him of their certain victory. But now, there was still no sight of any of the regulars.
"Yukimura-kun," the nurse called out, "it's time." Yukimura bit his lip and stood up, removing his gaze from the entrance. Sanada had broken his promise.
Kilometres away from the hospital, the Rikkai regulars acknowledged the devastating sense of defeat, a feeling that many of them have not felt for years. The puny, little freshman had defeated the Emperor. Seigaku had defeated Ouja Rikkai. And worse... the team had missed Yukimura's surgery. They had failed their captain. They had failed their friend.
Nevertheless, the team rushed to the hospital immediately after the award ceremony. They waited outside the operation room. Minutes passed. They were told to leave, but they refused, moving to stand outside Yukimura's room instead. Hours passed and Yukimura was finally transported back into his room, unconscious under the effects of anaesthetics.
Yukimura's parents were allowed in, but to the team, the nurse said, "Another hour." The regulars slumped against the wall, none but overwhelming guilt coursing through their minds. How could they ever face their buchou again? They had failed him the moment he needed them most.
Inside the room, the anaesthetics began to wear off. Yukimura lifted his eyelids a little, allowing his eyelashes to shield him from the bright fluorescent light. He watched his parents leave the room in relieved whispers. He wanted to call them back, but he lacked the strength to do so. With a great amount of effort, he flipped to his side. The calendar on his bedside table suddenly struck him as a reminder.
He wanted to see his team, but before he could summon the strength to life himself up, hushed voices drifted into his ears.
"This illness is devastating..."
"Yes, such a shame for him. Tennis would be impossible now..."
A wave of fury, disappointment and fear gripped Yukimura and his world came crashing down instantly.
The door swung open and Sanada was there. Yukimura's emotion-contorted face sobered into a cold stone. "During the Finals... Seigaku..." Sanada began, but a sudden flood of devastation eradicated the mental barriers he had erected to prevent angry outbursts.
"SHUT UP! Don't talk to me about tennis ever again!" The anger augmented Yukimura's strength and he slid off his bed, pushing Sanada towards the door. "Go away! GO HOME!" With a forceful shove, he drove Sanada out of the room before slamming the door. "DON'T COME BACK!"
Six pairs of eyes settled on Sanada as he stumbled out of the room, his face twisted with guilt, sorrow and confusion. He leaned against the wall and dropped his head, unable to move. Yukimura's extreme resentment was totally unforeseeable. Then, a sudden howl from the room pierced through the dreadful silence. It was a scream full of pain, resembling the sharp cry of a dying wolf.
"We're going back to school," Sanada said and turned to leave. The rest of the team followed him.
For the few hours before twilight, the team evaluated on the costly mistakes they made during that matches. When the assessment was complete, Sanada lined them up on the court. He received his punishment, but even Niou's powerful slap could not amend his disappointment. He felt almost like a traitor.
The empty feeling did not go away even when it was past midnight. He washed his face and the wounds stung sharply. He looked up into the mirror and was sickened by his own image. Pathetic, he thought. The red and purple bruises coloured his cheeks, angry and swollen. He did not know how he could go to school the next day without being questioned by teachers. But it did not matter right now. Atonement was more important... even though, no matter how many injuries he inflicted on himself, he knew he could not heal Yukimura's bitterness.
Sanada lay on his futon, every inch of his body scorching in pain, and cried until the break of dawn.
Yukimura sat up in his bed, waiting for his team's arrival as usual. But today, he was not so sure if they would come. After all, his behaviour towards them yesterday was appalling, without consideration for their feelings especially after the loss at Kantou.
He looked at the omamori Sanada gave him. It did bring him luck after all – he had survived.
The door slid open and Yukimura was quick to slide the omamori back into his pocket. The team walked in, their eyes avoiding his. Sanada was the last to enter. He shut the door behind him. Then, in union, the team bowed and said, "Buchou, we're sorry!"
Yukimura stared at them. They all looked as if they were awaiting punishment. Quietly, he said, "We'll just have to win the Nationals then."
Slowly, the team straightened. "Does that mean you'll forgive us?" Kirihara asked, his reddened eyes brimming with tears.
"Learn from your mistakes," Yukimura said and took out a piece of paper from his drawer. "I watched a video of the matches and made an evaluation. Although, I assume that Sanada and Yanagi would have had an evaluation session yesterday, right?"
They nodded.
"Good," Yukimura said, his eyes scanning the paper. "I'll be general then. First, congratulations on the wins in Doubles. Doubles 2 was well played, but Jackal, your weakened stamina towards the end of the match forced Bunta to take the position of defence. That point was pure luck. If the ball had been returned, you would have lost. And also, you two were too proud. Against players like Kaidou and Momoshiro, you should not have dropped even one game."
Marui and Jackal nodded solemnly.
"That transformation thing was quite amusing. And I suppose it worked too. Against Seigaku's Golden Pair, a win is quite commendable. But without their shock at your transformations, would you have won? 6-4 is hardly something to be proud of, considering the element of surprise you had."
Niou bit his lips and Yagyuu adjusted his glasses.
"But nevertheless, congratulations to the four of you. Now... for the Singles."
Kirihara stopped fidgeting and the room was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop.
"Renji..." Yukimura paused and stared at the Master, his gaze hard and cold. "Why did you lose?"
"My feelings affected me."
Yukimura nodded, knowing that Yanagi understood his faults.
"Akaya," Yukimura said in a slightly warmer voice and beckoned Kirihara to come forward. The second year walked to his captain's bed and looked at Yukimura, his eyes once again filled with tears. "Akaya, you did well." Kirihara's mouth parted in shock. The rest of the team were surprised to hear such words as well. "I'm not one who has to right to comment on the cruelty of your game, so I will not say anything on that matter. Just know that next time, you might be disqualified. If you want to disable your opponents, use other methods."
Kirihara nodded and Yukimura continued. "You were smart to create noise with your racquet when you realised that Fuji was using his hearing to locate the ball, but did you realise that you were damaging your racquet? And... learn to control your State of Self-actualisation. Or else, you won't be able to beat Echizen Ryoma."
The team flinched at the name, but Yukimura ignored the reaction. He turned to Sanada.
"Sanada, I'm disappointed," he said and nothing more. "Thanks for visiting me today. I'll be released by Wednesday."
The team said their goodbyes and left the room. Sanada stayed but Yukimura picked up the tennis magazine by his bedside and began reading.
"Seiichi..." Sanada stepped forward.
"It's Yukimura-buchou."
Sanada blushed. "Yukimura-buchou, I'm sorry."
"For what?" Yukimura asked coldly, focusing on the magazine.
"For losing and not coming on time. For breaking my promise."
Yukimura put the magazine aside and pushed the blanket away. In a single, fluid movement, he reached up and slapped Sanada hard in the face. Sanada was knocked back. Yukimura looked at him – and was shocked to find that besides from the red mark his hand left, there were also purple bruises. His anger disappeared instantly, replaced with concern. "Sanada?" He slid off his bed and leaned in close to Sanada to examine the marks. "Why are you hurt?" Yukimura asked, his voice concerned and pained.
"It's nothing." Sanada looked away.
"You're... so hurt. Why, Sanada?" Yukimura asked rhetorically, the answer in his heart already. "Genichirou..." Then, abruptly, he hugged Sanada around the waist. "Don't do that again. It pains me to see you so hurt. Even when I'm angry... I still love you."
"I must punish myself to letting you down."
Tears fell from Yukimura's eyes as he kissed Sanada. He took Sanada's cap off and slid his hands under his fukubuchou's shirt. "We can do what we want again," Yukimura said quietly. Despite feeling frustrated due to the Kantou loss, the extended time he had spent coped up in a tiny, white room had heightened his sexual desires like no other times. "Genichirou..." he muttered, moving his hands up Sanada's back.
"Sei... Yukimura-buchou, do you know what you're doing?" Sanada pushed him away.
"Why can't we? I'm perfectly fine now."
"One, we're inside a hospital, two, you need to rehabilitate and three, we need to concentrate on tennis."
Yukimura's expression tightened. "Don't you want this too?" His voice was an affectionate but lethal whisper.
"I do, just not now," Sanada said, turned around and exited the room. Yukimura stared at the close door, the touch of Sanada's warm skin still lingering in his mind.
Yukimura, as promised, returned to school and the courts on Wednesday. School work piled on him, but he was stricter and more determined during training. He did not slack and always ran twice the laps. His days consisted of school, training and rehabilitation. There was nothing else on his mind other than the golden trophy.
And... Sanada. But his fukubuchou seemed to be reluctant to have any physical contact.
The nationals began.
They had a bye in the first round and were up against Murigaoka in the second. They won all their games 6-0. Their motivation came from their loss in Kantou, but also the insulting comments Ushida Tetsuo (captain) and Miyase Tomonori (vice-captain) made during the ABC Tournament. Yagyuu – along with Seigaku's Kaidou – had settled the matter, but the team still felt the need for revenge because Yagyuu did not reveal his true abilities then.
Rikkai Dai Fuzoku would not allow anyone to insult their captain. They should know better than calling Yukimura weak.
There was no mercy in their annihilation.
Ushida walked up to Yukimura – who had been overseeing his team's matches on the coaches' bench – after Murigaoka's defeat and said, "Yukimura, you can't trick us. You're still girly and weak. That's why you're getting your team to do the dirty work."
The Rikkai team stood behind Yukimura, their faces contorted with anger. Yukimura let out a casual laugh, but looked at Ushida with cold, piercing eyes. "Weak? No. I just can't be bothered to play with you. Why squish a harmless bug and dirty my hands?" He smiled and stood up, walking away.
The team followed, shooting dirty glances at Ushida and his team. Kirihara poked out his tongue and raised his middle finger.
6-1. 6-0.
He had lost to Tezuka four years ago. And in these four years, Sanada had trained tirelessly to beat his rival. He had sealed off all his best moves for this upcoming match. This was his chance to beat Tezuka. "I'll beat you," Sanada swore. When he received Seigaku's match order, he asked Yukimura to put his name in Singles 3.
Yukimura held up the piece of paper he was writing the match order on. Sanada's name was already in Singles 3.
Sanada moved like the shadow. He struck like lightning. His racquet slammed into the ball. It landed on Tezuka's baseline, out of reach. The crowd cheered. Sanada smirked. Electricity pulsed through his blood. He could feel adrenaline pumping into his limbs, energy coursing into his racquet.
"There're balls that cannot be returned," he said. His lips curled.
"Then I should not have to return it," Tezuka said. Sanada's smile faltered for a brief second before stretching even wider.
"You're becoming a coward," Sanada said. Bastard, he thought.
He attacked again, and again, and again. 4-0. He was winning. Two more games and it would be his victory.
But Tezuka was unmoved. Suddenly, the ball was out. The meaning behind Tezuka's words struck Sanada. Shit, he cursed. But he would accept this challenge. He invaded like Fire. The ball went out. He struck like lightning. Same result. The crowd cheered and Sanada scowled. He did not believe that he could not overthrow Tezuka Phantom.
It was 4-4.
They changed courts. Tezuka was surrounded by his team. He spoke to Oishi, his vice-captain, and their fists touched, symbolic of friendship and determination. Sanada was surrounded by his team too, but he spoke to no one. "Leave me alone!" He bellowed at the people poking him with icepacks.
Time was up. Sanada stood again. A shadow flickered. He stiffened. Yukimura stood in front of him, his lips set in a hard line, his eyes dark and cold.
"You're going to tell me to forget this head-on challenge," Sanada stated, not asked.
"Yes," Yukimura replied, "all this is for the sake of our third consecutive victory."
Sanada stood at the baseline, waiting for Tezuka's serve. The ball curved out wide. Sanada chased after it, but his racquet barely touched the ball when his knees buckled beneath his wait. He knew he had abused Rai. The ball was zooming towards him. He drove the ball back as hard as he could.
He could feel Yukimura's piercing gaze boring into his back. But he ignored it. He had waited four years for this revenge. How he longed to see Tezuka kneeled before him!
But it was no use. Tezuka's Phantom was too strong. Sanada knew that if he took Yukimura's advice, the match would be over soon. But his pride refused to give up. He had to make Tezuka bow before him.
"Out!" The umpire shouted.
Shit!
Sanada smashed again. Out again.
NO!
Lightning could not stand against the Phantom.
I will never lose to YOU!
Sanada sliced. Now Tezuka had no choice but to use his Phantom for a suspended period of time. Sanada drop shotted. Tezuka returned. Sanada continued to hit the ball softly, keeping the rally extended. I feel as cheap as Atobe. Already, he could hear the snickering. He could feel Seigaku supporters mocking his nickname – The Emperor. They were all criticising him, jeering at every drop shot he made.
Then, Sanada smashed. Finally, it did not go out. Tezuka's racquet was knocked out of his hand, the gut broken, the frame twisted slightly.
But the ball was moving towards Sanada. It struck the cord.
Sanada ran forward, but his knees were congested with blood and he was paralysed. He forced his body to obey his command. He needed to reach the net. He needed to return the ball. He needed to win the point! He forced his feet to move, but they did not respond, foreign as if they were not his.
This can't be!
God damn it!
There's only one point left!
The ball began to drop.
Tezuka gripped his racquet again. "The winner will be Seigaku," he shouted, "and with this, Seigaku's era will be established again!"
The ball hit the net, spinning.
Sanada screamed. He screamed with the strength of the four years he had been waiting for. He screamed for victory. He screamed for pain. He screamed for himself and Yukimura. "DROP ON THE OTHER SIDE!!!" He howled and collapsed.
The ball bounced and the stadium silenced.
The umpire turned on his microphone and announced, "Game set won by..."
Sanada held his breath and lifted his head.
"Sanada Genichirou! 7-5!"
The stadium erupted. Sanada staggered to the other side of the court. They shook hands and Sanada felt a stir of emotion. He was not going to admit that it was admiration.
His revenge was completed. But he did not feel a victorious elation or a thrilling sensation. He did not feel the hands of congratulations on his shoulders and when he placed icepacks on his knees, there was only a tingling, painful sensation.
He would never play with the likes of Tezuka again.
Yukimura's eyes were hollow as he shook that brat's hand. Watching Seigaku burst into cheers and happy tears, Yukimura's congratulated his opponent with a smile that did not reach his eyes. He was defeated. The Child of God... The Number One... was no more.
He returned to his team. They were silent. All of them wanted to comfort Yukimura, but they knew their words would probably do more harm than good.
They accepted the silver medals in silence.
Yukimura placed the silver cup into the back corner of the trophies' shelf. "Practice will continue tomorrow. Despite our loss today, there are still tournaments that we will be entering this year. Don't be late tomorrow. There will be an evaluation session in the morning." Falling in silence, he dismissed the team.
"Stay behind," he said to Sanada. The rest of the tea walked out.
When the door slammed shut, Yukimura said, "Punish me."
Sanada did not move. "Punish me," Yukimura repeated.
The team stood outside the club room, their stomachs sick with disappointment. They did not expect Yukimura's loss, and yet, they knew the one who was most upset by the result was Yukimura himself. They could hear Yukimura's shout through the walls.
After "punish me" was repeated for the third time, there was a crash of collision. The regulars shut their eyes. They knew their captain was on the floor right now, probably bruised and bleeding from Sanada's jurisdiction. More crashes followed.
Finally, the door swung open and Yukimura walked out. He did not look at the regulars as he walked up the steps that led away from the tennis courts. The team watched his silhouette disappear into the darkening horizon. The blood that dripped from his lips was as red as the setting sun.
Sanada came out and locked the door behind him. The regulars turned to look at their fukubuchou. His hands were shaking from pain. Not physical, but mental pain. Hitting Yukimura was more painful than being struck himself.
"Genichirou..." Yanagi finally spoke, "Go after Seiichi. He needs you right now."
Sanada looked at his team. A few of them nodded and the rest agreed with their eyes. Sanada turned and ran.
They were right... Yukimura needed him.
Yukimura was in the park three blocks from his house, alone in the dark. Sanada had not expected less when he found him. This was the place they had their first official date and perhaps, even though Yukimura's mind is beyond reason, his heart still considered this quiet park a place of comfort.
"Seiichi..." Sanada called out, but Yukimura stayed in his crouching position, yanking grass out from the ground. "Seiichi..." Sanada lifted Yukimura up. Their eyes met.
Yukimura suddenly circled his arms around Sanada, his breath becoming heavy and raspy as his head drooped against Sanada's chest. Without another word, Sanada flung both their tennis bags onto his shoulders and took Yukimura's hand. "You need rest," he said firmly and led the way. Yukimura simply stumbled along.
Sanada's mother was waiting when they arrived home. "Okaa-san, will you please..."
"I'll call Seiichi-kun's mother. Let him have a shower first." Sanada's mother smiled gently.
"Thank you," Sanada said and dragged Yukimura into his room. "Seiichi, here's a towel and a spare change of clothes. Have a shower and then go to sleep." Yukimura caught the items tossed to him robotically, but he did not move. He slumped on the ground, his eyes dim and vacant. Sanada kneeled beside him and shook his shoulders gently. "Do you feel sick?"
Yukimura nodded and Sanada was about to ask where it hurt when his vision was suddenly obstructed by a cascade of wavy, tangled hair. Yukimura's lips crushed against his. "Sanada, my chest hurts. Every part of my body aches." Yukimura pinned Sanada against the tatami-covered floor and tears began overflowing. "I've failed everyone... I couldn't play properly because of areflexia... but I can't use that pathetic excuse... what do I tell the team tomorrow?" he sobbed, bewildered and lost.
Sanada curled his arms around Yukimura's waist and embraced him tightly. They laid on the cold floor in a reflective silence. Yukimura began coughing violently. "See? You've caught a cold now," Sanada said, placing a hand on Yukimura's forehead.
Yukimura brushed him off ruefully. "Don't worry," he panted, his face ghostly white despite his burning skin. "Get rid of this pain. Get rid of it. Please, Sanada. Get rid of it for me." Then, he began to cry with the intensity of someone vomiting. Instinctively, Sanada took him in his arms and stroked his hair. Yukimura pressed against Sanada, his body trembling violent – almost spastically – as he continued to cry without a sound.
Sanada's shirt became damp – then soaked. "Help me... Genichirou," Yukimura moaned, his hands moving under Sanada's shirt as if searching for something blindly.
"This is wrong..." Sanada began but Yukimura silenced him by sucking on his neck.
"Please, don't turn your back on me. I don't know what else I can do and who else I can go to." Yukimura's eyes were full of tears. Sanada no longer had the heart to push him off despite knowing that this may be something the two of them will regret later.
He held Yukimura's head and caressed him. Yukimura's cold hands traced Sanada's spine, moving downwards in a slow, deliberate manner. Sanada felt hot. Yukimura's stroke was incredibly sensual despite a lingering, suppressed touch of void. Sanada sprawled across the ground, every part of his body flaccid except for his erection.
Before he knew it, the two of them were lying across the tatami mats, naked. Their clothes lay all around the room; Yukimura was obviously not in the mood of keeping things tidy. A cold hand wrapped around the hot skin of Sanada's swollen erection and he gasped as pre-ejaculate dripped down his thighs. Yukimura spread Sanada's legs further. He nuzzled the tip with his lips before lapping it coyly as if he was licking a lollipop. Sanada clenched his fists and tried to suppress the desire to moan, biting his lips until they bled.
Yukimura gripped Sanada's ankles, and bending down further, he enclosed his mouth around Sanada's erection as deeply as possible. He had the urge to stop as the organ was obviously not suited for an entrance as small as a mouth; but nevertheless, Yukimura bobbed his head up and down, increasing his pace gradually.
Sanada arched his back, shoving his length right to the back of Yukimura's mouth. Yukimura sucked and without warning, Sanada came. It was an intense, unstoppable ejaculation. Sanada dug his fingernails into the floor as his semen pulsed into Yukimura's mouth once more. Yukimura fell backwards, choking and sputtering.
"Sorry," Sanada muttered, staring at the ceiling, feeling suddenly weakened after the sudden climax. He – or as a matter of fact, neither of them – had not expected that he would react so strongly. Yukimura sat up. He was a mess; his face and chest was smeared with semen and there were a few droplets hanging on strands of hair as well. He picked up a nearby shirt and wiped his face.
"Genichirou..." Yukimura crawled forward until he was lying beside Sanada. "My turn..." He said, panting heavily.
Tired, but knowing better to argue with his currently-depressed-and-edgy buchou, he lifted himself with his forearms and allowed Yukimura to slide under him. "Go," Yukimura panted. Sanada held Yukimura's waist to steady him before inserting his erection as gently as he could. His previous ejaculation acted as a fine lubricant and he slipped into Yukimura without inflicting much pain. He stayed in the position for a few minutes, using one hand to coax Yukimura's half-hard erection into a full arousal.
At the softly-voiced command of "go", Sanada began moving in and out, thrusting his hips harder with each entry. Yukimura gritted his teeth, writhing with an intense, tingling pleasure, and pre-ejaculation seeped out from the tip. He bit his lips in preparation of the climax. With a loud moan, a spray of white semen squirted across Sanada's hands and the floor. The sound reminded Sanada of the weep of an injured wolf. The two of them collapsed against each other, their hearts thumping vigorously despite their drained bodies.
Yukimura took a few deep breaths and sat up. His mind was blank with fatigue. He looked at Sanada, who had already fallen asleep. Yukimura took the blanket from Sanada's bed and pulled it over their sticky bodies. The sheets could always be washed tomorrow.
He curled up next to Sanada and closed his eyes.
Sanada's brother woke in the middle of the night for a cup of water. As he walked through the corridor, he realised that his little brother's room's light was not switched off. "Genichirou," he called out softly, but no one answered.
Sighing at his brother's rare carelessness, he opened the door and entered the room.
He reached for the light switch, but froze when he saw the two naked bodies on the tatami mats, barely covered by the thin blanket. So that's where that moan came from...
"Gen-chan," he sighed affectionately as a gentle smile appeared on his face. He kneeled down to fix the blanket so the two would not catch a cold. Then, he turned the light off and walked out, turning the lock before closing the door.
I have to remind him to lock the door next time, Sanada's brother thought amusedly yet caringly. Ah... did he use a condom?
Please review. No flames please.Next chapter: More smut. Don't read on if you don't like it.
