The weekend rolls around, and Yukimura needs a distraction to remember that he can't escape to Ibaraki and Sanada.

First on his list: hearing from Kirihara about Seigaku's apparent defeat in the district preliminaries to Fudoumine, which brought about a fit of giggles that simply wouldn't go away. Be a good sport, he tells himself, because he has to set a good example for Kirihara as Rikkaidai's new captain. The hilarious irony of it all is just so good, though, that Yukimura can't help but laugh.

(A pity, really, that they're in high school and Seigaku is just a middle school, because oh, he'd love to see them somehow match up against Sanada's school for an 'intense' doubles stand off.)

That distraction lasts for a little while, as Kirihara rambles off details for ages, and when Yukimura finally gets him off of that topic, an easy rally between the two of them is refreshing. Kirihara's personality certainly hasn't changed very much, which in a way, is for the best. He's easy to deal with still no matter his antics, unlike the snippy, irritating upperclassmen that seem to think he's unfit for captaincy duties, and why won't he pick a vice captain already?

Yukimura thinks they should practice more and worry less about when (which is never) he's going to put a label on their uniforms.

Home again, and he showers, collapsing into bed naked afterwards before anyone can bother him (god bless locks that keep out little sisters), and he shoves his face down into the pillow that contains Sanada's hat. The scent of him has faded a little bit over the weeks, but it's still enough, and Yukimura sighs deeply, making a one-handed grab for his phone, shoving his face down into the pillow again even as he dials.

Only one person has the number to his phone. That basic fact is the reason Sanada has almost crashed his bicycle at the sound of the ring, has run out of the shower entirely naked, and has abandoned an easy ball lobbed at him to dive for his bag. It doesn't matter, because that sound means Yukimura is calling.

He's not playing tennis now, but bedding down for sleep, leaving the seiza he sits in for meditation when the sound shocks him back awake. He grabs the phone from its hiding place in his school bags, flipping it open hastily and trying not to sound too over-excited. "Good evening."

"Eve~ning," Yukimura hums, rolling his face out of the pillow in order to properly talk. Sanada always sounds a little out of breath when he answers the phone, and Yukimura likes imagining him being terribly excited about receiving each and every phone call. "I heard something funny today. Seigaku lost to Fudoumine."

Sanada can't stifle the laugh that comes out at that. "Really? Good. Maybe that'll teach the brat some humility." He doubts it. He doubts anything ever will.

He stretches out on his futon, hearing the slight slurring of Yukimura's usually immaculate diction. "Are you….lying down? With your cheek against the pillow?"

"Yep. It's better to call you when I can smell you," Yukimura logically answers, and breaths deep for good measure, shutting his eyes. "When we meet in Tokyo next week, I might try to sneak you home with me for a few hours."

Sanada groans, rolling over onto his back, staring at the high white ceiling and imagining Yukimura close to him, Yukimura's bedroom, that he'd seen before but never….never like this. Slowly, he reaches for his discarded uniform, pulling Yukimura's headband out of the pocket and bringing it to his face. "I can smell you, too," he rasps, eyes sliding shut. His cock starts to fill and swell as he imagines Yukimura stretched out, giving him quiet commands in that gentle, precise voice.

'Might' turns to a definitely need to, why aren't you here right now? Yukimura shivers at the edge to Sanada's voice, and he paws his way into his pillow, dragging out Sanada's hat to completely bury his face into it. One deep breath of him, and his cock aches. "I'm already really hard," he admits with a low, breathless laugh. "If you were here, I'd make you do something about it."

Sanada's breath catches in his throat, and he shifts, palming himself slowly through his thin cotton pajamas. He can imagine Yukimura so well, stretched out on his bed, hard and aching between his legs. "Yeah? Like what?"

"Have you ever wanted to taste it?" Ah, it probably isn't fair how that makes heat pool even hotter in his groin, and Yukimura twists around onto his belly, lazily pressing his cock down into the comforter. "The last time I visited you, and you got on your knees… I almost thought you were going to."

Sanada squeezes his eyes shut, fingers wriggling under his pajamas to curl around his cock, slowly pumping it from base to tip. He can already feel a little bead of moisture at the tip, and thinks about the way Yukimura's had been leaking in his hand. "Didn't think of it," he admits, voice rough, breathy. "You should have told me to. I'd have done it."

Yukimura groans at that, his eyes squeezing shut as he imagines the way Sanada's tongue would have felt, hot and slick and wet, and he wriggles a hand down, fingers squeezing slowly around the base of his cock. Slow, he dimly tells himself, or this isn't going to last. Not with Sanada's voice in his ear and the smell of him thick in his nose, with his cock already this hard. "Didn't think about it," he murmurs. "You already made me so hard, I couldn't think of anything. Next time," he promises with a ragged breath, lurching up into the slide of his palm, "you can put your mouth on it. I want to taste yours, too."

The thought of Yukimura's mouth on him almost makes Sanada's vision white out. He moves his hand down, squeezing his balls slowly to keep it from being over too soon, imagining it's Yukimura's hand instead. For some reason, the idea of Yukimura telling him not to come too soon, squeezing him and giving him a precise little order, just makes him harder. "Seiichi," he groans, phone tucked between his ear and shoulder, as his free hand runs up and down his torso, pretending it's Yukimura's. "Next time, anything you want-"

It's only taken those couple of times before to memorize the way Sanada's breath catches when he's close, and that makes Yukimura's own cock twitch in his grasp, fingers slick and sticky as he squeezes and strokes. "Genichirou-" The length of his name is drawn out on a breathy, broken sigh, and Yukimura fumbles to shove the phone into a good place so he can still talk and hear and fuck into his own hand and maybe scratch at his own nipples, too. "L..let me come first-if you were on your knees, I'd-ah…definitely come on your face-"

Sanada has to wrench his hand away for a second, gulping for air to make sure he doesn't come immediately. "I just-" He swallows hard, nodding, even though he knows Yukimura can't see him. "Do it," he says breathlessly, less a command and more a broken, needy plea. "I-I want you to, Seiichi-"

He loves it when Yukimura says his name like this, undone and thinking about him. He wonders for a vague, fleeting second if Yukimura's ever thought of anyone else like this. For him, since the very first time, it's always been Yukimura, Yukimura's hair, Yukimura's hands, Yukimura's smile, Yukimura's smell.

Yukimura isn't sure what's more obscene-the moments when Sanada can actually talk, all rough around the edges and needy, or when he's reduced to nothing but heavy, ragged breaths instead. Both are good, he dazedly thinks, his own voice nothing but broken, mindless panting after awhile, with Sanada's name sort of rasped out as a mindless afterthought when he comes, face stuffed down into Sanada's hat as he thrusts hard into his own fist.

"God," Yukimura gasps out, mind still reeling and he swears he can almost feel Sanada's mouth against his own, his teeth against his skin, the solid, unyielding strength of him that makes him shudder down to his toes. "You'd be a mess, Genichirou, and it would be all my fault-"

Sanada has never liked the idea of being a mess-but he definitely does now.

He takes a deep, shuddering breath, finally letting himself touch his cock again, curling his hand around it as he arches up, nose buried in Yukimura's headband. "Ah-Seiichi, you'd-"

He loses the thread of what he was saying, gasping for breath instead, and this feels closer to the orgasms he's had with Yukimura than to any time he's touched himself before. "Just-can I?"

He's not sure why he's asking.

Yukimura's cock twitches again already-too soon, too early, and that makes him twist and groan into the sheets. "Yeah," he breathes, biting his lip as he imagines how hard Sanada must be, how he's probably dripping over his own fist right now and the idea of wriggling down between his legs and really tasting him makes his mouth water. "Go ahead and come, you've been good."

Sanada lets out a hoarse shout, totally unready for how that shoots straight to his cock, making his body go tight as a bow in a single, almost-painful arc. He spills over his hand, shuddering and gasping, unable not to think about Yukimura stroking delicate fingers through his hair, praising him like that, maybe even while Sanada's on his knees for him like they'd said earlier. "A-ahh," he gasps, eyes squeezed tightly shut as he milks himself. "God, Seiichi…."

"God," Yukimura agrees with a hitching, breathless laugh, slowly, bonelessly rolling onto his back and covering half of his face with Sanada's hat. "Mnnn…I guess I should keep telling you that you're a 'good boy' in person, too."

Sanada's cock gives a last twitch, and he groans in protest. "Ah, god-that's definitely not-" He trails off, mumbling against the headband. "Just be here in person, that's all I need."

"Sounds like your dick needs other things," Yukimura mildly notes. "I'm okay with that."

"It wants a lot of things," Sanada says, vaguely grumpy. "It doesn't get a vote."

"But I like when it votes. It can make a list, I'll make sure to go through every item thoroughly."

"It doesn't make lists," Sanada growls, amused in spite of himself. "It just says yes."

"I like that, too." Yukimura grins, wriggling back into the bedspread. "Mine can make a list instead, then, though it mostly consists of 'yes', too."

"Do we really need a list?" Sanada asks plaintively. "No matter how many things you say, I'm pretty sure I'll say yes. You have good ideas."

"Mm, as long as you're sure. It can just be a mental list, then." Yukimura slowly stuffs the hat back into his pillowcase. "If I sneak you into my house, we're definitely going to be in my bed for awhile."

"Stop it, your family will be home. Someone's always at your house." The idea of being heard makes Sanada want to curl up under his futon, especially since Yukimura seems intent on making him make the most obscene of noises.

"Then we'll find a place where no one can hear us," Yukimura hums. "We can sneak back in through the garden, roll around in the grass…"

"You'll make noise," Sanada insists, and his face flames for even suggesting it, but… "I guess we could….go to a love hotel."

"Ooh, lewd. Genichirou, you have a dirtier mind than I thought, and I already thought it was pretty bad."

"I just don't want to be overheard!" Sanada might just die. It's not too late to commit suicide and preserve his honor. "Isn't it more lewd to let someone hear? What if your family finds out?"

Yukimura rolls his eyes toward the ceiling. "You can always gag me. Or I could gag you. I'm the one with the naturally quiet voice, unlike someone I know."

"H-how is that less lewd than going to a love hotel?" Sanada demands, starting to sweat.

"I just thought it would be more romantic to actually enjoy one another in the privacy of my bedroom, or out in the gardens I've worked so hard on…"

Sanada's head thunks back against the pillow, essentially the sound of himself giving up. "Whatever you want, Captain."

Unfortunately, the whole 'sneaking Sanada into his house' thing is a bust.

Normally, his parents would be gone for at least an hour, but his little sister picks that particular day to come down with a cold, and is left coughing and wheezing in bed that morning when Yukimura leaves to 'go to school.' He's already cross by the time he reaches the train station, and moodily drinks his canned coffee for the next hour, waiting for his train.

He doesn't get off at his usual stop, but the one after it, and settles in to wait for Sanada's train after that, neatly cross-legged on a bench. Thank god none of the team comes through this way; Yukimura doesn't want to listen to their prodding about what activities he has planned for the rare day he actually skips (it isn't like his answer is any more specific than Sanada, anyway).

Sanada's train ride is...eventful, to say the least. He gets through it with a modicum of grace, generously engaging in conversation with an old toothless man about the state of the crops this year. The man seems delighted by how much he knows, which Sanada counts as a win given that all he can think is Yukimura, Yukimura, Yukimura…

The train doors are barely open before he's out, barely restraining himself from dropping his tennis bag to the floor and scooping Yukimura into his arms. Instead, he bows briefly, a shadow of a smile on his face, and says quietly, "Captain."

Yukimura hops up to his feet, sets his bag down, and settles for hugging Sanada first this time, with both of his arms slung about his neck for a tight squeeze. "My ever-loyal second-in-command," Yukimura teases in greeting, rocking back onto his heels to peer up at him. "You look good."

Sanada returns the hug swiftly, strongly, swallowing hard. "So do you. You always do." Now that he can see, can smell Yukimura, he he can't quite resist nuzzling his face into the other man's hair. Not wanting to sound too eager is fine, but Sanada has no idea how long he'll be able to say. In Yukimura's ear, he says quietly, "Where are we going?"

At that, Yukimura smiles. "Well," he hedges, carefully pulling back and resting his hands against Sanada's chest, "my sister decided to pick today to be sick, so there's no way we can be alone at my house…instead, I thought of another good place that I know you wanted to see anyway."

Sanada closes his mouth, setting his jaw. "Love hotel?" It's not as bad as it could be, he knows. In the country, most people just use them for a place to get out of the house and be alone when it's full of parents and grandparents. In the city….

Well. Hotel staff wash the sheets, he's sure.

Yukimura decides it's just fine to pinch one of Sanada's nipples through his shirt. "As if. Those places are gross, and definitely not my idea of a romantic date. Anyway, wouldn't it be better if you actually got to see the clubhouse at your soon-to-be school, Vice-Captain Sanada?"

Sanada wants to kick himself. "I didn't mean to be obscene," he mutters, slapping Yukimura's hand away. "Of course I want to see the tennis courts." He lifts Yukimura's bag without thinking, slinging both of them over one shoulder. He's not, he tells himself, disappointed that he won't be going to somewhere they can spend private time together. He's not. Any time he can spend with Yukimura is good enough.

Yukimura neglects to mention that during normal school hours, prior and after lunch, the clubhouse is deserted. Even if it wasn't, he is the one with the keys.

"It's a right of passage, apparently, to sneak onto the grounds at night and play a match without the lights on," Yukimura mildly informs him once they reach the-no, their high school, or at least it will be at some point in the near future. "I've already done it once. Marui hates hopping the fence. I think it's sort of preparation for skipping class in the future." With that in mind, it's shockingly easy to circle around to the tennis courts, hauling himself over the fence, and cheerfully leading the way to the clubhouse in question.

No one in sight. That's a good start.

"Here we go," he hums, unlocking the door and prodding Sanada inside. "I'm even saving a locker just for you. All the upperclassmen get so snippy about it. I think they should shut up and practice more."

"I think that about most people," Sanada allows. The sight of the state-of-the-art facilities makes him clench his fists, thinking about how he should be here, thinking about how he should be at Yukimura's side. "This is….a good tennis clubhouse." A far cry from the shed covered in dust and cobwebs at his own school, that's for sure.

"Mm. It's going to be better, when it has trophies that we've brought into it," Yukimura agrees. His eyes lid, and he steps forward, curling his fingers into Sanada's shirt collar to tug him closer. "You're going to be here with me," he insists, leaning up to press a kiss to the corner of Sanada's mouth. "One way or another, I'm going to make it happen."

Sanada's eyes slide shut, and he risks one last look around at the silent, empty area before he lets his hands rest on Yukimura's waist, pulling him close and kissing him soundly. "I wanted to do that on the train platform," he breathes, resting his forehead against Yukimura's.

"Then you should have." Yukimura's hands slide up and around the back of Sanada's neck as he leans up to kiss him back again, briefly nuzzling their noses together. The splay of Sanada's hands, strong and broad and long-fingered over his hips, makes him shiver, and that all goes straight to his groin in an instant. "Another thing," he notes with a smile, "this place is usually empty for a couple of hours around now."

"Good," Sanada remarks, somewhat absently, but he can surely be forgiven for being a little absent when Yukimura is so lithe. "I don't want anyone to interrupt us when we play."

Yukimura prides himself on keeping a straight face. "Uh huh. Different kind of play," he murmurs, tilting his head to set his teeth to the lobe of one ear. "If nothing else, at least this place is clean…"

Sanada swallows, hard. "Oh," he manages, the tips of his ears turning slowly red. "But...there's no bed."

"We haven't done much of anything in bed so far, have we?" Yukimura logically points out. He stretches upward, deliberately leaning his weight against Sanada as he does to make sure the hard line of his cock rubs against his hip, and sighs, low and hot and breathy, as he bites again at the curve of Sanada's ear. "We don't need a bed to make this a proper throne room, do we, Genichirou?"

A low groan makes its way out of Sanada's throat, and he shakes his head semi-frantically. "This is fine," he gasps out, fingers tightening on Yukimura's waist. "It's-fine."

A sudden flicker of unease gets through the spike of lust, and he grunts at himself, trying to think of something besides how hard and hot Yukimura is against him. "It's-shouldn't-the first time, shouldn't it be a bed, don't you think?"

"Ideally." But that hope got dashed by his little sister, and the idea of a love hotel makes him irritable. "If it isn't going to be a bed, though, it should at least be somewhere special," Yukimura points out, stepping forward with ease to urge Sanada back, until the backs of his knees align with one of the room's benches. "I'll even throw my jacket down for you, like a real gentleman." He can't help but tease still, just a little bit.

That should probably piss Sanada off. It probably shouldn't make his cock quite so hard.

He groans, falling back onto the bench when his knees hit it, looking up at Yukimura with something like devotion in his eyes, not that that should surprise anyone. If there's anyone in the world he's still devoted to, it's definitely Yukimura. "This is special. This place will be ours."

Yukimura nods in the two seconds it takes for him to follow after Sanada, sliding a knee up between his legs as he leans up to kiss him, fast and hard and needy. "It already is ours," he breathes, pawing a hand down Sanada's belly, unbuttoning his shirt to actually get to skin, and his nails claw over the lean muscle there as he sucks along the line of Sanada's jaw. "Just have to drag you back down here, and keep you here. Until then, I'm just saving the best for you."

Sanada has a feeling he's going to have marks in the morning. He has another feeling that he doesn't care.

He lurches up into Yukimura's touch, hissing out a breath through his teeth. "You-hold it for me," he manages somehow, tugging at the bottom of Yukimura's shirt to free it from his pants, oddly entranced by the warmth of it, snuggled up against Yukimura's body heat for so long. "Save my place." That's about all he can think when Yukimura's kissing him like that, leaning against him like that, as if he'll die if he doesn't get more of Sanada, which, given how Sanada wants to give him literally everything he wants, is a little confusing.

A ragged, breathless laugh escapes Yukimura's throat at that, and he bites again, sucking on a different spot with his eyes fluttering shut. "There's no one else, so it's all yours," he murmurs, his voice hitching, catching in his throat when he rubs his cock slowly down against Sanada, groaning lowly at how he can feel how hard Sanada is, too. "God, Genichirou," he pants out quietly, dragging his hand further south to palm Sanada through his pants. It's hard to remember when they're both like this and it already feels so good that he has something else in mind this time-especially when it wouldn't take much just to grind on Sanada until he comes. "You always feel so good."

Sanada's hand comes up Yukimura's back, careful, careful not to press too hard where he knows there's a scar. His hand comes up to tangle in Yukimura's hair, pulling him closer, breath coming in hot, swift pants.

The teeth and tongue on his neck are obscene somehow, the feeling going straight to his cock as his hips roll slowly forward. He's so much closer than he wants to be, which makes it a good thing that he's been practicing.

A deep breath, and he remembers the stillness, the patience. He's practiced for long hours, sitting in seiza, deliberately thinking of Yukimura and willing his erection down, after that first time when he'd shamed himself by coming on the other man's school uniform.

Yukimura rumbles against Sanada's throat, biting at the swell of his Adam's apple as he fumbles with the fastenings of Sanada's pants, his fingertips deliberately just barely grazing over his cock. No matter how much he wants to grab and touch, it's probably for the best that he doesn't, not when they're so wound up already, not when he wants to do a lot more than just grab this time. "Take your clothes off," Yukimura breathes, smiling as he pulls back. "I've gotta grab something out of my bag."

Even the ghost of a touch from Yukimura's finger makes Sanada immediately reconsider just how much he's in in control of his body. He takes a deep breath, nodding as he neatly folds his jacket, then his shirt and tie, followed (a bit more hesitantly) by his pants and underwear, all precisely stacked. It's cold, and he feels sort of stupid and obscene, standing naked in a clubhouse. "What could you need?" he demands, uncomfortably crossing his arms in front of his chest, trying not to look self-conscious.

Yukimura rather enjoys throwing his own jacket into Sanada's face, followed by his shirt, messily balled up, and a box of condoms after that. "That," he answers without batting an eye, wriggling his way out of his own pants. "And this." He doesn't throw the little bottle of lube, at least. Sanada already looks so twitchy that he might actually fall over if he throws too many things. "Now lay my jacket down like I said earlier. It's not my bed, but, well, it's close enough…"

Sanada glares at Yukimura for the mess, but for once, he doesn't actually scold. He's a little too fascinated by the bottle and package, and he obeys, dumping Yukimura's clothes (they're going to crease, they're going to crumple, they're going to look really untidy) on top of his. He lays the jacket down, eyes locked on every plane of Yukimura's body.

Sanada isn't stupid. He'd been taken off guard, that Yukimura would want to do something like that, but he hasn't exactly been idle. He's been studying, and now he crouches a little awkwardly on the jacket. "How do you….want to?" He should probably feel more embarrassed, but all he feels is want.

And a little cold.

The cold part is a quick fix. Yukimura, probably even more chilled than Sanada, immediately slides close again, nuzzling up into the heat of Sanada's body as he mouths a soft, wet kiss to the curve of one shoulder. That's all it really takes to make a spark of new heat twist down his spine, fresh and alive and making him shiver from what definitely isn't the cold. "I think it's supposed to be easier, at first, if you're on your stomach." He also likes the idea of having Sanada's back to kiss and touch, with every broad muscle right underneath his fingertips, and Yukimura's breath quickens as he leans up, a somewhat sloppy, eager kiss pressed to Sanada's lips. "You don't mind, do you?"

Sanada shakes his head in a quick, decisive negative-no, he doesn't mind. "Not as long as it's you."

He stretches out, lithe and long and lean, bracing his weight on his elbows as he twists around to look back at Yukimura. He'd softened a bit in the wait, but rubbing against Yukimura's jacket, with Yukimura behind him, quickly brings him back.

"… That's something straight out of a wet dream," Yukimura admits on a rather ragged breath, trying to laugh but damn it, he's really not kidding and he sort of has to shut his eyes for a moment to make the hard, hot thrum of blood going straight to his dick calm down.

It works.

Mostly.

For all his constant teasing of Sanada, this must be some sort of karma back to haunt him.

Right-not worrying about the condom just yet, lube first, messy and slick on his fingers, and he bends down to mouth a kiss to Sanada's shoulder when those slippery fingers drag over his hole. "I've been thinking about this since we last saw each other," he murmurs, and ah, god, just carefully pressing and wriggling one finger in makes him swallow hard.

Sanada shudders, head tipping forward to rest his forehead against the cool ground. His hands scrabble at the ground, looking for some purchase, some handhold, something to grab on to when everything feels so ridiculously good. "S-so have I," he admits. Ever since Yukimura had grabbed his ass and whispered exactly what he wanted to do, he'd thought about it, fantasized about it at night, when Hiroto was at a snack bar and he had the apartment to himself.

His thighs spread involuntarily as he shifts his knees a few inches apart, swallowing hard. "Feels better...when you do it, though…"

Oh.

Oh.

Yukimura swears he can hear the way his pulse skyrockets, can hear the conscious decision to bite the back of Sanada's neck when his wrist twists a little and his finger slides in deep to the second knuckle, and the way it feels to let his cock slide against Sanada's thigh should probably be a crime. "You tried this yourself?" He feels no shame in sounding so pleased about that, so excited.

"Didn't want to be unprepared," Sanada says with a grunt, sucking in a breath when Yukimura presses like that. "Nnhhh…I wanted to make sure...I liked it."

He had, obviously. He'd loved it, tingled with the idea of Yukimura doing it to him, anticipated it with increasing hunger, no matter how uncomfortable it had been at that position.

This is better, a lot better, because it isn't his own fingers, it's Yukimura's, and he has no idea which way they'll move, how they'll touch, and they go deeper besides.

Sanada needs to stop making those noises-or saying things that just keep going straight to his cock. If he doesn't stop, Yukimura swears he's going to lose his mind. Is that what Sanada feels like all the time around him? Probably. He's okay with that.

He bites Sanada's neck again for good measure, drawing it out with a long suck, and his hand pulls back just enough to slide a second finger in, pressing in long and slick and deep before stroking, because Sanada really does seem to like that. "Don't know how long I'm going to be able to last inside of you," he half-apologizes, half-sort of groans, because just saying that he's going to be in Sanada makes everything twitch and shiver. "I just-you already feel perfect."

It's a kiss, not a bite to Sanada's neck this time, and Yukimura pulls his hand away with an unsteady exhale, wiping his hand on his jacket. Condoms aren't that easy to deal with when he's this eager, and his patience is pretty thin already, and he gives up a second later, swallowing hard when he drags a lube-slick hand down his own cock as well. His mind effectively clicks off the second he gets to rub his cock against the cleft of Sanada's ass, and pressing inside that first inch makes Yukimura forget how to breathe, his hands tight enough to bruise on Sanada's hips when he sinks inside.

Sanada is privately certain this is the best idea Yukimura's ever had.

He can't quite bring himself to say that, not when all he can manage is a low, broken moan that sounds like it's coming from someone else. He lurches forward on the floor for a second, reacting to his body's instinctive reaction to get away from the thing going into me, but that passes after a second.

Yukimura enters him slowly, thoroughly, and all Sanada feels is stretched and pulled and stuffed full. He lets out a low whine, brow furrowing as he tries to figure out how to make his body cooperate-

But then again, it doesn't seem to matter. Yukimura is sinking slowly into him, inside him, and that's the most intimate violation Sanada can possibly imagine. It makes him shudder and twitch, wanting more, rolling his hips urgently back as he whispers nonsense words into the floor, into Yukimura's jacket.

Ah, god, he's definitely not going to last, not when Sanada is doing all of that.

Yukimura huffs out a hot, wet breath between Sanada's bunching shoulder blades, his fingers squeezing tight about the leanness of his waist as he scoots his knees forward for more leverage, and shoves. It's not that hard or anything, but it's definitely enough to make him sink all the way in, and he gasps raggedly, vision blurring at the edges at how tight and hot Sanada is around his cock. "Really, really good," he mindlessly praises, certain it all sounds more like breathy nonsense than anything, but that's fine when all he can do is roll his hips forward long and deep, his hands pawing their way up Sanada's sides to scratch and pull needily, his face nuzzling into the sweat-slick skin of Sanada's back. "God, Genichirou-"

Sanada's eyes roll back into his head. He loses what little composure he'd had left, twisting and arching his back to grab at Yukimura's hair, forgoing the ability to rut back against him for the ability to kiss him senseless.

He fumbles, but that's to be expected when he needs so badly. He groans, and that's fine, because Yukimura is as hard as he is. He can feel how hard Yukimura is, thick and swollen inside of him, and the thought just makes him let out a strangled groan.

It's too fully, and he's cramping a little, sucking in harsh breaths and clawing at the floor as he drags Yukimura in for a furious kiss, mumbling, "Seiichi," against his lips.

Yukimura lurches up, bracing a hand on the floor, his own eyes fluttering, swearing they're crossing from how deep he can thrust at this angle, and with Sanada's mouth against his own, it's far, far too much. He can taste him, feel every breath of air that Sanada steals from his own lungs between kisses, feel the ragged edge to it all caused by him when he shoves in deep and he'd be a liar to say he didn't like the way he can make Sanada's hands fumble and falter.

"Genichirou," is nearly all he can mindlessly pant out, sucking Sanada's lower lip into his own mouth. "S-sorry-you're-" All kinds of perfect and I can't help myself and you're just not fair. It's the last thought Yukimura really manages before he's lost, his breath caught up in his chest as he shoves in deep and claws red lines along Sanada's hips to pull him back when he comes, every muscle drawn tight and trembling.

Sanada shakes his head-don't apologize, it's fine-and collapses down, pressing his cheek against the ground that suddenly seems a lot less imposingly cold and a lot more gently cool. He gasps for breath, shaken to the core by the feeling of Yukimura finishing inside him.

He's achingly full, and his cock rubs against Yukimura's jacket almost frantically with every twitch of his hips. It's hard enough to breathe without shivering when he can feel Yukimura's cock, his slick seed inside of him. It's harder still when he still wants more, and he's still as hard as he's ever been. He rubs forward along the ground again, something like a strangled groan coming out of his throat. "Please," he begs, tilting his head to show his capitulation to his friend, his love, his Captain.

Yukimura shoves aside that feeling of bonelessness that always comes after an orgasm in favor of pulling out, then pawing and tugging at Sanada until he has him on his back in an instant. He wriggles down, eyes flicking up to see Sanada's face when his mouth sets to the hard, dripping line of Sanada's cock, tongue dragging a hot, wet stripe over the head of him as his fingers squeeze and stroke. Anything you want, is what he'd like to say, but better is being able to taste Sanada, being able to bring him over the edge, just as thoroughly lost as he still is.

Sanada's pretty sure he's simply not equipped for this.

His mind shorts out in cheerful defiance of all his patience training, the second he feels Yukimura's tongue. Sanada covers his eyes, stunned at the violence of his orgasm and shocked, unable even to process the sight of Yukimura's mouth on his cock.

He lurches up, a wordless shout coming from his lips, before collapsing back into a twitching pile of limbs, gasping for air when his vision stops working. This doesn't feel like the yips he's had when playing Yukimura before, but something else, something far more powerful, and it rips through his body like electricity, leaving him shocked and useless in a puddle on the floor. "Sei...i...chi…."

That's success if Yukimura's ever seen or heard it.

The taste is surprisingly less bitter on his tongue than he'd imagined, mostly just sort of musky and masculine and it definitely tastes like Sanada, if Sanada can taste like something in particular. Yukimura hums a little dazedly, a little thoughtfully as he licks his lips clean and swipes a finger over the mess on Sanada's belly for good measure to suck it clean after the fact. "Mmn," he happily offers, managing to scoot up a few inches before giving up, his head coming to rest somewhere in the vicinity of Sanada's chest as he flops down, shivering and breathing heavily.

Sanada has just enough control over his own body to let his head flop to the side, thunking gently against Yukimura's. "You," he says, a little dazedly, "were right. And you have good ideas. And clubhouse."

"It's our clubhouse," Yukimura breezily corrects him, tilting his head up to nudge his face against Sanada's cheek. "We just claimed it properly."

"I don't think," Sanada says slowly, "that any part of that was proper."

Yukimura decides to deliberately misinterpret that. "We should do it again, then. Practice makes perfect."

Sanada blinks slowly, then nods. "I approve of perfection."

"Good answer, this is why you're my vice captain. Next time, though," Yukimura says with a laugh, giving Sanada's hip a pinch, "you can do the work. My legs still feel like jelly."

"That's fine." Sanada nods, a little relived at that admission. He hadn't thought it was a one-way street, and would probably have protested, but it's better this way anyway. "I don't want to be the only one limping."

"That would be boring." Though Yukimura is really looking forward to seeing Sanada hobble around. "Hell, we can always jan-ken on it. Except next time, next time is already decided."

"That sounds fair." And democratic, in a way. Sanada relaxes back to the floor, wincing a little when something starts dripping. "Just to warn you, it feels...strange, after. Messy, ugh."

"Really? Sounds fun." Yukimura tilts his head up, slowly grinning at what he sees. "Your neck," he says gleefully, "looks like a disaster zone."

Sanada's hand flies to his neck. "I-what? What does it look like? Did you-you bit it!"

"They're all over the back of it, too, I bet," Yukimura says, looking intensely proud of himself. "I wonder how long those'll last."

"I'll cover them with my school uniform," Sanada grumbles, a little startled by how vividly he can feel the bruises already. "Did you do that on purpose? So I'd wear your mark?"

"Mmm, well, It was kind of a spur of the moment thing, but I'll keep that in mind for next time." Yukimura beams up at him, tiptoeing his fingers up the inside of Sanada's thigh. "You've already got enough of my mark elsewhere, so…"

"Rude," Sanada grumbles, flicking Yukimura directly in the middle of the forehead. "If you want me to treat you well, you should show me the same."

Yukimura makes a half-hearted lunge for Sanada's hand, snapping his teeth. "But I'm pretty sure I'd like it no matter how you treated me."

"You're impossible." Sanada is sure he should sound more upset about it. He probably also shouldn't follow the statement with a kiss.

"But you like it. See, we're the same," Yukimura says with a smile as he kisses back.

"Mmphm." Not a denial.