A/N: Chapter has been truncated to protect mah precious azz from getting kicked off this site due to policy incompatibilities with chapter content. The language I've used in the original is too coarse, and too explicit. So parts have been edited out.
For unadulterated version of this chapter, go to my AO3. Nothing can stop me from releasing the monster of my perversion in there. xD
Sometimes, Satsuki wonders just how well people who know Daiki really know Daiki.
She wonders how much they notice about him, and how much eludes their perception.
For example, she, herself, used to think of herself as the person who knew Dai-chan best. She did, because she'd spent practically all her life—conscious and no-so-much—next to him.
She'd always been there with him – through thick and thin.
She'd seen him go through many, many phases in his life, and she'd seen him endure, seen him react, seen him be.
This instils Satsuki with a condescending sort of self-esteem, with a complacency in thinking that she knows Aomine Daiki, as though she knows him so well and for so long that he cannot surprise her.
As though he's one of the people she's so good at predicting on the court.
And, as far as their friendship went, he was quite predictable. His behavioural patterns were easy to see through and his way of holding himself around her was quite linear. He rarely shocked her with anything, because he rarely had anything hidden from her.
Daiki does a truly great job at making people perceive him as a carefree, uncaring son of a bitch (and the most sincere apologies go to Mrs Aomine, who most certainly did not fit that description, and who even more certainly had not intended for him to turn out the way he did when she was bringing him up). He's so lax when it comes to his responsibilities and so unengaged in things that it makes people believe he simply doesn't give a damn about anything. That everything that happens to him just barely scrapes the surface of his mind, leaving very little impact on his person before fading into forgetful oblivion, never to be called upon again.
Satsuki had believed that to be the case, too.
After all, Dai-chan had given her no reason to believe otherwise, throughout their whole friendship.
When she becomes his girlfriend, after having known him for seventeen years before that, she can't help but wonder: did she really know anything about the boy next to her at all?
By becoming his intimate partner, it seemed to entitle her (in his mind) to a lot more of his personal space than he otherwise allowed. And that was saying something, since Dai-chan had always been a person rather invasive of other people's personal space and someone who didn't mind others even bodily breaching into his.
What he allowed her to see only once she became his girl was the vague and rare glimpses of his innermost world.
She still knew that Daiki is a person who didn't let himself be too deeply affected by things that happened around him—he was too carefree and free-spirited to be bound by such nonsense—but she no longer believed that he was emotionally daft like she used to.
Things happened and they made her wonder: how well do his friends know Dai-chan?
How much do they notice about him?
How much of the signs he gives them elude them completely?
She wonders because, only after she becomes privy to his innermost emotions—and even that he allows only through his actions, because Dai-chan is too… too Dai-chan to clothe his feelings into words—she realizes how truly, profoundly passionate he is.
Passionate, about the things that matter to him, about his bonds to the people he cares about, about life.
The thought of it, the flooring realization, always leaves her dumbfounded and unable to do anything. Because it surprises her, it blindsides her how much he actually cares, behind all the bravado and the arrogance and the aloof smirks he offers to the outside world.
Of course, she knows it doesn't take a genius to notice that he's a very passionate person on court. He plays with more desire, more drive, than anyone she has ever seen. He's always on fire when he plays his favourite game, always burning with fervour while he handles the ball with schooled ease.
That's not the kind of passion she's talking about, even if it is a facet of the one she's referring to.
No; what she means is the passion and amount of himself he invests in his bonds with people. Dai-chan has always been rather pure, always worn his heart on his sleeve.
It made him end up getting hurt numerous times. And maybe that's why he prefers to come off as standoffish and cold now. As a defence mechanism.
She knows, though, how much he cares for his closest friends. She knows how deeply it had affected him when Kuroko had effectively left him behind, along with the rest of Teikou's basketball club.
She knows how deeply he adores his parents for all the love and compassion they have given him throughout his life.
She knows how much he adores the game that gives him a high unlike any other, and that he still adores it even though in the last years of middle school and the first of high school it had twisted his personality beyond belief.
She knows all this and thinks she knows him best. She knows how passionate he can be towards her, the one he loves—the one who has him by the heart—because he never fails to convey his innermost feelings to her when they are alone together. He conveys them through every single touch of his fingers, through every press of his lips against her frame, through every sigh he breathes against her heated skin while he lavishes her body with kisses and gentle caresses.
Dai-chan, she knows, is a man of action. He's much better at speaking with his actions than with his words. He places little value in talking things out and prefers to feel them, live them, instead.
She thinks she understands that. She thinks she knows the depth of his character best, even when they first get together.
She knows him. She's sure he can't surprise her in any way, and that gives her a sense of security, a sense of calm, in believing so. Being with Dai-chan, she thinks, is a lot like home: familiar, safe, secure, dear.
She's an idiot for believing her own nonsense.
She finds out just how wrong she's been in assuming she knows all there is to know about him a day that is otherwise just like any other. A day when she finds him, face covered with a palm, seated on his bed with his knees bent to his chest.
She had gone to look for him when she found out he was skipping practice—again—only to discover him back at his room, looking like that.
She knows something is off from the moment he removes his hand from his face and fixes her with the most intense look she has ever been the recipient of.
She flinches as he stares her down, fidgeting a little. She's not used to this kind of scrutiny from him, and it makes heat rise in her cheeks. She swallows around the clenching of her throat and tries to manage a smile.
"D-Dai-chan? What's wrong?" Her voice sounds weak and annoying in her own ears. The smile she attempts looks more like a grimace.
And still he remains completely silent, just staring at her with that smouldering intensity.
Satsuki knows that look. She's seen him give similar ones to the best opponents he's faced on court. She would've never believed him capable of making such an expression for any other reason than basketball. And she most certainly would've never counted to be the one receiving it.
His piercing sapphire gaze makes her feel unnerved and shy. For some reason, the way he is wordlessly eyeing her feels like some sort of silent test of god knows what. It makes her feel completely exposed—and that was silly, because he's already seen her naked many times and she hadn't felt so self-conscious then, so why did she now?—and somehow oddly excited.
The heat in his gaze called forth a heat in her cheeks.
When he steps up from the bed, moving to stare down at her from in front of it (never once breaking eye contact), she feels her breath hitch in her throat. When he's so close and looking at her like that, she can't help feeling enticed.
Still, she can't shake the feeling that every pore of his body screams out to her that something is off with him, making it impossible for her to fully enjoy the pleasant feelings of warmth pooling in the pit of her stomach thanks to his proximity and quiet ardency.
She opens her mouth to ask him, again, if something happened, but she doesn't get a chance to vocalize anything. He seizes the chance to capture her lips with his in that moment, wasting no time before inviting himself to her mouth, his inquisitive tongue pushing past her lips eagerly.
When she pushes against the moist muscle with her own, she truly intends to get him off of her so she can insist on finding out what's wrong with him. She truly does.
But when he takes that as a sign of her desire to reciprocate, his advances get even more forward. And her resistances melt, because, really, who can resist the passionate kisses of the person they love, on any day?
He domineers the kiss so completely, he's so engrossed in the way her lips move against his and so spurred on by her throaty moans against his mouth, that his fingers are tracing her bare back before she even has a chance to realize he has pushed his hand under her shirt.
The clasp of her bra clicks as he undoes it, freeing her ample breasts to be feasted on by his eyes glazed over with lust (and something, something else, a traitorous little voice in the back of her mind whispers through her own lustful haze). She has only half a mind to open her mouth to ask him—one more time; for his sake because he matters to her—what's wrong and why is he in such a rush.
But then his lips are on her breast, his nimble tongue tracing the sensitive flesh of her nipple while he plays with the other with his hand. He nips and bites and sucks and makes all the blood rush through her body, focusing in her face and one other place. She feels the cotton of her panties pressing against her unpleasantly with its damp coolness and she squirms against him, eager to get more friction between their bodies.
Another reason she knows something is definitely off is the fact that he gives her little time to react before he acts upon whatever he wants to do to her.
Maybe not many would believe her, but her Dai-chan is a very sensual lover. For all his rashness and self-centeredness on the court and among others, he never hurries when he's bedding his girl. In fact, it seems to give him some sort of satisfaction, relishing her moans and whines and whimpers when he touches her there or licks her like that. Her Dai-chan takes his time, enjoys foreplay with her, and prides himself for every appreciative noise he manages to get out of her.
Her Dai-chan wouldn't have her on the bed before she can even notice he's steering them backwards. He most certainly wouldn't assault her neck and let his hands roam her body so directly, so hastily, barely ghosting over the areas she needed him to touch.
And he would most definitely not insert a finger in her before she can realize his hand has even reached her sex.
She bites her lip roughly, trying her best to rein in her disappointment. Tears burn in her eyes but she refuses to shed them. It's hard containing her emotions because this is the first time this happens to her—being left hanging like this.
All she can hear is both their laboured breathing, while Daiki holds himself from crashing into her by an arm placed next to her shoulder on his bed. He's the first to catch his breath, his heartbeat slowing as he calms down. He pulls out of her, sitting down on the bed next to her as she slowly rights herself as well.
They say nothing while she fixes her skirt to cover herself, swallowing drily around the lump that has formed in her throat. Only after she's sure that she has erased every visible trace of her complete disappointment from her face does she chance a look at him.
He seems somewhat relieved—the haunted look is still somewhat present in his eyes, but not as obviously as before—and the fact he seems better than when she entered his room makes her feel a bit better.
She manages a small smile then, touching a gentle hand to his cheek.
"Feel any better now, Dai-chan?"
Her short, innocent question seemed to break him out of his trance. His face contorted in a look of horror that she had never seen him wear before.
His mouth opened, his lips moving but no words forming for a few moments.
"Satsuki—" he croaked out. "Did you—? You didn't—?"
His voice trailed off and he couldn't finish either of his questions. But from the dismayed look he was giving her, she could guess what he wanted to ask.
The smile she gave him was a bitter one, but she did her best to smile regardless.
If she didn't, she was afraid she might cry and, honestly, no one would want that.
"No," she responds in a quiet whisper.
He spends a full minute staring at her, shell-shocked, speechless. His mouth is agape and his eyes are wide with horror. Horror as realization hits him.
His face jerks out of her gentle hand's touch when he moves to place his head in his hands. His buries his face in his palms, his knuckles turning white from the pressure he applies.
"Oh, god, Satsuki. I'm so sorry…" he moans out in dejection. "I'm the worst."
A tiny, tiny part of her agrees with him.
She squashes it underfoot.
"What the fuck am I doing, raping my own girlfriend… and then not even letting her come? I'm worse than the worst."
This makes Satsuki's eyes widen. Not only is the self-deprecating comment something she never expected to hear from her boyfriend, the way he hunches over, aghast, alarms her.
"Hey, hey, hey," she interjects before he can dig himself into an even deeper hole. "I never said 'No', did I?" she points out helpfully, and emphasises her point as she pulls his hands away from his face so she can look at him. "You were just… a bit too fast, that's all."
That's the most agreeable terms she can put it in.
Daiki shakes his head, but refuses to let go of the sides of his face.
"You weren't ready. I should've—I should've done better by you. I hurt you—I'm so, so sorry, Satsuki."
The hand he places over hers on his cheek grasps hers so tightly she barely suppresses a pained wince. Instead of feeling better over her frustrated needs, though, seeing Daiki so earnestly repentant makes her worry.
"I'm a horrible person. I used you for my own gratification. I'm the lowest of the low. I'm so sorry, Satsuki. So very, very, very sorry."
It's then that he starts to scare her.
Well, sure, what he'd pulled was endlessly selfish, and, yes, she could agree that he'd basically used her as a tool for just bringing his own release. And even though she'd been worked up, he didn't allow her to come before finishing himself; didn't take care of her after either.
But, still, that didn't warrant such serious apologies.
Or, rather, even though it did, he didn't have to look so scarily distraught.
Gosh, it's not like someone died or anything!
"Daiki. Daiki!" She calls to him when he refuses to look at her even as she steers his face to fix his gaze with hers. "What's wrong, Daiki? Why are you so upset? What happened while I was gone?"
He stares at her for a few minutes, his lips a taut line. When she starts thinking that he won't answer her at all, he shakes his head and exhales slowly through his nose.
"My…" he starts shakily. "My mom, she…" He swallows drily. "She had a stroke."
Satsuki's eyes widen.
"They took her to a hospital, but they…" He loses his words mid-sentence again. She can see how much it takes out of him to voice even as much. "They don't know if she'll make it."
His face adopts such a broken expression that all thoughts of their sexual misadventure fly right out of her mind.
"And I honestly don't know what to do with myself…" he confesses quietly, trying to worm out of her grasp. "As if that wasn't bad enough, I ended up hurting you, too. I just—"
She silences him with a rough kiss to the lips. She doesn't let it last—this is really not the moment for mistimed displays of affection—she does it just as long as it stops his tirade.
She doesn't want to hear him say these things.
She doesn't want him to think them.
She can only imagine what was going on in his head—in his heart—before she walked into that room.
She no longer even blames him for pulling such an asshole stunt on her. He'd been distraught and needy and scared and he had sought solace in her, in their intimacy.
She just wishes he had told her this before he jumped her.
She would've been much more adequate at consoling him, if he had.
When she parts from the kiss she forces on him, she rests her forehead against his, breathing slowly through her nose. She sees the guilty expression on his face and it makes her heart ache.
She buries her hands in the short spikes of his hair, gently massaging his scalp.
"Shhh, it's all right. Everything will be fine," she promises quietly. "Auntie will be all right, you'll see. Don't worry, Dai-chan. Everything will be okay."
He starts shaking in her embrace. His head falls to the crook of her neck. She puts an arm around his shoulders, holding him closer to her, while her other still rests in his hair. She holds him tight and begins gently rocking him back and forth in a soothing motion.
They don't say anything for a long time afterwards. He doesn't cry but she can feel the tension in his shoulders. His whole being is wired, strained.
She's never seen him this upset. She can only imagine that, if he had ever felt like this when they were friends, instead of clinging onto her like a drowning man to a straw as he was right now, he had probably walked away to deal with his problems on his own.
The mere thought made her heart clench painfully. She'd always known that Dai-chan was passionate.
But she had never known that there were things in the world capable of shaking him this badly.
She wants to hold him tighter, comfort him, soothe his worries away, wish his turmoil out of his system.
And at the same time she wants to hit him, hard, because stupid, stupid Daiki, always bottling up his feelings and refusing to let her just be there for him when he needs her to.
How stupid could one person get?!
"Satsuki?" he whispers after god knows how many minutes spent in tortured silence.
"Hmm?" she hums while stroking relaxing circles in his back.
"I really am very sorry."
She smiles against his shoulder—this time, the expression comes easily, naturally, genuinely.
"I know."
When he's calmer, his arms move around to embrace her as well. His hold is firm and tight and it borders on bruising but she doesn't mind. Instead, she holds him tighter to herself as well.
"Satsuki?"
"Hmm?"
"Don't leave tonight."
She presses a kiss to the column of his neck in a gesture of reassurance.
"I won't."
Another long pause steels over them.
"I promise I will make this up to you." His voice is quieter than she's ever heard it.
Still, it makes her smile against his skin.
"Okay," she agrees just as quietly.
She's right and his mom is stable the very next day. They go to visit and the face-splitting grin he wears from ear to ear as he hugs his mother on her hospital bed almost makes her cry in relief because this was how things were supposed to be.
Still, the whole ordeal goes to show her how little she's known her boyfriend in some senses. It shakes the very foundations of the way she perceives the world to know that he can care so much, and be so deeply distraught, when anything happens to his dearest people.
It makes her see him in a whole new light.
The escapade also serves as a lesson to both of them.
Because it's just the first from many to come after.
Daiki is a person who isn't easily affected by his surroundings. He achieves this by the simple fact that he doesn't place as much importance on events and encounters as others do.
What he cares about is people and his bonds with them. So the few things that could upset him—really upset him—are quakes in those bonds or threats to his dear people's lives.
The situations are few and far between, but they do happen.
And when they do, he always turns to her—his only saviour, the only one who understands him. The only one who can console him. The only one who can offer him a way to take his mind off of what worries him.
Only when he holds her can he forget about the world, leave behind whatever is haunting his consciousness and just lose himself in her.
And, whenever he starts undressing her in a flurry, his hands quick and urgent on her body, she knows. She knows that he's upset and he needs her, and she knows to act in accordance to that.
His first transgression against her serves Daiki is a severe lesson. He never allows it to repeat itself, and he assures it doesn't with such meticulous attention despite his haste and affect that it never fails to flatter her.
No matter how huge of a hurry he is in, he always makes sure to prepare her right, to give her enough time to feel ready to have him before he invades her. Sometimes he licks her folds before dipping a finger, then two, in; other times he huskily whispers obscenities in her ear, outlining his plans in the next several minutes to her in such intricate and perverse details that he has her wet and begging in no time at all.
He keeps his promise to her and makes it up to her.
She knows he will. Just as she knows he will never leave her hanging ever again.
Satsuki loves her Dai-chan. She always has, and always will. She loves him, despite all his faults and flaws, despite all the mistakes he makes against her.
She loves and forgives him because he's only human, and she knows how much he truly cares.
Most of all, she loves him because she knows his heart-melting capacity for all-encompassing passion that he shows her only at his most vulnerable moments.
A/N: This totally got away from me. I was planning to put the emphasis on the smut. And look at where I am now… Oh well. ._. I hope you liked. I'm still somewhat pleased with it, even though it didn't come out quite as I intended it to. xd Very conflicted feelings on the matter indeed. I do think I pulled off nicely the character study at the first part.
100 Situations, Table One; 077: Upset.
14th March, 2013.