NOTES: Yukimura x Yanagi. Older piece. Awkward language and word use. Failed smut attempt.
Logical Dominance
The end of tennis practice.
An empty clubhouse.
It was a fitting setting for their private ritual.
He did not bother dressing after his light shower.
Instead, he cast the towel he used to dry himself to the floor.
He stood completely exposed before the other. Before his captain, his lover, there was not a part of his physical body that he hid away. He offered it in its entirety to the other.
His companion observed him through cerulean eyes sparked by intrigue.
"What is this, Renji? Are you tempting me?" The other inquired, amused.
"Yes. I am." He gave a straight answer to what he viewed as a serious inquiry. He exposed his intentions as freely as he exposed his physical body to the other.
Turning from his companion, he propped his forearms against the metal lockers' cold surface. He almost flinched from the contrast between the two temperatures. Almost.
He didn't, however, for he did not want the other to worry about him. A minor inconvenience like cold metal surfaces was not worth the other's concern. Seiichi had other things to worry about. Seiichi has their team to lead to the Nationals, and his instable health to monitor.
The light shuffling from behind him was the other's rejection of his own bath towel.
The other's additional warmth prevented his body from being chilled further by his cool environment. It no longer mattered that he was leaning against a cold surface or that the heat in the room was not on high enough.
Seiichi pressed his chest against his back. The heat of the other's lust waited patiently at the crack of his gluteals.
"You sure you don't want to turn around?"
"Aa." He confirmed. He preferred it that way.
That way, he had better control over himself than he did when Seiichi insisted on going in when they were face-to-face. That way, he could hold onto something else instead of holding onto the other. That way, he could control his desire to embrace the other as tightly as possible. That way, his usual logical influence would still be intact.
The other entered him after taking time to prepare the narrow muscle passage.
While he had already prepared himself mentally when Seiichi's delicate fingers roamed within him, he still could not restrict the tattered breaths from escaping his lips in the other's movements. He rested his forehead weakly upon his forearm.
The other knew that particular sensitive part of him too well after their numerous engagement of this activity.
Yet, he still questioned why repetition did not desensitize him. Is that particular spot engraved into his anatomy to serve as the permanent area of reactivity? Or, has the other stimulated it so much before that any sort of light stimulation now would successfully arouse him? And he thought in irony, even without embracing or touching the other during sex, he still could not escape the other's influences.
Skillful fingers on his member redirected his thoughts to reality.
His companion let out a heavy breath.
"Let's go...Together, Renji..."
His breaths lost their steadiness when the other stroke him to match the rhythm of his thrusts. With the last remains of control over himself, he was able to swallow the gasp that had already ventured to the tip of his tongue.
Then he felt his whole being shake as if imploding.
The other relied on him to support a partial amount of his weight as he attempted to catch his breath.
The final product of their climax became milky white serpents slithering down his abdomen and inner thighs.
They separated wordlessly. After having sex, they wouldn't talk to each other until after they've rearranged themselves completely. It was like a habit of some sort. Or maybe, they were both too occupied to talk.
Concerned, he still examined the other's state from an eye corner. After he had been assured of the other's recovery, he turned his focus back to his own disheveled state.
He will need a second shower. He will need to clean that sore area between his legs. It could get problematic if he fails to do a decent job. Maybe he should convince his partner to start using barrier from now on.
That was better for the both of them anyway.
The sound of the other's voice initiated the break in their habitual silence.
"You know, I'm really wondering why you always refuse to turn around, refuse to face me, when we're doing something so intimate." His companion's usual innocuous smile still graced his lips, but his eyes were the freezing arctic sea. "It makes me feel hideous and that this is the only way you can avoid looking at me."
With that, the other strode off to the shower room without looking back.
He knew the other was discontent.
And he knew, somehow, he was too.
What happens when you could not let go of yourself during the height of passion when you were supposed to?