Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/3215942.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      Kuroko_no_Basuke_|_Kuroko's_Basketball
  Relationship:
      Aomine_Daiki/Kagami_Taiga/Kuroko_Tetsuya, Aomine_Daiki/Kuroko_Tetsuya,
      Kagami_Taiga/Kuroko_Tetsuya, Aomine_Daiki/Kise_Ryouta, Kise_Ryouta/Kuroko
      Tetsuya, Himuro_Tatsuya/Kagami_Taiga, (IMPLIED)
  Character:
      Kuroko_Tetsuya, Aomine_Daiki, Kagami_Taiga, Kise_Ryouta
  Additional Tags:
      Polyamory, asexual_kagami, Asexual_Character, Blow_Jobs, Hand_Jobs,
      Jealousy, lots_of_physical_affection, how_many_times_can_I_get_away_with
      using_basketball_as_a_metaphor_for_love_and/or_sex, bisexual_aomine
  Series:
      Part 2 of Polyamory
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-01-22 Words: 14779
****** A Liar or a Lover ******
by Euphorion
Summary
     The counterpoint fic to Your Fonder Heart; the aokagakuro side of
     things. Hope you enjoy!
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
Kuroko pulled his jersey off over his head and folded it, tucking it in the
bottom of his bag. He’d barely moved his hands in time before someone slammed
his locker closed, looming over him. He didn’t jump—he didn’t even look up;
he’d sensed the familiar presence the moment Aomine entered the room.
He felt Aomine’s gaze on him for a long moment, knew that he was waiting for
him to meet his eyes.
“If you’re trying to make me jealous,” Aomine said at last, voice low, “it
won’t work.”
Kuroko still didn’t look at him. “Why would I be trying to make you jealous?”
he asked, and it almost came out teasing—almost came out the way it would have
a year ago. He made an effort, though, and achieved the same deadpan that he
offered most people.
Aomine made a frustrated noise. “Your new light,” he said darkly, “is totally
graceless, useless, and an idiot. All he can do is jump. He barely manages to
catch your passes!”
Kuroko turned, at that, because that most of all was a lie. “I thought it
wasn’t working, Aomine-kun,” he said coolly.
For a moment Aomine just stared at him. Meeting his eyes had been a bad idea.
It had been easy when Kuroko couldn’t see him, but looking at him meant he
could see the shine of victory—the shine of having to work for victory—in his
eyes, could see the way his jersey hung from his lithe frame, could see the
sweat in the hollow of his clavicle. It meant he could see Aomine’s gaze
flicker down over his bare chest and back up, lingeringly, to his mouth.
“Tetsu,” he said, and made an aborted motion to touch Kuroko’s shoulder.
Kuroko waited. Wanted him not to have stopped; wanted not to want.
Aomine held his eyes for a beat longer, then grimaced. “Nevermind,” he said. “I
just—“ he ran a hand through his hair. “I won.”
Kuroko raised his eyebrows at him. Being irritated with Aomine made everything
much easier. “And you think that changes something.”
“Doesn’t it?” Aomine asked, half challenging.
Kuroko turned away, knocking Aomine’s arm away from his locker with a hard
flick of his wrist. “No,” he said shortly, and retrieved his bag. Slinging it
over his shoulder, he started to leave.
Aomine was in front of him in three graceful steps, so quickly Kuroko nearly
walked into his chest. “Why not?” he asked. “It’s proof, right? That I’m better
than him.”
Kuroko almost said that’s not something that needs proving, but Aomine would
take that—the right way, but only one of the two right ways, and not the one
that mattered. “That’s not important,” he said instead.
Aomine stared at him. “Of course it is.”
Kuroko closed his eyes. “I meant for me,” he said. “I meant for—how I feel.”
Aomine was silent, and Kuroko waited a moment before he opened his eyes. It
wasn’t quite long enough. Just for an instant—before the walls went up, before
Aomine’s face relaxed into a disdainful, disinterested mask—he looked
shattered, a shock and a hollowness to his eyes that made Kuroko ache. But then
it was gone, and Aomine had drifted backward from him without ever seeming to
move. Kuroko felt the loss like a world turning away from its sun.
Aomine shoved his hands into his pockets. “Yeah,” he said, his voice casual.
“Alright. Whatever, then.” He turned to leave, as if he’d never been blocking
Kuroko’s way. “I’ll see you around, Tetsu.”
He made it to the doorway before Kuroko got up the courage to call after him,
“Aomine-kun.”
He paused, looking over his shoulder, his face bored but hope in the line of
his spine.
“If you will stop treating me like a prize to be won, I would like to see you
sometime,” Kuroko said. “I miss you.”
Aomine took a tiny surprised breath, small enough that Kuroko was certain no
one but him would have noticed—no one who wasn’t so aware of every shift of
Aomine’s body, every habit of his muscles—and smiled. “Yeah,” he said, softer
than he meant because then he coughed, embarrassed. “Just, y’know. Text me,
we’ll get dinner.” He lifted a hand, paused as if he wanted to say something
else, realized he’d already lifted the hand to wave goodbye, waved it, and
left.
Kuroko set down his bag, opened it up, and put on a shirt.
He caught up with the others the way he often did, inserting himself into the
group just a few steps behind Kagami, listening to Izuki tell what seemed like
an endless stream of cat puns to a long-suffering Mitobe and a less long-
suffering Hyuuga. He expected Kagami to notice he was there eventually, but he
didn’t expect him to immediately turn, walking backwards. “Where were you?” he
asked quietly, eyes complicated.
Kuroko lifted a shoulder in a shrug. There was nothing to be gained by lying.
“I was talking to Aomine-kun.”
Kagami licked his lips—an uncharacteristically nervous gesture—and then just
nodded and turned back around, and Kuroko nearly stopped walking in his
surprise. He’d expected some comment, some why are you wasting your time with
that asshole, some what could that idiot even talk to you about anyway, not
silent acceptance.
He slipped up so he was walking side by side with Kagami. “Kagami-kun.”
Kagami looked sideways at him. “Mm?”
“Are you okay?”
Kagami glanced down, the corner of his mouth twisting. “I’m pissed,” he said
shortly. “I didn’t think they’d win by so much.”
Kuroko cocked his head. “You didn’t think they’d win at all,” he pointed out.
Kagami huffed a frustrated laugh. “Yeah,” he said, and lifted a shoulder.
“Overconfidence, I guess.”
“It’s okay,” Kuroko said, “I didn’t think they would either.”
Surprised, Kagami glanced at him. “Really? But you knew how good Aomine was.”
Kuroko nodded, trying his best to hold his eyes as they walked. It was hard—so
much the opposite of what his natural instinct was, his learned habits that
made everyone look away, forget him. “Yeah,” he said, “But I know how good you
are, too.”
Kagami stared at him so long he almost tripped over his own feet. “We are,” he
muttered, and ruffled Kuroko’s hair absently, and Kuroko was glad he’d looked
away at last because he didn’t quite manage to suppress his blush.
He was surprised and gratified by how much Kagami liked to touch him. When your
greatest skill was being ignored, physical contact became something more
deliberate—more meant, and prior to coming to Seirin the people who had touched
him were mostly Momoi and Kise, both of whom he was fond of but found a little
bit suffocating, Murasakibara, who he found nothing but irritating, and Aomine,
whose touches were. Well. Loaded. Kagami touched him because he wanted to, not
because he wanted anything from him, and Kuroko knew that if he ever indicated
in any way that he didn’t want to be touched, Kagami would stop.
He had no intention of doing so, of course, but the knowledge warmed him
anyway. Even when Kagami was annoyed with him and grabbed his head to shake it
he always let go if Kuroko struggled, so Kuroko stopped struggling, and
Kagami’s touches became both more frequent and gentler. Kuroko wanted to catch
his hand as he pulled away and thread their fingers together, but. That might
stop the touching as surely as complaining.
There was also a chance it might not, but it was much too slim for Kuroko to
risk it. Instead, he just said, “Would you mind if I came over tonight anyway,
Kagami-kun?”
It was a burgeoning, mostly unspoken tradition for them to spend the evening
after a victory together. They were always too keyed up to want to go directly
home, and after the first few times they’d spent hours walking around the city,
talking or sometimes not talking, just existing side by side, Kagami had
started leading him back to his apartment. They’d usually cook a meal and maybe
watch something, chat about the game, about practice, about class. Sometimes
they’d play video games, or study together, Kagami sprawled out on his couch
and Kuroko sitting on the floor, or at Kagami’s small table, tea or juice at
their elbows. It was nice—quiet and easy and comfortable in a way that Kuroko
felt with very few people in his life. Honestly, he wished he had reason to do
it more often, not just when they’d won a game and had an excuse—however weird
and made up it might seem—to want to stay together.
The synchronicity they experienced on the court took a long time to fade, is
all. Kuroko just felt a little too restless, alone without his light.
Kagami looked at him, surprised, and Kuroko wondered if it was because he'd
asked or because he felt he had to. “Yeah,” he said, “of course.”
Kuroko smiled at him. “Good.”
He was consistently impressed by how clean Kagami’s apartment was. On a surface
level, Kagami seemed like the kind of guy to leave hamburger wrappers wherever
he felt like and never do his dishes. But as Kuroko worked his way under the
outer layers of his personality he started to recognize a hidden core of—he
hesitated to call it maturity, because calling someone as easily fired up as
Kagami mature didn’t quite sit well, but—competence, life competence, that made
all of Kagami’s loud behavior somehow steadier, grounded in something real.
Kuroko dropped his bag by the couch and joined Kagami in the kitchen. “Do you
want me to help?” he asked.
Kagami glanced at him. “Sure,” he said, and slid him a knife.
After dinner they took out schoolwork, but it was nearly summer. Kuroko
couldn't concentrate, images of their defeat flickering through his head, and
from the way Kagami's eyebrows were twitching as he stared at his notes he was
in a similar state.
“Can we play a game?” Kagami asked abruptly. “I wanna kill something.”
Kuroko nodded, and helped him set up the console system connected to his little
television. They played some American shooter he could never remember the name
of, Kagami’s hands moving quick over the buttons, muttering little curses and
encouragements as they made their way through the war-torn landscape.
Kuroko found a sniper rifle and situated himself above the battlefield, taking
great pleasure in picking off Kagami’s targets as quickly as he chose them so
he was constantly charging in and taking aim only to have his opponent fall
dead at his feet. Kuroko watched Kagami out of the corner of his eye, watched
his face tighten in annoyance as he caught on. “Kuroko,” he said warningly.
Kuroko smiled at him. “I thought you said you wanted to kill something, Kagami-
kun,” he teased, “but you’ve barely done anything at all.”
“I’ll kill you if you don’t stop being such a little shit,” Kagami muttered,
not taking his eyes off the screen, and Kuroko checked his side of the screen,
took aim—and Kagami dug tickling fingers into his side, making him yelp and
drop his controller.
Kagami had his hands back on his own controller in an instant, blazing through
three enemies in a fountain of gore. “Ha!” he shouted, and Kuroko let him pull
ahead, biting down hard on his lip and willing his heart to slow before he
picked his controller up again.
“Very good, Kagami-kun,” he said, and hoped Kagami wouldn’t notice how
breathless it was. “You’ve almost reached half my score.”
When they beat the level Kagami dropped his controller and stretched upward,
his shoulders popping. Kuroko looked at him sideways, his heart still a little
nervous in his chest. “Better?”
Kagami draped his arms across the back of the couch. “Mm,” he said, which
wasn’t really an answer, but Kuroko hadn’t really needed one. Some of the
tension from the day had drained from the air, from the set of Kagami’s mouth.
Kagami let his head drop back to stare at the ceiling, and Kuroko, daring,
leaned back a little so the back of his own head rested lightly on Kagami’s
arm. Kagami didn’t move, and Kuroko let his eyes slip closed, listened to him
breathing.
“What did you talk to Aomine about?” Kagami asked, after a long time, and
Kuroko opened his eyes. Kagami hadn’t moved, but he was watching him out of the
corner of his eye. He resisted the urge to lick his lips.
“He was being a dick,” he said truthfully, “and I told him to stop.”
The corner of Kagami’s mouth turned up. “That’s all?”
Kuroko considered saying yes, but lying—lying now, here, in this space that was
just starting to feel like home—left a bad taste in his mouth. “No,” he said.
“I also told him I missed him.”
Kagami’s eyes slid off him to fix on the ceiling again. “Do you?”
Kuroko did lick his lips, then, when it was safe, when it wouldn’t betray how
nervous he was. “Sometimes.”
Kagami nodded, mostly just a movement of his throat, and after a minute he
said, “I miss America, sometimes.”
Part of Kuroko wanted to laugh at him for comparing Aomine to an entire
country, an entire way of life—but part of him thought that maybe that was
exactly right, maybe Kagami understood better than Kuroko gave him credit for.
“But I’m glad I left,” Kagami continued. He picked up his head so that he was
really looking at Kuroko. “I’m glad I came to Seirin.”
Kuroko held his eyes. “Me, too,” he said, and he meant I’m glad you did and he
meant I’m glad I did, and Kagami smiled.
+
“So,” Aomine said casually, “have you fucked him yet?”
Kuroko regarded him steadily. Around them, the café hummed with casual
conversation. Dinner had been nice. He’d been having fun. “Aomine-kun,” he
said, “do you want me to leave?”
Aomine held his eyes for barely a second and a half before looking away.
Kuroko sighed. “If we’re going to be seeing more of each other you’re going to
have to stop doing this,” he said. “I want to hang out with you so I am hanging
out with you, not so you can accuse me of being a slut or insult my new light.”
Aomine’s cheek twitched at the word, and he picked up his drink, probably to
prevent himself from saying anything else stupid.
“Besides,” Kuroko said softly, “I don’t actually know how Kagami-kun feels
about me.”
Aomine stared at him, slowly lowering his drink from his mouth. “You’re
kidding,” he said flatly. “Have you seen the way he looks at you?”
Kuroko blinked at him.
“God,” said Aomine, “I thought you knew and were playing off it to make me
jealous, but you really haven’t noticed?” He leaned back in his chair,
grimacing. “He fuckin’ lights up every time you even glance his way, and the
rare times he manages to do something useful when you get him the ball he’s so
happy it’s disgusting.” He shook his head, disgusted. “Tetsu. I saw the two of
you interact for a total of an hour and I knew.”
Kuroko thought about that, about Kagami on the court, about the joy in his
face, and shook his head. It was so different than Aomine, different than
Momoi, different even from Kise’s hopeful, pointed fondness. Maybe that was
what was tripping him up. He licked his lips. “Why tell me?”
Aomine sat forward again. “What do you mean?” he asked.
Kuroko smiled gently at him. “It doesn’t exactly benefit you, Aomine-kun.”
Aomine opened his mouth and stopped, looking away. He shrugged.
Kuroko leaned forward, widened his eyes pleadingly, and waited.
Aomine glanced at him a couple times, and then drawled, “Stop that. It doesn’t
work for Momoi either, and she’s got much better tits than you.”
Kuroko knew for a fact that it did work for Momoi. ”Please?"
Aomine shoved a hand into his hair, not looking at him. “Fine,” he said
shortly. “I just—you.” He swallowed, and then said quietly, “You deserve to
know that you’re loved.”
Kuroko stared at him, his heart suddenly in his mouth. “Aomine.“
“Shut up, god,” Aomine said, his cheeks dark, “this is why I didn’t want to say
anything—“
Kuroko couldn’t help it. He leaned forward across the table, hooked a hand
around the back of Aomine’s head, and kissed him.
Before he closed his eyes he saw Aomine’s go wide, and then he was kissing him
back hard, his fingers coming up to graze over Kuroko’s jaw, and Kuroko made a
little noise into his mouth because he hadn’t quite realized how much he’d
missed this, how much he still knew about the way Aomine’s mouth moved on his.
He almost chased Aomine’s lips when he started to pull away, but made himself
sit back and open his eyes, and that was almost as nice, because Aomine didn’t
really go very far and he shifted his thumb across Kuroko’s lower lip, his gaze
flickering from his mouth to his eyes.
“You haven’t changed at all,” he said, a little line between his eyebrows that
Kuroko wanted to smooth away. “You still make no fucking sense.”
Kuroko pursed his lips, kissing the pad of his thumb. “What do you mean?”
Aomine narrowed his eyes. “I just told you for sure Kagami likes you, and
instead of running off to confess your undying love or whatever, you kiss me.”
Kuroko raised his eyebrows. “I kissed you because I wanted to,” he said. “Why
should my feelings for Kagami-kun have anything to do with my feelings for
you?”
Aomine licked his lips, startled, and Kuroko blinked slow at him. “But,” Aomine
said at last, “what you said after the game—“
“I said it didn’t matter that you won,” Kuroko said, “and that you should stop
treating me as a prize. This is part of why. It is not a competition.”
Aomine shook his head, his eyes back on Kuroko’s mouth. “I don’t get it,” he
said, “but—does this mean I can—?”
Kuroko nodded, smiling a little, and then Aomine was kissing him again. This
time he was all teeth and tongue, the way he used to be when he really wanted
Kuroko riled up, and Kuroko had a flash of annoyance at that—he was trying to
talk about something important—before Aomine drew his lower lip into his mouth
and he went a little dizzy with want.
From beyond the pounding of his own heart he heard someone say, “Oh,” and then
“I’m so sorry, I was just coming to say hi, I’ll just—go—“
He pulled away, opening his eyes, and saw Kise standing awkwardly a table away,
as if he’d been approaching to greet them and been caught off guard. He wasn’t
quite looking at them, his cheeks bright with embarrassment. “Kurokocchi, I-
I didn’t realize you two were—you know what, I’m probably late for something!”
He spun on his heel and was out the door before Kuroko could say anything.
Aomine frowned after him. “What’s his problem?”
Kuroko sighed. He’d given up feeling guilty about how his actions might make
Kise feel a long time ago, but that didn’t make it easy. “I am not the only one
who is bad at noticing certain things, Aomine-kun,” he said.
Aomine scowled at him. “What the hell does that mean?”
Kuroko shook his head. “Nevermind,” he said, because—because of course Aomine
was just as deserving as he was but it wasn’t the same, it wasn’t like he knew
how Aomine really felt about Kise, he hadn’t even seen them interact in almost
a year, and. And because he didn’t want to say anything. He didn’t want Aomine
distracted, didn’t want Aomine anything but his.
He was aware of the hypocrisy in that, but being aware of feelings he didn’t
like feeling had never actually made them go away. Besides, Kise would probably
kill him if he ever said anything. Probably.
He stood up. “We should be somewhere less public, if we’re going to continue
this conversation.”
Aomine was on his feet immediately, and when he offered his hand Kuroko took it
gladly. They sat shoulder to shoulder on the train. Aomine kept sneaking little
glances at him, and Kuroko tightened his grip on his hand reassuringly.
When they got to Aomine’s apartment Kuroko was hit with a wave of memories,
good and bad, all edging each other out. He licked his lips, expecting Aomine
to push him up against the door, expecting Aomine to pull him into the bedroom
with insistent hands, expecting Aomine to be demanding and forceful
and—anything but what he was, standing fidgeting just inside the door, staring
down and away.
Kuroko sank down on the couch, watching him, and after a minute Aomine sat down
too, half-turned to face him. He stared at Kuroko, eyes narrowed.
“Aomine-kun,” Kuroko said, hesitant, somehow, to break his silence.
“Why’d you leave?” Aomine asked, too quickly, like he was afraid the question
might burn him if he held it in his mouth too long, and. Oh.
Kuroko licked his lips, but there was no good way to do this. “Because you
turned your back on me,” he said flatly.
Aomine went wide-eyed. “I didn’t—“
“You did,” Kuroko said levelly, and he really hadn’t meant to be harsh, but the
pressure of the silence, of a whole year of silence was starting to build
behind his eyes, and it was—it was weird as hell, being here. “You decided my
style of basketball wasn’t something you needed, that I wasn’t—“ he cut himself
off, looking away. “All of you put yourselves above me, Aomine-kun,” he said,
hating the thickness in his throat. “But you were the one who left me behind.”
He curled into himself, pulling his knees up to his chest.
“Tetsu,” Aomine breathed, and Kuroko squeezed his eyes closed, because he was
supposed to be angry, he was supposed to make Aomine see how wrong he’d been,
how right Kuroko was, he was supposed to stand his ground and fight it out, not
feel as if he were shaking apart, cracked open by the horror in Aomine’s voice.
Warmth draped across his back and then Aomine was pulling him against his
chest, hooking his chin over Kuroko’s shoulder. “Stupid,” he said against
Kuroko’s ear, and Kuroko turned his face away. “Stupid, stupid,” Aomine
repeated, insistent, and his hands were skimming up Kuroko’s chest, aimless.
“Of course I needed you,” he said, and bit the joint of Kuroko’s shoulder and
neck gently. “I still need you, I’ll always need you.”
Kuroko let his head drop back against Aomine’s shoulder, let Aomine hold him
up. “I was an asshole,” Aomine admitted grudgingly and Kuroko laughed at that,
a little shakily, raised a hand to bury his fingers in Aomine’s hair as Aomine
kissed his way up his throat. “I’m so sorry,” he breathed, almost too quietly
to be heard, even with his mouth so close.
Kuroko squirmed against him, flicking his eyes sideways so he could see
Aomine’s profile. “That’s probably the sexiest thing you’ve ever said to me,”
he deadpanned, hoping Aomine wouldn’t notice the wetness of his eyes.
Aomine laughed, burying his face in Kuroko’s shoulder, and maybe it was okay,
because maybe his eyes were wet, too. “Shut up.”
Kuroko smiled at the ceiling, running his nails over Aomine’s scalp, and Aomine
mouthed his way up Kuroko’s neck again to nip at his earlobe, his hands
wandering down to slip under Kuroko’s shirt.
Kuroko curled his head around to kiss him awkwardly, twitching a little when
Aomine ran his calloused hands up his ribs to thumb over his nipples. Aomine
licked into his mouth and Kuroko made a frustrated noise, pulling back. He
knocked Aomine’s hands away so he could turn in his arms, nearly slid off the
couch, and caught himself with a flailing hand.
Aomine laughed at him, and put up no resistance when Kuroko stood and
rearranged him so his back was against the arm of the couch, just watched him
with warm eyes and let Kuroko do as he liked, shifting all his limbs around so
he was more conveniently situated. Kuroko put himself between Aomine’s long
legs and then Aomine moved, looping a hand around the back of his neck and
drawing him insistently forward to seal their mouths together again. It was
all—familiar and just unfamiliar enough; Aomine was taller, his muscles harder
against Kuroko’s fingertips as he traced patterns over Aomine’s stomach, and
there was a sense of urgency in his kiss that made Kuroko’s heart beat faster.
He’d missed this. He’d missed this, he’d missed this, he’d missed him—
“Missed you,” Aomine said against his mouth, and Kuroko made an embarrassing,
broken little noise and everything got much more frantic. He tugged off his
shirt and fisted his hands, frustrated, in Aomine’s stupid tee. Aomine pushed
him back a little so he could pull it off and Kuroko spent a split second just
admiring him the way he never had time to anymore, the shift of his long, lean
muscle as he dropped his shirt on the ground. Aomine raised his eyebrows at
him. “Tets—“
Kuroko cut him off with his mouth, pressing forward so they were chest to
chest, skin to skin, and Aomine’s hands came up to skim over his shoulders and
back, surprised and a little uncertain. This was the only time Aomine did
anything questioningly, moved his body with anything but perfect confidence,
and Kuroko loved that, loved being the one to do that to him. He nipped at
Aomine’s lips and then lower, teeth against the perfect line of his jaw. Aomine
seemed to remember what he was doing, one hand settling in the small of
Kuroko’s back, the other sliding down to palm over his ass, and Kuroko shifted
his hips so he was grinding down against Aomine’s hardening cock and back up
against his hand in slow, deliberate circles.
Aomine’s breath stuttered in his throat, his fingers tightening. “God,” he
said, and Kuroko pressed his grin hard into the skin of his neck because he
knew Aomine loved his smile.
Used to, anyway. The thought snuck in unbidden and Kuroko bit at Aomine’s
collarbone so that Aomine would arch up against him and the burst of pleasure
would pull him away from any other thoughts like it, worked a hand between them
with a kind of single-minded, desperate denial. Aomine had both hands on his
ass now but when he realized what Kuroko was doing he slid them around to try
and help, fumbling with the zipper of Kuroko’s jeans, and this used to be so
much easier, when they only ever did this after practice, when they were only
ever in basketball shorts and not real clothing. Kuroko finally got his jeans
shoved down enough and thank god Aomine still didn’t wear real clothing because
it was much easier to tug his shorts down his hips and wrap a hand around his
cock, and Aomine sealed their mouths together, kissing slow and filthy.
Kuroko would have jacked him off him off quick and desperate, high on the
known-unknown feeling of his skin, the shape of his dick against his palm, but
Aomine wrapped his fingers around him in return and set their pace, working him
slow, almost teasing, and that. When was the last time Aomine was the one
taking his time, when was the last time Aomine deliberately slowed them down—
Kuroko broke their kiss to take a shuddering breath against Aomine’s jaw,
giving up thinking about the last time—the last time anything, and the hand
that Aomine had on his ass came up to card through his hair as their fists
worked in tandem. Aomine had his eyes shut tight, his breath coming harsh
through loose lips, and Kuroko pulled back a little, ran his thumb over
Aomine’s cheekbone. Aomine twitched, his fingers tightening on Kuroko’s cock,
but he didn’t open his eyes.
Kuroko leaned down and took the lobe of Aomine’s ear in his mouth. He tugged at
it once with his teeth, breathed in his ear, “Look at me.”
He sat up, pushing his hair back from his face as Aomine pried his eyes open.
He smiled, sliding his thumb over the head of Aomine’s dick, and Aomine made a
wordless, pleading kind of noise, his eyes catching on Kuroko’s face, his
mouth, his eyes, and then skidding away again, and that was different, too,
Aomine was usually all, all smirks, and—
Aomine used the hand in his hair to tug him down, growled, “stop fucking
thinking,” against his mouth, and knocked Kuroko’s hand away from his dick. The
angle was different, now—they were sliding together, slick with sweat and pre-
come, and when Aomine wrapped his long-fingered hand around both of them Kuroko
silenced himself by working his tongue into Aomine’s mouth.
They rocked together, sloppy, frantic, kissed with the same not-rhythm as their
hips. Aomine came first, his shout muffled by Kuroko’s mouth, his fist tight in
Kuroko’s hair, his hips arching up and up, and Kuroko trembled with him,
knocked his shaking hand away to finish himself off in a few hard, short
strokes. He buried his face in Aomine’s neck when he came, lifted his head to
meet Aomine’s slow-blinking, lazy gaze.
He shifted, a little, noticed the lovely ache in his thighs. “What is it?”
Aomine shook his head and lifted his chin to kiss him. “Didn’t think I’d ever
get this again,” he muttered against Kuroko’s mouth.
Kuroko worked his lower lip between his teeth and thought, me neither.
On the train home he scrolled down to Kise’s number, texted him you okay? and
waited. Twenty minutes later, his phone buzzed and he opened it to find,
kurokochiii~~! ♡ and then a second text, ten seconds after, why wouldn’t i be?
He sighed and put his phone away. They’d done this dance before; if and when
Kise wanted to talk, they could talk. Otherwise, Kuroko was going to assume he
really was fine, that he’d shaken it off. Anything else was too exhausting to
think about.
He leaned back in his seat and let himself think, instead, about Kagami.
+
Seirin went on a trip to the beach for training, and Kuroko watched Riko
deliberately separate Kagami from the herd. It was smart; she was smart, whip-
smart in a way that both did and absolutely didn’t remind him of Momoi.
He watched Kagami as he ran himself into exhaustion. Watched Kamagi get back to
the bathhouses too late every day, watched Kagami seek him out every night
anyway. He always said goodnight, even if it wasn’t always verbal, fistbumps or
sometimes just a palm against his shoulder or his head, and he was always up
and brushing his teeth next to Kuroko in the morning.
It made Kuroko think, guiltily, about waking up next to him in different
circumstances, of sharing a tinier, more cluttered bathroom, a set of rooms
somewhere, of having the kind of calm that Kagami gave him settled into his
bones all the time.
It was only guilty because he didn’t know if Kagami would ever want that, if he
ever could want that, despite what Aomine had said, and because while Kagami
reaching for him was genuine and always had been, Kuroko’s own gestures—while
sincere now, probably too sincere—had begun in less than good faith.
He confessed that much on the beach, admitted that the first time he’d reached
out to Kagami it had been as much out of anger at the Generation of Miracles as
it was out of any recognition of Kagami’s true worth, and he tried to make it
clear how that had changed, how much he meant it, now, when he told Kagami that
he was different, that they would win, that they would become the best in the
world.
He couldn’t tell, at first, whether or not Kagami believed him, and then he
took a breath and there was a new kind of determination in his eyes. “You
didn’t tell the whole truth, before,” he said. He padded forward, the night
stealing away his rough edges and making him sleek and powerful, a graceful big
cat carrying the moon on his shoulder. “About you and Aomine. About what it
means to be your light.”
Kuroko swallowed. “It doesn’t mean anything you don’t want it to,” he said,
holding Kagami’s eyes.
Kagami blinked slow at him, the ocean breeze sifting through his hair. “What if
I do,” he said, more a statement than a question.
Kuroko stared up at him, not really letting himself hope, because Kagami hadn’t
actually said anything, they weren’t really talking about anything at all.
“What if you do what, Kagami-kun?”
Kagami was standing over him now, and they were always in and out of each other
spaces, as basketball players and friends, maybe weirdly so, maybe everyone
else didn’t dance around each other like they couldn’t help touch but didn’t
dare to do so for too long. Kuroko had no basis for comparison, really; no
standard of normal behavior to compare them to, and Kagami was currently very
much inside his space, was leaning down further into his space, was sliding a
large, broad palm along Kuroko’s jaw, under his ear, slipping fingers into
Kuroko’s hair and curling them around the back of his head. “This,” he said,
and kissed him.
It was a little clumsy, a little wet, but Kagami was kissing him. All the hope
Kuroko had locked inside his chest bloomed outward, warming him to the tips of
his fingers, and he kissed back eagerly. Kagami seemed surprised, pulling away,
and Kuroko smiled at him, happiness thrumming under his skin. “What were you
expecting?” he teased, noting with interest the little flush to Kagami’s
cheeks.
Kagami scratched his head. “Not much of anything, really,” he said honestly. “I
don’t really, uh.”
Kuroko cocked his head at him. “Kagami-kun,” he said slowly, “was that your
first kiss?”
Kagami shrugged. “I guess.” He scowled at the sea and the flush in his cheeks
deepened. “There’s not really a good way to practice shit like this.”
Kuroko reached up and hooked his hands together behind Kagami’s head. “I’ll
help you practice,” he offered, feeling weightless, feeling wonderful.
“Idiot,” Kagami grumbled, but he leaned down when Kuroko tugged, his breath
ghosting over Kuroko’s mouth, “you can’t help if it’s you I’m practicing for.”
Kuroko kissed him anyway and Kagami kissed back, a little hesitatingly, and it
was, god, it was so different than kissing Aomine. Even when Aomine kissed slow
Aomine kissed like here I am, look what I can do. Kagami kissed like he was
asking a question, and Kuroko was glad to answer him.
Kagami pulled back at last, and when he slid his hand out of Kuroko’s hair
Kuroko caught it and laced their fingers together. Kagami gave him a wide-eyed
look, and then the edges of his lips curled into a tiny smile.
“You don’t really what?” Kuroko asked him, as they wandered hand-in-hand back
towards the bathhouses.
Kagami didn’t ask what he meant, just stared out to sea for a long time. “I
don’t really—get it,” he said. “Sex stuff.”
Kuroko didn’t press, just kept their fingers laced tight.
“Feelings,” said Kagami, “those make sense, I understand being in love with
someone, or I—I think I do, anyway.” He glanced at Kuroko, and Kuroko almost
turned around to make sure his feet were actually making prints in the sand.
Kagami looked away again and continued, voice embarrassed. “But I’ve never
looked at someone and thought, ‘I wanna have sex with you.’”
Kuroko thought about that. It was less disappointing than he expected. Maybe it
was because being with Aomine again meant that his moderate sex drive was well
taken care of, but—sex had never really been anywhere close to the top of the
list of what he wanted from Kagami, so crossing it off was a decision that was
easy to make. Especially compared to throwing the list away entirely. He looked
sideways at Kagami. “But you wanted to kiss me.”
Kagami stopped, and Kuroko pivoted around him by their joined hands until they
were facing each other. Kagami was glaring at him. “Of course I did,” he said,
offended. “You think I would’ve done that without meaning it?”
Kuroko fixed him with a look. “Calm down,” he said, “I just wanted to check
where the boundaries are.”
Kagami stared at him. “You—you don’t mind? You still want—“
Kuroko let the corner of his mouth turn up, let some of the absolute joy in his
heart shine through in his face, and Kagami took a little breath. “Yeah,” said
Kuroko. “I do.”
+
Aomine ran his hands down Kuroko’s bare chest, unhurried, idle, appreciative.
“Let me get this straight,” he said. He was perched on Kuroko’s hips, naked;
the sunlight filtered through the curtains in long vertical stripes, making one
of his eyes shine gold, giving a warm glow to his brown skin. He looked like a
painting; the skin of his thighs was like silk against Kuroko’s own.
Kuroko blinked lazily up at him, heat still slowly uncoiling in his gut.
Aomine, too, was languid in his movements. He licked his lips and fit his
fingers into the little dents between Kuroko’s abs. Maybe it had been cruel, to
tell him when they were both still blinking stars from their eyes, but it was
one of the only times Aomine was guaranteed to be in a good mood.
“He doesn’t want to sleep with you,” Aomine said, though he seemed more
interested in the little contours of Kuroko’s chest.
Kuroko laughed at him, and Aomine fluttered his fingers over Kuroko’s muscles
in repetitious imitation of the movement, his mouth caught halfway to a smile.
“No,” Kuroko said, running a hand up Aomine’s chest.
“But he loves you,” Aomine said, voice a little odd—too distant, too uncaring
for the warmth of his skin and the quick beat of his heart against Kuroko’s
palm. “I told you so, and he told you so himself, and Kagami’s—anyway, you
would sleep with him if he wanted, I know that look on you.”
Kagami’s what? Kuroko wanted to ask, but he just nodded instead. “Yeah,” he
said, “definitely.”
“So what the fuck,” Aomine said, his frown gathering slow, like he was having
to pull it from very far away, somewhere out beyond the golden morning. “He
can’t not be attracted to you, that doesn’t make any fucking sense.”
Kuroko reached up and ran his thumb over Aomine’s cheekbone fondly. “Thanks,”
he said.
Aomine shrugged, smirking at him. “Just saying,” he said, “if you’re good
enough for me, you’re too good for anyone else.”
Kuroko scowled and flicked him in the center of the forehead. Aomine collapsed
sideways. “Ow,” he said, “asshole, that was a compliment.”
“It’s not just me,” Kuroko explained, relenting. He shifted onto his side so he
could look at him. “Kagami-kun isn’t interested in sex at all.”
Aomine stared at him. “Why not?”
Kuroko raised his eyebrows at him. “Why would he be?” he asked, challenging.
“Because it feels good?” Aomine offered. He scowled. “Did you really just fuck
me and then turn around and ask me why people have sex?”
Kuroko rolled his eyes at him. “No,” he said, because he hadn’t, he’d asked why
Kagami would have sex. He licked his lips. “It doesn’t—change anything.”
“What, about the fact that you just fucked m—ow, shit!”
Kuroko glared at Aomine, who put a protective hand over his other nipple in
case he wasn’t done. It had been a bad idea to do this right after sex. Post-
coital Aomine didn’t take anything seriously.
Kuroko sighed and pushed himself up off Aomine’s bed and onto his shaky legs.
“Nevermind,” he said. “We’ll talk about it later, I should go.”
He looked around for his jeans, and was just bending over to retrieve them when
Aomine caught his elbow. Kuroko turned to look at him. He was sitting up, his
face set and soft and sorry.
“Hey,” he said.
Kuroko opened his hand. “Hey,” he said back, smiling despite himself.
Aomine transferred his grip from his elbow to his palm and brought Kuroko’s
knuckles to his mouth. He kissed them, one after another, and Kuroko let
himself be pulled back towards the bed.
“C’mon,” Aomine said. “Sit down, if you wanna talk about it now we’ll talk
about it now.”
Kuroko perched on the edge of the bed. Aomine didn’t let go of his hand. “It
doesn’t change anything,” he prompted. “For—how you feel about me?”
“For how I feel about Kagami,” Kuroko corrected. “Or you, obviously. I don’t—“
he swallowed. “I don’t want to lose what I’ve found with you again,” he said,
keeping the thought an abstracted one so he didn’t actually have to think about
it even a little bit, “but I—I won’t give up what I’m finding with him,
either.”
Aomine looked down at their joined hands for a long time. “Sure,” he said at
last, not looking up. “Okay.”
Kuroko used his free hand to tilt up his chin until Aomine had to look at him.
He searched Aomine’s face.
Aomine smiled at him, and it seemed real, if small. “It’s not like I didn’t see
it coming,” he said. His smile thinned. “I’m just glad he doesn’t want to fuck
you,” he said. “That would have really made me jealous.”
Kuroko felt—off-balance, sad. Somehow the warm morning was a paler version of
itself, now, shifted slightly sideways. “Oh,” he said. Was this—had he done
something wrong? “Aomi—“
Aomine leaned forward and fastened his lips to the joint of Kuroko’s shoulder
and his neck, sucking hard. Kuroko gasped in surprise and pain, and Aomine let
go of his hand to wrap his fingers around the base of his skull, keeping him
still.
“F-fuck,” Kuroko said, his hands coming up to cradle Aomine’s head, or maybe
pull him off, he wasn’t really sure, but Aomine was already pulling away. He
thumbed at Kuroko’s hipbone with his other hand, his mouth leaving Kuroko’s
skin with an obscene pop that made Kuroko twitch a little. He raised a hand to
touch the slick skin, red and purpling already against his fingers. “What the
hell—“
Aomine shrugged jerkily and scrambled off the bed. “You and the idiot are out
to the team, right?” he asked. “Let them think he did it.” He leaned back in to
press a hard kiss to Kuroko’s cheek, his mouth shifting along his cheekbone as
he muttered. “Only we’ll know the truth.”
He stepped around Kuroko like he was a defender on the court and vanished into
the bathroom. After a minute, Kuroko heard the shower start to run.
He stared at himself in the mirror for a long time, at the pale expanse of his
skin and that single too-dark bruise, off-center and glaring.
+
Sometimes Kagami cornered Kuroko just to look at him, just to touch, like he
wanted to tell him something that didn’t fit into words, and Kuroko knew how he
felt. They stole little moments before class, after practice, whenever they
could, took advantage of empty classrooms, empty locker rooms.
“What’s this?” Kagami asked, his hands pausing in their exploration of Kuroko’s
face and throat, and Kuroko knew without looking what he meant. It still ached,
dully; a pin dropped on a map to mark something he didn’t understand.
“Aomine-kun,” he said, not wanting to talk about it beyond that.
“Aomine,” Kagami said darkly, but he didn’t sound jealous, just annoyed, like
he couldn’t believe Aomine dared inject himself into their warm, breathing
space. He leaned in to kiss Kuroko below the ear.
Kuroko sighed and slipped his hands into his hair. Maybe he was overreacting.
They’d been fine since, better than fine. Aomine had been—weirdly thoughtful,
actually; much better at answering his text messages, not just making Momoi do
it (Kuroko still refused to ever sext anyone after the Incident at Teiko),
listening to Kuroko when he wanted to do things that weren’t what Aomine had in
mind.
But Kuroko couldn’t get that thin, brittle smile out of his head, couldn’t
forget the new, shaky tone of his voice when he’d murmured against his
cheekbone.
“Kagami-kun,” Kuroko said at last, “if you don’t want a sexual relationship
with me, why do you mind the hickeys?”
Kagami lifted his head from Kuroko’s neck to look at the little bruise left by
Aomine’s mouth. He ran his thumb over it, and Kuroko shivered a little.
“Because it’s a reminder of something he can give you that I can’t,” Kagami
said quietly.
Kuroko caught his head between his hands, tilted it up so Kagami was looking at
his face. “It’s not something I want you to give me,” he said, and then, when
Kagami’s brows started to draw together, he continued, “because it is not
something that you want to give, not because I don’t find you attractive.” He
smiled a little, and was rewarded with a little flush in Kagami’s cheeks. “Why
would I want to do something with you that you wouldn’t enjoy?”
Kagami was still frowning a little, under his blush. “But—you like sex—“
Kuroko ran his hands up into Kagami’s hair. “Would you want to play basketball
with someone who’s never played and has no interest in the sport?” He wrinkled
his nose. “Because that doesn’t sound fun for either of you.”
Kagami wordlessly wrapped his arms around his chest and pulled him in, and
Kuroko laughed softly, cradling Kagami’s head to his chest. He wished he had
words for the rest of it, for how much of sex, for him, was the intimacy of
someone else’s body, the total comfort, and how much he had that, with Kagami.
How easy it was, to fit into his space, and how well the rush-release of sex
mapped onto the rush-release of their total synchronicity on the court. “Stop
worrying,” he murmured. “I am not missing out on anything.”
“Course not,” Kagami said, his voice a little muffled. “You still get to fuck
Aomine.”
Kuroko wanted to laugh—it was a joke, after all, if a strange one—but there was
something about that to clarify, as well. “He’s not a sex toy,” he said softly.
Kagami pulled back to look at him, and Kuroko searched for words that would be
honest but not painful. “He is not—auxiliary,” he finally settled on. “I am not
with you and having sex with him. I am with you, and I am with him.”
Kagami scowled at him. “I don’t get it,” he said, in the same tone as Aomine
had, and Kuroko had to smile at that. “How can you feel the same way for two
people at once?”
Kuroko ran thoughtful fingers over the knobs of Kagami’s spine. “It’s not the
same,” he said. “Have you been in love before, Kagami-kun?” He felt warm
implying that Kagami was in love now, and warmer when Kagami didn’t make any
motion to deny it.
Kagami hesitated and then, slowly, nodded. Kuroko worked his mouth. He honestly
hadn’t expected that to hurt. He chided himself for being so hypocritical. “And
did you feel the way about them that you feel about me?”
Kagami thought about that. “No,” he said at last, “it was different.” He
frowned a little. “It was actually more like how I feel about Aomine.” He saw
Kuroko’s surprised look and shrugged. “He was better at basketball than me,” he
explained, though in Kuroko’s private opinion that didn’t actually explain much
of anything. He stored that little tidbit away for future use, trying not to
let his imagination run away with him.
“And if you saw him again,” he said, “would you feel the same way?”
“I don’t know,” Kagami said slowly, and then, “I think so.”
Kuroko leaned in to kiss his forehead, murmuring against his skin, “and would
that change the way you feel about me?”
“Of course not, idiot,” Kagami said, immediately annoyed. His hands slid up
under Kuroko’s jersey anyway, palms warm against his skin.
Kuroko grinned helplessly into his hair, closing his eyes as Kagami’s
fingertips pressed little rhythmic patterns into the muscles of his back. “So,”
he said, and shifted his head a little to kiss Kagami on the temple.
“But couples are—y’know, supposed to be couples, not trios,” Kagami protested,
although he sounded unsure. His hands were still moving.
“Couples are supposed to have sex,” Kuroko countered, punctuating his sentences
with kisses to the side of Kagami’s head, “couples are supposed to be male and
female, couples are supposed to wait until marriage, couples are supposed—“
Kagami pulled one of his hands out of Kuroko’s jersey and clamped it down on
his head, pulling him back. “I get it,” he growled, but his mouth was
twitching. “I get it.”
“Good,” said Kuroko. “I’m hungry.”
Kagami huffed a laugh and pinched his side. “Great,” he said, “real romantic.”
Kuroko squirmed out of his reach, shaking his hair so it settled again.
“Vanilla shake,” he demanded.
“Alright, alright,” Kagami grumbled, getting to his feet, “let’s go.”
Kuroko fell in beside him as they left the locker room, their feet moving in
tandem, his heart tucked firmly between their palms.
+
Aomine was sitting exactly where he should be, looking bored, and Kuroko smiled
to himself. He had timed this well—Aomine was always ten minutes late to
everything, so he’d told him to meet him fifteen minutes before he’d told
Kagami to, which meant—yeah.
Aomine straightened, scowling, and Kuroko turned in his hiding place to see
Kagami stepping through the entrance of the food court, saw his face darken
when he caught sight of Aomine sitting alone. He crossed to him, and Kuroko
wished he could be sure they wouldn’t notice him if he moved closer, because he
would really like to know what they were saying. But they were the two people
who could see him best, and they were both looking for him. It was too
dangerous. He stayed crouched beneath the artificial plant that was sheltering
him.
He watched Kagami demand something of Aomine, and Aomine demanded something
right back, and this seemed about the right time for the last piece of the set-
up. He already had the text message tapped out, so all he had to do was press
send.
Aomine-kun, Kagami-kun, I’m so sorry! I got held up by Riko-san for extra
practice. Please enjoy yourselves without me until I get there.
Both of his boyfriends checked their phones immediately; both of them stared,
and then both of them frowned, and then Aomine stood up, shoving his hands in
his pockets. He said something dismissive to Kagami and stepped past him.
Kuroko bit his lip. He’d really been hoping this wouldn’t be how it played out.
Kagami sighed, tucking his phone away, and then reached out to grab Aomine by
the wrist. Aomine spun, immediately breaking free, and snapped something which
sounded very much like “what the fuck.”
Kagami said something back and gestured to the table, his face scrunched up
with distaste. Aomine waited a minute, staring at him, and then sighed, rubbing
the back of his neck. He returned to his seat, and the two of them sat down,
and Kuroko wanted very much to dart out and just kiss Kagami now, but that
would kind of defeat the purpose. He made a mental note to reward him later.
The two spent a while just awkwardly staring at the table between them, and
then spent a while scowling and snapping at each other, and then eventually
ordered some food. Nothing caught on fire. No blows were exchanged, although if
Aomine didn’t stop stealing Kagami’s french fries that wasn’t necessarily going
to remain true.
Both of them texted him back; Kagami’s just said asshole and Aomine said you
didn’t tell me HE was going to be here. He ignored them both.
And then—and then Kagami said something and Aomine laughed, not a derisive
laugh but a real, startled one, the kind that Kuroko loved to draw out of him
with smirks and smiles and little clever jokes. Kagami stared at him for a
minute and then smirked, and Aomine leaned over the table to murmur something
to him and Kagami nodded, and this—this was kind of what Kuroko had wanted but
it was also very, very bad, because they didn’t look like they were getting
along, they looked like they were scheming.
The waitress came over to their table and Aomine leaned up and said something
to her, and she nodded. Kagami raised an eyebrow at him and asked something,
Aomine shrugged, and then they grinned at each other, and Kuroko needed this
not to be happening without him anymore.
He broke cover, crossing to them before they could come up with some way to
really make life hell for him in revenge for leaving them here. They looked up
at him at almost exactly the same time, and he smiled. “Hello,” he said. “Sorry
for being so late.”
“Didn’t even notice you weren’t here,” Kagami said, though he smiled back.
“Because you were,” Aomine continued, rolling his eyes. “Come on, Tetsu, you
really thought you could hide from us?”
Kuroko blinked guiltily. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Kagami reached up and plucked a fake leaf out of his hair. “You’re an idiot,”
he said fondly. “Sit down.”
Kuroko sat, looking back and forth between them. They were at least more at
ease with each other than he’d ever seen them before, and—and Aomine had said
us.
Aomine, who barely acknowledged his own teammates. Aomine, whose every victory
belonged only to Aomine. Aomine, who could easily have said, you really thought
you could hide from me, who could easily, casually, have placed that little
possessive wall around Kuroko and himself, shutting Kagami out; Aomine had said
us.
Kuroko smiled, his heart light. “So what were you guys talking about?”
“Well,” said Aomine, in his most bored, god you’re dumb voice, “we only really
have the one thing in common, don’t we.”
Kuroko waited expectantly; he’d assumed they’d been talking about him but that
didn’t mean he was going to be satisfied with an answer that vague.
Kagami nodded. “Basketball,” he supplied, and at Kuroko’s glare he cracked up.
Aomine remained straight-faced, stealing another of Kagami’s french fries, but
when Kagami held out a hand for a high five he slapped his palm.
Kuroko put his head in his hands. This had been the worst idea ever. “You’re
both buying me dinner,” he warned.
“Nope,” said Aomine, and Kagami agreed, “no way.” They both stood up.
“We told the waitress you’d take care of it,” Kagami said. “That makes sense,
right? Considering you’re the one taking us on a date?”
Kuroko stared at him. “But—“
“It makes sense to me,” Aomine said, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Come
on, Taiga-kun, you and me. Streetball?”
Kagami grinned at him, showing his teeth. “Sounds good, Dai-chan,” he said,
voice sugar-sweet, and Kuroko was caught dead between horror and hysteria.
Aomine held out an arm like a lady at a dance and Kagami took it, lips
twitching with either laughter or disgust or maybe both, and Kuroko stood up so
fast he almost knocked over Kagami’s drink. “Oh my god,” he said, “Stop,
please.”
They turned to look at him. Kagami was cracking, but Aomine, Aomine of the many
masks, still looked the picture of innocence. “What’s wrong?” he asked, wide-
eyed.
Kuroko stared between them solemnly, pleadingly. “If I never do this to you
again will you never do this to me again?”
Aomine immediately dropped Kagami’s hand and his innocent face both. “Done,” he
said, and Kagami nodded with relief, his posture slouching. The space between
them yawned now that they weren’t making an awkward, stilted effort to cross
it.
Thank god, Kuroko thought, sinking back into his chair. Baby steps it was.
He still ended up buying them dinner and they still ended up playing
streetball, just Aomine and Kagami while Kuroko watched. He didn’t want the
headache of them fighting over whose team he was on, not to mention the fact
that playing with two people who could both catch his passes and knew the way
he thought made him pretty useless.
He perched on a bench. The date had been at dinner time and summer dusk was
truly gathering now, giving everything the still, heavy air of the inside of a
velvet box.
It was a pleasure to watch them, his lights. Aomine was still better—more
graceful, slightly quicker on the uptake, his hand against the ball just a
little more calculated and intentional than Kagami’s pure power. But Kuroko
found himself admiring that power even more than he had before, admiring the
muscles of his back, his legs, and when Kagami wandered over to him, breathing
hard, his entire face twitching with frustration, Kuroko pulled him down to
kiss him without having to think about it at all.
“Oi,” Aomine complained, crossing over to them. He was also breathing hard, but
he looked satisfied more than annoyed. Kuroko wondered if Kagami knew it was
because he was being challenged, not because he was winning, if he recognized
the compliment in that. “Don’t I get one of those?”
Kuroko narrowed his eyes at him. “He gets kissed because he stayed, and he made
you stay,” he said matter-of-factly, “and you don’t because you were going to
leave.”
Aomine rubbed the back of his neck. “I wasn’t gonna lea—“
Kuroko punched him in the stomach. “Don’t lie to me so I’ll kiss you,” he said
sharply.
Aomine blinked down at him, his body an open parenthesis around Kuroko’s fist.
“Right,” he said, voice bitter. He glanced at Kagami, then back at Kuroko. “I’m
tired of wiping the floor with this idiot, so—“
“Hey, shut the hell up—“ Kagami started.
Aomine ignored him. “—you wanna ditch him and go make out?” He hooked a thumb
over his shoulder.
“No,” said Kuroko coolly. “You can go home if you want, though, I won’t stop
you.”
Aomine stared at him. Kuroko stared back.
“You know what?” Aomine said at last. “Fuck this.” He stalked away.
Kuroko watched him go. At his side, Kagami shifted, the line of his body tense.
“Hey, jackass, you can’t just—“
Kuroko laid a hand over the fist forming at his side, his stomach churning.
Kagami looked down at him. “Kuroko?”
Kuroko shrugged, one-shouldered. “He just has to get used to it,” he said,
trying to believe himself. “He’s treating me the same way he always has, and
it’s different now. He’ll figure that out.” He worked his tongue around in his
mouth. Or he’ll decide I’m not worth it, and I’ll lose him for real.
That was a risk. That had always been a risk. It just wasn’t always
so—imminent. He ran his hands over his face, suddenly bone-tired.
Kagami’s palm settled on his head. “He’s an asshole,” he started, and Kuroko
opened his mouth to stop him, really not needing to hear it right now. “But he
really loves you.”
Kuroko stopped, mouth half open, and looked up at him.
Kagami scratched his face. “He, uh. He told me, basically.”
Kuroko swallowed. “He told you?”
“Basically,” Kagami repeated, and Kuroko kicked him in the shin. “Ow!”
“Kagami-kun,” Kuroko said seriously, letting some of his weariness, his
despair, slip into his voice.
Kagami sank down next to him on the bench. “He said if I ever upset you he’d
kill me,” he said quietly, “and that I was lucky to even have any of your
attention, not to mention your affection.”
Kuroko licked his lips. “That’s just him—grandstanding,” he protested, “just
because he doesn’t think you’re good enough for—“
“If you want me to finish you’re going to have to shut the fuck up,” Kagami
interrupted, glaring at him.
Kuroko shut the fuck up.
“He also said that he’s never felt the way he feels about you about anyone and
he’s dead certain he never will,” Kagami said, all in a rush, “so if this is
how it has to be I’d better be ready to suck it the hell up and make my peace
with him.”
“Oh,” said Kuroko. His lips twitched. It was just so—Aomine. Obviously I’m not
the problem, you’re the problem. He took a shaky breath, feeling a little
steadier, a little less despairing.
Kagami smiled sideways at him, but there was an uncertain set to his mouth.
Kuroko turned to curl into him, tucking his hands up under his shirt to warm
them in the cooling air. “What’s wrong, Kagami-kun?”
Kagami pressed his lips into Kuroko’s hair. “Are you going to go after him?” he
asked, his chest vibrating under Kuroko’s cheek. “Now that you know.”
Kuroko shook his head. “I meant what I said,” he said. “I won’t stop him.” He
closed his eyes against the onset of night. “If you’re right, he’ll come to me.
Besides,” he pointed out, “now that he’s ditched, I’m just on a date with you,
that’s how it works.”
He felt Kagami smile. “Good,” he said. “What do you want to do?”
Kuroko thought about it. “Can we go running?” He was restless, antsy, and not
just from the look in Aomine’s eyes. Watching Kagami or Aomine play basketball
always made his muscles twitch; watching them both put lightning in his blood.
Kagami stood, pulling him to his feet. “Come on.”
They hadn’t really run together, just the two of them, since the training camp
at the beach. There, they’d been running on sand, the earth under their feet
fighting them every step of the way. In comparison, running in the city was
like flying. He let the wind pull the anxiety from his heart and toss it
through the streets, far away. He found himself watching Kagami sideways as
they ran, watching him grin at the shift and burn of his own muscles.
“Keep watching me and you’re gonna run into something,” Kagami warned, but he
looked very pleased with himself.
Kuroko put on a burst of speed so he could get in front of him and then turned,
jogging backwards so he was looking at Kagami in earnest. “I like looking at
you,” he said.
Kagami’s eyes widened. “Don’t be stupid,” he said, “you can’t see where you’re
going!”
“You can,” Kuroko pointed out. “I trust you.”
Kagami growled and slowed a little, and Kuroko slowed with him questioningly.
Kagami flung both arms out straight. He caught onto the post of a streetlight
with one hand and swung himself around it, the other hand catching Kuroko
around the waist and swinging him, too. Kuroko laughed, letting himself be
pulled around the corner and backed gently against a wall. Kagami’s face was
intent, and Kuroko was breathless—from running, from surprise, from joy, and
when Kagami kissed him he sighed into his mouth.
“Take me home?” he said against Kagami’s chin, and Kagami nodded.
They slept naked in Kagami’s bed, their legs tangled together. Kagami had an
arm slung over his chest, his palm pressed to Kuroko’s heart, and Kuroko felt
heavy and weary and right.
+
It took a week, but Aomine did come to him, showed up entirely unannounced to
Kuroko’s apartment. Kuroko was alone—with two boyfriends (maybe—maybe), he was
really starting to savor his alone time—and had just put water on for tea when
the doorbell rang.
“Aomine-kun,” Koroko greeted, ignoring the leap and shudder of his heart. “Come
in.”
Aomine stepped past him. He looked—really good, better than usual, and Kuroko
was pretty sure it wasn’t just because he hadn’t seen him lately, or because he
hadn’t been sure he would see him like this ever again. He studied him as he
closed the door. He was dressed in a tight black shirt and jeans that Kuroko
had never seen before, ones that actually fit him well. He even smelled good,
and he’d done something kind of sexy with his hair.
He flushed under Kuroko’s scrutiny. “What?”
Kuroko raised an eyebrow at him. “You look good.”
“You think so?” Aomine smirked a little, genuinely pleased, and then sobered.
“I—talked to Kise.”
Kuroko stilled, because that could mean I talked to Kise and he gave me fashion
advice or it could mean I talked to Kise and he gave me advice about you or it
could mean I talked to Kise and he finally told me he’s been in love with me
forever and so I decided to show up looking devastatingly attractive so I could
rub your face in the fact that I’m dating a hot model now. Probably not the
last one. God, he hoped not the last one, and that maybe made him the biggest
asshole ever.
“Oh?” he said, noncommittal.
Aomine bit his lip. “Yeah, he—“ he started, and then stopped, and Kuroko
thought his chest might split from nervousness.
Finally Aomine sighed. “I was really shitty to you,” he said. “I got jealous
and I couldn’t deal with the idea that we wouldn’t just go back to—how it was,
how we were, at Teiko. It was driving me crazy, Tetsu, I.” He stared at Kuroko,
and all of Kuroko’s fears about Kise vanished because if Aomine were here to
break up with him he wouldn’t do it like this, wouldn’t look at him like that.
Aomine’s eyes were huge in his face and his mouth was trembling and Kuroko
wasn’t sure he’d ever seen him so bare in his life. “I don’t get it,” he said,
his voice small with emotion, “Why do you need him? Wasn’t it enough for you?
Aren’t—aren’t I—“
“Stop it,” Kuroko said. “Aomine—Daiki, stop.”
Aomine stilled, watching him, and Kuroko stepped up into his space. “Of course
you’re enough,” he said fiercely, “of course.”
Aomine sagged, reaching for him, but Kuroko stepped back again as soon as he
moved, and Aomine was left hanging, confused and still a little wild-eyed.
Kuroko swallowed. “But I don’t want to go back to how we were, and neither
should you.” He held Aomine’s eyes. “If how we were had been perfect, you never
would have turned your back on me, and I never would have walked away.”
He crossed his arms and concentrated on keeping his voice steady. “I could just
date you,” he said, making sure his tone of voice made it clear that it wasn’t
a suggestion. “I don’t want to, and it would break my heart, but I could do it,
because our relationship—our relationship now, with me in love with Kagami as
well, it’s still enough.” He took a breath. “I could also just date him, for
the same reason.”
Aomine swallowed. “But it would break your heart?” he asked.
Kuroko felt his lips tremble. “Like you wouldn’t believe,” he said honestly,
and let Aomine pull him in.
“Sorry,” Aomine muttered against his mouth, in between little gulps of air,
“sorry, fuck—“
Kuroko laughed a little, and they weren’t even really kissing so much as
breathing together. “It’s a good thing I find you apologizing so sexy,” he
joked, and Aomine wrapped his arms around his shoulders and just held on.
Neither of them moved until Kuroko’s kettle started boiling, and then Kuroko
pulled back reluctantly, going to take it off the stove with shaking hands.
“Tea?” he offered, feeling kind of ridiculous.
Aomine shoved a hand into his hair, messing up whatever magic Kise had worked
on it—Kuroko made a mental note to somehow get Kise a, a gift basket, or a new
car, or a fucking sainthood—completely. “Uh,” he said, “sure.”
“You know,” Kuroko said, getting down his teapot, “Kagami understood all this
much faster, because Kagami actually listens when I explain something the first
time.” It wasn’t not strictly true, but Kuroko wasn’t about to let Aomine know
that.
Aomine glared at him. “You tell me it’s not a competition, and then you go and
say shit like that.”
Kuroko smiled at him. “I’m kidding, and anyway, he has an advantage.” He poured
the water into the pot, looking at Aomine through the steam. “He doesn’t have
our history, for one thing, and I was already kind of with you again before we
got together.”
Aomine tucked his hands into his pockets. “The no sex thing probably helps,
too,” he suggested.
Kuroko wasn’t sure about that—he was pretty sure it had actually made it
harder—but that wasn’t Aomine’s business and he couldn’t help himself. “Plus,”
he added, “he knows he better suck it the hell up and make his peace with you.”
He let himself smirk at Aomine.
Aomine stared at him for a long time, and then kicked one of Kuroko’s floor
cushions, hard. It bounced harmlessly off the wall, ricocheted off the ceiling,
and landed on the couch. “That son of a bitch,” he snapped. “I can’t believe he
told you—that’s gotta be some kind of violation of some, some honor system,
like a, a—“
“A boyfriend code?” Kuroko suggested, raising an eyebrow.
Aomine calmed down a little. “Is that what we are?” he asked, eyes steady for
the first time since he knocked on Kuroko’s door. “We never really. Said.”
“Kagami and I are. Me and you?” Kuroko bit his lip. “I’d like that.”
Aomine nodded, his cheeks a little flushed. “And—me and him, what are we?”
Kuroko cocked his head at him. “Whatever you can be,” he said. “Maybe we’ll
start with ‘able to spend time in the same place for more than an hour without
freaking out and storming away.’”
Aomine flushed. “Yeah,” he said grudgingly, and then, more determined: “Yeah.”
Kuroko brought him his tea, setting it down on the table beside him, and Aomine
reached out to run his fingers over his jaw, gentle. Kuroko smiled at him. “He
was right about you, you know,” he said.
Aomine raised his eyebrows. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
Kuroko shook his head. “It’s good,” he said. “He said that you loved me and
you’d be back—“
—and he had, about a thousand times, whispered it into Kuroko’s ears whenever
he thought Kuroko was thinking too much, pressed it into the skin over his
heart, held it in his palms and transferred it with every little touch and
reassuring word, and Kuroko loved him with his whole goddamn heart—
“—told me it any time I thought you might just be. Leaving.” He swallowed,
dropping his eyes.
Aomine ran his hands up his neck, tilting his head up, and his eyes were
absolutely serious. “I wasn’t going to leave,” he said, and this time he was
telling the truth. This time, Kuroko kissed him for it.
+
They tried the trio date thing again a couple days later. Kagami and Kuroko
waited for Aomine at the train station, not holding hands but wanting to. When
Aomine arrived Kuroko kissed his cheek and Kagami gave him a nod, and then
Kuroko asked about Momoi because he noticed Aomine smelled kind of fruity and
nice but not whatever-Kise-gave-him-nice, which probably meant he’d showered at
her place, and then they spent a while discussing the differences in coaching
style between Riko and Momoi and the American coaches Kagami had known. Kuroko
found himself mediating less than he thought he would have to.
They went to a basketball court, because of course they did and because it was
a kind of neutral ground—it was, after all, the thing Kagami and Aomine had in
common.
“Up for a game of HORSE?” Kagami asked, knocking Aomine with a shoulder. “Loser
buys dinner?”
He said the word in English, and Kuroko and Aomine exchanged startled glances.
Slowly Aomine asked, also in English, “whores?”
“Horse,” Kagami snapped in Japanese, and then back to English. “Horse.”
“Isn’t that the same word?” Aomine asked Kuroko. “Do they use the same word for
horse and prostitute?”
“I don’t think so,” Kuroko said.
Kagami ignored them. “It’s an American game you play with a basketball,” he
said. “Horse is spelled—“ he hesitated—“H-O-R—uh—E-S. I think. And someone
makes a shot from anywhere, like.” He made an easy three-pointer, barely
shifting his stance from explaining-things-Kagami to lining-up-a-shot-Kagami.
Kuroko shook his head, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Aomine look a
little bit startled. He smiled.
“And then,” Kagami continued, “you have to make the same shot, in the same
style. If you do, I take another shot. If you don’t—“
“I will,” Aomine said, smirking.
Kagami smirked back. “If you don’t,” he said again, “you get a letter, starting
with H and going on through the word, O, R, and so on, and then you take your
own shot, from wherever you want, however you want, and I have to try and make
yours.”
Aomine waved a hand. “I get it. Whoever spells out the word loses.”
Kagami nodded, holding his eyes. “You up for it?”
Aomine rolled his shoulders. “Let’s go,” he said, his lips curling in a grin.
Kuroko sat down on the sun-warm pavement, watching Kagami. He had a moment of
worry—was it smart for Kagami be revealing his new strength to Aomine, who was,
outside of this weird twilight world where Kuroko somehow got everything he
wanted, technically their rival?
He watched Kagami dribble, unhurried, and smiled. This wasn’t a revelation.
This was just more practice, and who better to practice with than someone who
was better than you? Besides, it’s not like the element of surprise would
change anything when their teams went head to head again. It would be a test of
real skill, honestly earned, honestly fought.
Aomine fidgeted at his side, like he wasn’t sure why he wasn’t out there
defending. “C’mon, idiot,” he called, “hurry it up.”
Kagami turned, smirked at him—Kuroko’s breath caught, and it wasn’t even aimed
his way—and charged the net, throwing himself upward with a beautiful, soaring
speed. At the apex of his arc—so high his arms were entirely above the net—he
tossed the ball directly up, clapped his hands together once above the hoop,
and dropped without ever touching the rim.
The ball hit the court a second or so after Kagami did, the net swishing in its
wake.
Kagami turned to Kuroko, eyes shining, and Kuroko smiled proudly back at him
before looking up at Aomine.
Aomine glanced down at him and then back at Kagami, the roll of his shoulders
now less confident as he took the court. Kagami passed him the ball, and Aomine
stood for a moment, eyes narrowed.
“C’mon, idiot,” Kagami called to him, voice mocking, “hurry it up!”
Aomine flipped him off, took another moment, and then he also charged.
He almost did it. With zero practice runs and zero warm up, he almost matched
Kagami’s jump. But he couldn’t quite get the height, and he knew it—Kuroko saw
his lips twist as tried to compensate by throwing the ball both a little bit
higher and a little bit earlier, so it would hang in the air long enough that
he could clap. It did, and he did, but when he hit the court the ball hit the
back rim of the hoop and bounced off the wrong way, ricocheting across the
court.
Aomine punched the air in frustration. “Fuck!”
Kuroko shook his head. “That was amazing, Aomine-kun,” he called, because it
had been.
Kagami shook his head, but Kuroko could tell it was at least half admiring.
“That’s H,” he called, instead of arguing. “Take your own shot, Aomine.”
Aomine retrieved the basketball. “Oh,” he said darkly, “I’ll take my shot.”
Like Kagami, he started by running, but he didn’t jump. He planted his feet
just inside the out-of-bounds line, directly under the net, leaned way out over
it, tossed the ball up over the back board, leaned back inside while it was in
the air, launched off the ground, and alley-ooped it to himself, dunking it
with an ease that took Kuroko’s breath away.
“Fucking hell,” Kagami grumbled. When he tried it, he leaned too far back
inside, overbalanced, and landed flat on his face.
“That’s H,” Aomine reminded him when he’d managed to stop laughing.
They’d made it to H-O-R each and were running out of trick shots (non-trick
shots they both made easily, pulling faces at each other and not scoring any
letters) when Kuroko stood up. “I’ll buy dinner,” he called.
They both looked at him, caught in the middle of shouting at each other.
“What?” asked Aomine, and Kagami said, “But—“
Kuroko smiled at them. “It makes sense, right? Since I’m the one taking you on
a date.”
Kagami and Aomine exchanged a glance, and then Aomine relaxed, shrugging. “Cute
boy wants to buy us dinner? I won’t complain,” he said, and crossed to Kuroko,
slinging a sweaty arm over his shoulders. Kuroko turned his head a little to
press a kiss to the inside of his bicep, that little second us slipping warm
and happy into his heart, and held out a hand for Kagami to take.
There was a split second where he thought Kagami might refuse, where Kagami’s
eyes flickered over the easy, possessive way Aomine was draped across him and
his face darkened. But then he met Kuroko’s eyes, and Kuroko held them, and
finally he softened. “Sure,” he said, and took Kuroko’s hand.
“Remind me never to play whores with Kise,” Aomine muttered as they made their
way to the restaurant. “It’s like the game was fuckin’ made for him.”
Kuroko wanted to ask what Kise had said to him to make him come back, but he
wasn’t sure it was fair to ask in front of Kagami, and if Kise hadn’t done
anything but given him fashion advice Aomine might ask why he wanted to know
and that was a mess that he just. Really didn’t want to deal with. So when they
got to the restaurant he flipped open his phone and texted Kise simply, thank
you.
It was the only time he could ever remember that Kise never texted him back.
+
They still had dates separately, of course—Kuroko still went over to Kagami’s
house all the time, Aomine still showed up after school to steal him away—but
it started to be just as habitual for Kagami to just—not go away, when he did,
and just as habitual for Aomine to follow them home like a stray cat, bickering
with Kagami the whole way. Kuroko hung back, sometimes, so he could just watch
them, his lights, his boyfriends, watch the little ways in which they were
getting more comfortable with each other, the little ways they started cutting
each other slack. Aomine even complimented Kagami’s cooking, albeit grudgingly,
and Kagami accepted it with a wave of thanks rather than bristling.
There was a drawback to having them both around all the time, though: Kuroko
and Aomine started having much, much less sex.
At first it was just something for Aomine to grouse about, but eventually
Kuroko was frustrated, too. They could always ask Kagami to leave if they were
hanging out at Kuroko’s apartment or Aomine’s but Kuroko always felt terrible
about it, and Aomine got increasingly handsy every time they were at Kagami’s
place. They turned it into a kind of game, seeing how much they could get away
with it before Kagami snapped at them to cut it out.
Kuroko was worried at first that he would be upset by it, but Kagami’s scowls
never lasted very long, and the few times he tried to talk to him about it
Kagami just waved him away.
(“I’d be much more likely to be jealous if you guys started running together or
something, because that’s something I actually care about,” he said once, and
Kuroko reassured him that, no, sex was pretty much the only physical activity
he and Aomine did together anymore.)
Once the semester started they all studied together, though Aomine was taking
slightly different classes, and one day they were all spread across Kagami’s
living room, attempting to get anything at all done. Kuroko was lying on the
floor on his stomach, reading and making notes, toying absently with his pen,
and he looked up to see Aomine watching him, his math notes spread out and
ignored on the couch next to him.
He smirked and rested the tip of his pen on his lower lip.
Aomine narrowed his eyes at him.
Kuroko opened his mouth a little, his tongue flickering out to taste the tip of
his pen, tentative, teasing.
Aomine glared.
Kuroko controlled his grin with an effort of will and mouthed at the pen, once,
twice, opened his mouth further to lick it in earnest, and Aomine shifted
downward to aim a sock-clad toe at his face.
Kagami caught his foot from where he was sitting propped in front of the couch.
He looked up from his book with a sigh. “You know, you guys can fuck here if
you want.”
Aomine froze in the process of trying to free his ankle from Kagami’s grip.
Kuroko sat up. “Really?” It felt—big, important, but Kagami looked truly and
actually relaxed about it.
Kagami stretched and started gathering up his stuff. “Yeah,” he said. “Just
don’t use my bed, I sleep in there.”
Kuroko watched him, concerned, and Aomine seemed to finally find his voice.
“Kagami, man, we’re not gonna kick you out of your own apartment,“ he
protested, and Kuroko loved him fiercely.
Kagami frowned at him. “I’m not leaving,” he said. “I’ll just go study in the
other room.”
Aomine said, “Oh,” abruptly, and Kuroko caught the tiny bob of his throat that
meant he was swallowing. He smiled and pushed himself to his feet. “Kagami-
kun,” he said, and Kagami raised his eyebrows.
Kuroko leaned up and kissed him thoroughly. “Thank you,” he said when he pulled
away, and, quieter, just for Kagami, “love you.”
Kagami shrugged, embarrassed, almost dropping his books all over the floor.
“Yeah, well,” he said, “I’m just doing it so you’ll stop making eyes at each
other all the time.”
He wandered into the bedroom and closed the door behind him, and Kuroko turned
to see Aomine staring after him, his face thoughtful.
“An angel,” Kuroko said matter-of-factly.
Aomine rolled his eyes, but he didn’t actually disagree. “Well?” he demanded.
“You gonna follow through?”
Kuroko wandered over to him, nudging his knees apart with his own, and Aomine
licked his lips, looking up at him. Kuroko bent over him, sliding his hands
down Aomine’s arms to pin his wrists against the couch. He leaned in as if to
kiss him but stopped, lips hovering barely an inch away. “Follow through on
what?” he asked.
Aomine tried to crane forward a little to complete the kiss but Kuroko
tightened his grip on his wrists and Aomine stilled immediately, knowing this
game, his breath catching in his throat. “Tetsu,” he whined.
“Sshh,” said Kuroko absently, “Kagami is trying to study.”
He kissed Aomine, then, slow and thorough, kissed him again and again until
Aomine’s hips were twitching, kissed his way along his jaw and down his throat.
When it got too awkward to hold on to Aomine’s wrists he let them go, and
Aomine’s hands immediately flew to his head as Kuroko sank to his knees,
pushing Aomine’s shirt up so that he was mouthing his way along his abs, along
the waistband of his jeans. He palmed Aomine through the denim, didn’t bother
to shush him when Aomine cursed at him.
Maybe he should thank Kagami for waiting so long to let this happen. Aomine was
so delightfully desperate.
He undid Aomine’s pants and tugged them down his slim hips, pressed his mouth
to Aomine’s boxers til they were soaked through from both sides, damp and musky
against his tongue. Aomine wouldn’t stop saying his name, or pieces of it,
consonants dropping broken out of his mouth. His hands were tugging and tugging
at Kuroko’s hair, his hips moving in little needy circles.
Kuroko pulled his pants off the rest of the way and got rid of his boxers, too.
He bit the skin of Aomine’s inner thigh experimentally, like he didn’t know
what would happen, and was rewarded with a snarled, “fucking—come on,” and then
he finally wrapped his lips around Aomine’s dick and swallowed him down,
working what he couldn't fit in his mouth with his fist. He really liked giving
blowjobs; he liked the control it gave him, liked taking Aomine apart with
nothing but his tongue.
"G-gonna kill me," Aomine managed, running his hands over whatever he could
reach of Kuroko face, his cheekbones, his throat.
Kagami stuck his head through the bedroom door. “You’re so fucking loud,” he
growled at Aomine.
“F-fuck off,” Aomine snapped, but his hand tightened in Kuroko’s hair, and
wasn’t that interesting.
“I’m trying to read,” Kagami countered. “You might have heard of something
called midterms—“
Kuroko pulled off Aomine with a pop. “So shut him up,” he said, his voice
coming out a little rough.
Aomine stared down at him, his eyes dark and his lips parted wildly. “What?” he
asked at the same time that Kagami went, “huh?”
“I said,” Kuroko said into the hollow of Aomine’s hip, “shut him up.” He didn’t
really care how Kagami did it; it was just an experiment. He licked a long
stripe up Aomine’s dick and then closed his mouth around him again.
Aomine twitched forward. “Shit,” he snapped, and Kagami crossed to them a
little hesitantly. Kuroko expected him to just shove a hand over Aomine’s mouth
and that was a hot enough image, honestly, Aomine’s broken curses muffled by
Kagami’s strong fingers, but instead Kagami shrugged fluidly, grabbed Aomine’s
chin, and kissed him.
Aomine’s stomach jumped against Kuroko’s palm and Kuroko curled his tongue,
half on purpose and half just in shock, and then Aomine was coming, his body
strung tight and trembling between Kuroko’s mouth and Kagami’s. Kuroko
swallowed as best he could, pulling off to wipe at his chin.
When he raised his eyes Kagami had pulled back, looking smug. Aomine had an arm
shoved over his face, but what Kuroko could see of him was so red he nearly
glowed.
Kagami held out a hand to Kuroko and he accepted it, levering himself to his
feet on shaky legs. He pressed a quick kiss to Kagami’s mouth. “Good job,” he
said.
Kagami scowled at him, but he was blushing a little. “Asshole bit my lip,” he
muttered. “And your mouth is all sticky.”
“C’mere,” Aomine said hoarsely, letting his arm fall away from his face but not
looking away from the ceiling. He still hadn’t moved, splayed out naked from
the waist down, half off and half on the couch, his legs trembling in little
jerking aftershocks.
Kuroko started to cross to him, but Aomine waved a languid hand. “Not you.”
Kagami raised his eyebrows and leaned down over him, and Aomine slung an arm
around his neck and brought their mouths together, kissing him deeply. Kagami
twitched in surprise, but he kissed him back willingly enough. Kuroko thought
he saw a flicker of tongue; knew Aomine would be tasting the spot he’d bitten.
Aomine let Kagami go with a little pleased sigh. “There,” he said, “that time I
could pay attention.”
He closed his eyes, lifted his legs up onto the couch with a visible effort,
and curled up to go to sleep.
“Oi,” Kagami said without much heat, “rude. At least put on some fucking
pants.”
Aomine ignored him, his breathing deepening.
Kagami sighed, ruffled his hair with an absent hand, and crossed back to
Kuroko, whose heart felt like it might burst in his chest. Kagami laid the same
hand on his head, steering him out into the other room. “C’mon,” he said, “help
me study.”
Kuroko leaned up to kiss his cheek, once, twice; curled happily into the warmth
of his side. “Yeah,” he said, “okay.”
End Notes
     The third, currently hypothetical piece to this series is just called
     "Kise is really sad."
     As you probably guessed, this fic takes place concurrently with Your
     Fonder Heart, the crossover scene being the one where Kagami asks
     Kuroko about the hickey, which Hyuuga overhears. The conversation
     Kuroko has with Hyuuga happens just after this fic, making this fic
     actually fit inside the other one in terms of timeline.
     Nearly twice as long but covers about half as much time, hooray!
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