Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7024801.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      ダイヤのA_|_Daiya_no_A_|_Ace_of_Diamond
  Relationship:
      Furuya_Satoru/Miyuki_Kazuya
  Character:
      Furuya_Satoru, Miyuki_Kazuya
  Additional Tags:
      SASO_2016, Smut, Oral_Sex
  Series:
      Part 1 of SASO_2016
  Collections:
      Sports_Anime_Shipping_Olympics_2016
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-05-30 Words: 1706
****** Bulge ******
by satorumiyuki
Summary
     Prompt: Remember when Furuya realized the size of Miyuki's bulge, and
     was later given the chance to investigate it?
Notes
     This is a fill for the 2016 Sports Anime Shipping Olympics, prompt
     here
Satoru doesn’t remember when he first noticed it; it might have been in the
locker room or maybe when Miyuki was catching for him, but now that he’s aware
of the size of the bulge between his battery partner’s legs he can’t get it off
his mind.
He knows it’s rude to stare, doesn’t want to make Miyuki uncomfortable or scare
him away, Miyuki means too much in several ways for Satoru to want to risk it
but his eyes seem to have a different agenda, gluing themselves to Miyuki’s
crotch any chance they get.
If they’re sitting next to each other in the dining hall Satoru can’t help
glancing at Miyuki’s lap, if he’s across from Miyuki he’s taken to dropping his
napkin or chopsticks or Sawamura’s homework so he can lean under the table, the
best place to ogle discretely from. He has to concentrate extra hard when he
pitches to keep his eyes on Miyuki’s glove; it’s easier during games when he’s
wearing a cup and there’s a game on the line but casual practice is difficult.
The biggest problem though is in the bath.
It doesn’t escape Satoru’s notice that Miyuki is always the first in the bath
at night when there are less people, always uses his modesty towel, wears
shorts over leggings if he wears them while running; Satoru’s not sure if
that’s to hide something or just one of his senpai’s terrible fashion choices.
It seems Miyuki is trying to hide it, what Satoru has noticed, and he should
respect that, take his baths later after running with Sawamura but his feet
keep taking him to the bath house earlier and earlier each week. At first he
catches Miyuki coming out the doors, then pulling on his shirt, then less. The
first time he catches Miyuki in his underwear, black boxer-briefs, he knows
Miyuki notices him staring.
In fact, he’s sure Miyuki is onto him now; just that evening when they were
cooling down from a practice game with extra pitches Miyuki laughed softly to
himself before throwing the ball back:
“My mitts up here Furuya,” he’d called with a smirk, giving his mitt a punch.
And then when they’d parted ways Miyuki had called, “See you in the bath.”
Standing outside the bath Satoru has a sinking feeling that Miyuki not only
knows but is planning something, and yet he’s still there, stripping himself
slowly before wrapping a towel around himself and entering the bath because
Miyuki didn’t exactly respond disfavorably to Satoru’s sticky eyes…in fact he
seems to smirk again when he glances over his shoulder, after squinting at
Satoru.
Satoru chooses a shower station away from his senpai, ignoring the sensual way
Miyuki pours water over his hair, his modesty towel wet and clinging even as
Satoru tries not to notice. He washes himself slowly, trying not to think about
Miyuki touching himself a few stations away, trying to control the erection
threatening to raise his own towel.
In the bath he decides closed eyes are the best course of action, avoiding the
temptation of looking at Miyuki when he joins him, leaning against the edge of
the bath on the opposite side and relaxing.
“You pitched well today,” Miyuki says, making Satoru’s eyelids twitch. “You’re
finally pitching lower. I wonder why that is,” he chuckles like he knows
exactly why Satoru’s focus has been lower lately.
“You should keep it up, it’ll help in the tournament,” Miyuki tells him, making
Satoru’s face grow hotter than the bath usually makes it.
Satoru keeps his eyes closed until he hears Miyuki stand up, opening his eyes a
sliver to see water dripping down an unfairly sculpted ass and thighs before
shutting his eyes and trying to breath normally.
“Are you coming?” Miyuki asks and before Satoru’s brain knows what it’s doing
he’s on his feet and climbing out of the bath, following Miyuki’s lead as he
dries himself and dresses, trying his best to hide his half-hard cock.
He follows Miyuki back to his empty room, hovering awkwardly to the side as
Miyuki locks the door with a click so loud Satoru flinches.
“Furuya, I think I have something you want, or have been curious about at
least, you’re not exactly subtle about what’s on your mind kaibutsu-kun,” he
grins and Satoru’s heartbeat jumps into his throat.
“Miyuki-senpai…” he starts awkwardly but he doesn’t know what to say as his
face burns.
“If I’m wrong you can leave and we won’t talk about it again,” Miyuki takes a
step closer, licking his lips and Satoru swallows. “But if you want to…I
wouldn’t have asked you to come if I wasn’t interested too.”
That makes Satoru’s heart beat the fastest, Miyuki suddenly stepping into
Satoru’s space, Satoru resisting the temptation to take a shy step back as
Miyuki’s hand comes up to cup Satoru’s cheek, guiding their faces closer
together.
Miyuki’s lips are as soft as Satoru thought they’d be, moving against his, warm
and steady, his tongue already sliding into Satoru’s mouth and sending a shiver
down his spine as Miyuki’s other hand takes Satoru’s right wrist and pulls it
between them. He hesitates briefly, his fingers squeezing Satoru before placing
Satoru’s hand on his crotch. Even through the fabric Satoru can feel the heat
of it, the weight of it. It makes his hand tingle like he just pitched his best
fastball.
“Is this what you wanted Furuya?” Miyuki asks lips wet, brown eyes boring into
Satoru’s.
“Yes senpai,” Satoru says, caressing the bulge in Miyuki’s sweatpants
carefully. It makes Miyuki’s eyes flutter closed for a moment.
“Do as you like then,” Miyuki says, “you have my permission.”
Satoru’s hand spasms involuntarily.
“I’ve never…” he admits with a blush.
“I haven’t either,” Miyuki says against Satoru’s lips. “Do you think I’d make
this offer to just anyone?” he chuckles, the warm breath tickling Satoru’s face
and making his stomach fill with warmth. “I’ve seen the way you look though
Furuya. You must be thinking about doing things, I’m telling you it’s ok, you
can do whatever you want. I want you to. If that wasn’t obvious,” he laughs
again, grinding his cock against Satoru’s palm.
 Satoru takes the invitation, presses his lips against Miyuki’s again, dipping
his tongue in for a taste, making his senpai moan into his mouth, his cock
twitching against Satoru’s palm.
Satoru’s fingers explore through the fabric, outlining the firm length trapped
between them until he can feel a wet spot forming at the tip. He breaks the
kiss reluctantly; he’s wanted this for a long time but he reasons that he can
have more later, after his curiosity and desire is sated.
He drops to his knees, slipping his fingers under the waistband of Miyuki’s
sweatpants and boxers and pulling them down together, freeing his prize.
It’s even bigger than he thought it would, which makes sense given that he
hasn’t seen it hard before. He explores the skin with his fingers, smooth and
perfect, throbbing slightly under his gentle touch, as he swipes his thumb
slowly over the tip.
“Furuya,” Miyuki moans breathily, making Satoru’s own cock twitch in his pants.
He wraps his hand around the length, impressed by the girth against his large
hands. He strokes experimentally, watching the way Miyuki’s eyes partially
close and he bites his lip to stop himself from moaning louder.
Satoru wants to watch both, his focus going back and forth between the cock in
front of him and the expression on Miyuki’s face, fascinated by both, but
loving Miyuki’s face especially; Miyuki rarely seems so relaxed and unguarded.
He wants to see more of that face.
Satoru slows his stroking, Miyuki’s eyes opening wider and focusing on Satoru’s
face as Satoru brings his mouth to Miyuki’s cock, tongue tasting the tip
experimentally, earning himself a gasp from Miyuki. He takes it as
encouragement, licking along the length before taking it in his mouth, as much
as he can.
Miyuki clasps one of his hands over his mouth and Satoru pulls back, a bit of
saliva string connecting his bottom lip and Miyuki’s cock.
“Are you alright, senpai?” Satoru asks.
“Yeah,” Miyuki breaths heavily. “It’s good; I’m not going to last long if you
do that more.” He pulls his hand away to smirk, the crook of his lips wavering
as Satoru puts his mouth back.  
Satoru can’t fit all of Miyuki’s cock in his mouth so he concentrates on doing
his best with what he can, trying not to scrape his teeth even though it hurts
his jaw, trying to move his tongue and his head and keep an eye on Miyuki’s
face; lips parted and eyes half closed, large pupils focused on Satoru’s face.
His hand goes to the back of Satoru’s head, guiding him a little faster,
Miyuki’s breath hitching when Satoru reaches in his own pants to stroke his
aching cock.
“I’m close,” Miyuki moans, hand fisting a handful of Satoru’s hair.
Satoru grunts in response, his hand beating faster in his pants, giving up
control of the pace to Miyuki’s hand on his head.
Miyuki pulls Satoru’s hair hard, breathing hard, getting Satoru out of the way
just in time before his orgasm, spurting onto Satoru’s cheek in hot bursts. The
moan Miyuki lets out is enough to send Satoru over the edge, coming in his
underwear with stuttering breaths. He closes his eyes, savoring the moment.  
“Furuya, I’m so sorry,” Miyuki breaths. “I’ll get you a tissue,” Miyuki almost
tripping on his pants and underwear around his ankles as he shuffles awkwardly
over to his desk, pulling his clothes back up on his way back over with the
box.
He kneels down next to Satoru, wiping up the mess he made on Satoru’s face.
“Here, let me,” he tugs at Satoru’s pants, pulling another tissue out of the
box. Satoru pulls his hand out and grabs a new tissue to clean his hand off,
letting Miyuki pull his sweatpants and underwear down.
“Fu-furuya,” Miyuki stutters, pulling harder on Satoru’s waistband and Satoru
flinches. “What the fuck. You’re bigger than me.”
“I wasn’t certain until you were hard,” Satoru admits. “Miyuki-senpai is still
very impressive though.” 
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