Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7321588.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      ダイヤのA_|_Daiya_no_A_|_Ace_of_Diamond
  Relationship:
      Sanada_Shunpei/Todoroki_Raichi
  Character:
      Sanada_Shunpei, Todoroki_Raichi
  Additional Tags:
      Established_Relationship, Dom/sub_Undertones, Praise_Kink, Blow_Jobs,
      Hand_Jobs, Semi-Public_Sex, No_Plot/Plotless, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without
      Plot
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-07-25 Words: 3703
****** Malleable ******
by tastewithouttalent
Summary
     "There are people, Sanada knows, who think of Raichi as a loose
     cannon. They are wrong." Raichi appreciates control far more than
     most suspect, and Sanada knows it.
There are people, Shunpei knows, who think of Raichi as a loose cannon. It’s an
impression given off by the other’s approach to games, by the cackling,
breathless enthusiasm that makes him sound manic, uncontrolled, wild in a way
Shunpei knows terrifies the opposing pitchers and fires the morale of every
member of their team hotter in opposite response. Shunpei can imagine what it
would be like to face that almost-choking laughter, knows from personal
experience how bright the inspiration it sparks runs in his veins, and he can
see the assumption in the faces of their opposing teams, can see the certainty
behind everyone’s eyes that Raichi is a wild thing, an animal, a creature of
pure instinct that can’t possibly be controlled by any normal means. He must be
a last resort, must be a secret weapon, the kind of thing you set loose on your
opponents while taking cover and hoping it doesn’t turn back on you.
They are all wrong.
Shunpei knows it. Shunpei suspected it even before and he’s sure of it now,
with experience carved into his memory and weighting at the tips of his
fingers, but he still likes to remind himself of the awareness, likes to tread
back over familiar facets the same way he likes to rub his thumb over the seams
of the baseball before he pitches. It’s a comfort, in a way, satisfying to have
his expectation fall so completely in line with reality; and there’s other
satisfaction to be gained from it, too, something that runs far beyond the
simple psychological pleasure of accuracy.
It barely takes a push. Raichi’s on his feet, standing steady under his own
power even if his cheeks are flushed and his breath is coming hard; but all
Shunpei has to do is reach for his shoulder, is weight the force of three
fingers against the seam of Raichi’s uniform shirt, and Raichi is folding, his
knees collapsing under him to drop him to the ground so fast and so hard
Shunpei flinches for the bruises his impact with the floor will leave. But if
Shunpei cringes in sympathy he’s the only one; Raichi doesn’t seem aware of the
pain, doesn’t seem to be thinking of anything at all beyond the wide-eyed focus
he’s turning up to Shunpei, the parted-lip obedience he is offering in answer
to the promise of the other’s touch. Because the people who think Raichi is
uncontrollable are wrong, and if Shunpei knows it Raichi knows it better, bears
the knowledge of it written deep into the instinctive responses of his body
that answer Shunpei’s commands better than they do Raichi’s own.
“Open,” Shunpei says, low because they have to be quiet, because the locker
room is empty for now but he has to be able to hear if someone is coming, has
to listen for the sound of approaching footsteps so he’ll have time to pull
them both into the plausible deniability of late-evening practice instead of
what they are doing, instead of the indulgent reminder he takes every few days
of what he knows already to be true. Raichi parts his lips immediately, without
looking away, without waiting for the slide of Shunpei’s fingers along his jaw
and dipping over his tongue, and Shunpei can see Raichi’s eyes blow dark at the
touch of Shunpei’s skin to his, can feel the hiss of desperate appreciation
Raichi takes against his touch as Shunpei hooks his thumb into the corner of
the other’s mouth for needless support. Raichi doesn’t need the reminder -
- he’s opening his mouth wider if anything, straining his jaw as far as it will
go in desperate obedience to Shunpei’s command -- but Shunpei likes the feel of
Raichi’s mouth under the brace of his fingers, likes to let his focus draw in
against the warm wet of the other’s tongue against his skin as he reaches for
the front of his uniform pants. His blood is warming, his heart beating faster
now as if he really is out on the field in the middle of another round of
practice, and by the time he gets his clothes undone he doesn’t need the
fluttering dip of Raichi’s attention focusing in on his cock to swell him to
heat. He’s there already, his spine prickling into anticipation as hot as
Raichi’s mouth against his thumb, and then Raichi makes a whimpering,
incoherent noise and reaches out for Shunpei’s hips.
Shunpei rocks himself back. “No,” he says, refusal as gentle as he can make it,
but still Raichi snatches his hands away like he’s been burned, looks up at
Shunpei with his eyes as wide as if he thinks the other might actually pull
away, might actually stop in the middle of what they’re about to do. Shunpei
smiles down at him to ease the edge of panic in Raichi’s eyes, reaches out to
fit his other hand against the dark weight of Raichi’s hair, and Raichi whines
again, confused appreciation audible even with the barrier of Shunpei’s thumb
still in his mouth.
“You’re fine,” Shunpei soothes, sliding his hand back to curl against the back
of Raichi’s head, to spread his fingers wide and bracing against the other’s
scalp. “Just hold still, I’ll take care of it.” Raichi looks back up at him,
his eyes still dark on heat and soft on uncertainty, but there’s no hesitation
in his expression, just the same unconditional trust that always makes
Shunpei’s spine tingle with electricity. It’s like Raichi is granting him
control, is granting Shunpei complete power over the both of them at once, and
when he lets his hands fall slack into his lap Shunpei has to take a breath
against the thrill that hits him at the sight.
“Good,” he says, his voice dipping lower than he intends, collecting shadows
against the back of his throat until the word spills like a purr over his lips.
“Like that,” and he’s sliding his touch free of Raichi’s mouth, turning his
palm to cup against the line of the other boy’s jaw and press the damp of his
thumb against his cheek instead. Raichi’s eyelashes flutter again, his throat
working on a sound too low to break free to the air, but he’s utterly obedient;
he doesn’t reach for Shunpei’s hips, doesn’t move his head, doesn’t even rock
forward for more as Shunpei presses the head of his cock past the damp part of
the other’s lips. He can feel the inhale Raichi takes, the sharp rush of air
dragging against sensitive skin as he slides forward; and then he catches his
fingers under Raichi’s jaw, and pushes up very gently to urge the other’s mouth
closed around him. Raichi obeys that too, pressing his lips in tight against
Shunpei’s length like he was just waiting for the command; Shunpei can feel him
shift, can feel the drag of suction against his cock as Raichi swallows back
what saliva collected in his open mouth. It feels good, sends a shiver of
appreciation down the length of Shunpei’s spine, and when the impulse comes he
surrenders to it without hesitating and rocks his hips forward to take a long
thrust into the heat of Raichi’s mouth. Raichi makes a sound far back in his
throat, a startled incoherent burst of noise around the obstruction of
Shunpei’s cock; but he’s still not flinching, and his eyelashes are fluttering
to dip heavy against his cheeks, and his hands are still slack and obedient in
his lap. Shunpei takes a breath, and tightens his fingers against Raichi’s
hair; and then he draws back, bracing Raichi’s head still between both hands as
he goes, before taking another thrust forward into the wet heat of the other’s
mouth.
Shunpei likes the way it feels, like this. There’s the simple pleasure of
Raichi’s mouth around him, of course, the raw satisfaction of the other’s lips
dragging gentle friction across his skin and the pressure of Raichi’s tongue
shifting unthought against his length as he pushes in farther; but that’s just
the top level, just the easy part of the pleasure uncoiling itself through him
to eclipse his attention and focus into the rumble of pleasure in the back of
his thoughts. Just as satisfying as the physical sensation is the feel of
Raichi’s head under his hands, the stillness of the other’s body obedient to
his touch even as Shunpei thrusts in deeper over Raichi’s tongue, presses in
close enough that the edge of his undone pants threatens contact with the
other’s skin. Raichi’s eyes are shut, his whole expression relaxed into
unthinking submission, but he’s making sounds far back in his throat, little
moaning notes of heat that Shunpei can feel run up against him and shudder all
the way up the whole length of his spine like they’re setting him alight.
Raichi’s tongue shifts against him, licking against Shunpei’s cock like he’s
lapping the salt off the other’s skin, and Shunpei groans and pushes in
farther, offering more of himself for the drag of Raichi’s tongue. Raichi
whines again, hot and unthinking and desperate, and Shunpei tightens his
fingers at the other’s hair even though Raichi isn’t trying to pull away, even
though Shunpei thinks he could be bracing himself at the wall instead and
Raichi would still be attempting the same stillness he is now. He draws his
hips back, presses his thumb in hard against Raichi’s skin to hollow out the
line of the other’s cheek against the inside of his mouth. When he rocks his
hips forward he can feel the outline of his cock under his thumb, can angle his
hips sideways to press hard against the force of his touch, and Raichi whimpers
and tightens his lips closer around Shunpei’s length, sucks harder as if to
draw the other deeper into his mouth. Shunpei lets his thumb ease, slides his
hand down along the line of Raichi’s jaw to the curve of his throat working
over the unvoiced sound of appreciation, of encouragement, of heat fighting
itself free of his chest. Shunpei’s fingers curl against the back of Raichi’s
neck, his palm resting gentle against the line of the other’s throat; and then
he tightens his fingers against Raichi’s hair, and takes his next thrust hard
against the resistance of the other’s mouth.
Raichi tenses at the force. He can’t not, even with the drive for obedience in
his veins to hold him passive; Shunpei was expecting that, the same way he was
expecting the groan of unmoored want that spills loud enough to be audible even
around the obstruction of Shunpei’s cock muffling Raichi’s tongue to stillness
and stopping his mouth to quiet. Shunpei keeps his head dipped down, keeps his
focus on Raichi’s expression, and when he thrusts in with that same sharp speed
he can see the way Raichi’s eyelashes flutter, can see the tension in the
other’s fingers as he starts to press against the inside of his thigh before
recollecting himself to stillness. Shunpei wouldn’t mind -- he had only
intended for Raichi to hold his head still, he’s not opposed to the other boy
working his pants open to jerk himself off while Shunpei fucks his mouth -- but
the overextended submission to his initial request is heat all its own in his
veins and draws a hiss of appreciation from his throat.
“Good,” he says, hearing the praise rumble like thunder in the back of his
throat. His fingers against the back of Raichi’s neck slide up and dip into
soft hair to brace the other still. “Good, Raichi.” Raichi whimpers, opens his
eyes to offer dark-blown heat to Shunpei’s stare, and Shunpei thrusts hard into
his mouth again, hard enough that he can feel the force jolt up the bracing
support of his arm. If they were farther back Raichi could have his head
against the wall and Shunpei could dispense with the distraction of holding the
other still; but it’s gentler this way, easier for Raichi to have his movement
cradled by the care of Shunpei’s fingers instead of the uncaring resistance of
a wall, so Shunpei keeps them where they are and presses his fingers tighter
against Raichi’s scalp as his movements speed. His vision is going hazy at the
very corners, his breathing coming audibly loud in his chest, but he can see
Raichi’s hands still at his lap with only the occasional twitch of his fingers
to speak to his repressed want, and he can see the dark of the other’s eyes
focused on his expression like he’s hanging on Shunpei’s next word, on the next
shift of emotion in the other’s features. Raichi’s mouth is warm, his tongue
still shifting in what Shunpei thinks is unconscious friction as the other
thrusts past his lips, and Shunpei isn’t listening for footsteps anymore, he’s
trusting completely to the lateness of the hour and continued good luck to keep
them undiscovered. It’s not much of a risk; it’s not as if he needs much longer
anyway, not with Raichi’s head tipped back between the brace of his hands and
Raichi’s gaze so melting-dark on his face.
“God,” Shunpei says, tension working itself up his throat into the shape of
almost-a-groan, almost-a-curse over his tongue. “You’re so good.” Raichi’s
eyelashes flutter, his lips tense for a whimper, and Shunpei slides his fingers
through the other’s hair, turning the hold he has into the affection of a
stroke for just a moment. “You feel so good, Raichi, you’re being so good,
just--just stay like that.” Shunpei’s vision is going, his throat is tensing;
his heart is pounding itself to a staticky rhythm, his lungs are fighting for
air past the knot of tension collecting in all his limbs. “Good, Raichi, you’re
so--” and his hips jolt forward, his cock slides deep into Raichi’s mouth, and
Shunpei breaks off into a groan as the first rush of pleasure spills far over
the back of the other’s tongue. Raichi shudders under his hold, his throat
working hard against the weight of Shunpei’s touch, and Shunpei pulls back by
an inch to give him space to swallow, to give himself the leeway for one last
slow thrust forward as his cock pulses heat into the other’s mouth. Raichi’s
eyes are shut again, his lips tight against Shunpei’s length and his breathing
hissing hard; but he still tries to lean forward as Shunpei draws himself
slowly back, still presses his tongue in hard against the head of Shunpei’s
cock like he’s trying to lick the last traces of come off the other’s skin as
he goes.
“It’s fine,” Shunpei says as he draws back, as he lets his hold at Raichi’s
neck ease and slide away. He ruffles his fingers through the other’s hair,
pressing the weight of friction against his scalp before reaching down to pull
his pants back into place. “Are you alright?”
“‘M fine,” Raichi manages, but he sounds hoarse, like he’s been shouting, and
he breaks off into a cough almost before he’s done speaking.
“Sorry,” Shunpei tells him, reaching to weight apology against Raichi’s
shoulder as he lowers himself to his knees in front of the other boy. Raichi is
still coughing, only just thinking to lift a hand to catch the force of the air
at his lips; Shunpei settles himself on the ground and reaches for Raichi’s hip
with his free hand. “I was too rough with you.”
“No,” Raichi wheezes, shaking his head hard to punctuate even as he reaches out
to clutch at Shunpei’s shoulder with one hand. Shunpei pulls at his hip and
Raichi rocks forward obediently, shifting closer at the other’s urging even as
he continues to cough hard against his elbow. “It’s fine, Sanada-senpai, I
don’t mind.”
“I do,” Shunpei tells him, as gently as he can. He lets Raichi’s shoulder go
long enough to reach down and touch the inside of the other’s knee; Raichi
slides his legs open reflexively and Shunpei pulls him closer to urge the other
forward and into his lap. “It’s okay, I’ll just be more careful next time.”
Shunpei can hear the breath Raichi takes, the startled gasp of air like he’s
shocked by the implied promise of next time, the way he is always startled, as
if they haven’t been having variations on this same interaction multiple times
a week for the last several months. It’s as charming now as it was the first
time, still makes Shunpei smile as much with affection as with tolerance, and
he’s reaching up for Raichi’s hair, looping his arm around the other’s
shoulders to pull him in closer as he hooks his free hand down against the
inside edge of Raichi’s pants. It’s a good thing he’s steadied his hold on the
other; Raichi jerks at even the gentle press of Shunpei’s fingertips, his hips
jolting forward as he makes a incoherent sound of surprise in the back of his
throat, and it’s only Shunpei’s hold that keeps him from toppling sideways and
to the floor.
“Oh,” he gasps, and Shunpei doesn’t have to see his face to know Raichi is
going red with the self-consciousness that has remained as everpresent as his
surprise at Shunpei’s continued interest. “Sanada-senpai, I.”
“Ssh,” Shunpei says, sliding his fingers up to settle to comfort in Raichi’s
hair. “It’s alright.” Raichi’s pants come open to his touch, the cover of the
other boy’s clothing unfolding under the drag of his hand, and Raichi makes a
desperate noise as Shunpei’s fingers press in against his bare skin, his hips
rocking forward again to bump the heat of his cock clumsily against Shunpei’s
wrist.
“Sanada-senpai,” he pants, and he’s reaching for Shunpei’s sleeve, his arm is
catching around the support of the other’s shoulder. “Ah.”
“Ssh,” Shunpei says again. “We have to be quiet, Raichi.” His fingers brace the
back of the other’s head, urge Raichi’s head down against his shoulder as he
curls his hand into a grip around the other’s length, as he draws up in a slow
stroke as much to get a feel for the angle as for the sharp hiss of breath
Raichi takes at his shoulder. “Close your mouth.”
Raichi does. Shunpei can hear that he has just from the hiss of the other’s
breathing coming hard through his nose, even before he moves and Raichi’s
reflexive groan comes out muffled to a whine past the barrier of his pressed-
together lips. The sound makes Shunpei smile, brings his head sideways to press
the warmth of the expression against Raichi’s hair, and then he steadies his
grip and sets his wrist and focuses himself to pulling Raichi apart under the
stroke of his hand. It’s easy to tell what the other boy likes, easy to fit the
weight of his fingers and the rhythm of his pace to the tension that shudders
along the arm tight around Shunpei’s shoulders and the whimper of repressed
sound in Raichi’s throat; Shunpei holds Raichi steady, and strokes smooth over
him, and it’s a very few minutes before Raichi is shaking in his arms,
trembling helplessly with every inhale he takes against Shunpei’s shirt. Raichi
is hot to the touch, radiant with desire more than the exercise they got on the
field, and Shunpei can feel his skin dampening to sweat at the heat of it, can
feel his shirt clinging to the dip between his shoulderblades and against his
shoulder where Raichi’s breath is gusting damp at the fabric. Another stroke of
his hand, another twist of his wrist; and Raichi’s mouth comes open, his throat
giving up a moan in the shape of “Sanada-senp--” before he can catch his lips
shut on the sound. His hips jerk, his fingers clench, and Shunpei hums
satisfaction as Raichi’s cock twitches in his hand and spills hot over the
angle of his knuckles. He doesn’t let go of his grip or his bracing hold either
one; he keeps Raichi upright, holds him steady as he strokes him through the
aftershocks of his orgasm, and it’s not until Raichi is slack with shaking heat
against the support of Shunpei’s shoulder that he eases his grip and unwinds
his sticky fingers from the other boy. They stay there for a moment, Raichi
panting for air at Shunpei’s shoulder and Shunpei breathing in the familiar
taste of dust in the air, filling his lungs with the smell of Raichi’s hair and
the damp of the sweat clinging to both of them. Then he tugs at the edge of
Raichi’s pants, pulling them back into place as he eases his hold on the
other’s shoulders, and “Raichi,” he says, gently against the curve of the
other’s ear. “Sit up.”
Raichi obeys, after a moment. His movement is slow, the process of unwinding
himself from Shunpei’s shoulders a lengthy one; but he manages it, finally
rocking back over his knees as Shunpei refastens his pants into passable
decency aside from the barely-visible sticky of the fingerprints he’s left on
the fabric. Raichi looks dazed, his eyes dark and unfocused and his mouth slack
on damp heat; his cheeks are flushed, but the color is high across his
cheekbones, speaking more to lingering pleasure than to the crimson
embarrassment that Shunpei usually sees.
“Raichi,” Shunpei says, the other boy’s name purring to approval on his tongue.
Raichi blinks, slow and hazy on the motion; his gaze drops to Shunpei’s mouth,
his tongue catches against his lip like he’s licking at the damp there. Shunpei
reaches up to catch Raichi’s face between his hands, clean and sticky alike,
and Raichi’s lashes flutter shut, his throat working on a whimper of
appreciation as he leans into the contact.
“You did good,” Shunpei tells him, humming the words so Raichi will understand
the tone even if he’s not listening to the syllables themselves. “Good work,
Raichi.” Raichi’s mouth works, his gaze flickering back up to Shunpei’s face,
and Shunpei smiles at him and lets the expression linger for a long moment
before he tugs at his hold on the other to urge him closer for the warmth of a
kiss.
For Shunpei, Raichi has never been anything but obedient.
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