Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11960676.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      Kuroko_no_Basuke_|_Kuroko's_Basketball
  Relationship:
      Generation_of_Miracles/Kise_Ryouta, Aomine_Daiki/Kise_Ryouta, Kise
      Ryouta/Murasakibara_Atsushi, Kise_Ryouta/Midorima_Shintarou, Akashi
      Seijuurou/Kise_Ryouta
  Character:
      Kise_Ryouta, Aomine_Daiki, Murasakibara_Atsushi, Midorima_Shintarou,
      Akashi_Seijuurou, Kiseki_no_Sedai_|_Generation_of_Miracles
  Additional Tags:
      Oral_Sex, Dubious_Consent, Semi-Public_Sex, Locker_Room_Sex, Orgy, Teikou
      Era, Rough_Oral_Sex, Size_Kink, Breathplay, Dirty_Talk, light
      humiliation, Deepthroating, Facials, Unsafe_Sex, Akashi_gets_his_own_tag
  Series:
      Part 5 of SASO_2017
  Collections:
      Sports_Anime_Shipping_Olympics_2017
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-08-31 Words: 2595
****** Pre-Game ******
by Skylark
Summary
     "No fair," Murasakibara says in his low, slow drawl. "Mine-chin got a
     blowjob. I want one too."
     One by one, all eyes turn to Akashi.
     "Yes," he agrees, his expression distant. "It would improve team
     morale if everyone received one."
Notes
     Original_Prompt: "Kise sucks Aomine off before games to help Aomine
     be motivated/concentrate. Then Murasakibara decides he wants special
     treatment too and somehow Kise ends up servicing the entire team. And
     it turns into a tradition."
     So many people helped me with KnB accuracy in this fic, shoutouts to
     Yrindor and Rosebrook especially, thank you tlist ;;
     Kuroko is not in this fic because I straight up forgot he existed
     until I had already finished writing it. PHANTOM SIXTH MAN STRIKES
     AGAIN
"You did better during this game, Daiki," Akashi observes, and Kise trips and
nearly falls.
"Be careful," Midorima scolds as Kise catches his balance; then, "Are you
feeling all right? Your face is quite red."
"I'm fine," Kise mutters, before finding the opposite wall suddenly
fascinating.
Akashi watches this exchange with narrowing eyes. Then he glances at Aomine,
whose relaxed saunter hasn't changed, but whose expression is now one of very
forced nonchalance.
"Daiki," Akashi says. His tone is gentle but no less of a warning for that.
Kise makes a strangled noise and turns redder, if possible.
Aomine glances at Kise, who's still refusing to look at anyone, and then at
Akashi's placid stare. He scowls and shoves his hands further into his pockets,
saying nothing.
"If you've made some new discovery that improves your performance, it might
prove beneficial to the team at large. Don't withhold information, Daiki." The
shift in Akashi's tone is subtle, but it's still enough to make Aomine flinch.
Aomine hunches his shoulders and mutters, "He gave me a blowjob, okay."
"He what?" Midorima yelps. Murasakibara finally glances up from his bag of
chips. Kise gives a small wail and covers his face.
"Before the match." A blush is slowly creeping into his face despite his dark
complexion and his irritated expression. "He sucked me off in the bathroom."
"That's disgusting." Midorima snaps, but before Kise can wilt, he continues:
"In the bathroom? What an unsanitary location. If you're going to do it again,
pick somewhere cleaner."
"That's what you care about?" Kise groans, his voice muffled by his hands.
"No fair," Murasakibara says in his low, slow drawl. "Mine-chin got a blowjob.
I want one too."
The group falls into a sudden silence. One by one, all eyes turn to Akashi.
He seems to consider it for a few moments. In the pause, Kise's hands lower
from his face. "Yes," he says, his expression distant. "It would improve team
morale if everyone received one."
Kise's eyes are huge. "Are you serious?"
"Before the match, though?" Midorima says, frowning. "Wouldn't that cut into
our preparation time?"
Akashi slowly lifts his eyes to meet Midorima's, saying nothing until
Midorima's forced to look away. "Forgive me," he mutters. "If it's what you
think is best."
"Yay," Murasakibara says, contentedly munching on another chip. "Blowjobs for
everyone."
--
Kise starts with Aomine first, because that's familiar territory. He kneels on
a towel (Midorima insisted) between Aomine's spread legs, and then hesitates.
"Do you really all have to stare like that?" Kise says. His fingertips push up
the edges of Aomine's basketball shorts to rest on his bared thighs.
Midorima coughs and pulls out a book. The others, however, continue to stare.
"Me next," Murasakibara says.
"You're used to receiving attention," Akashi points out.
"Not like this."
"Hurry up, please," Midorima mutters, his gaze riveted on the book's open page.
"We only have an hour before the game begins."
Kise looks up at Aomine, who bounces his legs beneath Kise's hands. "Just
pretend they're not there," he says.
"Easy for you to say."
"They're watching me, too," Aomine says, his voice dropping low so only Kise
can hear him. They look at each other for another moment, coming to a sort of
wordless understanding, before Kise reaches up and tugs his basketball shorts
down.
The feel of Aomine's dick in his hands, warm and soft-skinned, is kind of
comforting. He's not hard, so Kise is able to fit all of him in his mouth at
first. His movements are gentle, working the point of his tongue beneath his
foreskin. Aomine's breath hitches, and when Kise glances up he can see Aomine's
hands fisting against the metal bench.
He gets hard quickly, leaving Kise to wrap his fingers around the parts the
can't fit into his mouth. Aomine's not complicated; he likes lots of tongue at
first and then more suction the closer he gets. He doesn't make a lot of noise,
but he grunts when Kise does something he particularly likes and when he comes,
it's with a low, soft noise that sounds like it's pulled from somewhere deep
inside him. The sound, like last time, makes Kise feel warm with
accomplishment, and also fans the flames of his own arousal.
Kise fumbles for the tissue box sitting beside Aomine on the bench, grabs a
tissue, and spits. The taste is weird, but he supposes he's going to have to
get used to it.
He lifts his head slowly and looks at the others. Midorima is staring at his
book hard enough to burn a hole through its pages. Akashi is watching him with
his arms folded, one ankle resting on the opposite knee. He nods once,
approving, and Kise's dick twitches in his shorts.
"That looked fun," Murasakibara says.
Kise rolls his eyes and shuffles across the floor to Murasakibara, not
bothering to get up if he's just going to have to kneel again. "Can you stop
eating?" he says. "You're going to get crumbs on my head."
Murasakibara heaves a huge sigh and sets his pocky aside. "Lift your hips,"
Kise prompts next, "so I can pull your shorts down."
"Hmph," Murasakibara says, and instead of complying just tugs the garter of his
shorts down so that his dick pops out. The band snaps beneath his balls,
lifting them. "That should be enough. Come on."
For a second, Kise just stares.
"What?" Murasakibara demands, sounding cranky, but Kise just. Needs a minute.
It shouldn't have come as a surprise, really, but the dick bobbing in front of
his face is huge.
Kise wraps hesitant hands around it to hold it steady and then just licks it,
all over it, kittenish tiny licks interspersed with long, languid ones. "You're
treating it like a popsicle," Murasakibara mutters, but his voice has turned
breathy.
Kise usually bites pieces off of his popsicles, but his mouth is too
preoccupied to try and correct him. Instead he pulls away and runs both his
hands up Murasakibara's dick, twisting them on the way back down, and feels a
bit of accomplishment when Murasakibara's whole body tenses.
He does that for the rest of the time, focusing his mouth on the head while his
hands work busily along the entire length of him. His mouth is flooded with
precome and he has to swallow repeatedly to keep liquid from spilling out of
his mouth; every time he does he takes as much of Murasakibara in as he can
first, and feels him shudder. He's loud, too, his head tipped back on the most
luxurious moans. Midorima shivers at the sound but doesn't tell him to be
quiet. Aomine's pulled his dick out again and is stroking himself slowly, his
eyes riveted on Kise's mouth.
Murasakibara grabs his head, shoves him down without warning, and comes. Kise
chokes on it, his entire body flinching as his mouth is flooded. It spills out
of the corners of his mouth, landing on the collar of his jersey; thankfully
it's a home game and it should blend into the lighter uniform. When he finally
fights his way free of Murasakibara's slackening grip he doubles over with
coughing, making a mess on the floor.
Midorima starts to rise from the bench, but he freezes when Akashi holds up a
hand. Still, he can't stop himself from asking, "Are you all right?"
"He can continue," Akashi says.
Kise nods, rubbing at his sore throat. "I just—need a minute," he gasps.
The room is almost-silent except for the syncopated rhythm of Kise and
Murasakibara's slowing breaths. Kise glances up at Aomine, whose expression is
mostly neutral except for a telltale worried wrinkle in his brow. Kise nods at
him, I'm okay, and the wrinkle disappears.
"Who's next?" Kise says.
"Shintarou," Akashi replies. Midorima looks startled, and then nervous.
"You don't have t—" he says, but a glance from Akashi stills his tongue. "Well.
If you really don't mind," he says, starting to fidget. The blush on his face
makes his green eyes even more piercing than usual.
Kise wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand and then crawls over to
Midorima. The towel is starting to leave marks into his knees as he settles
into a more comfortable position.
"Have you ever done this before?" Kise asks.
"N-no." Midorima's head bows in what Kise assumes is shame for his lack of
experience. "...Please take care of me."
When Kise pulls Midorima free of his pants, he's achingly, punishingly hard.
Kise's eyelashes flutter and Midorima turns his head away.
"You don't have to look," Midorima mumbles.
"Why not? It's pretty," Kise says, and leans forward to kiss the tip. It jumps
in his hands. "You have a pretty dick, Midorimacchi."
"Please don't say that," Midorima mutters, but he can't stop himself from
peeking at Kise out of the corner of his eye.
Kise goes gently with him, taking as much time as he can, pleased by the slow
acceleration of Midorima's breaths. He glances up at him often until Midorima
loses the ability to even pretend he's not staring, transfixed by the sight of
Kise's wet lips wrapped around him. He reaches up to readjust his glasses, but
he misses the bridge and leaves a smudge against the lens. Midorima frowns, but
before he can attempt to fix it Kise runs his tongue around the edges of his
crown and he gasps, his hands flying to clutch the edge of the bench as if he
might fall.
"Kise, please," Midorima says in a quiet, strained voice. "I'm about to—"
Kise hums, his eyes going heavy-lidded, and Midorima's whole body trembles.
"Please," Midorima repeats, "I don't want to choke you."
Kise responds by picking up the pace, just to hear Midorima's startled gasp. He
curls forward—"Oh, oh, oh—" and Kise rears back when Midorima starts to come
and gets it full in the face.
Kise smiles a little and licks his lips. He's definitely gotten used to the
taste by now.
Inversely, Midorima looks horrified by the mess he's made. He fumbles through
his bag, pulls out a handkerchief, and gently dabs at Kise's face, muttering
frantic apologies. Kise chuckles and reaches up, laying his slightly stickier
hand over Midorima's shaking one. The backs of Midorima's hands are so soft, a
sharp contrast to the rough tape on every finger.
"It's okay," he says.
Midorima's hands still. He looks into Kise's eyes, their faces very close
together. "That was—amazing," he says, so sincerely that it makes Kise's heart
beat a little faster. "Thank you, Kise."
"Any time," Kise says, and pulls the handkerchief from Midorima's hands to
finish wiping his face clean. When he's done, there's a heavy pause, and then
his head turns to Akashi as if drawn by a magnet.
Akashi hasn't moved from his previous position—his back perfectly straight, his
face perfectly calm—except for the tent that distorts the clean line of his
shorts.
"Come here," he murmurs. "Crawl. Slowly."
The air in the room changes. Kise licks his lips, tasting a last trace of
bitterness there—he couldn't have told you from who—and then slinks towards
Akashi on his hands and knees, his hips and shoulderblades shifting with every
step. He can feel everyone else's eyes on him, but it's Akashi's two-toned gaze
that holds all of his attention.
Akashi pulls his shorts down as if he's offering Kise a gift. His hands reach
out to cup Kise's face, waiting until Kise's mouth lolls open, before pulling
him forward. Akashi's fingertips are hard from years of playing instruments,
and Kise shivers as they skim across his cheeks to cup the back of his head.
Kise does his best with just his mouth, his hands limp and sometimes twitching
against his thighs. Akashi is hot in his mouth, smooth and heavy on his tongue,
as he bobs his head and laps meekly at his frenulum. Akashi's breaths grow
deeper, heavier.
"You're tensing up too much," Akashi murmurs. "Relax your shoulders. Bring your
hands up to brace against my thighs."
Kise whimpers and does as Akashi says. Akashi pulls him down onto him, slowly
but inorexably, bit by bit until he's fully seated in Kise's mouth, until it's
hard for Kise to breathe.
"You're hard, aren't you?" Akashi whispers. "Ryouta. Look at me."
Kise looks up and is transfixed by Akashi's slight smile and wide eyes. "You've
already taken the others," he says. "Is it enough for you? Are you satisfied,
Ryouta?"
He nudges a bit deeper into Kise's mouth, choking him on a high whine.
"Of course you aren't," he hisses. "You couldn't be until you had mine."
Kise's eyes are prickling with tears, but he doesn't dare to look away from
Akashi's face. His jaw is already sore from the amount of work it's done today,
and he moans when Akashi's hand curls around it, supporting it. The sound rings
through the hush that's fallen across the rest of the room.
Kise barely notices. Transfixed by Akashi, he can't even remember that his
teammates are still there, watching.
"Ryouta," Akashi purrs. "Touch yourself."
In moments Kise's shaking hand is fisted around his dick, his thumb smearing
the wetness gathered at the tip. Akashi times his thrusts to Kise's strokes,
his eyes flaring ruby and gold.
"Slow down," he whispers as Kise starts to get close, and Kise sobs, but obeys.
"Relax. You're getting sloppy. You can do better than that."
Kise tips his head forward, the smooth column of his throat bared and
vulnerable as Akashi pushes inside him. He can feel the pressure in his throat,
the sudden absence of air. His hand squeezes around himself, terrified for a
moment that he'll come before he's allowed to.
Akashi holds himself there, watching Kise struggle to stay still as the
adrenaline in his body spikes from lack of oxygen, as the world starts to blur.
Just when Kise thinks he can't take anymore, Akashi withdraws. Kise shudders
with pleasure at the first gasp of air, and Akashi smiles.
Kise just lets himself go limp after that, letting Akashi use him however he
wants, until his tongue feels too heavy to move well and his moans turn hoarse.
He never takes his eyes off Akashi, begging with every fiber in his body to
come, please just let him come.
Akashi sees everything, of course.
"Slower," Akashi whispers. "Stroke over the head just once more. That should be
enough for you to come, Ryouta."
Kise does as he's told and orgasm knocks him off his feet like a sudden ocean
wave. His body spasms, his eyes roll back, his jaw goes slack as he paints his
hand and his jersey with white. Akashi's thrusts speed up, driving himself into
Kise's pliant mouth until he gasps and comes.
Akashi lets him go and Kise slumps to the floor, trying to catch his breath. He
doesn't feel satiated, adrenaline still sparking along his nerves to make him
hyperaware. Kise feels like he just ran a marathon, and like he's amped up
enough to run another one. He looks at the others and sees a similar
jitteriness on their faces, their eyes wide.
Akashi stands, the only one among them who looks unruffled. "We have ten
minutes before the match starts. This was quite productive." He glances at
Kise, still lying on his side on the floor. "Next time, we'll have to start a
little earlier."
He leaves the room, and the only thought Kise can manage is, Next time?
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!