Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/228413.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Tennis_no_Oujisama_|_Prince_of_Tennis
  Relationship:
      Sanada_Genichirou/Yukimura_Seiichi
  Character:
      Sanada_Genichirou, Yukimura_Seiichi
  Stats:
      Published: 2007-11-06 Words: 740
****** Wildest Dreams ******
by starfishing
Summary
     When he hears the quiet gasps from the shower stall at the end, sex
     doesn't even cross his mind.
When he hears the quiet gasps from the shower stall at the end, sex doesn't
even cross his mind. Maybe it's just that his priorities are rearranged; he
knows Yukimura's the only one still there, and he worries, despite Yukimura and
despite himself.
He pulls the curtain aside just as he's saying 'Yukimura,' and the name dies on
his lips.
Yukimura's there, and perfectly fine — better than fine, fucking fantastic; so
fine that Sanada can't tear his eyes away — shoulder blades back against the
wall of the stall, slim hips jutting not quite parallel to the opposite wall,
head thrown back and fingers wrapped around his cock. Water drips down his
chest and stomach, rushing over the apex of every well-defined muscle, and
Sanada will never imagine him in a dress again, because Yukimura is nothing but
man, sleek and powerful and staring at him, eyes alight and smouldering, the
way they do on the court.
More calm than he has any right to be with his face flushed and cock in hand,
Yukimura says his name, and it shoots straight through Sanada to his groin, his
cheeks heating up in time with his erection.
'Come here.' Maybe it's the terminology, or maybe it's just the husky edge to
his voice, but Sanada's harder than glass. He steps forward unhesitatingly;
this is one too many locker-room fantasies come true to refuse.
Even as long as he's been sexualizing Yukimura in his mind, Sanada is
altogether unprepared for the rough hands, the leg that Yukimura braces against
one wall, trapping Sanada in, as if escaping is even on his radar. He moans
embarrassingly when Yukimura grips his erection through the towel, and gasps
when the towel is snatched away; tossed aside.
The shower water is cold compared to their skin, red-hot on white-hot, sliding
together. Sanada's forearms rest on either side of Yukimura's head, their faces
so close together they could kiss, but Sanada's head is turned and he doesn't
dare. Yukimura pulls him closer by the hips; their hard-ons brush between them
and Sanada catches his breath, swallowing.
Yukimura laughs, unexpected and scornful, but melodious. Sanada recognizes the
tone when he says, 'Touch me, Gen'ichirou. I don't have to help you with
everything, do I?' and he will never be able to hear Yukimura tease him about
his hat again without getting hard, he's sure.
His body responds to the challenge while his mind is still bemoaning the
consequences; he takes both their cocks in his hand and begins to stroke, slow
and strong, and Yukimura gasps, wraps powerful arms around him and whispers
'yes' against his lips. Sanada kisses him, and Yukimura groans, low in his
throat. The kiss is deep, urgent, and Yukimura is a svelte machine in his arms,
arching, rocking, thrusting into his grip. When their lips part, they're
panting, Sanada's forehead on Yukimura's shoulder and Yukimura's fingers
tangled clamorously in his hair, tugging and twisting.
Yukimura says, 'It was never this good when I imagined it,' and a shiver runs
through him then, catching on Sanada's shoulders and running down his back.
Yukimura's leg leaves the other wall, wrapping around Sanada's waist, and he
thrusts up into his hand harder, faster, rhythm broken. 'God, yes, Gen'ichirou,
fuck,' and suddenly Sanada grasps the appeal of that word.
His cock throbs and he can't even breathe as the sudden sharp ascent into
orgasm begins, rushed by Yukimura's bucking hips and feverish murmurs — 'I'm
gonna come, Gen'ichirou, fuck, don't stop, please, don't stop, yes right there
god yes' — and then the dropoff; Sanada's voice breaks over a moan as he feels
Yukimura's cock jerk against his, and 'fuck yes please' descends into
incoherent keening cries.
The dizziness subsides, leaving Sanada barely standing and Yukimura's long
limbs still wrapped all around him like a spider around a fly, face buried in
his neck. The water is cold now, Sanada realizes faintly, but Yukimura is warm
and his pulse is still hot in every extremity of his body. He sinks to the
floor that way, pulling Yukimura closer, and receives an insistent kiss for the
small display of tenderness.
There are a million questions on the tip of Sanada's tongue — 'when he'd
imagined it?' What does this mean for them? Can they stay this way? — but
Yukimura's turning the water off and pressing closer, raining kisses on
Sanada's shoulder like a ridiculous girl, and Sanada would rather not stop him.
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