Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/695944.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Kuroko_no_Basuke_|_Kuroko's_Basketball
  Relationship:
      Aomine_Daiki/Kuroko_Tetsuya
  Character:
      Aomine_Daiki, Kuroko_Tetsuya
  Additional Tags:
      Age_Difference, Alternate_Universe
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-02-23 Words: 2832
****** a foregone conclusion ******
by Sapphylicious
Summary
     Tetsuya knew how this would end when Daiki wheedled him into a
     tutoring session.
Notes
     Based_on_this_age-gap_AU.
Tetsuya didn't think of himself as exceptionally smart, but he was far from
stupid. He knew immediately how they would end up when Daiki wheedled him into
a tutoring session, and if he was being perfectly honest with himself, he
hadn't put up much resistance to the idea. Not nearly as much as he should
have, at least enough to span 11 years, to make a token nod to that gap and not
just furtively bridge over it with Daiki's brilliant smiles, his teasing, his
laughter. The way every inch of him lit up when Tetsuya agreed with the modest
caveat that it had been a while since he'd had anything to do with a high
school curriculum, and his grades had only ever been average.
(He was resolute in not thinking about precisely how long ago that was, how
many years stacked between now and then).
"That's still better than me!" Daiki said—boasted, even, his poor grades a
victory as far as he was concerned, and if Tetsuya didn't know better he'd
wonder if that was on purpose. But for better or worse, Daiki didn't have it in
him to scheme, and he leered openly when he added that oh, by the way, his
parents weren't going to be home that entire weekend, and he had kind of
preemptively told them Tetsuya-sensei would be over to help him study so they
didn't have to fear that he'd starve or die in a fire or try to get into seedy
Roppongi clubs with Ryouta, and no need to hurry back home or anything.
…Maybe he was a little bit of a schemer after all.
It could be worse, Tetsuya rationalized, and tried not to be alarmed that his
rationalization followed a 15-year-old's logic. It could be worse; it could be
the seedy club instead.
                                       #
In all fairness, he thought they could make it through an hour of actual
studying before the inevitable. He'd known better than to bargain—
"A kiss for every math equation."
"No."
"I do better with positive reinforcement!"
"Aomine-kun, no."
—but the thing was that Daiki didn't need that kind of overture. Tetsuya was
here, after all, and he'd known how this would end up—with Daiki's arm settling
around his waist, the solid weight of him crowding Tetsuya's side, breath
puffing against the hair at his temple.
"Aomine-kun," he said, schoolteacher strict, but Daiki wasn't a child anymore
and truth be told the Teacher Tone hadn't worked very well on him back then,
either. Tetsuya sighed, tried again: "Aomine-kun, you need to study. If your
grades don't improve that won't reflect well on me, you know." He didn't add,
and then we might not be able to meet like this, because Daiki didn't need that
type of encouragement. He was doing just fine on his own, fingers warm where
they sneaked under Tetsuya's shirt, just shy of ticklish on his skin.
"Later." The light press of a kiss dusted the corner of Tetsuya's eye. "I'll do
well." Lips followed the curve of his cheek, rounded his jaw, and murmured
against his mouth, "So will you reward me?"
"You'll have to earn that reward first." Which was the exact wrong thing to say
judging by the shape of the grin in Daiki's kiss, dry and slightly chapped with
winter before opening wet and hot with more enthusiasm than finesse. His
eagerness had an unfortunate way of drawing Tetsuya into his pace, though, so
even while part of him clamored to stop, wait, slow down, think about this
first, he was still reaching up to pull at Daiki's face and adjust the angle,
thumbs brushing over cheekbones and tongue swiping over a row of teeth.
Daiki tasted like the salty snack chips perched on the table by his neglected
textbook. He tasted like youthful abandon that shouldn't have affected Tetsuya
the way it did, shivering with a push and pull of guilt and want. Daiki's mouth
moved and melded with his, all heat and passion that could not be stopped once
the momentum got going, but he could be guided, to an extent.
This is called taking advantage, the reasonable part of Tetsuya admonished
before it was promptly shut up. Tetsuya slid his hands back along Daiki's head,
into the close crop of his hair, fingers curling to tug and twist at the short
strands with just the right amount of force.
Daiki's growl passed between them, a vibration that had Tetsuya leaning up
helplessly for more, closer, until he was pressed down to the floor under a
large, lean frame. The weight of Daiki's body on top of his was becoming
increasingly familiar, as was every other casual touch. It had always been that
way, Tetsuya recalled, but instead of a child clinging to his hand or jumping
on his back it was now Daiki ruffling his hair, palming the nape of his neck,
or drawing him into the curve of a lanky arm. They were following a precedent
established long ago, only escalated.
He'd allowed it to escalate this far, with the hem of his shirt being rucked
up, the planes of his abdomen being mapped out. Lips found his throat, licking
over the skin before sucking a mark there that Tetsuya should have protested.
He didn't own any high-necked shirts. But then the fingertips circling his
navel dipped lower, under the waistband of his pants and underwear, and he
clapped a hand over his mouth to breathe heavily into his palm when Daiki
massaged his cock to full hardness.
"Hey, now." Teeth bit the lobe of his ear, Daiki's voice pitched low and
hungry. "No one's home. Let me hear you."
Tetsuya made a strangled sound that was part arousal, and part dismay at the
fact he was entangled here in Daiki's room like a guilty teenager. The actual
teenager in this situation was a fast learner when he put his mind to it, and
the teacher part of Tetsuya lamented Daiki's disinclination to apply himself to
more useful things.
The other part, though, the part of him that clutched at the building muscle of
Daiki's shoulders and lifted his hips to help with the shucking off of
clothes—that part didn't mind the attentive way Daiki touched him, reviewing
what he liked and where he liked it, how fast, how hard. He was stroked with a
sure grip, and Daiki's face was flushed, watching him, calling to him roughly,
"Tetsu…"
"Daiki-ku—uhn." He arched and panted when the pad of Daiki's thumb rolled over
his tip, smearing the wetness leaking there.
"Shit, Tetsu, you look really good. You—yeah, that's it. Like that?"
"Daiki-kun, you talk too much." He reached, trembling, to grab a fistful of
Daiki's sweater and reel him back down until the dark blue of his eyes was
clearly visible, black pupils nearly eclipsing them.
"But you love it, sensei."
Tetsuya shuddered, denial dying a lust-choked death. He kissed Daiki silent,
the cocky slant of his mouth responding eagerly to the push of Tetsuya's
tongue, ensuring no more embarrassing truths at least for the moment. Not the
spoken kind, anyway. The buck of his hips into Daiki's hand was its own truth.
(The kick of his heart, so full and sweetly aching with every warm, rush-of-
blood beat, was another.)
His gasps mixed and mingled with Daiki's breath in the spaces where they
fumbled to fit together, growing ever more sloppy. Daiki's strokes became fast
and erratic. He was growling again, and Tetsuya could feel the rumble of it
when he slid a hand around the brown expanse of Daiki's throat, curling fingers
over the back of his neck to hang on and ride out the cresting waves of
pleasure washing over his body.
Daiki spoke again, a half-mumbled wet sound lost somewhere between the tangle
of lips and tongue, probably something stupid ("come for me, Tetsu") or maybe
sentimental ("I love you"). Maybe both ("I love you so fucking much"). Either
way, Tetsuya burned at the thought.
A hurried, accidental twist of Daiki's wrist squeezed him just right, and then
he was breaking, coming apart messy and undignified into a large hand, spilling
over his own belly. Every inch of him felt too hot and high to care. He might
have said something, he couldn't even begin to guess what, a name or a secret
or not a secret at all. He was in pieces, held together only by trembling
aftershocks. Daiki buried his face in the crook of his neck, nuzzling the
flutter of his pulse, and with his mouth claimed another spot on Tetsuya's
sweat-slicked skin. All Tetsuya did was let his head tip to the side, allowing
better access.
Teeth grazed him, and Daiki's breath came in heavy, needy drags. "Tetsu," he
groaned, grinding atop the juncture of thigh and hip. He was still clothed, but
the flushed, rumpled sight of him looked nearly as debauched as Tetsuya felt.
"Tetsu, can I?"
"Can you what?" He hooked fingers into the waist of Daiki's pants, popping the
button and lowering the zip. The hard ridge of him bulged through the open
flap.
"I wanna fuck you."
Still in a languid, post-orgasmic haze, and so far past the point of propriety
that his guilty conscience was nowhere to be found, Tetsuya hummed and cupped
Daiki's length, making him shake above him. Rubbing thoughtfully, he said after
a pause, "I don't think you'll last."
"What—hey!"
Tetsuya kissed the corner of his frown, and couldn't help but add, "At least
this time you didn't come in your pants."
"That happened once…"
Laughing softly now, he pushed himself up. Daiki almost refused to budge,
affronted teenaged male all over, but Tetsuya coaxed him with suckling kisses
and steady pulls on his cock until he surrendered and rolled onto his back,
making sure to drag Tetsuya with him.
"Don't worry." He settled between Daiki's long legs and licked down the line of
his bared throat. "I'll take care of you."
"You better," Daiki breathed out, the words thick with want.
Tetsuya paused to affectionately rub his cheek over the soft texture of Daiki's
sweater, catching the faintest thud of his heartbeat through layers of fabric.
A hand came up to pet through his hair, gentle at first, before giving in to an
impatient push. Daiki never said it in so many words, but his body was capable
of begging in its own language, and Tetsuya had a terrible habit of indulging
him.
He hunched down over Daiki's waiting cock, the color of it dark with blood and
pulsing hot when he wrapped his fingers around the base. The flat of his tongue
followed the vein up the underside, over the head, and lapped the bitter
moisture gathered at the slit. He was never going to love that taste, didn't
get the appeal of AV stars moaning "delicious~" during the act—
("You're missing the point, Tetsu," Daiki would say, and that only confused him
more, between the porn collection with soft, big-breasted girls stashed under
Daiki's bed, and the things he wanted to do with Tetsuya's male, compact frame,
his flat chest, his hard cock, just where was the point in all that?)
—but he didn't hate it, either. He didn't really mind the musky flavor coating
the inside of his mouth when he stretched his lips around the tip and sucked,
and he rather liked the way the muscles in Daiki's thighs clenched, his
helpless string of curses that spilled into the air. Another time, another
place, Tetsuya might have rebuked him for his language, but at the moment he
wasn't one to talk about filthy mouths.
He wasn't a very good adult. He tried, but it always seemed to come back to
some variant of this: half-naked in Daiki's bedroom with semen drying on his
stomach, tonguing Daiki's flesh, forgetting how abjectly wrong it was to blow a
high schooler or be fucked by one or love him so much that some days it was all
Tetsuya could do to try and keep his pounding heart contained inside his
bruised chest.
As he thought, Daiki didn't last long. All it took was Tetsuya casting his
glance up to meet Daiki's eyes, which immediately screwed shut as he bit out a
tight and emphatic, "fuck!" Tetsuya didn't need any more warning than that.
Daiki pulled on the back of his head and shoved in deep when he came.
Undaunted, even moaning around the fullness, Tetsuya wrung everything out of
him, hot and seeping from the wet corners of his mouth. The sound that he
dragged out from Daiki's throat was raw and almost anguished.
Swallowing thickly, Tetsuya let Daiki slip free and rested his cheek upon a
come-stained leg to catch his breath. They were both a mess, sticky and panting
together on the floor, and though his sex-drowsed haze Tetsuya was utterly
unsurprised that they'd ended up this way. It had been inevitable from the
start, even before Daiki proposed his thinly-veiled studying excuse.
Maybe it had been set in stone the moment they first tumbled into bed together,
the start of something that couldn't be stopped once in motion. Or before that,
when Daiki cornered him for a kiss with all his clumsy, unskilled, stubborn
youth. Or it could have been their accidental meeting after so many years,
dawning in the spark of recognition when Tetsuya laid eyes upon the boy, no
longer a child, tall and already broad-shouldered in his high school uniform,
and Tetsuya's first thought had been how handsome Daiki was growing up. That
was telling in retrospect. He'd tried to believe it was an older brother's
affection, but that went to pieces with every drape of Daiki's arm enfolding
him close, every slip of his name from Daiki's demanding mouth, until they'd
wound up here like this.
Tetsuya shifted his head against the hand making lazy passes through his hair.
Daiki was forever finding ways to touch him, little ways that stopped just
short of cuddling only because his standoffish teenage pride wouldn't allow it.
Making him cave was easy, though. Tetsuya drew up alongside his body and
Daiki's arms fell around him automatically, tightening in a content hug as his
face lifted to seek Tetsuya's for an unhurried kiss.
Everything was downhill from here, rolling on to an unavoidable conclusion. At
some point they'd clean up and Tetsuya would insist on getting some real
studying done. Momentarily placated, Daiki would listen. They'd make it through
a whole subject before Daiki got distracted again, probably by food. He was a
creature of very basic, predictable needs. Between the two of them they'd find
a way to put together an edible meal. Afterwards, Tetsuya would try, but likely
fail, to convince Daiki to be productive for the evening, and instead they'd
watch TV or a movie or Tetsuya would read a book while Daiki muttered
ineffective threats at a handheld game.
He'd let Daiki fuck him, but not on the couch where Daiki's parents would be
sitting the very next day. In bed, pressed into Daiki's sheets that smelled of
him, Tetsuya would spread his legs and fold around him, or under him, putting
himself in the care of Daiki's big hands and bigger heart, foolishly young and
loving as it was.
They'd fall into an exhausted, satisfied slumber, and the next day when he was
too sleep-addled to think about the return of Daiki's parents and everything
that entailed, Tetsuya would simply turn in Daiki's arms and wake him up slowly
like any other pair of lovers on a Sunday morning. Maybe he'd mark Daiki's
toned skin so they had matching sets, insinuating a hand down between their
bodies to get them both off and enjoy the sight of Daiki lying indolent beneath
him.
There was never any question how this would all end, whether it was tomorrow,
or a week later, or years down the road. It wasn't that Tetsuya had his future
mapped out on a set timetable, but rather, he simply could no longer picture a
future without Daiki in it. Inevitably made a bridge, more than solid enough to
span a mere 11-year gap, and when all was said and done Tetsuya crossed it
without hesitation, knowing what was on the other side and wanting it more than
anything.
                                       #
(Daiki, for the record, knew exactly when this all started: it hadn't been as
cheesy as love at first sight, because honestly Tetsuya had startled the shit
out of him when they first met, and it had taken him a while to realize his own
feelings—but that last day before Tetsuya left, when Daiki blurted out his
proposal, that was when their fate had been set as surely as if Daiki had tied
the red thread to Tetsuya's pinky himself. He meant to finish things the way he
started them, so in that regard Tetsuya had never stood a chance from the very
beginning.)
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