Post-Game Cooldown

Midorino Mizu

Disclaimer: Konomi. Not me. Right. Moving along.

Author’s Note: Kirihara complained that I kept uke-ifying him.

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“Well, that was certainly impressive.”

The voice that pulled Hiyoshi Wakashi out of his reverie was amused, slightly derisive, and…familiar. The Hyoutei junior paused and glared at the figure lounging against the fence.

“What do you want, Kirihara?”

The Rikkai Dai Fuzoku player smirked, his bright eyes gleaming as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I have to want something to talk to you now, Hiyoshi?”

Hiyoshi huffed out a breath. Sometimes, he thought, he really hated Kirihara Akaya. He was annoying, he was overconfident, and he never lost.

That was, the Hyoutei player reflected, probably the most annoying thing of all. Everyone should have weaknesses, and everyone should have the capacity for falling…but Kirihara didn’t seem to.

“Well, then,” Hiyoshi said. “If you don’t want anything, I need to catch up with my team.”

Kirihara smirked. “Did they forget you, Hiyoshi? What a shame.”

Hiyoshi narrowed his eyes and turned quickly, intending to walk off, to forget, for a while at least, about Kirihara Akaya.

A tight grip on his arm stayed him. “Kirihara,” he gritted out, “leave me alone.”

Where was the fun in that, thought the Rikkaidai player with amusement. Left alone, Hiyoshi Wakashi was just quiet and hard working. But poking at him revealed his stubborn determination and his amusing little life philosophy.

“You let a little Seigaku freshman beat you?” he murmured. “And you expect to be able to compete with me?”

Hiyoshi glanced over his shoulder. Kirihara’s face was very close; his lips were nearly brushing his ear.

It was beginning to feel like almost every other encounter he’d had with Kirihara Akaya since he’d first met him at the Newcomer tournament the year before.

“You shouldn’t underestimate him,” Hiyoshi said stiffly. “He’s a better player than you think.”

Kirihara snorted, a soft expulsion of breath that nearly made the Hyoutei player shiver. “Are you making excuses, Hiyoshi?”

Hiyoshi was silent for a long moment, before he sighed. “No,” he muttered. “But…Echizen has a surprising style of tennis. You should be careful of it.”

It reminded him, a little, of Kirihara’s. He hadn’t been able to predict what either of them would do.

“Surprising?” whispered Kirihara. He grinned as he tangled his long fingers in the strands of hair at the back of Hiyoshi’s head. “That’s good…otherwise the game would be boring.”

He smiled as Hiyoshi’s head fell back, savoring the slightly pained expression on the other player’s face. “I hate to be bored, you know.”

“Kirihara,” Hiyoshi gritted out. “There are people around.”

The other junior always did this to him, he thought bleakly; he liked to see how many layers of protection he could manage to strip off Hiyoshi, see how far he could push the Hyoutei player.

Sometimes, Hiyoshi wondered if he liked it, if that was why he let Kirihara do it.

The other player smirked down at Hiyoshi’s irritated expression. “So?” he said. “I don’t care.” He smoothly shifted his position, pushing the other junior up against the sharp chain-link fence. He smiled as the light-haired boy’s eyes flared wide.

“Besides,” he added, “the matches are over for today. Everyone’s leaving. It’s not very likely that anyone will see us, not here.”

He’d done that on purpose, Kirihara thought with a wide smirk. He’d waited for Hiyoshi in a fairly secluded corner, where no one was likely to wander.

He didn’t mind spectators, but they would probably make Hiyoshi run off. And then his fun would have been cut short.

“But Kiri…” started Hiyoshi.

He didn’t know why he was bothering to protest, he thought; Kirihara Akaya would take what he wanted, no matter what anyone else had to say.

Kirihara shook his head at Hiyoshi. “Shh,” he said as he slipped one arm around the other boy’s waist, running his fingers up and under the Hyoutei jersey.

He flicked his thumb across Hiyoshi’s nipple, smiling at the other player’s involuntary gasp. “You should be quiet,” he said. “Unless you want someone to see?”

Hiyoshi squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head frantically, his breath starting to come in quick, sharp bursts. “No,” he managed.

“I didn’t think so,” murmured the Rikkaidai player. He pushed Hiyoshi up against the fence harder, smiling when he saw the Hyoutei junior wince slightly, before bending his head and claiming Hiyoshi’s mouth in a hard, brutal kiss.

Gentleness and consideration, Kirihara Akaya felt, were a waste of time. He knew what he wanted, and he would get what he wanted, period.

Besides, he thought, as a low moan rose in the other boy’s throat, Hiyoshi liked it like this. He just refused to admit it.

Kirihara slid his hand back down Hiyoshi’s chest, out from under the loose jersey, and clasped the other boy’s hips in a bruising grip. He smiled as Hiyoshi lifted his legs, wrapping them tightly around his own hips.

Yeah, he thought. Hiyoshi protested, he probably would always protest – but he wanted this, and he wanted it this way.

And Kirihara was the only one who gave it to him.

Kirihara broke the kiss, bending his head and clamping his teeth around the stiff tendon in Hiyoshi’s neck in a possessive bite. He smirked as the Hyoutei player stiffened, his fingers digging into Kirihara’s shoulders.

“Ah, Kirihara,” he moaned. “Dammit, that hurts!”

“So?” said Kirihara. He moved his mouth lower, his teeth scraping across the sensitive skin of the other boy’s throat.

Hiyoshi was going to have bruises the next day, he thought. Big ones. As many as he could manage to produce.

Kirihara pushed the open collar of Hiyoshi’s shirt aside, sucking on the soft skin just above the other boy’s collarbone. “You like it, Hiyoshi, don’t you?”

Hiyoshi opened his brown eyes and glared at Kirihara, his cheeks flushed and his breath coming in quick pants. The Rikkaidai player’s bright green eyes gleamed with some combination of amusement and desire.

“You do,” he continued, his voice low and taunting. His hands fell back to rest at Hiyoshi’s hips, and he started to push the light fabric of the Hyoutei player’s white shorts down. “You should stop pretending – you want this as much as I do.

“Maybe more,” Kirihara murmured as he encircled Hiyoshi’s hard cock with his long fingers, milking him with a few quick jerks.

Hiyoshi’s head fell forward onto Kirihara’s shoulder, and he arched into Kirihara’s grip, thrusting forward as the other boy’s fingers roughly worked his cock.

“Uh,” he managed, gasping for air and burying his head in Kirihara’s shoulder. “Please, Kirihara, I…I want…”

He didn’t know how Kirihara could make him feel like this, every single time.

The cough reached Hiyoshi’s ears through a lust-soaked haze, and he lifted his head glancing over towards the source of the sound.

“Shishido-senpai!” he gasped out. His hands slid to Kirihara’s chest, and he shoved the other junior away.

His legs dropped to the ground, and for a moment he swayed slightly. Kirihara chuckled.

“Careful, Hiyoshi,” he said, sliding his hand out of the Hyoutei player’s pants and steadying him slightly. “You shouldn’t move so quickly.” He glanced over at Shishido and smiled.

“That was a good game you played, Shishido,” he said, ignoring the glare Hiyoshi sent his way.

Shishido’s gaze flicked between the two juniors, between Hiyoshi’s embarrassed, flushed face and Kirihara’s sardonic grin, and he smirked. “Really, Hiyoshi,” he said, “way uncool.

“And you’re holding us up,” he added. “Some of us don’t have the time or the inclination to stay here all afternoon.”

“Sorry, Shishido-senpai,” Hiyoshi muttered through his teeth as he tugged his shorts back up to his waist and flicked the hem of his jersey back down over it.

“Well, come on, then. We don’t have all day to wait around for you.”

“I’m coming,” the junior said in a low growl. He turned his back on Kirihara, and started following the senior, back towards where the rest of the Hyoutei team was gathered.

“Hiyoshi,” said Kirihara, in a bright, amused voice. He grinned when the other boy paused and stiffened, but didn’t say a word.

“You’ll watch me play the rest of the tournament,” he continued. It wasn’t a question, and it wasn’t an order. It was a statement of fact. As far as Kirihara was concerned, Hiyoshi would watch him.

He watched as the other junior walked away, his shoulders slightly hunched and his eyes firmly fixed on the ground.

Yeah, he thought. Hiyoshi would watch him. The Hyoutei player never stayed away.