When I Dream At Night

Midorino Mizu

Disclaimer: Tennis no Ohjisama and all associated characters are the property of Konomi Takeshi.

Author’s Note: This is what happens when (1) I plot with Mura and (2) I listen to Marc Anthony on loop.

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Sanada Genichirou wasn’t sure what had awakened him at first. The room was dark, and the only sound he could hear was his roommate’s soft breathing, and the occasional muttered word.

That, he’d gotten used to; he could sleep through it now. Atobe Keigo talked in his sleep, soft, indecipherable words, and he had almost every night since they had become roommates at the Junior Senbatsu. Sanada was used to it now, and he certainly had no trouble ignoring it.

But whatever had awakened him had been different than Atobe Keigo’s usual night noises; he just couldn’t remember exactly what it was, only that it had been foreign.

Then he heard it again – a low, gasping voice, a soft moan – something that sounded almost pained, almost tortured, but wasn’t quite either of those things.

“Please,” Sanada heard. “Help me, I need…”

Sanada’s head whipped towards the sound, toward his roommate’s bed.

Keigo had kicked and pushed at the covers until they were only half over him, as if he’d hungered for cool air against his skin. One long, pale leg, Sanada noted, was completely bared, and Keigo’s loose pajama top was twisted around his hips, riding up just high enough to tease his roommate with a flash of rounded, even lighter skin.

That was his shirt, Sanada reflected – Atobe had appropriated it on their first night at camp. He was pretty sure he wasn’t getting it back.

He flushed at the sound of another moan, turning his head to the side as another whimpered “please” broke through Keigo’s parted lips. It was becoming obvious what Atobe Keigo was dreaming about – Sanada knew what the meaning behind those sighs and moans were – but it was none of his business; it was something he should just make himself ignore.

It didn’t matter how tempting, how beautiful Atobe looked, writhing and gasping on his bed, with the moonlight falling across his bare skin. He should turn away, Sanada thought, ignore it, go back to sleep. That was the sensible thing.

But somehow, Sanada Genichirou found himself seated on the edge of Keigo’s mattress, watching in fascination as the Hyoutei boy wriggled and rubbed against the sheets.

“Don’t stop,” Keigo muttered under his breath, thrashing on the bed, finally rolling onto his back. “Please don’t stop.”

Sanada started at Keigo’s sudden movement, and he wondered if Keigo was about to wake up, and demand in that usual imperious tone of his, to know just what did Sanada think he was doing on his bed.

But after a moment, he realized that Keigo was still asleep, still in the throes of his dream.

“Touch me,” he murmured softly. “I need you.”

Sanada lifted a hand and gingerly traced calloused fingertips over Keigo’s bare stomach. He didn’t know who his roommate was dreaming of – he highly doubted it was he – but he couldn’t help but give into the desire to touch him.

Keigo sighed softly, his head tossing on the pillow. “More,” he moaned. “Please.”

Sanada let his hand drift lower, slowly, skimming over the skin of Keigo’s inner thighs, bypassing the Hyoutei player’s hard cock. Atobe would wake up, he thought, if he touched him there. And he didn’t want him to wake up yet.

Keigo moaned louder, his legs parting invitingly. This, he thought, felt real; more real than any of his other dreams ever had. It almost felt, he thought as his mind began to disentangle itself from the dark haze of sleep, like someone real was there with him, instead of some dream he’d conjured.

“Genichirou,” he whispered as the fingers danced across his skin. He felt Sanada still above him, and his eyelashes fluttered. “Don’t stop,” he muttered as he began to slip back towards consciousness. “I need you.”

He blinked open his eyes, and the usually bright, usually sharp blue was hazed with pleasure and sleep. “Sanada…?” he started, his eyes flaring wide. “What…?”

“Shh,” murmured the Rikkaidai player. He bent his head, brushing his lips gently against Keigo’s own. “Go back to sleep. I’m not really here.

“It’s only a dream,” he continued as his hand finally curled around Keigo’s cock, his thumb rubbing lightly across the head. “Sleep.”

That made sense, Keigo thought with a soft groan, his eyes closing again, his head falling back. The Sanada Genichirou he’d been living with for more than a week would never touch him like this. He only did this in Keigo’s imagination and in his dreams.

He sighed, his hands coming up to clutch at Sanada’s shoulders. “This is just a dream, right?” he whispered as Sanada’s lips traced the line jaw, kissing a path towards his ear.

“It’s just a dream,” Sanada murmured, nipping gently at Keigo’s earlobe. “It’s whatever you want it to be.”

Keigo sighed softly. “A dream,” he murmured. If it were just a dream, he thought, then he wouldn’t open his eyes, because if he did that, if he let himself awaken, this Sanada would disappear. He was sure of it. He didn’t want that to happen – he wanted to feel Sanada’s fingers and Sanada’s tongue on him forever, if he could.

Sanada slid his hand away from Keigo’s cock, skimming his fingers back, circling around Keigo’s opening, his other hand swiftly releasing the buttons of the black pajama top. He licked a hot path down Keigo’s chest.

In the morning, Sanada thought as he gently took Keigo’s hips in his hands, things would be different. Atobe Keigo was just as proud as he was, had just as much distaste for weakness, perceived or otherwise.

This was probably, Sanada reflected as he thrust one long finger deep inside Keigo, the only time the Hyoutei player would let himself be at his mercy.

Keigo’s back arched, his head falling back. He wanted to open his eyes; he wanted to see Sanada, instead of just feeling everything, every kiss and caress, in a soft black haze. But he didn’t want everything to fall away; he didn’t want to wake up and know that he was alone.

“I need…more,” he moaned, keeping his eyes screwed shut. “Please, don’t leave me like this.”

“I won’t,” murmured Sanada as he pushed another finger into Keigo’s body. He bent his head, his lips meeting Keigo’s parted ones in a long, deep kiss as he arched his fingers, brushing against a soft, sensitive spot deep inside the other boy.

Keigo moaned into Sanada’s kiss, a faint, choked sound, and arched up, trying to get closer to Sanada’s teasing fingers. “It feels so good,” he gasped as he broke the kiss. It felt so good, better than any of his other dreams, but somehow…it wasn’t quite enough. He needed more. “Please, Genichirou…”

Sanada hummed softly as he slipped a third finger inside, and rubbed insistently against Keigo’s prostate, brushing his fingers against it until he could feel Keigo stiffen in his arms, the Hyoutei player’s long fingers digging into the skin of his arms and a muffled scream breaking free.

Sanada stared down at Keigo as the other boy came apart in his arms, drinking in Keigo’s flushed cheeks and his still shut eyes. He’d never seen anything quite so beautiful, he thought as he gently pulled his fingers free of Keigo’s shuddering body.

He wanted to be able to see it again, but he didn’t know if he’d be able to.

Sanada sighed softly as Keigo’s shivers slowly began to cease, as the other boy’s breath evened out. Then he stood, crossing the room swiftly.

Keigo murmured softly to himself as he felt a cool, damp cloth brushing against his thighs, his eyebrows furrowing together. But he didn’t wake, not when Sanada re-buttoned the shirt and smoothed it down over Keigo’s thighs, and not when he pulled the covers back up and over Keigo’s sleeping body.

Sanada brushed his fingers over Keigo’s sweat-dampened hair and smiled. He didn’t know if Keigo would remember in the morning, or if he would think it was all a dream.

He wasn’t even sure, he thought as he finally slid back into his own bed, which way he would rather it be.