More Than Us

Midorino Mizu

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

Author’s Note: This began as part of my “Find Yukimura a boyfriend so that I can give Sanada to Keigo” quest, but it became much more complicated, and I really started to like the pairing. A lot.

Also, I took a lot of liberty with Yukimura’s character. This may not be what he’s like, but it’s what I can see him being like, given this set of circumstances.

Named after a Travis song that I’ve decided is SanaYuki, at least for the purposes of this fic.

Thanks go to Murasaki for reading, suggesting, and generally poinging.

~*~*~*~

Something was different.

Not wrong, necessarily, Yukimura thought as he returned the volley Marui had sent at him. Just…different.

Not the same as it had been, before.

Sanada was distancing himself from him, as much as he could. Yukimura was sure that no one else noticed. It was the slightest of changes, and he’d barely noticed it himself.

He hadn’t noticed it, not for a few days, he recalled. He’d been busy readjusting to the more normal routine of school and club, of getting up in the morning and having somewhere to go.

After being in the hospital for the better part of the summer, all those things had taken some getting used to, so he hadn’t realized at first.

But he realized now, Yukimura thought as he smashed the ball across the court and watched their volley specialist chase after it. And he wanted to do something about it; he didn’t want to lose Sanada.

He’d talk to the vice-captain after practice – after everyone else had gone home.

“Hey!” came an irritated voice from across the net. Marui had one hand on a hip and was chewing his gum extra hard.

This was a sure sign that he was running out of patience.

Yukimura raised his eyebrows. “Yes, Bunta?” he asked sweetly.

“Are you planning on paying attention sometime today, or should I resign myself to playing the game by myself?”

“I apologize, Bunta,” Yukimura said with a smile. “I didn’t realize I was taking it too easy on you.”

The redhead’s eyes widened, and it looked like he had paled, just slightly. That was somewhat gratifying, he supposed.

Yukimura spared one last glance for Sanada, standing on the sidelines talking to Akaya, before turning his full attention on his teammate and opponent.

“But rest assured, you have my full attention now. Shall we play?”

Yukimura won their set 6-2.

***

The sun was sinking low in the sky by the time the clubroom cleared out. Akaya had left as soon as permitted, of course; that was nothing new. Their junior ace had always seemed to have important things to do.

Yukimura was privately of the opinion that he spent his off time searching for new victims to torment. Or possibly new levels of sugar consumption to aspire to. Or some combination of the two.

He’d decided shortly after Kirihara Akaya had joined the club the year before that he didn’t really want to know, unless he had to. Some things were better off remaining mysterious.

And Yukimura was concerned with other things, particularly on this day.

With the notable exception of Akaya, most of the Rikkai club was noted for their tendency to stay after practice, still playing tennis. In the early part of the year, it was often full dark by the time they all left, and even during the summer, they stayed late.

Renji, in particular, liked to stay around until both Sanada and Yukimura had left. He claimed it gave him good information.

But it seemed that even Renji had left, and Yukimura and Sanada were left alone in the clubhouse.

Maybe now, Yukimura thought, he could figure out what went wrong between them.

“Genichirou?” he asked. He reached out a slim arm and rested his hand lightly on Sanada’s shoulder.

“Yes?” answered his vice captain. His voice, Yukimura noted, was a little more clipped than it usually was, and he seemed far away, unreachable. Even though he was standing right next to him.

It made Yukimura wonder if he’d left it too late.

“Do you want to do something?” he finally asked. “We haven’t spent much time together since I got out of the hospital.”

Sanada was silent for a long moment, before he shook his head. “No, thank you,” he said as he turned his head to look down at his captain.

Once, he thought, he would have grabbed the opportunity. But Yukimura had never asked, before.

And now, it was too late.

“No,” he repeated. “I don’t think so, Yukimura.”

His friend’s hand fell from his shoulder, and Sanada turned away. He didn’t want to see whatever expression Yukimura had on his face, because there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

He had spent the last year fighting while Yukimura couldn’t, and he didn’t regret it. But he couldn’t help now.

Some instinct told him that anything he did would hurt more than help.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at morning practice,” he stated as he slung his tennis bag over his arm.

“Yes,” echoed Yukimura. “I’ll see you.”

He stood in the empty room for a long time, staring after Sanada, a frown furrowing his brow.

He had never suspected that Sanada wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with him; that the vice captain would want to avoid him completely.

Yukimura had always thought that he and Sanada Genichirou were important to each other, that they would always be important to each other.

Maybe he’d been wrong.

He started when he heard a calm, familiar voice behind him. “Yukimura.”

Yukimura turned his head, looking at the person standing behind him. “Renji,” he said. “I thought you’d gone.

Renji shook his head, just slightly, his usual pleasant expression plastered on his face. “No,” he said simply. “I was still here.”

“Ah,” was all Yukimura managed before he lapsed into silence again.

The clubroom was perfectly quiet for a long moment, before Renji spoke again.

“He has someone else, Yukimura,” he stated matter-of-factly.

Yukimura’s hand clenched, Renji noted. Just briefly.

The Rikkai captain ducked his head, letting his dark hair hide his features, before he looked up again, a forced smile on his lips.

“Oh,” he said. Yukimura lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I suppose I shouldn’t have assumed, should I?”

“Yuki—“ started Renji.

“It will be fine, Renji,” Yukimura said in a voice that was just a little stiffer than normal. He picked up his own bag and slung it over his arm. “I’ll see you at practice in the morning,” he called, as he breezed out the door, leaving Renji alone in the darkening tennis clubroom.

Renji stared after him for a moment, before sighing. Their captain, he recalled, had never liked depending on anyone. He’d always been afraid of being weak. His injury in the middle of their junior year had only reinforced that.

Yukimura had depended on Sanada, but Sanada had been a special case. In more ways than one.

Renji smoothed a hand over his hair and walked towards the door. There was nothing he could do, he supposed, except watch and wait. Perhaps Yukimura would be able to weather this as he’d weathered everything else, and perhaps he would be fine. It was a small thing, really, when compared to everything else.

But sometimes, it was the small things that hurt the most. He would have to see.

***

Yukimura sighed heavily as he stepped off the train.

Before he’d injured himself, he’d always walked home. He’d liked walking past the sakura in the spring, and he’d liked the warm afternoon breezes in the summer. He liked having the time to think in between club activities and home, the time to be by himself.

Now, he took the train, because the doctors were worried that the long walk home combined with the vigorous exercise of tennis would be too much for his knee.

So, Yukimura had forfeited his long, quiet walks, for even longer, crowded train rides. The sound of the people and the wheels on the tracks were sometimes so loud he couldn’t hear himself think, and the press of tired salarymen and schoolgirls was nothing like the feel of the breeze and the blowing sakura petals.

Just something else that had changed, he supposed.

He walked out of the station into the soft evening twilight, brushing his hair away from his forehead. He was going to be late for dinner again, but his parents were used to it.

They’d never really understood his obsession with tennis, but they’d learned to accept it. He was fifteen, and as enthralled with it as he’d been at eight.

That was something that would probably never change.

Yukimura pulled his tennis bag back up on his shoulder and stuck his hands in his pockets.

The walk from the train station to his house was a short one, but it took him through one of the busier sections of Yokohama. It was usually the best part of his trip home; after the train ride, there was something so light-hearted about the bustling shopping district. No one was in a hurry.

It was particularly true on this late summer evening, thought Yukimura, a small half-smile twisting his mouth. It was too bad he couldn’t bring himself to appreciate it.

He’d just go straight home, he decided, instead of the slow wandering he usually did. Usually, he would stop for a cup of tea somewhere, and sit and watch the people go by, but he couldn’t do that tonight.

He just …didn’t feel like doing things the way he always did.

He was about to start pushing through the crowds when he caught sight of something familiar coming out of a store across the street. Yukimura twisted his head to see.

The dark blue baseball cap that Sanada had worn for as long as Yukimura had known him had been what had caught his attention, but it was what Sanada was doing that held it.

What he was doing, and who he was with.

He’d just come out of a small French bakery, Yukimura noted; a good one, Marui had always liked the cakes there.

If someone had asked him before, even earlier that afternoon, Yukimura would have said that Sanada would never go anywhere as frivolous as a bakery, let alone walk out carrying a large cake box.

And smiling at Atobe Keigo, captain of the Hyoutei tennis team.

He’d never actually met Atobe, but he’d seen him the year before, at the Kanto and National tournaments. He and Sanada had played each other in Singles 3 at Kanto, Yukimura recalled. And then they’d roomed together at junior selection camp.

He hadn’t been at junior selection camp himself, because his knee had given out right after Nationals, and even in September, it was bad enough that he couldn’t accept the invitation. Sanada and Renji had gone, however.

He had never heard anything about a close relationship between Sanada and his roommate. In fact, he’d gotten the distinct impression that they hadn’t gotten along well at all. There had been a lot of tension between them. Renji had mentioned that, and Renji was rarely wrong about those things.

Clearly, the tension had exploded, Yukimura thought bleakly. It would have, eventually, with two proud tennis players in close quarters like that.

He just hadn’t expected it to explode like that, though.

Then again, he thought, the expression in his normally soft eyes hardening, he should have expected that. He stared at the oblivious Atobe Keigo. The Hyoutei captain was completely focused on Sanada as they walked along, talking animatedly and…licking cake off his fingers.

Sanada was equally focused on Atobe, Yukimura realized. He was just watching him, paying attention to everything he said and did.

He realized that he didn’t remember if Sanada had ever watched him like that. He leaned against the wall of the café behind him, letting his bag drop unnoticed to the ground. They were turning left at the corner, he noted, which meant they were going to Sanada’s house.

He knew where it was, but he’d never been there himself. He had thought that it wouldn’t be appropriate.

He’d thought many stupid things.

Yukimura stared at the corner where he’d last seen them for a long while – it started to get dark, and the street thinned out before he moved.

He couldn’t go home now; his parents would know something was wrong, and he couldn’t tell them.

He pulled his cell phone out of his bag and started dialing.

“Hi, Mom,” he said brightly when his mother answered the phone. “Sorry I’m calling so late. Listen, I’m going to go back and practice some more, I’m still out of shape.”

He paused for a moment. “No,” he said. “I ate dinner with a friend, so I’ll be fine. No, I won’t be too late.” He paused again. “Right. Bye.”

He hit the end call button, and dropped the small phone back in his bag, before heading back to the train station.

His world had gotten twisted around today, he thought. Nothing was the way he thought it had been when he’d gotten up that morning, and he needed something that made sense.

Tennis was probably the only thing he had left that made any sense.

***

The tennis courts were completely dark when Yukimura finally got back to Rikkai. That was expected; they’d all left before sundown, for once, so they hadn’t needed to turn on the court lights.

The path to the tennis clubroom was dark and shadowy, and would have proved hazardous for anyone else. But Yukimura had practiced after hours many times, sometimes alone, sometimes with Renji or Marui.

And sometimes with Sanada. Yukimura doubted that would be happening anymore, at least. He sighed heavily as he dropped his tennis bag onto the bench, wondering dismally what he was to Sanada now.

They had circled each other for the better part of three years; he had been afraid that being with Sanada, depending on him, would make him weak. Sanada had probably never been sure of him. So they had hovered uncomfortably between friendship and romance; they weren’t a couple, but, somehow, they were together.

And despite what Yukimura had wished, eventually he had depended on Sanada to be there. And now he wasn’t.

And Yukimura would have to learn how to deal with that.

He loosened his tie and started to unbutton his shirt when he heard footsteps behind him.

There was only a handful of people, even at Rikkai, who were likely to be at tennis club in the late evening, and of those people, only three came back to the courts often enough to be likely candidates. And Yukimura knew Sanada’s footsteps, so that left only one other person.

“Hello, Renji,” he murmured, focusing his gaze on the small, white buttons on his school shirt. “I didn’t expect that you would still be here.”

“My older sister has friends over tonight,” replied Renji. “I find it’s easiest to just stay completely out of their way.”

“Ah,” returned Yukimura. A smile kicked up one corner of his mouth, despite his dark mood.

It always amused him that the usually unflappable Yanagi Renji was horrified by the idea of a group of teenaged girls descending on him. It was so unlike Renji to be disturbed by anything.

And really, if he thought high school girls were bad, he should try elementary schoolgirls sometime.

“Well, I can see why you chose to hide out at school, then. Are you doing homework?” As he spoke, Yukimura tossed his green striped tie on the bench and slipped his shirt off his shoulders. He brushed his wavy hair out of his face, smiling over at his friend. “Or would you like to play tennis? I think I still need to practice more, to get back up to par.”

Renji’s expression didn’t change in the slightest. “I have all my work done,” he said. “So I wouldn’t be averse to a game.”

Yukimura was doing well, he thought. Most people wouldn’t notice that his eyes were dark with pain, or that his smile was a little too tight, a little too forced.

But Renji had always been good at noticing things.

“I’ll get my bag, then,” he said finally. “It’s on the other side.”

Yukimura nodded, opening the locker in front of him. “I’ll see you in a few minutes then.”

Renji nodded, turning around to find his bag, when he heard a sharp intake of breath. “Yukimura?” he questioned, turning his head.

The captain held a familiar dark blue baseball cap between his two fingers. “How many of these do you figure he has?” he asked with a light laugh.

At least, he meant it to be a laugh, but it came out as more of a broken sob.

Renji put his hand on Yukimura’s bare shoulder and leaned close to him. He could smell the soft scent of whatever shampoo the other player used – something light and citrus, sweet without being feminine.

Perfect for Yukimura.

“It’ll be all right, Yukimura,” he murmured. “Give yourself a little time.”

The slighter player was silent for a long moment.

“I saw them together, you know,” he said finally. “Genichirou and Atobe Keigo.”

“And that’s why you came back here tonight?”

Yukimura tilted his head, looking up at Renji. Tears had welled in his eyes, and were starting to slip, slowly, down his cheeks. “Yes,” he replied simply.

He looked more vulnerable than Renji had ever seen him before – even more vulnerable than he had been in the hospital earlier that summer.

He didn’t like seeing his friend like that.

“You and Genichirou,” Renji said as he turned Yukimura to face him, “are a lot alike. You’re both extremely talented tennis players, and you both have strong personalities. You’re self-reliant, and you like to keep your feelings inside.

“You need people who are different than that,” he continued as he brushed the tears from Yukimura’s eyes. “Both of you.”

Yukimura looked up at Renji. He had known their data specialist for as long as he had known Sanada, and they had been an almost inseparable trio…but he didn’t really know Renji that well.

It had always been about Sanada Genichirou, and most other things fell by the wayside.

“So Genichirou needs Atobe Keigo,” Yukimura said. Renji nodded slightly, and his captain gave him a considering look.

“Who do I need, Renji?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” returned Renji. He still had his usual pleasant smile on his face, but his eyes were open, and the curve of his mouth was a little sadder than normal.

Yukimura lowered his eyes and nodded. “Sometimes,” he murmured, “I wish that I didn’t have to be alone.” He looked up at Renji. “Do you know what I mean?” he asked.

He stared at Renji for a long, silent moment, before sighing and looking away. Even if Renji did understand – and Yukimura thought, maybe, that he did – he couldn’t really expect him to be able to change things for him.

Yukimura stepped back from Renji, forcing a smile back on his face. “You should go get your bag,” he said with false brightness. “We were going to play tennis, weren’t we?” Renji didn’t move from the spot where he stood. “Renji?”

A smile spread across Renji’s face. “You don’t need to be alone, Yukimura.” He stepped closer to the captain, and rested his hands on Yukimura’s hips, his thumbs brushing against the skin above the other player’s waistband.

Yukimura’s skin was warm and soft, he thought. But the muscles underneath were unyielding.

Yukimura Seiichi was a lot like that himself, Renji mused. Soft and gentle on the outside, but inside…inside there was a thread of pure steel. He had always admired that.

“Renji,” Yukimura was saying, “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Despite his words, his fingers were tracing patterns on the smooth cotton of Renji’s school shirt.

Renji’s smile widened. “It’s a very good idea, Yukimura.” He slid the fingers of one hand into his partner’s silky dark hair, and pulled him closer. “It’s all right to need something, you know,” he murmured, just before his lips met Yukimura’s in a soft kiss.

He’d always found the captain attractive, even when they’d been freshman. But even then, he hadn’t considered it. Yukimura had been Genichirou’s. When it had begun, he’d thought that the two of them would always be together.

Later, it had become evident that they wouldn’t, but Renji still hadn’t done anything. Because he’d been the only one who had seen that; Genichirou and Yukimura had to figure it out on their own.

Now they had.

After a moment of hesitation, Yukimura leaned into Renji’s kiss, his fingers convulsively gripping the cotton fabric at the other player’s shoulders.

Yanagi Renji could kiss.

Of their own volition, his fingers slid away from Renji’s shoulders and started unknotting the data specialist’s school tie. He pulled it free, tossing it behind him, and starting on the shirt.

This wasn’t his idea; he wasn’t even sure that it was a good idea, that it wasn’t something that he’d regret later.

But he’d spent too much of his life not doing things because he thought he might regret them later. He wasn’t going to do that any longer; instead, he would just do what felt right, right then.

Being with Renji felt right.

Yukimura stepped closer to his friend, deepening their kiss. This was familiar, he thought; it was something he remembered. The feel of smooth skin under his fingers, the hot need burning through him – those were things emblazoned in his memory.

He and Sanada had never been lovers; they had both been too hesitant with each other for that. But he’d had other experience, other things that told him what to expect, now.

Renji’s kiss was everything he’d known kisses to be – it was hot and wet, it made him need more. But it was different; there was something different about Renji.

He wasn’t sure just what it was.

“Renji,” he gasped as he finally broke their kiss. His hands grabbed at his teammate’s shoulders, and he pushed at them, until Renji sat down. “I want –“

“Yukimura,” started Renji.

“No,” interrupted his captain. “Let me, Renji.” He leaned down, nipping at his friend’s throat, smoothing his hands under Renji’s shirt. “I want to do this.”

Yukimura was desperate to prove something tonight, desperate to prove that he could be bold about this, at least.

He wasn’t sure why he felt he had to prove that to Renji.

He swiftly pushed Renji’s shirt off his shoulders, sinking down to straddle the other senior’s lap.

Renji was starting to breathe more heavily, he noted, but he wasn’t trying to do anything. He was letting Yukimura do everything himself.

There was something about that that felt…wrong to Yukimura. He’d known Renji for a long time now; he’d played tennis with him, and he’d hung out with him.

He didn’t really think that Renji was the type to be so passive.

“Renji?” he asked, as he licked a path down the other tennis player’s chest.

Renji shuddered slightly as the slighter boy’s tongue drew patterns across his skin. Yukimura was good, he admitted. He knew how to get the reactions he was looking for.

But he was moving fast, as if the only point of sex was the destination.

Renji had always thought it was more about the journey, himself.

He started when he felt his teammate’s small hands flick open the button at his waistband and heard the rasp of the metal zipper being lowered.

“Yukimura,” he said, finally lifting his arms out of the pooled white fabric that had fallen to the bench. He took Yukimura by the shoulders and pushed him away.

The captain’s eyes were wide and startled. He hadn’t been doing anything different from what he’d done before, other times, with other boys.

No one had ever stopped him before.

“Renji?” he asked hesitantly. “What’s wrong?”

Renji regarded his friend for a long moment. He hated the uncertain look that had come into Yukimura’s soft brown eyes; he hated that he was the one who put it there.

But Yukimura was skipping out on the best part.

“You don’t need to move so fast,” he said, finally, in a gentle murmur.

“Oh,” Yukimura said in a low voice. “Sorry,” he added, ducking his head.

Renji brushed a hand over Yukimura’s dark hair. “Sometimes it’s good, fast,” he said. “But it can be even better slow.”

He slipped his hand under his teammate’s loose fall of hair and tipped his head back up, so that he was looking Yukimura directly in the eyes.

The expression in the captain’s eyes was no longer uncertain; it was disgusted, and Renji was certain that the disgust was directed at Yukimura himself.

The game Sanada and Yukimura had played with each other, the confusion they had created for themselves throughout their junior high years, had made Sanada Genichirou cold and distant with all but a few people. Renji had realized that a long while ago.

But for the first time, he wondered what it had done to Yukimura Seiichi.

“Yukimura,” he said, lightly stroking his fingers across the back of his friend’s neck. “Will you let me show you what I mean?”

A thousand expressions flashed across Yukimura’s face, but finally he smiled. “Sure, Renji,” he said. “Show me.”

Renji smiled, and drew Yukimura down for another long kiss, and this time, he didn’t let the captain take control.

He wanted to show his friend that there was pleasure to be had in each and every part of the process. Especially, he thought as he brushed his lips softly across Yukimura’s own in a gentle caress, in a kiss.

He doubted that anyone had ever bothered to teach Rikkai’s captain that a kiss could be anything except a prelude to sex.

Well, Renji would just have to teach him that now.

He ran his tongue across Yukimura’s full bottom lip, coaxing his lips further apart. Despite his boldness earlier, it seemed like the slighter player was hesitant now, almost afraid.

As if he thought Renji would leave, if he did something wrong.

Someday, the data specialist thought, he wanted to find out how Yukimura’s self-confidence had been shattered so badly, why his teammate didn’t seem to trust himself to do anything except tennis well.

Renji curled his tongue around Yukimura’s, smiling a little when he heard a husky groan from deep within the captain’s throat.

He thought that Yukimura might understand now what he’d meant when he said that slow could be even better.

He broke the kiss, watching as Yukimura blinked, revealing dark eyes glazed with desire.

The other boy was panting slightly, and his cheeks were flushed. His hair fell around his face in damp curls.

Renji thought he was beautiful.

“Ren—“ started Yukimura, his hands coming up to grip his friend’s shoulders. No one had ever kissed him like that before, as if the kiss was even more important than what followed.

Not even the one kiss he’d shared with Sanada had been like that.

“Shh,” murmured Renji. He scraped his teeth lightly across Yukimura’s jaw line, and the other senior’s breath caught in his throat. “I’m not finished yet, Yukimura.”

“Call me Seiichi,” said Yukimura. His voice was strangled, as if he couldn’t seem to remember quite how to breathe. “Please.”

“Seiichi, then,” whispered Renji. His warm breath fluttered across Yukimura’s sensitive skin, and the smaller player shuddered.

Yukimura didn’t quite understand how he could want so much from so little, how a kiss could have started such a slow burn.

Renji was licking a hot path down his chest, and Yukimura arched his back, his fingernails digging into the skin at Renji’s shoulders. “Renji!”

Renji looked up, and the expression in his eyes was slightly amused. If this kept up, he thought, he was going to have bruises in the morning. Yukimura stiffened every time there was a new sensation, and grabbed at him, as if the other boy was afraid that Renji was going to disappear.

He wasn’t planning on going anywhere, and he intended to give Rikkai’s captain a lot of new sensations tonight.

“Relax, Seiichi,” he said. He reached up, rubbing his fingertips lightly across the slighter player’s cheekbone, and a small smile curved his mouth. He got the distinct feeling that, in the past, Yukimura had been expected to be far more…proactive. “Just let me do this. Trust me.”

Yukimura stared into Renji’s eyes for a moment, and finally sighed, forcing his body to relax. “All right, Renji,” he said. “I’ll try.”

“Good,” returned the other senior. He dipped his head again, laving Yukimura’s nipple briefly before moving lower, using his teeth and tongue to drive his friend insane.

Yukimura Seiichi was experienced; he knew what to do to elicit specific reactions. But so did Yanagi Renji.

And he was a great believer in putting knowledge to its greatest use.

“Lean back, Seiichi,” he ordered gently. His friend complied, bracing his hands on either side of Renji’s hips.

He arched his back as Renji flicked open the button at his waist and lowered the zipper with a faint rasp. Now, he thought, it would start to be more familiar again.

Renji had been doing things to him that no one else had ever bothered to do before. He wasn’t surprised, really, that they hadn’t; he doubted that he had been particularly important to his previous lover.

He’d figured out early on that they had been together because Yukimura was pretty, and he was convenient. There’d been nothing else to the relationship.

He supposed that he was important to Renji, that Renji cared about him; maybe that was what made this time different.

He felt Renji’s legs move, felt him turn them so that they were straddling the bench. “Renji?” he inquired, his hands flying up to grab at the data specialist’s shoulders as his position abruptly changed. “What are you doing?”

“Shh, Seiichi,” Renji said, his hands sliding back down back down, pushing Yukimura’s pants out of the way. “Just lay back.”

He looked up and suppressed a grin. Yukimura looked adorably confused. “Didn’t I tell you to trust me?” he said. “Now lay back.”

“Okay,” Yukimura said with a soft sigh. He leaned back until he felt the hard, smooth wood of the bench against his back, and let his eyes drift shut.

A moment later, he felt Renji’s tongue, licking his way up Yukimura’s cock. He shot back up, his eyes flaring wide. “Renji!” he gasped. “What are you doing?”

Yukimura seemed to be asking him that a lot, Renji noted. He raised his eyebrows. “What does it look like?” he asked. “Relax, Seiichi; I don’t think it’ll kill you.”

“But…” started Yukimura.

“Seiichi,” Renji said. “Lay back.”

Yukimura stared at him for a moment, before finally relaxing and leaning back again. “I haven’t done this before,” he muttered.

Well, that wasn’t exactly true – he had just never been on the receiving end.

And that was probably patently obvious to Renji now. Yukimura flushed red. “Sorry,” he said.

“It’s all right,” Renji murmured before bending his head down again.

Yukimura gasped softly as he felt Renji’s mouth engulf his cock again. It was hot and wet and…perfect. Somehow, it just felt perfect.

He brought his hands up and knotted his fingers in Renji’s straight, fine hair. He’d known that this felt good, of course.

He just hadn’t known how good.

“Renji,” he whimpered as the other senior curled his tongue and sucked harder, making Yukimura shiver with reaction. “Please.”

Renji chuckled softly, deep in his throat, and his teammate jerked upwards in response.

“Ohhh,” he moaned, squeezing his eyes shut. “Renji…”

Renji backed off slightly, licking at Yukimura’s slit and running his tongue lightly over the hard ridge on the underside of his shaft.

Yukimura was quite sure he was going to die.

Renji was far too good at this, he thought as he panted and thrashed his head. He was out of control; he couldn’t do anything except react to whatever Renji chose to do to him.

For once, Yukimura didn’t mind. He wanted to do something simply because it was all he could do. He wanted to relinquish everything. He needed to.

Renji had enveloped him again, and the searing heat was almost more than Yukimura could stand. He twisted his fingers in Renji’s hair, and a broken moan passed through his lips.

Then Renji did something with his tongue and teeth, and Yukimura jerked up with a choked scream.

The world shattered around him.

***

When Yukimura finally opened his eyes again, the first things he saw were Renji’s warm dark eyes.

“Renji?” he murmured. He was still on the bench, he realized; he could still feel the hard wood under his back

“Seiichi,” Renji returned with a smile. He was leaning over Yukimura, braced on one elbow, while his other hand was laced in his friend’s curly dark hair. “I was beginning to think that I’d killed you.”

His smile widened a bit, and the smaller boy felt color rush into his cheeks.

“Uh, no,” he muttered. “It was just, er, rather overwhelming.”

“Ah,” returned Renji. He carefully pulled himself into a sitting position, before turning and lifting Yukimura up. “That’s good, though, isn’t it?” he asked as he slid to the floor, pulling his captain down with him.

They leaned back against the bench, and Renji pulled Yukimura close. “I mean,” he said thoughtfully, “I wouldn’t have wanted it to be underwhelming.”

Yukimura knew that Renji was having fun teasing him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He dropped his head on Renji’s shoulder and let his eyes drift shut.

This felt nice, he thought as Renji’s arm curled around his waist.

A few minutes later, his eyes shot open and pushed away from the other boy. “Renji!” he said. “You didn’t…”

“Hmm?” Renji said, cocking his head inquisitively to one side. “Oh, no, I didn’t. But it’s all right.”

Yukimura opened his mouth to protest, but Renji forestalled him.

“Don’t worry, Seiichi,” he said, as he leaned forward, giving Yukimura a short kiss. “We have time.”

“If you’re sure.”

“Oh, I’m sure, Seiichi,” returned Renji, drawing his friend close again. “We have plenty of time.

“And I’ll make sure you reward me. Later.”

~fin