[PoT]:: Kirihara/Yanagi Playing Tag.
Title: Playing Tag.
Pairing: Kirihara/Yanagi
Rating/Contains/Word count: R/sex/3,392
Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I make profit from Prince of Tennis.
Summary: In which Kirihara and Yanagi are involved in a complicated game, and tennis is more than it seems.
Notes: Please let me know your thoughts/constructive crit/comments.
It was an unusually warm spring day, heat radiated from the pavement in nearly visible waves. Classes were still in session as Yanagi walked down to clay tennis courts, nets in hand. The original coach, who had lost interest in the team in the development phase had declared it Yanagi's 'problem' and left him to deal with it. Yanagi knew that was because he had offered solutions to the glaring problems with the team construction and training schedule. After his first practice as coach most hopefuls on the team had left, unaccustomed to actually participating and doing drills.
The remaining students organized a propaganda onslaught that would have impressed even the most proficient politician, and enough interest had been raised that the school board had allowed him to hold a second round of try-outs. With an hour to go before classes let out, he knew he had too much work to get done, but also knew that he could easily accomplish it. The courts were well maintained, and still relatively new. The fence rattled when the gate clattered closed behind him. Memories came back to him as he fussed with the bulky nets, stringing them up, the metal posts warm to the touch from the afternoon sun. If he closed his eyes he could hear the sound of tennis balls hitting the courts, and the sounds of drills being counted out. He stood center court, just for a moment and felt invincible once again.
Yanagi was jolted out of his reverie when the bell chimed, alerting students and staff to the school day's end. It didn't take long at all for the courts to be filled with young students hoping to join the tame, as well as the handful of players who had remained on. A few hours later, Yanagi could see the beginnings of a good team that, with additional training would become a great team.
He was on his way home, satchel stuffed with papers to grade, when his cell phone rang. Crammed on the train with other work weary travelers, he struggled a bit to retrieve his phone. "Hello Sadaharu."
"Renji, would you be interested in joining me for drinks this evening?"
Sadaharu sounded as though he was calling from the train as well. "I'm assuming we're going out." There was no way that he would allow Sadaharu to mix anything consumable.
"I'll meet you at Yuri's bar in half an hour?"
Yanagi knew the bar, a hole in the wall that was frequented by other members of the academic community. "I'll see you then."
~*~
The building was crowded, Yanagi securing a spot for himself and Sadaharu right against the bar. The tv was blaring, overwhelming press of people almost welcome after being surrounded by junior high students. Sadaharu slid onto the stool next to him, motioning for a drink for himself, a refill for Renji's. After university, Sadaharu had secured a position as a research assistant at the university laboratory. Yanagi had found that he enjoyed working with the younger students, his preference for mathematics and statistics opening up many jobs for him. Shortly after graduating he had taken a teaching job at a newer junior high.
News reports gave way to sports announcements, scores from the amateur tennis circuit scrolling along the bottom as the reporter discussed the upcoming professional tournament. Sadaharu nudged him, "Kirihara isn't playing?"
Yanagi shook his head, "He was injured at the end of last season. Even though he's healed, he hasn't played." In fact Akaya had seemed to drop off the face of the planet. Even Seichii, who had reached out to Akaya's parents had come up empty handed. Yanagi had been at the match, witnessed the fall and resulting knee injury. He had encouraged the younger man through the intense physical therapy sessions, and kept him company as Akaya recovered.
Conversation switched to work, and Sadaharu's experiments, some of which Yanagi questioned the validity of funding. Eventually the bar cleared out, and Yuri, proprietor and bar tender was cleaning up around the pair. Yanagi paid their tab, making sure that Sadaharu got into a cab, and safely on the way home. The bar wasn't too far away from his own apartment, Yanagi opting to walk- take the chance to clear his mind.
Akaya had spent a few weeks at his apartment while the younger boy was recuperating- the physical injury had healed, it was more of the mental block that he had created for himself. Sadaharu's comments had brought those weeks back to him, most of them were spent curled up on the couch with Akaya watching countless horrible movies that the younger boy was so fond of. Yanagi had gotten used to coming home to someone- and it had been a shock when he had come home to an empty apartment. He had called when he realized Akaya hadn't gone out with friends, each time only getting a voice mail system.
The initial sting of separation had faded, though at times, like now, it came back to him. Yanagi dropped his key on the counter calling out to the empty apartment. His answering machine blinked, indicating messages. One from his mother, another from his sister, two hang ups and the last message on the machine took a few moments to kick in.
"Hey Yanagi-senpai…" a long pause, Yanagi's attention focused on the small machine next to his keys. "I uh I'm sorry that I just kind of left, I didn't want to make you think I was moving in to stay on your couch" another long pause, Yanagi's heart pounded hard in his chest. "So yeah, I guess I'll see you around…" the machine cut off the rest of the message. It whirled, rewound, and Yanagi reached out to play it again. Akaya's voice stirred something inside him, a part of himself that he had buried away when the younger boy had seemingly disappeared.
Yanagi collapsed onto the couch, head tipped back, eyes closed. Akaya's voice echoed in his head, and he could still feel the other man in the apartment with him.
Akaya had been released from the hospital a few weeks beforehand, and had already started meeting with a physical trainer. After those sessions, he had somehow ended up at Yanagi's--mainly claiming that his own apartment was too far away and it hurt to stand so long on the train after a session. Yanagi had welcomed the company, he had missed their friendship when Akaya had gone into the professional tennis world.
He, and the others who had played with Akaya had visited him in the hospital after the injury and surgeries. There had been quiet tears, and demands to know if statistically he would play again--Yanagi had done his best to reassure the Akaya that he would not only play, but reclaim his status.
Normally on the days when Akaya came over, they took over the couch and watched movies. This time however, Akaya had pressed himself to Yanagi's side. The movie was one they had seen before, and Yanagi wasn't really focused on it, but rather the way Akaya seemed to move closer. Hesitant touches, the quick dry press of lips to his jaw, and when Yanagi didn't pull away--the press of lips against his own. One-or both of them, Yanagi wasn't sure had made some sort of sound, given permission. They had spent the afternoon wrapped up in each other. Akaya in his lap, hands all over Yanagi, mouths meeting again and again.
Neither asked why, and neither offered an explanation.
~*~
The next day, Yanagi struggled to stay awake, and stay on track. He had trouble getting to sleep, toying over and over in his mind Akaya's motivation for calling, or the meaning behind it. Distraction carried through lunch, and into the afternoon. He made his way down to the tennis courts, surprised to see the team running through basic drills.
Practice went smoothly, the players picking up drills, and accepting constructive criticism. Halfway through practice Yanagi felt eyes on him. Directing the team to run laps and start cleaning up for the afternoon. He turned to see a familiar figure standing at the fence. Yanagi stared, breath caught in his throat. Akaya was feet away, watching the practice. Yanagi approached the other man, noting the way his fingers were looped through the chain link of the fence, attention on the younger kids who were still struggling with a few swings.
"Akaya." Yanagi was pleased that his voice held steady. The younger man looked well, healthy, taller than in their youth, and grown into his frame.
"Senpai," Akaya pointed to one of the first years. "Why is he trying to use the racket with his right hand when he's obviously a lefty?"
Yanagi knew exactly which player Akaya referenced. "Would you like to correct him?" There was something different about Akaya, and the way he watched the play. Yanagi could feel the want and drive to step back onto the court.
"It's not my job." The grin, mischievous and just shy of being bratty- all too familiar and made Yanagi's stomach flip-flop.
"Want a match?" Yanagi noticed the bag left on the bleachers, far too nice, too professional to belong to one of his students.
Akaya shook his head, grin softening just a touch. "Not today, senpai."
A squabble between two second years drew Yanagi's attention away from Akaya, and by the time it was sorted out, the other man was gone.
~*~
The skies opened up as Renji stepped onto the school grounds. Students and teachers alike dashed for the cover of the building, leaving in their wake puddles and trails of water as they went to various classrooms. The lessons seemed to stick, most of the students paying attention, and being more responsive than normal. During lunch a few of the students who joined the tennis club, dropped by to see if practice was going to happen-since it hadn’t rained since the morning lessons. He sent the students on their way with the promise that he’d go down and check during his planning period, and determine whether they would do actual practice or watch videos of opposing teams.
The path down to the courts squished under his shoes, Renji almost slid once or twice, but managed each time to regain his composure. He stopped short at the gate to the courts, seeing a figure on the bench, his back to Renji. The man bounced a tennis ball against the frame of his racket, the rhythm carrying through the courts.
“Akaya,” The gate creaked under his hand as Renji entered the courts. It had been weeks since he had seen Akaya. There had been a few stunted phone calls, rambling phone messages, on both their parts, and missed meetings.
“Yes, senpai?” Kirihara turned to face him, head tipped, eyes bright and tracking. tap, tap, tap the ball bounced on the frame of the racket, rapidly; Renji’s attention diverted by the movement.
"Why are you here?"
Tap, tap, tap, thump, tap, tap, tap Akaya had taken to bouncing the ball on the strings, rotated the racket only to take it back to the frame. "I wanted to observe practice." A pale imitation of Renji, paired with a lopsided smile. "Is that alright, senpai?"
Belatedly, Renji noticed the other racket propped up against the bench. The extra balls lined up next to Akaya, the way the younger man watched him with such open interest and almost a hunger in his eyes. "Do you want to play?" There was an hour before classes officially let out. They could complete a set and have the courts set up for practice before any students joined them.
In a fluid motion, Akaya rose from the bench, and extended the other racket to him. 'Turned his racket again, and lightly hit the ball to Renji, who caught it on reflex alone. "You can serve, senpai." There was a bite to Akaya's words, a tension in his shoulders that hadn't been there before.
Renji left his jacket along the back of the bench, loosened his tie. Each movement was deliberate and paced, mind recalling both statistics from Akaya's matches in the professional circuit and the information from their previous games. By the time he took his position on the court, Akaya was bouncing on his heels, face calm despite the inability to stand still.
Renji served, the sound of the ball connecting with the gut of the racket a sharp sound. It flew over the net low and fast, only to be returned just as rapidly by Akaya. They rallied before Akaya took the point, then the match. He watched as the younger man took position to serve. Twist serve, Renji's body moved on it's own accord, returning the serve.
He was out of practice at playing at this pace and it showed. He was out of breath, feet and arms heavy, some shots returned flat. Shots Renji had developed while in middle school and high school seemed beyond his grasp. Though, the longer the rallies began to stretch out longer, his returns became cleaner, sharper. Something in the back of his mind had woken up, shaken off the layers of dust from playing for 'fun'. Renji took the second, and third game. Sweat soaked the back of his work shirt, his tie had been removed to join the suit coat, his shoes were caked with clay from the courts. He could hear Akaya's breathing, harsh and ragged.
All distractions melted away, the stress of the job, the confusion and frustration of the cat-and-mouse game Akaya had somehow drawn him into. The ball slammed into the opposite court with a satisfying sound, Renji took the game and match. They came to the net, shook hands. Renji looked Akaya over, took in the satisfied look on the younger man's face. Both were drenched with sweat and slightly unsteady on their feet. His attention dropped to the scar tissue on Akaya's knee, that disappeared under the hem of the dark shorts.
"It's fine."
Renji met Akaya's eyes, earnest and open. "Make sure you stretch." It was then, that Renji was acutely aware that they were being watched. He turned to see the young tennis team pressed against the fence, fingers looped through the chain link.
"Yanagi-sensei…" One of the children finally spoke out.
"Have fun, senpai." The wickedness was back full force as Akaya let go of his hand. "I'll see you soon."
~*~
Yanagi had caught glimpses of Akaya in the following weeks. Occasional conversation that left him wanting more, wanting something. Closure or furthering of whatever it was they had- he wasn't exactly sure what he desired most. School and practice had ended, Yanagi had finished his work, planning on taking his day off completely to himself. He had slept in, remaining in bed even while awake.
He tensed, hearing the lock switch, door open. Yanagi could hear the person walking through his apartment.
Akaya leaned against the doorframe of his bedroom. "Senpai, don't you ever answer your phone?"
Yanagi watched as the younger man walked into his bedroom, slightly amused that even know Akaya called him senpai despite their history. The bed dipped, blankets shifting as Akaya crawled in next to him.
"I've had a busy week." Yanagi moved, made room for the other man. "Not to mention the team's first match."
"Which they won, I'm glad that brat started hitting using the correct hand." Akaya interrupted him. Yanagi was distracted by the line of heat, the slight press of a lean body against his. He could feel the vibrations in Akaya's chest when he spoke, the dark curls in stark contrast to the bright white of Yanagi's pillow cases. The bed moved again, Akaya moved onto his side, propped up, watching Yanagi.
Yanagi licked his lips, mouth dry, staring at the ceiling rather than the man who only pressed closer. "Where have you been Akaya. We've been worried."
"We've? Or you, senpai." Akaya's voice matched Yanagi's in tone.
"Me." It felt good to admit it, a weight lifted off of his chest.
Akaya's face loomed in his line of vision, the younger man bracing over him. "I was figuring things out."
"Without help?"
"It was something I had to do on my own."
Yanagi could understand that sentiment. "I would have helped you in any way that I could…"
Akaya's mouth closed over his, hesitant and soft. When Yanagi didn't pull away, there was a soft needy sound, Akaya shifted slightly, the touch of lips turned into an actual kiss. Akaya pulled away long enough to pull off his shirt, Yanagi's hands traced over warm skin feeling the strength in lean muscles.
"I wanted to make sure." Akaya's words brushed against Yanagi's mouth. The younger man's eyes were wide and bright. Yanagi arched into the light touches, squirmed as Akaya's weight settled over him, the skin to skin contact sending electric shocks through his body.
"How long?" It took far too long for Yanagi to form a coherent thought yet alone get the words out, especially when Akaya's teeth scraped along his collar bone. Warm, wet kisses trailed down his chest and torso, and Yanagi knew the answer. He should have seen it earlier- the subtle hints that had been dropped, especially when they were older. The way Akaya had stayed close to him, kept in contact. The nights curled up on the couch together while bad movies played- shy touches, the way Akaya watched him.
Yanagi cried out when Akaya's hand slid into his shorts. Calloused fingers wrapped around his length, stroked slowly, earned soft sounds of approval, pleasure washed over Yanagi, his body oversensitive and needy, cool air caused him to shiver when the shorts were removed, tossed aside. His head pressed against the pillow, hands clutching at the dark mess of curly hair when Akaya teased his mouth over the head of his cock. Yanagi sprawled, Akaya's hands urging his legs apart, fingers stroking lower, teased along the inside of Yanagi's thighs, a light press of a single finger upward. Yanagi clamped a hand over his mouth to muffle the sounds that came from him with the feeling of Akaya's teasing, one wet fingertip pressing just inside.
It had been too long since Yanagi had any sort of intimate contact, and Akaya felt good. The pressure gave way to the pleasure/pain combination of being stretched- Akaya patient but not overly so. Yanagi breath came in sobbing gasps, hips rolling against the fingers buried inside of him. Akaya's mouth hot against his skin, kisses smeared against his jaw line, finally closed over Yanagi's in a harsh possessive kiss.
"Akaya…" half prayer, half admonishment when Akaya's fingers left Yanagi's body. Another searing kiss, and the sensation of being filled as Akaya entered him. Yanagi panted, hands at Akaya's shoulders, nails biting slightly into skin when the younger man started to move. It was slow and purposeful, Yanagi feeling each inch as Akaya thrust into him. Akaya's hands were all over him, fingers skimming over his sides, thumbs sweeping up to toy over his nipples. Yanagi's moans were swallowed easily by Akaya's kisses; he tugged at dark hair, and everything shifted. Akaya's hips slammed against his, the bed groaned as the pace increased, headboard thumped steadily against the wall.
Heat settled low in his stomach, Yanagi angled his hips, friction between their bodies intensifying. Akaya's hand wrapped once more around his length, hand trembled as he stroked at Yanagi once more. Yanagi's voice cracked as he came hard with a shout, Akaya's hips driving harder into him. Yanagi felt Akaya shudder, face hidden in the crook of Yanagi's neck as the other man came.
Yanagi panted harshly, not caring that they were both sticky and covered in sweat- arms holding Akaya to him when he collapsed on top of Yanagi. Time seemed to slow to a near standstill, the frantic beat of Akaya's heart echoing his own. Yanagi toyed with dark curls, twisting them around his fingers as he tried to regain control of his breathing.
"Did you figure it out, Akaya?"
Akaya was still draped over him, hot and heavy, harsh breathing beating against Yanagi's neck. Akaya's answer- and the only one that Yanagi figured would be appropriate, was a quick love bite to Yanagi's shoulder.
Pairing: Kirihara/Yanagi
Rating/Contains/Word count: R/sex/3,392
Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I make profit from Prince of Tennis.
Summary: In which Kirihara and Yanagi are involved in a complicated game, and tennis is more than it seems.
Notes: Please let me know your thoughts/constructive crit/comments.
It was an unusually warm spring day, heat radiated from the pavement in nearly visible waves. Classes were still in session as Yanagi walked down to clay tennis courts, nets in hand. The original coach, who had lost interest in the team in the development phase had declared it Yanagi's 'problem' and left him to deal with it. Yanagi knew that was because he had offered solutions to the glaring problems with the team construction and training schedule. After his first practice as coach most hopefuls on the team had left, unaccustomed to actually participating and doing drills.
The remaining students organized a propaganda onslaught that would have impressed even the most proficient politician, and enough interest had been raised that the school board had allowed him to hold a second round of try-outs. With an hour to go before classes let out, he knew he had too much work to get done, but also knew that he could easily accomplish it. The courts were well maintained, and still relatively new. The fence rattled when the gate clattered closed behind him. Memories came back to him as he fussed with the bulky nets, stringing them up, the metal posts warm to the touch from the afternoon sun. If he closed his eyes he could hear the sound of tennis balls hitting the courts, and the sounds of drills being counted out. He stood center court, just for a moment and felt invincible once again.
Yanagi was jolted out of his reverie when the bell chimed, alerting students and staff to the school day's end. It didn't take long at all for the courts to be filled with young students hoping to join the tame, as well as the handful of players who had remained on. A few hours later, Yanagi could see the beginnings of a good team that, with additional training would become a great team.
He was on his way home, satchel stuffed with papers to grade, when his cell phone rang. Crammed on the train with other work weary travelers, he struggled a bit to retrieve his phone. "Hello Sadaharu."
"Renji, would you be interested in joining me for drinks this evening?"
Sadaharu sounded as though he was calling from the train as well. "I'm assuming we're going out." There was no way that he would allow Sadaharu to mix anything consumable.
"I'll meet you at Yuri's bar in half an hour?"
Yanagi knew the bar, a hole in the wall that was frequented by other members of the academic community. "I'll see you then."
~*~
The building was crowded, Yanagi securing a spot for himself and Sadaharu right against the bar. The tv was blaring, overwhelming press of people almost welcome after being surrounded by junior high students. Sadaharu slid onto the stool next to him, motioning for a drink for himself, a refill for Renji's. After university, Sadaharu had secured a position as a research assistant at the university laboratory. Yanagi had found that he enjoyed working with the younger students, his preference for mathematics and statistics opening up many jobs for him. Shortly after graduating he had taken a teaching job at a newer junior high.
News reports gave way to sports announcements, scores from the amateur tennis circuit scrolling along the bottom as the reporter discussed the upcoming professional tournament. Sadaharu nudged him, "Kirihara isn't playing?"
Yanagi shook his head, "He was injured at the end of last season. Even though he's healed, he hasn't played." In fact Akaya had seemed to drop off the face of the planet. Even Seichii, who had reached out to Akaya's parents had come up empty handed. Yanagi had been at the match, witnessed the fall and resulting knee injury. He had encouraged the younger man through the intense physical therapy sessions, and kept him company as Akaya recovered.
Conversation switched to work, and Sadaharu's experiments, some of which Yanagi questioned the validity of funding. Eventually the bar cleared out, and Yuri, proprietor and bar tender was cleaning up around the pair. Yanagi paid their tab, making sure that Sadaharu got into a cab, and safely on the way home. The bar wasn't too far away from his own apartment, Yanagi opting to walk- take the chance to clear his mind.
Akaya had spent a few weeks at his apartment while the younger boy was recuperating- the physical injury had healed, it was more of the mental block that he had created for himself. Sadaharu's comments had brought those weeks back to him, most of them were spent curled up on the couch with Akaya watching countless horrible movies that the younger boy was so fond of. Yanagi had gotten used to coming home to someone- and it had been a shock when he had come home to an empty apartment. He had called when he realized Akaya hadn't gone out with friends, each time only getting a voice mail system.
The initial sting of separation had faded, though at times, like now, it came back to him. Yanagi dropped his key on the counter calling out to the empty apartment. His answering machine blinked, indicating messages. One from his mother, another from his sister, two hang ups and the last message on the machine took a few moments to kick in.
"Hey Yanagi-senpai…" a long pause, Yanagi's attention focused on the small machine next to his keys. "I uh I'm sorry that I just kind of left, I didn't want to make you think I was moving in to stay on your couch" another long pause, Yanagi's heart pounded hard in his chest. "So yeah, I guess I'll see you around…" the machine cut off the rest of the message. It whirled, rewound, and Yanagi reached out to play it again. Akaya's voice stirred something inside him, a part of himself that he had buried away when the younger boy had seemingly disappeared.
Yanagi collapsed onto the couch, head tipped back, eyes closed. Akaya's voice echoed in his head, and he could still feel the other man in the apartment with him.
Akaya had been released from the hospital a few weeks beforehand, and had already started meeting with a physical trainer. After those sessions, he had somehow ended up at Yanagi's--mainly claiming that his own apartment was too far away and it hurt to stand so long on the train after a session. Yanagi had welcomed the company, he had missed their friendship when Akaya had gone into the professional tennis world.
He, and the others who had played with Akaya had visited him in the hospital after the injury and surgeries. There had been quiet tears, and demands to know if statistically he would play again--Yanagi had done his best to reassure the Akaya that he would not only play, but reclaim his status.
Normally on the days when Akaya came over, they took over the couch and watched movies. This time however, Akaya had pressed himself to Yanagi's side. The movie was one they had seen before, and Yanagi wasn't really focused on it, but rather the way Akaya seemed to move closer. Hesitant touches, the quick dry press of lips to his jaw, and when Yanagi didn't pull away--the press of lips against his own. One-or both of them, Yanagi wasn't sure had made some sort of sound, given permission. They had spent the afternoon wrapped up in each other. Akaya in his lap, hands all over Yanagi, mouths meeting again and again.
Neither asked why, and neither offered an explanation.
~*~
The next day, Yanagi struggled to stay awake, and stay on track. He had trouble getting to sleep, toying over and over in his mind Akaya's motivation for calling, or the meaning behind it. Distraction carried through lunch, and into the afternoon. He made his way down to the tennis courts, surprised to see the team running through basic drills.
Practice went smoothly, the players picking up drills, and accepting constructive criticism. Halfway through practice Yanagi felt eyes on him. Directing the team to run laps and start cleaning up for the afternoon. He turned to see a familiar figure standing at the fence. Yanagi stared, breath caught in his throat. Akaya was feet away, watching the practice. Yanagi approached the other man, noting the way his fingers were looped through the chain link of the fence, attention on the younger kids who were still struggling with a few swings.
"Akaya." Yanagi was pleased that his voice held steady. The younger man looked well, healthy, taller than in their youth, and grown into his frame.
"Senpai," Akaya pointed to one of the first years. "Why is he trying to use the racket with his right hand when he's obviously a lefty?"
Yanagi knew exactly which player Akaya referenced. "Would you like to correct him?" There was something different about Akaya, and the way he watched the play. Yanagi could feel the want and drive to step back onto the court.
"It's not my job." The grin, mischievous and just shy of being bratty- all too familiar and made Yanagi's stomach flip-flop.
"Want a match?" Yanagi noticed the bag left on the bleachers, far too nice, too professional to belong to one of his students.
Akaya shook his head, grin softening just a touch. "Not today, senpai."
A squabble between two second years drew Yanagi's attention away from Akaya, and by the time it was sorted out, the other man was gone.
~*~
The skies opened up as Renji stepped onto the school grounds. Students and teachers alike dashed for the cover of the building, leaving in their wake puddles and trails of water as they went to various classrooms. The lessons seemed to stick, most of the students paying attention, and being more responsive than normal. During lunch a few of the students who joined the tennis club, dropped by to see if practice was going to happen-since it hadn’t rained since the morning lessons. He sent the students on their way with the promise that he’d go down and check during his planning period, and determine whether they would do actual practice or watch videos of opposing teams.
The path down to the courts squished under his shoes, Renji almost slid once or twice, but managed each time to regain his composure. He stopped short at the gate to the courts, seeing a figure on the bench, his back to Renji. The man bounced a tennis ball against the frame of his racket, the rhythm carrying through the courts.
“Akaya,” The gate creaked under his hand as Renji entered the courts. It had been weeks since he had seen Akaya. There had been a few stunted phone calls, rambling phone messages, on both their parts, and missed meetings.
“Yes, senpai?” Kirihara turned to face him, head tipped, eyes bright and tracking. tap, tap, tap the ball bounced on the frame of the racket, rapidly; Renji’s attention diverted by the movement.
"Why are you here?"
Tap, tap, tap, thump, tap, tap, tap Akaya had taken to bouncing the ball on the strings, rotated the racket only to take it back to the frame. "I wanted to observe practice." A pale imitation of Renji, paired with a lopsided smile. "Is that alright, senpai?"
Belatedly, Renji noticed the other racket propped up against the bench. The extra balls lined up next to Akaya, the way the younger man watched him with such open interest and almost a hunger in his eyes. "Do you want to play?" There was an hour before classes officially let out. They could complete a set and have the courts set up for practice before any students joined them.
In a fluid motion, Akaya rose from the bench, and extended the other racket to him. 'Turned his racket again, and lightly hit the ball to Renji, who caught it on reflex alone. "You can serve, senpai." There was a bite to Akaya's words, a tension in his shoulders that hadn't been there before.
Renji left his jacket along the back of the bench, loosened his tie. Each movement was deliberate and paced, mind recalling both statistics from Akaya's matches in the professional circuit and the information from their previous games. By the time he took his position on the court, Akaya was bouncing on his heels, face calm despite the inability to stand still.
Renji served, the sound of the ball connecting with the gut of the racket a sharp sound. It flew over the net low and fast, only to be returned just as rapidly by Akaya. They rallied before Akaya took the point, then the match. He watched as the younger man took position to serve. Twist serve, Renji's body moved on it's own accord, returning the serve.
He was out of practice at playing at this pace and it showed. He was out of breath, feet and arms heavy, some shots returned flat. Shots Renji had developed while in middle school and high school seemed beyond his grasp. Though, the longer the rallies began to stretch out longer, his returns became cleaner, sharper. Something in the back of his mind had woken up, shaken off the layers of dust from playing for 'fun'. Renji took the second, and third game. Sweat soaked the back of his work shirt, his tie had been removed to join the suit coat, his shoes were caked with clay from the courts. He could hear Akaya's breathing, harsh and ragged.
All distractions melted away, the stress of the job, the confusion and frustration of the cat-and-mouse game Akaya had somehow drawn him into. The ball slammed into the opposite court with a satisfying sound, Renji took the game and match. They came to the net, shook hands. Renji looked Akaya over, took in the satisfied look on the younger man's face. Both were drenched with sweat and slightly unsteady on their feet. His attention dropped to the scar tissue on Akaya's knee, that disappeared under the hem of the dark shorts.
"It's fine."
Renji met Akaya's eyes, earnest and open. "Make sure you stretch." It was then, that Renji was acutely aware that they were being watched. He turned to see the young tennis team pressed against the fence, fingers looped through the chain link.
"Yanagi-sensei…" One of the children finally spoke out.
"Have fun, senpai." The wickedness was back full force as Akaya let go of his hand. "I'll see you soon."
~*~
Yanagi had caught glimpses of Akaya in the following weeks. Occasional conversation that left him wanting more, wanting something. Closure or furthering of whatever it was they had- he wasn't exactly sure what he desired most. School and practice had ended, Yanagi had finished his work, planning on taking his day off completely to himself. He had slept in, remaining in bed even while awake.
He tensed, hearing the lock switch, door open. Yanagi could hear the person walking through his apartment.
Akaya leaned against the doorframe of his bedroom. "Senpai, don't you ever answer your phone?"
Yanagi watched as the younger man walked into his bedroom, slightly amused that even know Akaya called him senpai despite their history. The bed dipped, blankets shifting as Akaya crawled in next to him.
"I've had a busy week." Yanagi moved, made room for the other man. "Not to mention the team's first match."
"Which they won, I'm glad that brat started hitting using the correct hand." Akaya interrupted him. Yanagi was distracted by the line of heat, the slight press of a lean body against his. He could feel the vibrations in Akaya's chest when he spoke, the dark curls in stark contrast to the bright white of Yanagi's pillow cases. The bed moved again, Akaya moved onto his side, propped up, watching Yanagi.
Yanagi licked his lips, mouth dry, staring at the ceiling rather than the man who only pressed closer. "Where have you been Akaya. We've been worried."
"We've? Or you, senpai." Akaya's voice matched Yanagi's in tone.
"Me." It felt good to admit it, a weight lifted off of his chest.
Akaya's face loomed in his line of vision, the younger man bracing over him. "I was figuring things out."
"Without help?"
"It was something I had to do on my own."
Yanagi could understand that sentiment. "I would have helped you in any way that I could…"
Akaya's mouth closed over his, hesitant and soft. When Yanagi didn't pull away, there was a soft needy sound, Akaya shifted slightly, the touch of lips turned into an actual kiss. Akaya pulled away long enough to pull off his shirt, Yanagi's hands traced over warm skin feeling the strength in lean muscles.
"I wanted to make sure." Akaya's words brushed against Yanagi's mouth. The younger man's eyes were wide and bright. Yanagi arched into the light touches, squirmed as Akaya's weight settled over him, the skin to skin contact sending electric shocks through his body.
"How long?" It took far too long for Yanagi to form a coherent thought yet alone get the words out, especially when Akaya's teeth scraped along his collar bone. Warm, wet kisses trailed down his chest and torso, and Yanagi knew the answer. He should have seen it earlier- the subtle hints that had been dropped, especially when they were older. The way Akaya had stayed close to him, kept in contact. The nights curled up on the couch together while bad movies played- shy touches, the way Akaya watched him.
Yanagi cried out when Akaya's hand slid into his shorts. Calloused fingers wrapped around his length, stroked slowly, earned soft sounds of approval, pleasure washed over Yanagi, his body oversensitive and needy, cool air caused him to shiver when the shorts were removed, tossed aside. His head pressed against the pillow, hands clutching at the dark mess of curly hair when Akaya teased his mouth over the head of his cock. Yanagi sprawled, Akaya's hands urging his legs apart, fingers stroking lower, teased along the inside of Yanagi's thighs, a light press of a single finger upward. Yanagi clamped a hand over his mouth to muffle the sounds that came from him with the feeling of Akaya's teasing, one wet fingertip pressing just inside.
It had been too long since Yanagi had any sort of intimate contact, and Akaya felt good. The pressure gave way to the pleasure/pain combination of being stretched- Akaya patient but not overly so. Yanagi breath came in sobbing gasps, hips rolling against the fingers buried inside of him. Akaya's mouth hot against his skin, kisses smeared against his jaw line, finally closed over Yanagi's in a harsh possessive kiss.
"Akaya…" half prayer, half admonishment when Akaya's fingers left Yanagi's body. Another searing kiss, and the sensation of being filled as Akaya entered him. Yanagi panted, hands at Akaya's shoulders, nails biting slightly into skin when the younger man started to move. It was slow and purposeful, Yanagi feeling each inch as Akaya thrust into him. Akaya's hands were all over him, fingers skimming over his sides, thumbs sweeping up to toy over his nipples. Yanagi's moans were swallowed easily by Akaya's kisses; he tugged at dark hair, and everything shifted. Akaya's hips slammed against his, the bed groaned as the pace increased, headboard thumped steadily against the wall.
Heat settled low in his stomach, Yanagi angled his hips, friction between their bodies intensifying. Akaya's hand wrapped once more around his length, hand trembled as he stroked at Yanagi once more. Yanagi's voice cracked as he came hard with a shout, Akaya's hips driving harder into him. Yanagi felt Akaya shudder, face hidden in the crook of Yanagi's neck as the other man came.
Yanagi panted harshly, not caring that they were both sticky and covered in sweat- arms holding Akaya to him when he collapsed on top of Yanagi. Time seemed to slow to a near standstill, the frantic beat of Akaya's heart echoing his own. Yanagi toyed with dark curls, twisting them around his fingers as he tried to regain control of his breathing.
"Did you figure it out, Akaya?"
Akaya was still draped over him, hot and heavy, harsh breathing beating against Yanagi's neck. Akaya's answer- and the only one that Yanagi figured would be appropriate, was a quick love bite to Yanagi's shoulder.