Sanayuki Drabble, 534 words (Angst, Sex)
Sanayuki Drabble, 534 words
The first time is right after the Nationals. The bus ride home is stoic and silent. They blame each other, they blame themselves. Sanada thinks If I had used a smash instead. If I hadn’t hit low, that Echizen would have never returned my shot. A thousand reasons fly through his mind and they all feel like excuses.
It isn’t the time to be alone. Yukimura invites Sanada over, hardly more than a glance. Sanada can’t say no. The guilt of the upset stings, and refusing would be one more blow.
Yukimura shuts his bedroom door. Sanada starts to apologize, but Yukimura stops him. “I wasn’t well enough,” he says. He presses Sanada down onto his bed. This close, Sanada can see how thin Yukimura still is, but despite this, he’s strong, he’s heavy when he leans down and presses his mouth to Sanada’s.
Sanada has never done this before. He doesn’t know what to do, but his lips do. He kisses Yukimura back, desperate and sloppy and Yukimura doesn’t pull away.
When they are shirtless and sweaty, kisses dropped over necks and collarbones, Sanada thinks, What if Yukimura’s parents can hear?
Yukimura kisses his ear, his tongue sliding through the conch dips and falls. Sanada shivers when Yukimura whispers, “You think too much, Genichirou.”
***
The first practice after the loss is subdued and hard. The ball machines hum, 10km faster and the intervals 1 second shorter. No one speaks of the Nationals. No one speaks anything more than the score of points across the courts.
Sanada watches Yukimura and remembers the feel of Yukimura’s body over his own. His racket feels heavy in his hand.
Kirihara says, “Yo, fukubuchou Sanada! Stop making moon eyes at the captain!”
Everything comes to a standstill in the eternity before the entire team starts to laugh. Even Yukimura.
Sanada wishes that Kirihara would crawl back under whatever rock he came out from. The shadow from his cap’s brim does nothing to hide the furious red of his face.
***
The first time they have sex, Yukimura’s parents are at work. His sister is at a friend’s house, studying. His family doesn’t like to leave him alone very often, even months after the operation.
They peel their school uniforms off each other and twist and twine in Yukimura’s narrow bed. Sanada is scared. Yukimura scares him, one look and he feels undone and more naked than skin alone.
He listens to the moans he makes, to the noises Yukimura makes. He listens to their bodies, touching everywhere, testing and trying. He tries not to think, to let his body answer yes yes yes this is what I want. Sometimes spoken words aren’t necessary. The lower Yukimura’s hands strive, calloused from tennis, the more he grips his fingers into Yukimura’s shoulders, afraid he’ll shatter him, the more and more he wants this.
Sex is a better high than even tennis. Yukimura is beautiful when he comes, his eyes sharp and alive. Sanada arches his back and gasps, unable and unwilling to look away and he falls hard, shuddering underneath him.
When Yukimura closes his eyes and whispers, “Genichirou,” Sanada understands that it was never about winning or losing.