Shinjo leaned back against the cool tiles and carefully wrapped his fingers around his dick.
His breath was coming in short bursts, muscular chest rising and dropping quickly.
His long legs were splayed, one foot planted, knee bent, the other one straight out.
He was still dirty and sweaty, elbows scraped from training, muscles aching from hundred extra swings.
Gingerly he tightened the circle of his fingers and bit his lower lip.
An upwards stroke with a soft turn of the wrist made him swallow a groan.
Blood pulsed in his ears, the vein against his palm beating in tune.
He couldn‘t hear the ruckus of the others anymore, probably all already done and gone.
And with them their Captain.
Shinjo grunted, his hand involuntarily speeding up, his mind playing a mixture of real and made-up memories unbidden.
Mikoshiba with tears in his eyes, cheering his teammates on.
Mikoshiba sleeping in class.
Mikoshiba putting an arm around Shinjo‘s shoulders and giving them a good squeeze.
Mikoshiba in Shinjo‘s arms, sweat mingling and breath heaving.
Mikoshiba cowering against the club house‘s door, fear in his large eyes.
Shinjo cursed and pulled his hand away from his dick. Rubbed his temples, dragged a hand down his face and pulled both knees tight against his chest.
Would that never stop biting him in the ass?
Would he ever feel like he was a true part of their hard-won team?
Would he ever stop beating himself up about treating Mikoshiba as nothing more than a doormat, a punching bag?
His head connected harshly with the white tiles and he bit his lip again, face buried in his hands.
He was half on his feet when he remembered the fact that his dick was still rock-hard, bobbing gently with the movement.
He cupped it in a protective hand and stayed awkwardly bent at the waist, one hand against the tiles.
His eyes met Mikoshiba‘s.
Mikoshiba‘s head was tilted to one side, only his upper body visible in the crack of the door.
„You‘re still here? Are you okay? I heard a weird noise...“ Mikoshiba made to shove the door open all way and Shinjo scowled habitually. The hand against the tiles formed a fist.
„What do you want?“
It came out sharper than intended and Shinjo bit his lip as Mikoshiba froze in his tracks.
A moment of awkward silence made Shinjo painfully aware of his throbbing dick.
Of the thoughts he had entertained just a moment ago.
„Are you really okay? You look a bit flushed. Did you catch a cold?“
Mikoshiba swiftly walked over the wet tiles, slippers loud in the puddles.
„I thought it was weird you were lagging behind today, but if you did catch a cold, you should take better care of yourself!“
Mikoshiba‘s hair was still wet from his shower. There was a red scrape on his cheek from a slide gone awry.
Shinjo swallowed the urge to gently press a thumb to it.
„I‘m good. Just...“ He looked away, hand absentmindedly rubbing against his pulsing dick. A split-second after the action he hated himself for it.
The groan was unnaturally loud in the tiled room.
Mikoshiba froze in his tracks again, this time just a few steps away from Shinjo.
Why coudln‘t it have been Aniya or Wakana or anybody else, really?
Why was it always Mikoshiba who finished everything up?
Shinjo felt the dark eyes on him like a brand.
His chest flushed, his knees shook and with a shuddering gasp he dropped his hand away from his dick.
He didn‘t close his eyes, instead he stared at the blue tips of Mikoshiba‘s slippers and briefly wondered why he wasn‘t wearing his sneakers.
Then he heard Mikoshiba take in a breath and the feet moved.
Not in the direction Shinjo would have guessed, though.
One tile forward. One tile closer to Shinjo.
He could smell the mint in Mikoshiba‘s shampoo.
He felt the heat rising from Mikoshiba, muscles still warm from training, adrenaline probably still pumping.
Shinjo felt the close presence of another body like a shock, skin prickling and heart thundering away.
His head jerked up when a hand cupped the side of his face in a featherlight grip.
Mikoshiba looked straight at him, cheeks burning, mouth set in an almost grim line. There were tears in his eyes.
„I-is that...“ Mikoshiba swallowed heavily.
His hand was shaking against Shinjo‘s skin.
Shinjo couldn‘t help but cover Mikoshiba‘s smaller hand with his own, pressing a thumb against the rapid pulse in Mikoshiba‘s wrist.
Mikoshiba‘s voice was uncommonly rough. „Bec-cause of... o-of...“
This time Shinjo closed his eyes and nodded once. „Because of you.“
It felt cathartic, actually.
Like hitting his first pitch for the sake of the team.
Like a bird taking flight again, after an oil-spill.
Shinjo briefly imagined this was what taking a first breath must feel like. Or maybe dying.
Then he opened his eyes again and watched Mikoshiba study the lines of his body.
Down his throat, over the stark lines of his clavicle.
Down the dip of his sternum, the muscle in his arms, his abs.
The chords around his hips.
The curve of his thighs.
And then, Mikoshiba‘s ears now burning too, he finally looked at Shinjo‘s purpling, pulsing erection.
Shinjo groaned, knees buckling, balls pulling tight and he spilled an embarassing orgasm over his dick.
There wasn‘t even enough pressure behind it to make it do anything else but pour seemingly endless out of him.
The semen was scalding on his skin and Shinjo hissed, lungs opening with a gasp of breath.
„S-sorry.“ Shinjo gingerly loosened the death-grip he had subconsciously gotten on Mikoshiba‘s arms. „Fuck.“
He wiped sweat from his upper lip and staggered a half-step back, tiles cold against his back.
Peered at Mikoshiba through his wet eyelashes and saw him cover his mouth with a shaking hand. There were two white drops on his left slipper.
Shinjo turned around and flicked the overhead shower on, ice cold water beating on his shoulders. He grit his teeth and dropped his forehead against the tiles.
The door closed almost soundlessly.
The next morning Shinjo was late on purpose.
Just so that Mikoshiba couldn‘t confront him before classes started.
He silently hoped, thanks to the small idiot‘s weird sense of honour, that he wouldn‘t talk to Shinjo in front of the others.
Or maybe just not at all.
Mayumi-Sensei threw him a dirty look when he opened the door and Shinjo just sat down in his seat, bag under the desk and hands in his pockets.
He didn‘t care for her stupid English-class.
Hiratsuka and Imaoka weren‘t there yet.
Aniya was reading a skin-mag behind his book, lips pursed and legs crossed at the ankle.
Wakana was doodling in his notebook, cheek resting securely in his left hand.
Sekikawa fast asleep, snoring softly.
Hiyama was staring at Wakana, fingers curled into his palms.
Yufune and Okada were writing messages on their phone underneath their desks, grins getting ever wider.
Toko-chan was flicking through her English book, obviously absentminded.
Mikoshiba was frowning at the blackboard, mouthing the English sentence written there.
Shinjo glanced at it, sighed, and looked out of the window.
Saw Hiratsuka sneak around by the bikes, Imaoka standing a few steps away, face in his hands.
Shinjo smiled faintly and looked to the front of the classroom again.
Caught the last hints of movement from Mikoshiba and frowned.
Kid‘s ears were red.
Aniya hissed at Shinjo from the side and frowned at him. Mouthed an obvious „You okay, man?“
Shinjo jerked his chin at Aniya with a smirk. Aniya flipped him off and very obviously unfolded the centerfold, shiny paper rustling.
A clatter as Mikoshiba rose out of his seat. „Y-yes, Sensei?“
Mayumi-Sensei stood by the blackboard, arms crossed under her chest. Yufune licked his lips and Okada laughed silently.
Sekikawa hit his knee on the underside of his desk as he woke up with a jerk.
Hiyama and Wakana shared a faintly surprised look.
„You are the Captain of the Baseball team, are you not?“
A wonky nod.
Sekikawa cheered weakly, mouth staying open in a jaw-cracking yawn. Okada joined in and Aniya banged his fists on the desk.
„Be quiet, ya shitheads!“ Yufune turned around to them, standing for some reason, one foot on his chair, pointing an accusing finger at Hiyama.
„Mayumi-Sensei wants ta say something, so fuckin‘ listen!“
Hiyama half rose. „Hah!? I didn‘t do shit, ya dickface! Get yer head outta yer ass and sit it the fuck down!“
Yufune looked to Wakana, mouth half-open in a retort, but double-checking with Wakana for some reason.
Wakana just chuckled and flipped Yufune off, uninterested in his and Hiyama‘s little game.
Mayumi-Sensei cleared her throat and Yufune dropped his ass on his chair so hard it had to hurt.
Okada winced in sympathy, Sekikawa laughed.
Mikoshiba turned over his shoulder. „Guys!“
Okada grinned. „Girl!“
Aniya wolf-whistled, wiggled his eyebrows and made a crude gesture.
Shinjo sighed and adjusted his hands in his pockets. „Settle down, you assholes.“
„Ooooh!“ Wakana turned around to Shinjo and mockingly bit his lip. „What, got the hots for Mayumi-Sensei, too, Shinjo? That‘s new!“
Shinjo lifted an eyebrow.
Wakana laughed once more and turned back around. The class quieted down, still unused to Shinjo saying anything at all. Being present.
But Mikoshiba threw him a sheepish glance, mouth quirked into a small grin.
Mayumi-Sensei put her book on her desk. „If you truly are the Captain, Mikoshiba-kun, then I want you to keep your team in line in my class! No more texting!“
Yufune and Okada jerked.
„No more sleeping!“
Sekikawa sheepishly rubbed the back of his head, face a grimace.
„No more reading during my class!“
Aniya lifted both eyebrows, hands in his pockets, skin-mag miraculously gone. The picture of innocence.
„And no being late!“
Shinjo nodded, eyes wandering out of the window again.
Hiratsuka and Imaoka were gone. Probably off to peek into some changing room or other.
Mikoshiba had stiffened more and more with every accusation, and from the looks of it, his spine was steel by now.
He bowed at the waist, almost hitting his head on the table.
Someone called out „Kawato-style!“ and Mikoshiba flushed to the tips of his ears.
„I apologize, Mayumi-Sensei! I will do my best to keep them in line!“
Mayumi-Sensei sighed and picked her book up again.
„Good. I‘ll take your word for it, Mikoshiba-kun.“ She moved back to the blackboard, shoulders set.
„Next time there will be consequences, rest assured.“
Yufune swallowed audibly.
Shinjo sighed and watched Mikoshiba sit again, timidly, trying to take up as little space as possible.
Like a few months back.
He had been that way whenever Shinjo had entered a room.
Sekikawa looked over his shoulder and caught Shinjo‘s eye.
A grin that would have seemed more fitting on a tooth-gapped grade schooler was sent Shinjo‘s way.
Another obvious mouthing. „Don‘t worry! He‘ll be fine!“
Shinjo almost laughed at that.
Mikoshiba had always been fine.
It was the first time since Shinjo had joined the team that he craved a cigarette.
Craved the heat and burn of smoke in his lungs.
The bitter taste of nicotine on his tongue and the warmth between his fingers.
He missed the full feeling it left in his churning stomach and the calm it brought his jittering fingers.
He clenched a tight fist in his pocket, short nails digging into the calloused palm.
Shinjo gently kicked the railing around the rooftop and inhaled deeply.
Kicked again and exhaled slowly.
Opened his fist and watched the red crescent shapes his nails had left fade away to a duller red.
A cold gust of wind reminded him of the coming season and Shinjo turned his back to the school yard.
There was someone by the doors.
Shinjo jerked against the railing and habitually shifted into a provoking stance.
Mikoshiba smiled self-consciously and cleared his throat. „Sorry. I didn‘t mean to spook you.“
Shinjo swallowed and eased out of the aggressive position, shoulders settling into their default line. „There‘s still classes.“
„Kawato-Sensei said it would be okay to step out for a moment.“
Shinjo stayed quiet, heart in his throat.
„I said I had to pee.“ Mikoshiba flushed and rubbed the back of his neck. Scratched at his cheek and winced slightly when he hit the scrape.
Shinjo still wanted to touch it gently. Maybe press a kiss to it.
He looked down at the grey concrete, palms sweaty.
„Sneaky, Captain of the Baseball Team.“
Mikoshiba laughed too loud and stopped aprubtly. Cleared his throat again and then almost ran up to Shinjo in a burst of movement.
Shinjo stayed still. Turned his face into Mikoshiba‘s direction and lifted a brow.
„I-I! I meant to talk to you, Shinjo!“
Here it came.
So this had been his shortlived Baseball-career.
Shinjo looked out at the field and sighed. His eyes felt heavy, his throat was tight.
Mikoshiba grabbed both of his wrists, hands sweaty, callouses rough and dragging on Shinjo‘s skin.
He couldn‘t fight the shiver it chased over his spine.
„I... Should we take this inside? It‘s chilly a-and I‘d hate for you to c-catch...“
Shinjo shook his head. „I‘m fine.“
His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. „Say what you have to say.“
Mikoshiba looked at the roof between their feet. Shinjo followed his line of sight.
Two white drops on the tip of Mikoshiba‘s left slipper.
Shinjo clenched every single muscle in his body and just so managed to keep the gasp contained behind his teeth.
Mikoshiba licked his lips and then tilted his chin up, looking at Shinjo head on.
His dark eyes were warm and alight. They burned Shinjo‘s skin.
„Shinjo! What happened yesterday! What you said yesterday! Was that true?“
That was the Captain‘s voice Mikoshiba used on the field sometimes.
Shinjo swallowed, mouth dry.
Nodded, untrusting of his own voice.
Mikoshiba opened his mouth, cheeks blazing. Closed his mouth. Grinned.
His chin wobbled, his eyes brimmed with tears.
Shinjo wanted to die.
Wanted to grab Mikoshiba, throw him from the roof and jump right after him.
Instead he looked at the field again and smiled against the tears pressing against his eyes.
That small hand was at his jaw again, a rough thumb carefully following the edges of his face to the middle of his chin.
The pad of Mikoshiba‘s thumb rested just below Shinjo‘s lips.
Mikoshiba‘s hand shook.
„What are you doing?“
Shinjo almost didn‘t recognize his own voice.
It was rough, raw.
Brittle in a way it had never been before.
Mikoshiba‘s breath hitched. „I have no idea.“
Shinjo swallowed and looked at Mikoshiba. Really looked at him.
There was no hint of uncertainty in his round face. No fear in his clear eyes.
Only a hint of nervousness in the slope of his mouth. And something unspeakable glowing under his skin.
„Then what are you waiting for?“ Shinjo licked his lips, tongue gently cresting the pad of Mikoshiba‘s thumb.
It tasted salty and faintly metallic.
A strangled sound tore from Mikoshiba‘s throat and he did the unthinkable.
And not at all what Shinjo had imagined.
Not even what he had hoped.
He didn‘t even have the gall to daydream about this.
Mikoshiba‘s lips were chapped and dry.
They were pressed artlessly to Shinjo‘s mouth, the angle weird, thanks to Mikoshiba‘s closed eyes.
Shinjo inhaled sharply through his nose and lifted both hands in something akin to shock.
Mikoshiba stepped closer, chest rubbing up against Shinjo, buttons of their jackets catching and clinking.
After a moment Mikoshiba leaned away and opened his eyes. His cheeks burned a bright red.
Shinjo feared he himself wasn‘t looking much better.
„Sorry. I never kissed anyone before.“
And that was such an undeniably Mikoshiba thing to say that Shinjo couldn‘t help but laugh.
Softly, warmly. A laugh he normally reserved for the neighbour‘s playful cat, but it was weirdly fitting here.
„I never would have guessed, Kid.“
Mikoshiba flushed and gave Shinjo‘s chest a shove.
„Fuck off, Shinjo! I‘m as old as you are.“
His palms were hot through the layers, heat marks against Shinjo‘s chest.
He wanted more of it.
Grabbed Mikoshiba‘s wrists before he could pull his hands back and surged forward, pressing a kiss to Mikoshiba‘s open mouth.
The angle was much improved now, their noses carefully rubbing up against each other, their chapped lips catching.
Shinjo closed his eyes, thumbs pressing into Mikoshiba‘s wrists and gingerly touched his tongue to the tip of Mikoshiba‘s.
His heart was trying to break his ribs. His hands were wet with sweat.
Mikoshiba made a soft sound in the back of his throat, warm and surprised. Pleased.
Their tongues carefully touched, sliding wetly against each other.
Slick, hot, perfect.
Shinjo couldn‘t hold back a moan, felt his dick fill with blood, and cursed his weak state of mind.
Mikoshiba got bolder with every passing second, gaining confidence from Shinjo‘s sounds and the hammering of Shinjo‘s heart against his palm.
Wound one of his hands into Shinjo‘s hair at the back of his head and scratched his nails against the scalp.
Shinjo‘s knees went weak and he was glad for the railing pressing into the small of his back.
He broke the kiss with a gasp, lips wet with spit and breath coming in harsh gasps.
„Slow down, Mikoshiba.“
The hand was still buried deep in Shinjo‘s hair, fingers wrapped around his longer, bleached strands.
The slight pull was enough to make his dick fill out completely, tenting out his slacks.
Mikoshiba gasped consecutively, eyebrows drawn and mouth wet and red.
„S-sorry, I just can‘t help myself.“
He pressed still closer, other hand at Shinjo‘s waist, forehead connecting with his collarbone.
„You‘re hard too.“
Almost whispered, voice reverent and raw.
Shinjo jerked and Mikoshiba‘s grip in his hair tightened almost painfully.
His erection rubbed against Mikoshiba‘s hip and this time his knees gave in.
Mikoshiba caught him under the arms, breath escaping him in a soft „Whoof“.
Carefully he got them both seated, Shinjo‘s back up against the railing, their legs tangled.
Shinjo covered his face with both hands, breath moisting his palms. His limbs felt weak, his heart was juddering again.
Mikoshiba stroked the back of his head, chin digging into Shinjo‘s shoulder.
„It‘s okay. Nothing bad to it. Happens. It‘s alright, Shinjo.“
A kiss pressed to Shinjo‘s pierced earlobe.
It made him shiver again, mouth open in a soundless gasp.
„Fuck, I‘m sorry! I didn‘t know! Ah, fuck.“
Mikoshiba was trying to untangle their limbs, but Shinjo grunted, arms coming around Mikoshiba‘s shoulders and pressing him tight against his own chest.
„Stop. Just. Stop.“
It was the second time he had embarassed himself so.
If there ever was a third time the two of them were alone somewhere he would have to take extra care so it didn‘t become a pattern.
They sat atop the roof, wrapped up in each other, until the bell rang and laughter erupted all over the school.
Laughter, cheers, shouts.
The usual after-last-period-noise.
Shinjo let go of Mikoshiba and together they rose.
Walked together to the door, down the stairs.
On the landing, half a flight of stairs away from the next hallway, Mikoshiba grabbed Shinjo‘s wrist.
Shinjo smiled, stepped back up on the landing and nodded.
„Yeah. Wanna come to my place after practice?“ His cheeks were red.
Mikoshiba‘s were redder. His smile was blinding, shy, nervous, excited.
All at once.
„Yeah. I‘d like that.“
Shinjo gave his fingers a squeeze. Mikoshiba squeezed back.
„Then you go ahead, Captain. I gotta hit up the loo.“
Mikoshiba laughed, flushed and hurried down the stairs. Called from the next flight of stairs.
„Oh, and Shinjo?“
He leaned over the banister and raised a single brow.
„Don‘t be late!“
Mikoshiba threw a wave at him and dashed down the stairs.
Shinjo smiled faintly to himself and ignored the half-scared, half-questioning stares from the other students in the hallway.
Closed the door to the loo behind himself and smelled his hands.
They smelled faintly like iron, dust and mint mingled with sweat. Shinjo smiled again and took a piss.
He grinned at Mikoshiba in the club house as they got into uniform.
Sekikawa raised both brows and Mikoshiba shook his head, face not flushed more than usual.
They walked home together, half a foot of space between them.
Mikoshiba was talking animatedly, gesticulating, imitating swinging a bat with vigor. His lower lip jutted out and his brows set in a stormy line, the image capture of Aniya hitting a ball.
Shinjo, hands in his pockets, upper buttons of his jacket undone, sweat still cooling on his skin, laughed and was plesantly surprised when Mikoshiba looked at him with a beaming smile, cheeks a warm red.
Shinjo brushed Mikoshiba with his shoulder and Mikoshiba gently shoved back, laughing again.
They took Shinjo‘s usual shortcut down an alley and up a flight of narrow stairs. A small group of thugs blew cigarette smoke in their direction and Shinjo spared them a cold glare.
Their shoes were loud on the stairs.
Mikoshiba gave Shinjo an exasperated smile.
„Was that necessary? I‘m sure they wouldn‘t have done anything.“
„Old habits die hard.“ They turned a corner.
„And as Wakana always says: I hate being disrespected.“
Mikoshiba hummed, mouth soft in a smile and Shinjo was gutpunched by the sudden desire to kiss him again.
He exhaled softly, cracking his neck left and right. Licked his lips, fingers itching for a cigarette.
Or a fight.
Or warm skin under his palm.
„Ain‘t far now.“
Mikoshiba shrugged. „Could be another two hours walking like this and I wouldn‘t mind.“
Just as he had finished that sentence he ducked his head and cleared his throat.
Shinjo looked over, flattered and faintly amused.
„Thanks. I guess.“
A weak laugh and Mikoshiba kept quiet until Shinjo stopped them in front of a two-story house. Cookie-cutter. There were new flowers on the windowsill of the kitchen, courtesy of his mother.
„My parents won‘t be home til eight.“ Shinjo shoved the gate open, hinges creaking the same as always.
Mikoshiba dithered a bit by the gate, and then followed in a burst of movement, arms swinging by his side.
Shinjo waited by the door for him, unlocked and let Mikoshiba go in first.
Another one of those careless smiles Mikoshiba always tossed over his shoulder.
This one hit just as well as all the others before had.
They kicked their shoes off, Mikoshiba carefully aligning them with the row of shoes by the wall.
Shinjo left his astray.
Shinjo nodded and walked up the stairs. Mikoshiba followed on light feet.
His socks were dark green.
Mikoshiba closed the door to Shinjo‘s room behind himself and smiled aimlessly at the room at large.
„It‘s just like I pictured it.“
Shinjo looked at his room with raised brows. His desk by the window, the shelf above it, school books spread on it.
His bed tucked into the corner of the room, another shelf above that, manga and novels interspersed.
The closet next to the door, bursting with his clothes.
His bookshelf, filled with more novels.
A small assortment of pillows around a low table.
There were magazines and books scattered on the low table, a cold mug of tea in the middle, with a plastic flower inside.
Shinjo dropped his bag by his desk and shrugged out of his gakuran-jacket.
Flung that over his desk-chair and leaned against the corner of his desk, arms crossed over his chest.
It was the first time that he was nervous inside his own room.
The stuffed lion on the shelf by his bed was suddenly an eyesore.
The Baseball poster on his closet embarassing.
The weights tucked between desk and bookshelf looked sad.
His sheets childish.
Mikoshiba nodded. „I like it.“
He set his bag down by the low table and took his jacket off. Folded it atop his bag. „And it smells like you.“
Shinjo flushed, as if a flick had been switched.
Stumbled over his own feet in his haste to open the window. „Sorry, I didn‘t air my room this morning.“
After jerking off to the memory of Mikoshiba‘s eyes on his dick. After deciding that being late was favorable in this instance.
„No!“ Mikoshiba made a step forward, hand outstretched and face flushed.
Shinjo froze, one hand on the window handle, and bit his lip.
„Please, you don‘t have to, I...“ Mikoshiba cleared his throat. „I like it.“
His hand slipped from the handle and he turned over his shoulder. Mikoshiba was close behind him, hands on Shinjo‘s shirt-clad back, cheeks red.
„You smell nice.“ Mikoshiba cringed and rubbed his cheek, one hand remaining on Shinjo‘s back.
„That‘s a weird thing to say, right? I mean, boys don‘t say that to each other. That‘s something you say to a girl, maybe.“
An awkward pause.
„Right? Not that I‘d know, really, but I don‘t imagine it‘s something you say to a boy. Sorry.“
Shinjo shook his head and turned around.
Mikoshiba‘s hand slid to his waist, pinky on the waistband of Shinjo‘s slacks.
„It‘s a nice thing to say.“ He swallowed. „Thanks.“
Shinjo leaned forward and pressed a faint kiss to the crown of Mikoshiba‘s head.
Mikoshiba ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck. „Thank you, Shinjo.“
They stood like that for a moment, the afternoon sun spotting the room a soft gold, their hands leaving warm spots on each others bodies.
Basking in the presence of another in a way both of them had never done before.
Shinjo felt his jitters subside.
Felt Mikoshiba relax under Shinjo‘s hands on his shoulders.
It was as if the kid grew a good inch, spine straightening and shoulders squaring.
Most people Shinjo knew slouched when they relaxed.
It was just typical that Mikoshiba did the opposite.
Shinjo smiled and gave Mikoshiba‘s shoulders a squeeze.
It made him look up, eyes warm.
Shinjo dropped his chin from its default raised position and smiled a bit wider.
His thumbs brushed the warm skin on Mikoshiba‘s neck.
Mikoshiba nodded, cheeks red. „But let‘s sit down, just in case...“
He trailed off and Shinjo blushed, embarassed by his own weak knees.
They stepped away from each other, briefly held each other‘s hand and then sat down on Shinjo‘s bed.
Mikoshiba scooted back until his back was against the wall.
Shinjo pulled his legs in, folding them underneath himself.
Then he carefully ran a hand over Mikoshiba‘s wrist and up his arm. Muscular, strong and lithe.
Shinjo‘s mouth watered and he swallowed heavily.
Mikoshiba cupped his jaw in the curve of his palm for the third time in two days.
The rough palm curled around Shinjo‘s neck and pulled him in, impatience evident in every jerky movement and every ragged breath.
Shinjo tutted with a jittery grin. „Watch your potty mouth, Mikoshiba.“
„You watch it for me.“
And with that Mikoshiba pressed their faces together, lips dragging over Shinjo‘s mouth, teeth catching and tongue sliding along the inner curve of his lower lip.
Shinjo shivered, hands clenching around Mikoshiba‘s shoulders.
They broke apart for a moment, Mikoshiba frowning at him, both hands in Shinjo‘s hair. When had they gotten there?
„Mhmm. Just never shoulda showed ya that.“
Shinjo rubbed his nose along Mikoshiba‘s jaw and breathed against the soft skin just below his ear. „You‘re a damn natural.“
Mikoshiba laughed breathlessly and rubbed Shinjo‘s scalp.
„Maybe you‘re just irresistible, Shinjo Kei.“
Shinjo hummed, dick already gaining weight in his slacks, hands rubbing aimlessly over Mikoshiba‘s chest.
„Never would have taken you for a charmer.“
Mikoshiba kissed him again.
Shinjo knew no word for it. It was how he imagined what girls called a „sweet kiss“, maybe.
He wanted more of it.
And before he knew it he had straddled Mikoshiba‘s outstretched legs, hands under Mikoshiba‘s shirt and panting open mouthed against his lips.
Mikoshiba‘s hands were clenched tightly around the front of Shinjo‘s shirt, buttons close to popping.
They stopped like that for a breath, acutely aware of their position, of Shinjo crowding Mikoshiba against the wall and at the same time completely in Mikoshiba‘s hands.
Shinjo‘s whole body quaked, dick straining against his zipper for the second time that day.
Mikoshiba licked his lips, looked at Shinjo‘s lap and licked them slower this time.
Shinjo‘s dick pulsed and he checked Mikoshiba‘s lap for a similiar tent.
And damn, that bulge looked painful.
Shit, had he said that out loud?
„But you‘re one to talk, Shinjo. I think your seams may give anytime.“
Mikoshiba chuckled weakly, heart pumping against Shinjo‘s fingers.
Shinjo swallowed, licked his lips with a tongue that felt too huge for his mouth.
Very slowly he pulled his hands out from under Mikoshiba‘s shirt and opened his beltbuckle.
Mikoshiba‘s eyes were burning him again, following his every move with an acute gaze that was normally reserved for when he was trying to plan a new batting order or some other important practice shit that often went straight over Shinjo‘s head.
But it was exhilarating to have that gaze stuck on him.
Shinjo bit his lower lip and popped the button of his slacks.
Opened the zipper slowly and the lessened strain on his erection made him moan, hands rubbing small circles into the meat of his thighs for a moment.
Then he fished his dick out of his shorts and smeared a bead of precome over the exposed head.
„Wow.“ Mikoshiba breathed softly and covered his mouth with both hands for a moment. „Wow, Shinjo.“
Shinjo swallowed and stroked his dick once, from tip to base and back up.
Mikoshiba groaned, head hitting the wall with a thunk.
„Fffffuck. You‘re hot.“
He extended his hands and ran them over Shinjo‘s toned forearms, kneading the muscle exquisitely.
„So fucking hot. Can‘t believe my luck.“
Another breathless laugh and Shinjo bent down to kiss Mikoshiba.
He didn‘t know what else to do.
But Mikoshiba happily leaned into the kiss, letting Shinjo tease the roof of his mouth with a clever twist of his tongue.
Mikoshiba‘s hands aimlessly dragged over every inch of Shinjo he could reach, dipping under his collar, between his buttons and under his shirt.
Tugged quickly on the golden hoop in Shinjo‘s ear and licked the groan from his lips.
Slipped fingers under the waistband of his shorts in the small of his back and a thumb dragged over the line of hair below Shinjo‘s navel.
Mikoshiba panted into Shinjo‘s mouth.
Shinjo nodded, hands busy with unbuttoning Mikoshiba‘s shirt.
Mikoshiba nodded, licked his lips and in the process Shinjo‘s too.
They pressed their foreheads together, sweat dripping into their eyes.
Together they looked down at Mikoshiba‘s shaking hand.
Shinjo pulled his hands back from Mikoshiba‘s opened shirt.
Mikoshiba flexed his fingers the same way he always did before grabbing a bat.
Shinjo smiled nervously and shifted on Mikoshiba‘s thighs.
Mikoshiba‘s fingers brushed over the hot, tight skin of his erection and they both gasped.
Another brush, even lighter, but longer.
Along the vein on the underside and over the crease between Shinjo‘s balls.
He moaned, hands clenching at his sides.
Mikoshiba breathed a soft curse and boldly closed his fingers around Shinjo‘s dick.
Shinjo bucked his hips into Mikoshiba‘s grip, startling him into letting go.
Shinjo grabbed his wrist and angrily smashed that small, rough, warm hand back into his crotch.
It almost hurt.
„Don‘t let go, man. Do you let your dick go when you beat one?“
Mikoshiba laughed nervously and moved his thumb along the broadest part of the head. „Sorry, I got scared. Kinda. Yours is the first cut dick I touch.“
Shinjo slowly moved his hips, rubbing his dick through the dry ring of Mikoshiba‘s fingers.
He groaned through the sensation.
Mikoshiba sounded concentrated, earnest. His brow was furrowed.
Shinjo pressed a sloppy kiss to one of his brows and bucked his hips again.
„Can I see?“
Another jerk of his hips and then he climbed off Mikoshiba‘s legs.
Kicked his slacks off and pulled his shorts off.
The tails of his shirt caressed his dick and Shinjo licked his lips, clenching his fists against the shiver it sent down his spine.
Mikoshiba nodded, got up on his knees and opened his pants.
He looked indecent, kneeling on Shinjo‘s bed, shirt open, fly open and skin flushed and sweaty.
Shinjo thought privately that it was a good look for honest Mikoshiba.
Mikoshiba pulled his pants fully off, bed creaking under him.
He folded his pants and dropped them on the floor.
Gave his erection a good squeeze through his boxers and took them off too.
And Shinjo felt his heart stop for a moment.
His throat was dry.
Shinjo‘s voice was hoarse.
„You‘re hung, dude. Seriously.“
Mikoshiba flushed down to his erection.
His heavy, large erection. Deliciously curved, not as smooth and lean as Shinjo‘s, but a real handful.
And just the slit was poking out of the loose foreskin, milky precome gathered in the folds of skin.
Shinjo licked his lips and carefully touched two fingers to the loose skin.
Shinjo carefully peeled it back, gathered precome easing the way.
„Fuck, do that again.“
Mikoshiba‘s thighs shivered slightly, his hands were clamped around Shinjo‘s shoulders.
Shinjo nodded, bit his lip and slowly repeated the process.
Wiped a thumb over the slit, rubbing the precome over the whole head.
Mikoshiba gave a surprised shout and slapped a hand over his mouth.
„Sorry.“ muffled by his sleeve.
Shinjo kissed Mikoshiba‘s cheek and smiled.
Blinked slowly and let go of Mikoshiba‘s dick.
„Wait a sec.“
He reached into the drawer of his nightstand and pulled his sticky, half-empty lube out of it.
A hand touched the soft skin on the inside of his thigh, a thumb rubbing the crease where his ass joined his thigh.
A forefinger teased his balls gently.
Shinjo spread his legs and groaned, one hand squeezing his pillow, the other the lube.
„Fuck, Mikoshiba, that‘s good.“
Mikoshiba pressed a kiss just above Shinjo‘s collar and panted softly against his skin. „You‘re so warm everywhere. And so soft.“
He sounded dreamy.
„I love that.“
Shinjo shivered and ruffled Mikoshiba‘s hair blindly.
Licked his lips and swallowed heavily.
„Want something even warmer?“
Mikoshiba was fondling his balls with a full hand now.
Sometimes his thumb pressed into Shinjo‘s perineum, making him jolt.
Everytime that happened Mikoshiba dragged his open mouth over the knob of Shinjo‘s spine in his nape.
„What do you mean? What do you got that‘s even warmer than this?“
Mikoshiba rolled Shinjo‘s balls in his hand and Shinjo pressed back into it, moaning wetly.
His head fell back on Mikoshiba‘s shoulder and he pressed a wet kiss to Mikoshiba‘s neck.
Kicked himself mentally and curled his fingers tightly around Mikoshiba‘s dick, giving the heavy erection a gentle squeeze.
Mikoshiba‘s hand stilled and then carefully withdrew from between Shinjo‘s legs.
His other hand eased its hold on Shinjo‘s side.
For a moment Mikoshiba was awfully stiff, and Shinjo was reminded of that breath on the roof, where he had looked at the Baseball-field, thinking that this was it.
He had been wrong then.
What did he go around thinking he was right now?
„You okay, Mikoshiba? Don‘t wanna? We can go on like this, if you‘d rather want that.“ He swallowed the stupid, childish urge to taunt Mikoshiba and simply looked at his earnest face, waiting.
Mikoshiba scratched his cheek. „I never even...“
He looked away, embarassed. Mortified.
Shinjo let go of his dick and turned so that he was kneeling in front of Mikoshiba.
Dropped the lube and gathered Mikoshiba‘s face in both of his palms.
„It‘s okay. It‘s nothing like being with a girl.“
He gingerly kissed Mikoshiba‘s scraped cheek.
„You won‘t hurt me either.“
Shinjo swallowed his stupid, back-breaking pride and looked at his sheets.
„I‘d like to...“, a small pause, „to sleep with you.“
Mikoshiba covered Shinjo‘s hands with his own and kissed his cheekbone.
Leaned against him for a moment, a solid weight, and then nodded.
„I... I‘d like to, too.“
„Hiyama was right.“
Mikoshiba jerked a bit and made Shinjo look at him.
„What the fuck are you talking about.“
Shinjo grinned and kissed Mikoshiba. „When we skipped P.E. the other day the guys started arguing about who‘s the biggest pervert. Hiyama said you were at least in the top five. A real closet pervert.“
Another kiss to Mikoshiba‘s lips.
Mikoshiba laughed, cheeks red, eyes teary.
„You‘re a group of jerks, you all know that, right? And Hiratsuka is definitely the biggest perv!“
Shinjo chuckled and pulled Mikoshiba down on the mattress with him.
„When did you take your shirt off?“
Shinjo dragged a hand over Mikoshiba‘s smooth skin, kissed his breast bone and along his throat.
„When you went through that drawer. What did you get, by the way?“
Mikoshiba was carding his hands through Shinjo‘s hair, absentmindedly rutting his erection along Shinjo‘s thigh.
Shinjo hummed, eyes half-lidded.
Mikoshiba‘s fingers stilled for a moment. Then they resumed their gentle ruffling.
Mikoshiba licked his lips and nodded. „What‘s gonna happen?“
Shinjo sat up, stretching his arms over his head, and fished the lube out from under Mikoshiba‘s ass.
„Never did it with anyone?“
Mikoshiba truthfully shook his head. „Never.“
„Can‘t let the others know you really were a virgin.“
„Watched some porn, though, yeah?“
Mikoshiba settled more firmly into Shinjo‘s pillow. Inhaled the scent from it and Shinjo blushed, his dick jumped happily.
„I did. Never liked it much. It seemed so...“, he waved a hand and frowned, „impersonal, I guess.“
„Know what you mean. Did they do anal, though? In the vids?“
Shinjo flicked the cap of the lube open. Closed it. Flipped it open. Closed it.
Almost as good as playing with a lighter right under someone‘s nose.
Mikoshiba nodded, embarassed.
„I liked that better.“
Shinjo‘s heart throbbed, happily skipping a beat or two.
Maybe this wasn‘t a fluke, for once in his life.
„Did they do prep?“
„No? That guy just flipped the girl and p-plunged right in.“
Shinjo scoffed and squeezed lube into his palm.
Mumbled „I figured as much“ into the pillow, avoiding looking at Shinjo.
Shinjo wiped sweat from his brow and settled back down next to Mikoshiba.
Tucked his knees under his chest and raised his ass in the air.
„Tried playing with yourself, huh?“
Mikoshiba boxed him in the shoulder and nodded, lips pressed tightly together.
Shinjo jerked his head at his own ass.
Raised his lubeslick hand, so the light caught on it.
Then he reached behind himself and carefully spread lube around his hole and down his crack. Squeezed his balls slightly and moaned.
Rubbed his cheek into his pillow and looked at Mikoshiba.
Red cheeks, open mouth, shaking hands. Leaking dick. He looked gorgeous.
„You gotta start slow. One finger.“
Shinjo rubbed his rim, heart fluttering, legs splaying all on their own.
Then he slowly sunk a finger into himself.
It burned a bit, body unaccostumed to the stretch after a few days of no insertions. But nothing he couldn‘t handle.
Nothing that didn‘t make his toes curl and his eyes flutter closed.
Mikoshiba rested a warm, dry palm on his flank, making Shinjo clench around his own finger.
He pumped it in and out a few times and added the second one too fast, hissing through the stretch.
Mikoshiba cupped the back of his neck and pressed a kiss to his shoulder, mouth hot, even through the cotton.
Shinjo smiled sloppily and spread his fingers, panting into his pillow.
„You slowly add fingers, spread and pump, until the muscles loosen and then you slick your dick and then you can plunge in. Ain‘t no quick business, that‘s for sure.“
Mikoshiba made a soft sound and stroked the curve of Shinjo‘s ass with his palm.
Stroked his balls and kissed his shoulder again.
Shinjo clenched around his fingers again, and stretched his throat, keening faintly.
Mikoshiba carefully touched a finger to the spread rim of Shinjo‘s hole.
Shinjo cursed and shivered through an orgasm, hole fluttering around his fingers.
„Oh shit. Sorry. Fuck, I‘m so sorry! I just, I... Sorry.“
Mikoshiba bit his lip contritely and gathered his hands in his lap.
Shinjo moaned and rubbed his forehead against his pillow.
Pumped his fingers a few times more and scissored them, pulling them out like that.
Almost came again.
„It‘s okay. Still good to go.“
He wiped lube off his fingers and pushed himself up to kiss Mikoshiba on the mouth. Sloppy, wet, helpless.
„Still want to?“
Mikoshiba nodded, hands in Shinjo‘s hair again. (Pattern, Shinjo‘s mind helpfully provided.)
Shinjo rubbed his hole as he watched Mikoshiba coat his dick in a generous amount of lube. He‘d have to buy new one soon.
Mikoshiba had one hand around the base of his dick, eyes closed in concentration.
„Which position, Shinjo?“
Shinjo got back on his belly, tucked his legs under him again and spread.
He nodded and Mikoshiba mumbled something.
Then there was a warm palm against his side and the blunt, hot pressure of a dick against his hole.
Shinjo panted, fisted his hands in the pillow and pressed back against Mikoshiba.
There was that suspended moment where he was convinced it wouldn‘t fit.
That it just would not fit.
Then his body gave and Mikoshiba‘s blunt head was inside.
Large. Searing. Everywhere at once.
Shinjo blinked, but he couldn‘t see anything for a breath, lungs scrambling to remember how to work properly and heart pumping overtime.
Then Mikoshiba pressed a kiss to his nape and Shinjo gasped a breath into his lungs.
„Ffffuck, Shinjo. So tight!“
Shinjo reached back blindly and grabbed the back of Mikoshiba‘s thigh. „More.“
Mikoshiba shivered and pressed another bit of his dick into Shinjo.
Shinjo moaned and leaned into Mikoshiba‘s faint thrusts.
They felt like the best thing on earth.
And for a long time they were the only thing there was.
Only the slow back and forth, the constant feeling of getting split open more and more, of baring himself.
Mikoshiba had both his hands in Shinjo‘s shirt, shoving it into his armpits.
His mouth was leaving mark after mark on Shinjo‘s back, until his thighs were flush with Shinjo‘s.
They both stopped, shuddering, breathless, sweat-drenched and scared.
He gasped a breath.
Turned his cheek into his pillow and blinked at Mikoshiba through his lashes.
„Can I turn you around? I‘d like to see your face.“
Shinjo froze, pleasure-addled brain slow on the uptake, but sure that this was something extraordinary.
No one had wanted that before. No one.
He had never done it any other way with a man.
He swallowed heavily.
Mikoshiba rubbed his palm down Shinjo‘s spine.
And just like that Shinjo crumbled.
Ducked his head and nodded, fists clenched so tight his knuckles blanched.
„Pull out for a moment, yeah?“
Mikoshiba nodded, kissed Shinjo‘s nape and slowly pulled out.
His bulbous head made Shinjo clench his teeth and then he was suddenly empty.
A warm hand stayed on Shinjo‘s thigh, rubbing circles into his skin.
Shinjo breathed a „Fine“ and pushed up on his elbows.
Turned around and settled on his back, cheeks a bright red and hands shaking.
„You look a bit pale...“
Mikoshiba bit his lip and then carefully wiped sweat from Shinjo‘s brow with a corner of the blanket.
Shinjo licked his lips and shrugged, trying to look nonchalant, and probably failing.
„Never did it like this.“
There. He said it. Easy as pie.
Something flitted over Mikoshiba‘s face, came back, settled for a moment and was chased off.
Mikoshiba nodded jerkily, jaw set. „A bit. Not only.“
„Needn‘t be. It was hardly with anyone I know.“
Mikoshiba rubbed a careful thumb over Shinjo‘s hole and then slowly slid back inside.
Shinjo squeezed his eyes shut and clamped his hands around Mikoshiba‘s neck.
It was intense like this.
At the same time worse and better.
For a long moment they were quiet, Mikoshiba thrusting long and sweet, Shinjo holding on for dear life, begging that he wouldn‘t spill on the next thrust.
He wanted this to go on forever.
„You said hardly.“
Shinjo moaned, ruffled Mikoshiba‘s hair and blinked sweat out of his eyes.
„You said hardly anyone you know. So you knew someone.“
Now he groaned, pissed, and for the first time Shinjo moved back into a thrust, meeting Mikoshiba halfway and clenching around his dick, so that the slow backwards drag made Mikoshiba curse violently.
„I don‘t want to talk about it. Fair?“
Mikoshiba dropped his head on Shinjo‘s chest and shivered through a shaky nod, voice breaking.
Shinjo hummed. „That‘s a nice tone of voice, Captain.“
„Woah.“ Mikoshiba shivered again
Looked up at Shinjo with wide eyes.
„Say that again.“
Mikoshiba‘s hips jerked, settling his dick deep into Shinjo.
Shinjo blinked the stars out of his vision and was rewarded for that with a stern grip in his hair.
„You like this, yeah?“
This time it was his turn to nod shakily.
Mikoshiba cursed and snapped another fast thrust that made Shinjo positively howl.
On the backwards drag Mikoshiba pulled the slightest bit on Shinjo‘s hair, making Shinjo clench his hole.
On the forwards thrust Shinjo gasped a breathy „Captain“, making Mikoshiba snap his hips, so that the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the space between their pants and moans.
It was filthy.
It was divine.
And a soft kiss to the neck combined with a strong grip on his hair and a snap of Mikoshiba‘s hips had Shinjo shiver.
He dragged his nails down Mikoshiba‘s arms, arched his back and came so hard the semen hit his chest in hot, white drops.
Mikoshiba shifted his grip to Shinjo‘s thighs, spreading them just a notch wider and plunged a series of quick, shallow thrusts into Shinjo‘s gaping hole.
He came right on his backwards drag, head barely inside of Shinjo, semen spilling all over Shinjo‘s ass and sheets.
Mikoshiba leaned his forehead against Shinjo‘s heaving chest and was dragged into a rib-creaking hug.
„Ain‘t no sorry, Captain.“
A weak shiver and Mikoshiba slapped Shinjo‘s arm so hard that it stung. Pleasant.
Shinjo chuckled softly and yawned. Stroked Mikoshiba‘s sweaty back.
„Wanna take a bath?“
Mikoshiba hummed, pressed a kiss to Shinjo‘s clavicle.
„I‘d love to.“
They barely fit in the small tub together, but with Mikoshiba leaning against Shinjo‘s chest, and their legs bent at the knee, they just so fit.
Mikoshiba lazily massaged Shinjo‘s hand, pressing kisses to the callouses then and now.
Shinjo was half-asleep, body aching pleasantly and heart at rest.
„I said what now? What are we gonna do? Are we...“, Mikoshiba swallowed audibly, „You know.“
Shinjo hummed faintly.
„Yeah, I guess so. But only if you want to.“
A few hot tears fell on Shinjo‘s forearm.
„Yeah. I want to.“
Shinjo smiled and dropped his head back against the lip of the tub.
„Wanna tell the guys?“
Water sloshed over the lip as Mikoshiba tried to turn around swiftly.
„What are you talking about?“
„Most of them know I ain‘t into girls. You‘d be new in the equation, but hell. If they talk shit I‘m just gonna remind them who I am.“
Mikoshiba touched a soft hand to Shinjo‘s arm.
„Let‘s... wait, yeah?“
His voice sounded faint, almost scared.
Shinjo shrugged. It was all the same to him.
„All the same to me, Captain.“
„You absolute coathanger.“
Shinjo laughed until his belly ached.
They sat together at lunch, Shinjo listening to Mikoshiba talk about something he‘d seen on TV last night, occasionally offering up a snide comment, that Mikoshiba took with the grace of the long suffering.
Hiyama dropped an arm around Wakana‘s shoulders and gave his left pec a hearty squeeze.
Wakana snorted and pinched Hiyama‘s right nipple. Missed by a good inch.
„You owe me money, King of all Pussies.“
Yufune flipped Hiyama off and went back to stealing Okada‘s lunch.
„Ain‘t official yet, I don‘t owe you shit, fucking pube-face.“
Wakana laughed and elbowed Hiyama in the stomach.
„Heard that? He called ya pube-face!“
He rubbed a thumb through Hiyama‘s stubble and grinned, eyes dark under his lashes.
Hiyama flushed and shoved Wakana in the shoulder.
„Fuck off, dickface. You guys just never saw pubes before, as you poor sods don‘t grow any, to mistake my glorious beard for anything else than that: A beard.“
Sekikawa cackled and went back to ogling a few third year girls on the second-floor balcony, arms crossed on the railing.
Wakana rubbed the beard again and grinned.
„Maybe show me some pubes again and I will see the error of my ways, Hiyama-sama.“
Yufune choked on his stolen lunch and Okada mumbled a „Serves you right“, before kicking him.
Aniya looked up from his phone, only to shake his head and type another message with a lazy smile.
Hiratsuka and Imaoka were down by the bikes, trying some weird shit that involved Imaoka pedaling on a locked up bike and Hiratsuka doing something else that looked faintly embarassing.
It ended in a loud crash that had Mikoshiba look over the railing and groan in exasperation.
Shinjo squeezed his calf with a smile.
„Come on. Finish your lunch, Kid. Ignore them.“
Mikoshiba sat back down and sighed.
„Will they ever grow up?“
Toko-chan smiled and gave Aniya a light kick to the ankle, cheeks ruddy from her dash up the stairs.
„I guess boys will be boys.“
Shinjo muttered „God bless“ and grinned along to Mikoshiba‘s laugh.