Mikoshiba trembles before him, eyes wide and breath escaping rapidly from between his chapped lips, but his stance is strong, determined, and Shinjo can’t help but to step closer, to feel the other’s body heat, hands rising to grip Mikoshiba’s shirt in his fists.
“Sh-shinjo, I told you before,” Mikoshiba stutters, “not in the clubhouse!”
Shinjo smirks and leans in close, staring straight into the other’s eyes. “Of course, Captain.”
Mikoshiba’s tongue peaks out to wet his dry lips, either in nervousness or excitement, Shinjo can’t really tell, but he can’t resist the temptation either way, so he moves forward the last few centimeters between them to taste for himself.
Outside, leaning casually against the clubhouse door, Aniya snickers wildly to himself.