
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/228415.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Tennis_no_Oujisama_|_Prince_of_Tennis
  Relationship:
      Sanada_Genichirou/Yukimura_Seiichi/Yanagi_Renji/Kirihara_Akaya
  Character:
      Sanada_Genichirou, Yukimura_Seiichi, Yanagi_Renji, Kirihara_Akaya
  Stats:
      Published: 2007-05-22 Words: 1642
****** Actualization ******
by starfishing
Summary
     If his sempai ever walked in on what he's about to do, they'd never
     let him hear the end of it.
Akaya leans away from the showerhead to listen to the sounds beyond the running
water. Silence. He's the only one there, he realises; it is late, after all.
All the better. If his sempai ever walked in on what he's about to do, they'd
never let him hear the end of it.
Back still to the curtain, Akaya breathes deep, feeling a little shudder inside
of him as he wraps one hand around his cock. His skin prickles with the
sensation as he pumps languidly, brushing his thumb over the head of his cock
and letting his mouth fall open.
He's been half-hard since he caught Yukimura trying to conceal a hard-on
earlier, courtside. It had been unbelievable at first — like a dream come true,
most literally. He'd had to look three times before he believed it, each glance
less discreet than the last. But there it was, Yukimura's eyes fixed on
Sanada's thighs as he stretched, and his arousal straining at the front of his
thin shorts even as he crossed his legs carefully to hide it, and when Akaya
had looked up, they'd locked eyes, and his captain smiled.
A gasp, swallowed by the shower water, escapes Akaya's throat as he squeezes
the base of his cock, pulling on it slowly. He moves to brace himself against
the wall with his free hand, hanging his head and letting himself pant, nerves
singing with every stroke.
"Akaya."
He gasps again, shocked at the voice and the jolt that ran through him at the
sound of it, and looks over his shoulder, wide-eyed. In the doorway is Sanada,
in all his naked glory — with a fucking hat on, Akaya thinks, and he'd laugh if
he weren't rooted to the spot in mortification and terror.
"You're still here." It's hardly a question, which is lucky, since Akaya
doesn't think he could have answered it if it were. It's a statement, laced
with disapproval, no less, and edged with the hard tones of Sanada's fukubuchou
voice. Akaya can feel the blood rushing to his face, and wonders where the hell
his body got so much blood, because his hard-on is as persistent as ever,
pulsing more heavily with every second that Sanada stands there.
While he struggles for control and presses the palm of his other hand to the
wall as well, fingers twitching, Akaya finds to his horror that his eyes are
drawn inexorably southward, until they rest, despite his efforts, on the
proudly-standing arousal rising from Sanada's crotch. Akaya's face flushes
darker and his cock gives a sudden throb, making him rake his nails along the
tiles in a desperate attempt not to touch himself.
Another voice rings from behind Sanada. "Go on, Gen'ichirou." Akaya suddenly
wants nothing more than to die. Yukimura — Yukimura-buchou is right there, and
Akaya was just thinking about being fucked into a bed by those same hips that
are now sliding past Sanada's, sporting an erection of their own.
Akaya's sanity takes hold, and he tears his eyes away, looking back at the
tiled wall and swallowing hard. His arousal hasn't abated in the least; his
slit is oozing precum and every whispered word from behind him is making his
heart beat in the head of his cock. He could just reach down and grab it; God
knows it would be over in a second, and maybe they wouldn't even notice — but
Akaya is seized with a vivid vision of himself, hand gripping his cock, doubled
over and barely holding himself up on the wall, crying out for his buchou.
Oh, they would notice.
A third voice has joined them now, and before Akaya can even think of who it is
(though he knows), a pair of hands is on his shoulders, and his skin is on fire
under the now-lukewarm water.
"Akaya," Yukimura chides gently. "You know better than to be doing that in the
showers."
Akaya, breath ragged, answers, "Y-yes, buchou." It's the only thing he can
think of to say.
"After all," his captain continues, and Akaya can hear the smile and the
mocking lilt in his voice, the way it sounds when he's talking to Atobe Keigo,
when he's only pretending to be nice, oh God, no — "if you get off after
practice, the rest of us deserve to, as well."
Just as abruptly, Yanagi is there, a looming presence in the background of
Yukimura's sinister overture.
"We couldn't have that happening every day, now, could we, Akaya?"
Akaya opens his mouth, stammers and gapes — Sanada's hand is on his cock now,
rough and firm, and Akaya can't think through the haze of pleasure. He's riding
the brink when he hears Yukimura issue a sharp reprimand, and Sanada's hand
disappears. Akaya is left to press against the wall and seek release, but
Yanagi's strong grip holds him back from even that.
He's moaning at the back of his throat, low and desperate, when Yukimura gently
presses his knee to the back of Akaya's, collapsing him to the floor without
effort. He hits his knees on the tile and the cool spray from the shower begins
to soak into his hair.
Yukimura's hands are on his shoulders again, bending him forward until he's
supporting himself with trembling arms. A few moments pass, Akaya's pulse
pounding in his ears, and then a cool, slick finger touches the small of his
back and slides down, swiping between his asscheeks to graze his entrance. It's
a shot straight to his cock, drawing forth a throaty moan, and Akaya's arms
give way. He presses his cheek into the wet tile, closing his eyes tightly
against the water splashing off the floor, trying not to think too hard about
the fact that Yukimura is touching him, for fear that he'll come then and
there. This is the best shower he's ever had, and he doesn't want it to end too
soon.
The finger presses into him, a tight fit, but not yet painful, and works its
way slowly in and out, twisting in the snug space. Beyond the water in his ears
and his own groans echoing off the walls, Akaya hears Yukimura say, "Don't
touch him." Sanada says something too deep in timbre for Akaya to understand,
and Yukimura only replies, "This is enough."
It is enough, more than enough. Akaya arches his back, pushing himself against
Yukimura's hand as he works in a second finger. He makes pleading, wanton
noises before his body's even adjusted, and turns a whimper of pain into a
high-pitched moan when a third finger is forced in.
Then someone is pulling him up — Yanagi, his grip deceptively gentle — and
Akaya wills his arms to hold him there as Yanagi levels his own prominent
arousal at Akaya's face.
Akaya knows what is expected of him, and it's nothing he won't do, but he
fears, suddenly, that he can't. The stab of anxiety makes his erection flag a
bit; fortunate, all things considered. After a few encouraging words, his
bravery gets the better of him, and he lifts a hand to grab Yanagi's cock,
attacking it eagerly with licks and kisses.
His attention is further split when Sanada approaches, forcing him to switch
hands and stroke Sanada's cock while lavishing oral attention on Yanagi's. It's
like patting his head and rubbing his stomach, Akaya is thinking when Yukimura
thrusts in.
He cries out, pressing his forehead to Yanagi's thigh suddenly. Yanagi's hand
cradles the back of his head, but Akaya misses the admonishing words to his
captain about his roughness in the waves of sensation that follow.
Yukimura is rocking inside of him, barely pulling out before sinking in again,
holding him steady with one hand. Akaya is pressing back onto him, squirming,
and he tries to pull his hand away from Sanada's cock to tend to his own, but
Sanada won't allow it. His one abused arm is threatening to give way again when
an insistent nudge from his vice-captain reminds him of his duties, and he
resumes stroking, grip and pace unsynchronized.
Pushing his face away, Yanagi kneels beside him, reaching beneath him to take
hold of his neglected arousal. Stars explode behind Akaya's eyes and he moans
aloud, relief and ecstasy reverberating through the small space until Sanada
muffles it, guiding Akaya's mouth to his hard-on with a rough tug.
He switches hands unsteadily, reaching blindly for Yanagi with his head turned
the other way. Yanagi patiently brings his hand forward and places it on his
cock, and Akaya begins to stroke slowly.
Sanada groans, deep in his chest, as Akaya's mouth covers the head of his cock,
and Yukimura seems to take it as a signal, prolonging and quickening his
thrusts. Akaya shouts, but Sanada won't let him pull away. The strong,
demanding hand is now atop his head, and Sanada's hips are rolling forward,
burying his length a little deeper each time. Akaya feels his stomach jump
twice when the tip of Sanada's thick cock brushes the back of his throat, but
Yanagi's hand draws his mind away from it.
Without warning, Yukimura drives in deep, and Akaya erupts into a long, keening
wail just seconds before Yukimura does. Yanagi jerks Akaya until the younger
boy's arm does give way, then stands and pulls him upright again when Yukimura
pulls out.
He and Sanada move to stand in front of a kneeling Akaya, each with cock in
hand, and a faint feeling sweeps over him. They bring themselves off, right in
front of his face, Akaya's spent arousal throbbing painfully as he watches. He
is only hazily aware of Yukimura's fingers raking through his hair, and the
other boys' fluids warm on his face and neck under the now-frigid water.
Likewise, he only half-hears Yukimura laughing, saying "Muga no Kyouchi?" as
Yanagi carefully lifts Akaya from the floor.
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