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Miyuki tilts his head back only to immediately look down between his legs once more. He isn’t sure what caused the tireless pitcher to get into this state—backing him up against the door once they retreated to Miyuki’s dorm room, dropping to his knees, his hands frantic as they tugged at his belt—but with the way Eijun’s tongue swirls against the head of his dick, Miyuki decides he doesn’t want to over-think it.
He runs shaky fingers through Eijun’s bangs, barely suppressing a shiver when their eyes meet. This should be illegal, Miyuki thinks, rubbing a thumb underneath the soft skin of Eijun’s eyes. He licks his lips, struggles to keep his voice steady as he says: “You’re doing such a good job, Sawamura.”
Eijun groans, pride and heat swelling in his chest and it only increases as he hears the soft thud of Miyuki’s head tilting against the door. He tightens his grip on Miyuki’s thighs, and he feels his dick harden at the way the muscles beneath his palms shake with what Eijun hopes is pleasure. Eijun hollows his cheeks and plunges forward until he feels the head against the back of his tongue, and he lets out another groan; which quickly turns into this strange groan-mixed-moan when Miyuki tightens his grip on Eijun’s hair.
“Sawamura,” Miyuki murmurs, and the way the name rolls off his tongue, as if it were made for the name, gives him shivers. His eyes are half-lidded when he inclines his head again; his cheeks flushed with embarrassment and want as he watches Eijun’s head bob up and down. Miyuki relaxes his grip on the pitcher’s hair, his touch light as feathers as he trails his fingertips down the sides of Eijun’s face. “Just like that,” he says, labored breaths leaving him momentarily dizzy, the added friction to his dick not helping his cause. Miyuki cups Eijun’s cheek lazily, the pad of his thumb wiping away stray saliva. “You’re doing so well, Eijun.”
Eijun moans, full against Miyuki’s dick, sliding backward until he’s able to suck solely on the tip. He trails a hand up Miyuki’s thigh, fingers disturbing coarse hairs as he curls his fingers around the base of Miyuki’s dick. Eijun stays like that for what seems like eternity to Miyuki—his tongue swirling and teasing the slit, his hand pumping achingly slow as if he were handling something precious; and with the tightening and relaxing of Eijun’s grip, Miyuki swears up and down that Eijun was put on this Earth to torment him and nothing else.
“Eijun,” Miyuki sighs, biting the insides of his cheeks—and not a second passes before his mouth falls open as Eijun hums in question, the vibrations seeming to electrify Miyuki, from the tip of his dick to the center of his being. He tightens his grip on Eijun’s hair, losing himself to the warmth and vibrations around him as he thrusts shallowly into Eijun’s mouth.
“So good, Eijun,” Miyuki murmurs, rolling his hips gently as Eijun groans, and he opens his mouth a little bit wider to accept what he’s being given. Miyuki laughs breathlessly, biting back his own groan as he thrusts carefully; guiding his dick out and against Eijun’s lips, smearing spit and pre-come when he does. He rubs the tip against Eijun’s bottom lip, taking a moment to trail his gaze along the other’s body—and there’s a boiling heat that grows in the pit of his stomach when his eyes fall on the tent in Eijun’s pants. Miyuki hums, shifting his gaze back to Eijun’s face. “Such a good boy.”
“Miyuki,” Eijun gasps out, momentarily confused at the way Miyuki’s tugging his dead weight upward, but as the heat and pleasure of being praised so earnestly settles in his bones, he follows without a second thought. Impulsively, he wraps his arms around Miyuki’s neck, his legs around Miyuki’s waist—and both of them shiver when their dicks rub against each others, clothed and unclothed.
“Even like this,” Miyuki murmurs, brushing his lips against Eijun’s ear. Heat rises in his chest as he feels Eijun react—the twitch against his dick, the whimper in the back of Eijun’s throat that seems to reverberate in Miyuki’s head. “You’re so good, Eijun.”
“Miyuki Kazuya,” Eijun hisses, but he’s pleased. He tries to gain some sort of momentum as he rolls his hips sloppily; he’s only slightly embarrassed and painfully hard when Miyuki laughs in his ear. It’s a struggle for the both of them as Miyuki shuffles forward, pants around his ankles; as Eijun wiggles his hips and whines when the friction isn’t nearly enough for satisfaction.
There’s a comfortable warmth that spreads throughout Eijun’s body as he feels the softness of the bed against his back, as Miyuki’s hands linger at his waist. “H-Hurry, Miyuki—“ Eijun groans, a whimper caught in his throat.
“Who?” Miyuki taunts him, a thrill rushing through his spine at the whimper that finally works its way from Eijuns throat. It’s cute, Miyuki thinks, the way the boy could get so easily flustered. The heat radiating from Eijun’s body causes him to see stars, and silently, Miyuki thinks that if he could, he’d like to make himself a home alongside that warmth.
“Kazuya,” Eijun gasps out, shielding his face from the catcher’s gaze with his forearm—but with the booming laugh Miyuki lets out, Eijun can’t help but take a peek. He lowers his arm and only slightly regrets his choice of action as Eijun finds himself infatuated with the way Miyuki throws his head back, the way his Adam’s apple bobs up and down, the way his smile makes the room a little less dim.
He isn’t sure how much time passed as he stared at Miyuki, studying his face, making a mental note of every detail: to the freckles on the bridge of his nose, the scar on his chin when he had fallen face first into gravel thanks to Kuramochi’s antics—to the shape of his eyebrows and the curl of his lashes. It’s only when Miyuki murmurs his name that he finally pulls himself out of the privacy of his mind. Eijun raises his eyes, the words stuck in his throat at the intensity of Miyuki’s gaze.
“Ah—uh, what was that?”
“I said, if you want to stare at each other all night instead, that’s fine by me,“ Miyuki says, his shoulders shaking with laughter.
“W-What?” Eijun stutters as he furrows his brows. He shifts his gaze, embarrassed. “Idiot. Don’t yap away nonsense when we’re both ha—“
“Look at you, Eijun,” Miyuki interrupts. He rolls his hips against Eijun’s, watches as the flush deepens on the other’s skin. Miyuki scoots himself as close as he can get, their pelvises pressing together almost painfully. He leans forward, rubs his forehead against the arm Eijun’s using for protection, and Miyuki lets out a laugh. “You’re so in love with me, aren’t you?” he mumbles against the other’s collarbone, and plants a kiss there as he slips a hand in Eijun’s pants, freeing his dick from the confinements. “On the field, and in here, you’re always aware of me, aren’t you?”
“I am not,” Eijun protests, squirms beneath Miyuki’s weight. “You—don’t say those things with your hand around my dick—“
Miyuki lets out a bark of a laugh, and he’s almost afraid he ruined the moment until he feels Eijun twitch in his hand. He snorts, rubs his thumb against the underside of Eijun’s dick, and he can’t stop the hum of appreciation as a shiver courses through Eijun’s body. Miyuki twists his wrist just right, earning him a shallow thrust and a whine. “You’re so cute, Eijun. Good boy,” he says, the heat in the pit of his stomach radiating fire throughout his veins as he watches pre-come drip from the slit.
“Kazuya—”
“Eijun?”
“Hurry up already—“ Eijun pleads, squeezing his eyes shut, and his words quickly fail him as Miyuki works his hand once more—his grip tightening on the stroke upward, his thumb rubbing circles against the head of his dick. Eijun barely notices the feel of Miyuki’s other hand squeezing at his hip, and it makes the pitcher feel reassured—all before Miyuki’s hands are gone, along with the sensations of calloused skin against tender skin.
His eyes snap open in surprise only to be greeted by the catcher’s shit-eating grin. Eijun opens his mouth to protest, confused, but he’s interrupted before he even begins.
“Don’t blame me,” Miyuki teases, unceremoniously shedding Eijun of his clothes. He ignores the surprised yelps from beneath him in favor of tossing garments of clothing over his shoulder; and quickly he throws off his jersey, kicking at the pants that are still around his ankles. “You’re the one who said to hurry up,” Miyuki reminds him, and there’s a playful glint in his eye as he splays his fingers against the warmth of Eijun’s thighs.
Miyuki trails his hands downward, his fingertips tickling the backs of Eijun’s knees, and it causes a fit of giggles to erupt from above. As the sounds rings in his ears, Miyuk’s heart speeds up and his skin becomes a little bit warmer. He lets out his own amused laugh, redirecting his hands upward, his thumbs teasing the insides of Eijun’s shaky thighs. Miyuki settles his hands on the pitcher’s hips as Eijun bends his knees, bringing them closer to his chest.
“Eijun,” Miyuki murmurs as he fits himself snug against the other’s waist. He abandons Eijun’s hip in favor of their dicks, carefully wrapping his hand around them both. Miyuki watches the pitcher beneath him carefully, twisting his wrist and dragging their skin together perhaps a bit too painfully, but since Eijun doesn’t complain, he doesn’t weaken his grip.
There’s a pause in movement as Eijun rolls his hips upward, yearning for more—and Miyuki’s laugh is low and yes, he thinks, this guy is definitely here just to torment me.
The slide against their dicks doesn’t let up, even as Miyuki swipes at the pre-come building up with his other hand; and he trails that hand to Eijun’s entrance, experimentally stroking and drawing careful circles. Eijun seems to go limp at the contact, and he weakly rolls his hips as if to urge Miyuki on, his voice caught in his throat—and the catcher hums in response, tilts his head to plant a kiss against Eijun’s shaky knee.
A moan rings out from Eijun’s mouth when Miyuki inserts the first finger, a tight heat settling in the lower regions of his body. He feels Miyuki’s eyes on him, attentive and curious; he feels another finger push past his entrance—feels them scissor gently inside, pushing forward, and fingertips curling experimentally. The stretch and burn leaves him panting and Eijun can feel his muscles twitch, but the warmth that spreads through him as Miyuki’s encouragement greets his ears is enough to override the burn.
Electricity seems to run throughout Eijun’s body as Miyuki reaches his prostate—his back arches and his hips move impulsively. Soon Eijun discovers he can’t stop the groans and whimpers that spill from his slack-jawed mouth although he’s trying so hard to conceal them behind the palm of his hand.
“Let me hear you,” Miyuki soothes. He curls his fingers once more, mesmerized at the shudder that goes through Eijun’s body, the way his dick twitches in his hand. “Come on, baby boy,” he urges on, circles the pad of his thumb against the heads of their cocks, mixing their pre-come together. Eijun’s hips jerk at the sensation as his insides tighten around Miyuki’s fingers; and he isn’t expecting Miyuki to rut into his own hand, to feel something other than the slick skin of Miyuki’s palm move against his cock, but he moans at the sensation nonetheless, feels his body burst with heat at the groan he gets from Miyuki, the words of “good boy, let me hear you, just like that,” playing like a broken record in the back of his mind.
“K-Kazuya—“ Eijun pants, biting back a whimper when Miyuki scissors his fingers. “Ka—ah—please, Kazu—yah—“
“Eijun?”
“Please—“ he says, exasperated as he rolls his hips without rhythm. “If you—keep this up, I, I won’t last long, Kazuya, please—“ Eijun babbles on, interrupting himself with a high-pitched whimper as Miyuki pulls his fingers out.“Kazuya, Kazuya—“ he groans, his eyes bright with impatience as he focuses his hazy gaze on Miyuki—and his next words catch in his throat. Eijun watches as Miyuki rolls on a condom, and he isn’t sure when the hell his catcher got his hands on one in the midst of their foreplay, but soon Eijun decides he doesn’t want to think about it. Not with the way Miyuki’s looking at him, full of adoration and want and something else that Eijun is too thrilled to put into words, but he’s sure he’ll think about it later, be it in several hours or several years. He will replay this moment in his mind, and the same adoration will surely course through his veins.
“Eijun?” Miyuki murmurs, his hands gentle on the back of Eijun’s thighs. He tilts his head, a wave of self-consciousness flooding through him as Eijun continues to stare, seemingly moon-struck. “Eijun, are you okay? We can st—”
“Kazuya, you’re really beautiful right now,” Eijun blurts out, oblivious to Miyuki’s concern—and it’s then that he remembers Miyuki’s earlier words. You’re so in love with me, you’re always aware of me, aren’t you? He clamps his mouth shut as he feels his face redden with embarrassment, and he wishes Miyuki would look away, but it’s also the last thing he wants. “You were right,” Eijun mumbles, and he’s too flustered to look Miyuki in the face, so he reaches for his hand instead, brushes his fingertips against the back of the catcher’s hand.
“I—what?” Miyuki says, dumbfound.
Eijun squirms, and for the first time since they’ve entered the room, he wishes they were clothed again. His dick is hard and leaking; his muscles ache for something wider than Miyuki’s fingers, but more than anything he’s filled to the brim with love for the stupid, stupid glasses-wearing jerk in front of him. “You were right,” he says again, with more confidence. He peeks at Miyuki from behind his sweaty bangs, and although his vision is slightly disrupted, it’s as if he can see Miyuki clearly. “I love you. I’m always aware of you, and I hate it.”
“What—“
“Sometimes, you’re all I can think about and it honestly ticks me off, you know.”
“That’s not my—“
“I’ve failed quizzes before because all I could think about was you! You better take some sort of responsibility!” Eijun yells, and he opens his mouth to complain more about how infatuated he is with this idiot catcher, but as Miyuki tilts his head back and laughter begins to spill through, his complaints die down and a fond smile replaces them.
“You—“ Miyuki begins, his own fits of laughter interrupting him. “You had to start complaining about that now? When we’re both hard and hot and heavy?” he asks, his tone teasing and his smirk leering.
“What? I just—“
“I know,” Miyuki says, the teasing in his voice now replaced by a sincere understanding. Eijun can’t help but stare at his gentle smile, the way his eyes crinkle with a softness that’s just for him, and it takes a moment before the pitcher is able to breathe again. “I know,” Miyuki says again, his voice low and warm as he leans towards Eijun—and it’s eerily automatic, Eijun thinks, the way the both of them tilt their heads to accept each other’s kiss.
It’s warm and right and filled with so much tenderness that it’s close to painful, and it’s over far too soon, but the emotion is still there. Eijun feels it in his chest as Miyuki carefully spreads his legs—always gentle and ever concerned about his well-being. Miyuki feels it in his chest as Eijun puts full faith and trust in him—to touch him like this, to see him bare and willing and as ready as Miyuki himself is.
Miyuki shifts, guiding the head of his dick against Eijun’s entrance. He takes a moment to search Eijun’s face, and it’s as if Eijun can feel the hesitation because he says, “I’m okay,” and that’s all the encouragement Miyuki needs. His eyes don’t leave Eijun’s as he pushes inside, pausing when the tip becomes engulfed in Eijun’s heat. Miyuki has to take steady breathes to calm himself—the heat makes his head pulse and his heart race, and all he wants to do is plunge forward and hear Eijun’s muffled moans, but—
“Kazuya,” Eijun’s shaky pants interrupt his thoughts, and he raises his gaze, breath caught in his throat. His pupils are full-blown, his lips wet and his cheeks flushed and god, Miyuki thinks, I’ve never seen anything more amazing. “Move, Kazuya—I’m—“ Eijun chokes on his words once Miyuki obliges. He thrusts to the hilt, seating himself fully inside tight heat and the both of them are momentarily surprised they didn’t come from just the sensation.
Eijun’s breaths leave his mouth in shaky waves, and he desperately wants to speak out and say move, goddamn it, move, but as his muscles quiver with stimulation, he can’t force the words out let alone form coherent thoughts. Instead he rolls his hips, reaches his hands to claw at Miyuki’s forearms. Miyuki wastes no more time, entwining his fingers with Eijun’s with one hand and placing his other on the pitcher’s hip before he begins to move.
He’s gentle at first, Eijun’s breathy moans and frustrated whimpers urging him onward, and as Eijun becomes more vocal, Miyuki becomes more daring. He pulls out to the tip, inching back in slowly until Eijun’s rolling his hips and squirming, wrapping his legs more snugly around Miyuki’s hips to aid him in thrusting to meet Miyuki’s motions and it earns him a chorus of “good boy” and “you’re doing so well, Eijun” to which Eijun gives a moan in response, his embarrassment barely present when his muscles tighten around Miyuki’s dick.
“Eijun,” Miyuki murmurs. His gaze is locked on his pitcher’s face as he works his hips, and he can’t help but allow his eyes to wander downward to Eijun’s chest, to the light trail of hair leading to his dick. There’s a deep hum which starts in his chest as his gaze ventures further to where their bodies connect—the sounds of skin-on-skin slapping make him dizzy for a moment and Miyuki can’t help but wonder if it’s the same for the pitcher under him. “Eijun,” Miyuki groans, his grip on Eijun’s hip tight enough to leave little crescent moons. He means to be gentle, telling himself internally: “slow down, slow down; ease your grip, not so rough,” but with the heat wrapped around him and the way Eijun rolls his hips and struggles to muffle his moans, it’s all Miyuki can do not to come undone right then.
Miyuki can barely hear Eijun’s gasps of “close, Kazuya, so close, moremore—“ over the sounds of their skin slapping, but he does feel the tight pull of muscles against his dick, the stuttered rolls of Eijun’s hips and the vice-like grip on his wrist. He feels as if he’s on autopilot, his hips rolling and snapping against Eijun’s, his lips forming words of praise and in the back of his mind he wonders if they will melt into each other like this. Miyuki faintly registers the slurred way he’s mumbling Eijun’s name repeatedly like some sort of prayer, wonders if Eijun can hear it over his own gasps of Miyuki’s name.
The choked moan that greets his ears is what causes Miyuki react—he snakes his hand to Eijun’s dick, strokes upward from the base and back until he’s got Eijun tightening around him and twitching beneath him. Eijun’s words are a tangle of oh god and Kazuya, more—there, there—oh god, before he spills onto his stomach and in Miyuki’s hand. Miyuki follows soon after, the heat and pull of muscles around him overriding his desire to hang on a little longer.
There’s a blurred moment as he pulls out, a familiar heat rising in his chest at the whimper Eijun gives out. He collapses forward, a lazy grin forming on his lips as he nuzzles into Eijun’s collarbone, and although the weak giggles that slip from his lips causes Miyuki’s face to redden, he doesn’t fight it: only buries his face deeper into the crook of Eijun’s neck. He feels light and heartfelt in this moment with Eijun, and as a heat that isn’t his own seeps into his pores, Miyuki knows that Eijun feels the tenderness, too.
“You’re really heavy, Miyuki,” Eijun says several moments later, but he doesn’t squirm to urge Miyuki off. He lies there, content as their warmth melts into one and in the back of his mind, Eijun muses that he wouldn’t mind making a home alongside that warmth.
Miyuki hums but doesn’t move. There’s a playfulness in his voice as he says, “So I’m not ‘Kazuya’ anymore, huh?”
Eijun flushes, silently cursing the way Miyuki laughs into his neck, but he knows he can’t stay angry for long even if he tried. He huffs as he squirms beneath Miyuki’s weight and says stubbornly, “It’s a—heat of the moment thing. You know.”
“Okay, alright,” Miyuki agrees. He stays where he is, sticky skin against Eijun’s own as he props himself up on one elbow. “I guess that can’t be a bad thing, though,” he murmurs, snaking his other hand to entwine with Eijun’s.
“Huh? Why’s that?” Eijun asks with a tilt of his head.
“If you called me Kazuya in front of the others… what if I popped a boner?” Miyuki asks seriously, his brows drawn and his face set.
“What?” Eijun almost shrieks with embarrassment. He yanks his hand from Miyuki’s grip only for the catcher to take it back just as quickly, a fit of giggles and snorts bringing tears to his eyes. His mumbles of sorry, sorry, and it’s just a joke, causes Eijun to roll his eyes, but he reciprocates the squeeze of their hands nonetheless.
He doesn’t admit that the situation would be the same, if reversed.
As Miyuki’s chuckles die down, Eijun shakes his head, huffs of bemused laughter escaping his lips. He can feel Miyuki’s eyes on him, soft and full of love and there’s still a hint of teasing in those eyes, but Eijun’s face blooms under the attention anyways. “You’re an idiot,” he finally says, and there’s no ill intent in his voice or in his touch as he begins to draw circles against Miyuki’s hand.
Miyuki’s voice is smug as he says, “But you’re head over heels for me, right?”
“Yes,” Eijun agrees with another roll of his eyes.
“And you hate it,” Miyuki guesses, his voice teasing.
“Only… sometimes,” Eijun corrects him, lolling his head to the side so he can watch as Miyuki tilts his head back in laughter; and in this moment, with Miyuki’s laugh drumming along with his heartbeat, Eijun feels content.