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Favors Returned

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The end of the matches against the US team left everyone just a bit euphoric, and, in some cases, downright giddy. Keigo had expected that. And, having taken the measure of the players involved, he had known that the showers were likely to be the site of considerable horseplay. Judging by the sound of Echizen not-quite-yelling at Kikumaru, he had been right on target. He congratulated himself on having the foresight to hold off on cleaning up until the others were done.

The fact that Sanada had apparently reached the same conclusions simply proved that fate was smiling on Keigo, as it generally did. Keigo eyed Sanada’s back and smiled with appreciation as Sanada tipped his head back and the spray sleeked down his hair and emphasized the sharp planes of his face.


“Hm?” Sanada cast a look over his shoulder, brow raised.

“I recall you saying something, a while back, about returning the favor.” Keigo stretched under the water. “This is a good occasion, wouldn’t you say?”

Sanada turned all the way around and regarded Keigo, head tilted to one side. “Just for my curiosity, what did you do after your match with Tezuka?” he asked, mildly.

Keigo laughed. He did like the sharpness of Sanada’s mind; it made him entertaining, if one could edge around all the dour seriousness to reach the slight streak of playfulness underneath.

“I nearly climbed the walls, actually,” he replied, easily. “It was the first time I’d had a match like that. It’s probably just as well,” he added in a thoughtful tone, “that Tezuka and I live as far apart as we do.”

The implication did not make Sanada blush; that was probably too much to hope for. His eyes did widen just a touch, though, which was almost as good, considering. Keigo’s lips curled, pleased. He was absolutely delighted, however, when Sanada’s eyes narrowed again and gleamed just a bit, and he paced toward Keigo. That hadn’t taken nearly as much provocation as Keigo had expected. He sighed as Sanada’s hands settled on his hips, warm from the heat of the water. He stepped into Sanada’s body and drew a deep, satisfied breath as Genichirou’s hands smoothed up his back.

“I hope that doesn’t mean you object to bringing someone home with you,” Sanada said, softly.

Keigo raised his brows, leaning back a tad to see Sanada’s face. There was a slight smile on it.

“I will admit to a certain temptation, when you’re determined to be annoying, to press you up against the nearest wall just to shut you up,” Sanada told him, quite calmly. “But if we’re speaking of favors, I had something slower in mind.”

Keigo bared his teeth. “As if you could handle me.” He leaned closer, raked his teeth very lightly over Sanada’s earlobe. “Slower, hm? Planning to tease me?” He lowered his voice. “Do you think you can make me beg, Genichirou?”

“No,” Sanada replied, clear and simple.

Keigo blinked, and drew back again to examine him more closely.

“I take care with my partners,” Sanada told him, hands firm and still on Keigo’s back. “It’s no more than a fair return.”

Keigo took a moment to process the fact that Sanada, apparently, did not seek or expect submission from someone he made love to. Considering the mild uproar when it had been the other way around, that was rather unexpected. Keigo shelved a growing suspicion for later thought.

“I’ve had guests before,” was all he said.

“Good.” Sanada had that slight smile again. “Then let me help you finish, here, and we can be going.”

Keigo leaned against Sanada’s body as Sanada’s hands, now slick with soap as well as warm, kneaded down his back. This promised to be… very pleasant. He sighed as a hand slid between his cheeks, moaned softly as Genichirou spread him open and water ran, hot and soothing, over him. When Genichirou’s hand closed around Keigo’s erection and stroked, Keigo kissed him, hard, to muffle his own voice against Sanada’s mouth.

Sanada coaxed him over the edge quickly, and as Keigo rested against him for a moment, panting, he had to wonder just how long Genichirou did plan to draw things out, if he was troubling to take the edge off, now.

“Shall we?” Sanada asked, lips brushing Keigo’s ear.

“I think we shall, yes,” Keigo murmured.

Keigo smiled when Sanada’s arms wrapped around him as soon as he closed the bedroom door, and leaned back into the embrace. He had been a little surprised that Sanada had kept in contact with him pretty much the entire way home: a thumb brushing the inside of his wrist, a palm sliding up his thigh, a finger tracing the lines of his palm. Not that it had been a problem in the back of a chauffeured car, just a little startling from someone who was normally so undemonstrative and contained.

He was starting to doubt Sanada’s assertion that he didn’t intend to tease.

Keigo made an appreciative sound as Genichirou’s lips traced down the side of his neck, and gasped as long fingers rubbed, gently, down his hardening length. So very gentle… He closed his eyes and dropped his head back against Sanada’s shoulder.



Keigo opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling. “What do you want?”

The lips against his neck quirked. “I would have thought that was reasonably obvious, by now.”

Keigo turned in Sanada’s hold, and wound his fingers through thick, black hair so that he could draw Genichirou’s gaze up to meet his. “Why are you taking this much care?” he demanded. “We’re not exactly friends, we’re only temporarily teammates, and this is more care than pleasure requires. Why are you doing this?”

“Perhaps I want to see what you’re like when you’re disconcerted,” Sanada told him.

Keigo examined him narrowly. It rang true enough, but it wasn’t the whole truth. “And?” he prodded.

“Your ego doesn’t need to hear the rest of it,” Sanada said, firmly.

Keigo didn’t bother to hold back a smirk. He very much doubted he had actually captured Genichirou’s permanent interest, but it was still good to know Genichirou hadn’t escaped entirely. It would do to go on with.

With that in mind, he drew away and started undoing his clothes, precisely, with just a bit of flourish because he couldn’t quite resist. The faint, unwilling, curl at the corners of Genichirou’s mouth egged him on. Keigo tossed the last of his clothing over his reading chair and lay down on the bed, stretching provocatively. He watched Genichirou from under his lashes. Interesting. It wasn’t just Keigo’s body, apparently. Genichirou reacted like any normal person to seeing a body like Keigo’s naked and inviting his touch, but there was still a certain detached amusement in his face as he followed suit and folded his clothes over the back of the chair and approached the bed.

Sanada ran a hand down Keigo’s side, and Keigo decided analysis could wait.

He didn’t try to restrain his sighs and murmurs as Genichirou stroked him, following the lines of his body with open hands. He’d never taken anyone to bed who hadn’t been encouraged by that responsiveness, and Sanada didn’t look like an exception. In fact, his expression caught Keigo’s attention, as he arched up into Genichirou’s body, purring at the fingertips circling against his lower back. The amusement was still there, but the detachment was gone. So, Genichirou liked watching Keigo’s pleasure? Well, Keigo could relate; he had enjoyed watching Genichirou, too. And the results were… delectable.

He relaxed into Genichirou’s hands, savoring the slow touch, sometimes firm enough to soothe taut, tired muscles, and then light enough to entice tight-strung nerves. Keigo moaned, softly, when Sanada’s mouth tracked down the inside of his thigh, licking and then biting, gently. He spread his legs wider as Genichirou’s lips brushed over his erection, but those large hands massaged his hips and thighs lax again.

Keigo enjoyed the slow pace a great deal. It was rare, in his experience, to find someone willing to take the time pleasure deserved, willing to build it gradually, and the corner of his mind still thinking was impressed with Sanada’s patience. But there did come a point where even his hedonism drew the line, and finally he pulled Genichirou down against him, shivering a little at the sleek weight.

“I think,” he said, pulling a leg up to twine around Genichirou’s, “that you would feel very good inside me. Now.”

A chuckle rumbled through the chest pressed to his. “You know, I think I see, now, why you didn’t think that you were asking me to yield,” Sanada remarked, trailing his fingers down the side of Keigo’s neck and then combing them through his hair.

“I’m happy for your enlightenment,” Keigo gasped. “But if you don’t hurry up you’re not going to live long enough to appreciate it, do you understand me, Genichirou?”

Genichirou looked down at him with a tilted smile. “Yes, for once I believe I do understand you, Keigo.”

“Good.” Keigo declared. He fished in the headboard, and waved a small bottle at Genichirou before dropping it beside them.

Genichirou rested his forehead against Keigo’s shoulder and laughed out loud. “So direct about these things,” he said, when he recovered.

“As if you’re not,” Keigo snorted, and then had to bite back a startled breath as Genichirou rolled both of them over pulling Keigo over him. Keigo murmured approval when Genichirou’s hands stroked down his legs, parting them. His attention sharpened when he caught a heavy, sensual anticipation in the normally hard eyes watching him. It was all the warning he needed, and he moaned low in his throat as Genichirou’s fingers pressed against him, seeking entrance. “Don’t hold back on me now, Genichirou,” he whispered.

“With you? I know better,” Genichirou told him.

Keigo’s breath broke into short gasps as Sanada drove two fingers, slowly, into him. He arched his back, pressing into that hard stretch and felt Genichirou’s other hand run up to his neck and tangle in his hair, clenching into a fist before he let go. Keigo looked down at him, seeing the dark eyes turned hot and the stern lips parted. He smiled, slow and pleased.

“Like what you see, Genichirou?” he asked.

“Hmmm.” Genichirou drew his fingers back and thrust down again, smiling in turn at Keigo’s groan. “Like what you feel, Keigo?”

“More,” Keigo demanded.

Teeth showed in Sanada’s smile as his hand smoothed down Keigo’s shoulder, over his chest, thumb pausing to circle a nipple, and Keigo jerked. “Sit back, then.”

Genichirou was having far too much fun playing with Keigo’s responses.

Keigo knelt back, over Genichirou’s hips, and reached behind him, gripping, stroking, guiding Genichirou against him. Genichirou gasped, and bucked up, sharply, which was exactly what Keigo had hoped for. He bit his lip, concentrating on relaxing, and let Genichirou’s own movement drive him into Keigo. Genichirou’s hands closed, hard, over his hips.


Keigo breathed deeply against the sudden tight stretch. “If you want to take me slow, Genichirou, I don’t mind in the least. But I won’t be toyed with.”

Sanada’s eyes narrowed. After a long moment, one side of his mouth curled. “Slow it is, then,” he agreed, “without teasing.”

He rocked up to meet Keigo, who let his head fall back with a breathless sound for the hardness filling him. Genichirou’s thumbs stroked the hollows of Keigo’s hips, almost tickling, and Keigo closed his hands around Genichirou’s forearms, feeling the flex of corded muscle as Genichirou guided his hips up and then back, stretching him achingly open with each thrust. It was a slow and steady rhythm, not the advance and retreat that would have been teasing, but an easy, sustained movement and taut fullness. The heat of it flowed through Keigo like a river, a single, strong current, never stopping. Genichirou’s hand closed over Keigo’s cock in the same long, slow rhythm and Keigo had to brace his hands on Genichirou’s chest as pleasure hummed through him, sang down his nerves, hovering.

Genichirou’s gentleness held him in that tingling, drenching warmth for longer than Keigo would have thought possible.

When the end came, it was like a stumble, a trip in that sleek rhythm, and the warm, hovering pleasure turned bright and hard, closing around Keigo like the pressure of deep water, ready to drown him. He felt his muscles tense, strain, as burning sensation dragged through him over and over and over. The waves of it were as slow and deep as Genichirou’s thrusts, and for a suspended moment Keigo wondered if it would ever stop and how long he could bear for it to continue. His throat clenched around a harsh moan.

And then it was fading, and he slumped down over Genichirou, felt Genichirou let him down to the bed. After that drawn-out intensity, it felt very good when Genichirou drove into him harder, faster; it was familiar, relaxing. It shook the trembling out of his muscles. And the release and repletion in Genichirou’s face when he tensed over Keigo, made Keigo smile.

All things considered, he was also fairly impressed.

Eventually, Genichirou stirred against his shoulder. “Towels?” he murmured.

“In there.” Keigo waved a languid hand in the direction of the attached bath.

Genichirou untangled himself and strode bath-wards with, Keigo smirked, only a bit of unsteadiness. He returned with a handful of fluffy cotton, and Keigo purred a little at the touch of the soft cloth.

“You weren’t joking about taking care of your partners, were you?” he commented.

“Of course not.” Genichirou leaned beside him on an elbow, and Keigo gave him a sleepy smile. Genichirou’s mouth softened, and he brushed back Keigo’s hair. “You’re much easier to deal with when you aren’t being insufferably pretentious, you know.”

Keigo sniffed. “You have your management techniques, I have mine,” he said. “I could say as much about you, when you aren’t being uptight and unthinkingly condescending.” It would, he reflected, probably be less annoying if the condescension were deliberate.

Genichirou’s brows rose. “That’s a management technique?”

Keigo eyed him. “Extraordinary talent wishes for an extraordinary personality to focus on. You must know that. If, somehow, you’ve missed it, ask Yukimura some time.”

Sanada’s eyes shadowed, and turned distant. Keigo nodded to himself, sure now of his earlier suspicion. He laid a hand on Sanada’s chest to call him back.

“You’re his lover, aren’t you?” he asked.

Genichirou looked at him for a long moment before thumping over onto his back. “I expect I’ll regret asking,” he said to the ceiling, “but how did you know?”

Keigo chuckled. “I certainly can’t think of anyone else you would submit to so readily that you never questioned it, and yet not expect the same from in return. It shows.”

He was utterly delighted to see a faint blush cross Sanada’s cheekbones.

“Well,” he added, breezily, “I expect Yukimura will be able to break you of those terribly traditional habits of yours sooner or later. I have no doubt you’re accustomed to bending to his will, already.”

The tone of the second sentence was as laden with innuendo as Keigo could manage, and he laughed at the expression on Sanada’s face until Sanada, growling, flipped back over and kissed him quiet. Which had, after all, been much of the point.

The night was young, and it would be a terrible shame to waste a favor.