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When Miyuki walked down the hallway, he had only intended to run an errand for the coach. No one had prepared Miyuki for this kind of scenario, the one in which a single sound he heard from inside the locker room could shake his whole conscience.
Someone was moaning the same word, "Senpai," over and over again.
Even more, it was not just someone from the team who Miyuki couldn't recognize. It was not someone that he could just dismiss as some random hormonal teenager misusing the school facility. Almost a hundred members of the baseball club, and it just had to be none other than Sawamura.
Sawamura and his loud mouth, saying something that should have been an innocent honorific in the dirtiest way possible.
"Senpai. Senpai. Senpai."
Sawamura’s cries of pleasure weren’t ringing in the air. Though his breathing was ragged, they’re rolling out smoothly from his lips. Sawamura’s voice was somehow calmer than usual; it’s the husky, deep tone he used when he made his most earnest declarations—like that one time he reminded Miyuki not to carry everything alone as the captain. Except that lust had fueled it, made his intonation way more mature and risqué than anything he knew Sawamura has ever said before.
It sounded as if Miyuki’s stray thoughts of Sawamura, of him being so shameless, being unable to resist his urges, were given form. Those thoughts, too familiar than Miyuki would like to admit, made even better, affecting him even worse, coming back and punishing him.
“God. Senpai. Ah. Fuck, senpai. So good."
At least, for the moment, it felt like punishment. Because it kept Miyuki waiting in front of the door, trying to be as subtle as he could, in case there's someone else Sawamura's holding in his arms. Yet, at the same time, it lured him in, kept him listening, like Sawamura had put him under a spell with his indecent voice.
He could have just lied to himself, convincing himself into believing that he's just assessing the situation; however, everything he did imply otherwise about him.
First, he had all the rights to disturb, using his duty as a reason, but he would rather not. He would rather not deal with someone else. If possible, he would rather not have someone else in that place.
It might be out of practicality, of how much of a hassle it would be for him to drive out two people, as compared to one. Facing Sawamura alone was already hard enough. Or it might be out of jealousy, of how much of a burden it would be for him to live with the knowledge that Sawamura might have gone so far with someone that wasn't him, with the fact that he could do nothing about it, though Miyuki might have just been no one. Nothing but a captain, a battery partner, not a partner in a romantic sense.
With how alluring Sawamura was, with how aggressive he could be, it should not have been that much of a surprise for Miyuki if people were willing to give themselves to him. It was not like Miyuki believed Sawamura was as naive and single-minded as everyone made him out to be, so it did not betray any expectations he had either.
Still, the thought stung him with unfamiliar, unnecessary pain.
Second, if Miyuki was that eager to figure out the question on his mind (the question being “Is Sawamura Eijun screwing someone else in the locker room right now?”), he should have listened better, paying more attention to each noise that reached him.
Instead, he’s fixating on Sawamura, trying to memorize the words that Sawamura let out so freely from his filthy, dangerous mouth.
“Senpai. Fuck. Yes. Just like that. So hot. So tight. Perfect. You're perfect, senpai."
He's probably no better than Sawamura. For indulging at this moment, immortalizing Sawamura’s sultry, serious voice in his mind. For not caring whether Sawamura was calling out for him, wanting him, or not—if anything, he might have already been deep inside someone else. For not being able to hear anything else but Sawamura.
Should there be anyone in this deserted part of the dorm, though?
It was a day off. No one used the locker room on day-offs. Even if they were to have practice today, twilight had already long passed, and it would have been too long for the average person to stay there after changing clothes.
Thus, Miyuki reached a realization that it was not purely his fault. The problem was not just that his common sense had slipped away from him. There simply was never anyone else inside, never anything else, only the silence that amplified Sawamura’s presence even more.
Bluntly putting it, the most plausible conclusion was that Sawamura was all alone, touching himself.
Miyuki could have considered other possibilities, but he decided that he had enough of speculating. His mind’s already a mess from thinking about a nonexistent person being with Sawamura.
Such a mess it was, for that Miyuki had forgotten his doubts, that he had accepted that he should confront Sawamura, that he wanted and would come forward to Sawamura by himself.
He rushed towards the door and opened it with all his might, sneaking himself in as soon as possible. He couldn’t even pretend that he’s going to do a more proper thing, even with his original purpose. He skipped the lines of lockers that he should have inspected, going straight to the other end of the room where Sawamura was. Once he stood only one or two meters away from Sawamura, Miyuki leaned his back against the last locker on the corner and, finally, witnessed what Sawamura did by himself.
“Senpai—shit—”
Sawamura had abruptly stopped moaning when he noticed Miyuki. He lifted his head that he had thrown back to the wall before. His golden eyes widened as they met Miyuki’s for a split second, face flushed with both the pleasure of fantasizing and the shame of being found out, lips parted as he’s gasping for air.
For some reason, instead of casual clothes, Sawamura’s wearing the practice uniform, unbuttoned, revealing the undershirt that hugged his figure so well.
His muscles had started to grow bigger from all the training he did.
Since they had worked closely to maintain Sawamura’s form and refine the numbers almost every day, Miyuki had already known about it for a while. However, knowing and seeing it from such a close distance were two different things. Having such an image etched into his mind was an experience that impacted him so hard.
It didn’t end there. Miyuki only spiraled even further once his gaze went even lower on Sawamura, once he caught glimpses of Sawamura sitting on a bench, spreading his legs, gripping his length between his fingers. Sawamura’s left hand was trembling as he frantically moved up and down to pleasure himself; it was like his body hadn't managed to catch up with the situation as well as he wanted to.
Miyuki would have laughed at that if his judgment wasn’t so clouded already. If he could think about anything other than how Sawamura had long, nice fingers and how he also happened to have a thick, sizable cock.
Yet, here he was, staring at the scene in front of him when he should have stopped this madness from happening. Here he was, wondering how good it would feel to have Sawamura’s hands all over him when he should have just tried forgetting everything. Here he was, contemplating what he wanted from Sawamura when he should have told him off for his lacking self-restraint, or at least move on and start taking care of what’s due for him.
Meanwhile, Sawamura had gotten over the state of shock he was in when Miyuki walked in on him. His molten gaze had become steady and full of intent as he looked at Miyuki in return, with his hand still between his thighs.
It might be the hormones taking over, but either way, this couldn’t be an accident.
They never went this far, never had to take things beyond grabbing at each other and kissing, so Miyuki wasn’t sure if this was alright for both of them. However, it would be too much if it was a lie. It would be too much for him to fall for a mistake when he knew they had gotten closer to each other in more ways than one, experiencing an undeniable attraction to each other. He didn't think he would survive if it were the case.
Even now, he’s putting on a brave face, gracing his lips with his most confident smirk when he’s crumbling. Acting like everything would be alright and he would get a pass if he just played the part of a bad man, like he used to. Because he’s going to sate his curiosity in the most deranged way possible:
Opening his mouth to ask the big question, “So, who is it?”
The first thing Sawamura did as he heard that was to stop and scour his surroundings, looking for something that he could use to cover himself. As if it still mattered, as if Miyuki hadn’t seen him naked from below the waist for the past few minutes. Perhaps Sawamura still had some dignity left, after all.
Sawamura ended up throwing a towel haphazardly into his lap when he returned Miyuki’s question with one of his own, “Wait, wait, what are you talking about?"
How dare you feign your ignorance, fake your distress right in front of me.
Miyuki clicked his tongue in annoyance before he retorted, “Do I need to spell it out loud for you? You know what I’m talking about."
Soon enough, Sawamura switched to his serious mode, “Then say it.”
It was predictable. The way Sawamura would try to persuade him to listen to his demands, even though Miyuki was the one who’s being demanding here. He would always be that persistent, whether it was about baseball or something more personal. He would never give up until he got what he wanted.
What Miyuki couldn’t predict was how he would react to his words this time.
“Senpai.”
The sound Miyuki just made was out of the world. He only meant to imitate Sawamura, to ridicule him for his shameless moans. Yet, he felt like he was whining, begging for Sawamura to let him know, let him in on his secret. To just take him already—if that’s what Sawamura wanted to do.
He had no regrets, though. He still had to get Sawamura to listen. In this lust-fogged state, seduction, no matter how unintentional, should have worked. So he’s betting on it.
“You know who I’m talking about, senpai.”
He’s betting on it, and it worked too well.
How dare you talk back, use my own words against me, use that voice to call me, and not do anything about it.
Miyuki refused to stoop even lower than he already did, making sure he had regained his composure before he opened his mouth the next time. Though he was not above being a hypocrite, contradicting himself, repeating what Sawamura had as his answer in return, “Then say it.”
“If I give you an honest answer, will you hate me or judge me for it?”
It just struck him that, despite everything he had done, Sawamura might have had his doubts, too. Perhaps it’s because this was unexpected. He must have never wondered that Miyuki would have seen him like this, played along with him in this game. Or it’s because there was nothing set in stone. He must have found it difficult to tell what’s right and wrong when both of them crossed the line together.
"Me? Hating you?" Miyuki laughed at Sawamura’s suggestion.
Sawamura shot him a sharp look, clenched his teeth in frustration. Did that come out wrong?
The problem was not that he thought Sawamura’s concern was ridiculous. It’s just that Miyuki could never despise him.
“Have you ever looked at yourself?” Miyuki gave a lopsided smile, then continued in a sing-song voice, "Sawamura, you’re too interesting to hate.” Just annoying most of the time, aggravating, so much that teasing you is fun, he added on his mind, but that’s not the point. You're charming, exhilarating; things are never boring with you around. “Go ahead and just say it already. I won’t laugh at you, I promise.”
“Good.” Sawamura’s face softened up a bit as he showed his acknowledgment.
Still, Miyuki questioned, did Sawamura trust him and his words? Did he feel like it was enough of an explanation for him, or did he just not bother with him anymore?
Those doubts only lasted for a moment, though, since he had forgotten everything once Sawamura had given him that lustful look again. Once he had told him the truth in the most devastating way possible:
Locking eyes with him before he stated, “Because it’s you, Miyuki-senpai.”
Miyuki already had a hunch that it was him. Unless Sawamura only daydreamed about fucking an upperclassman, with no particular person in mind, only using him because he's convenient, the course of events that had happened would not make sense any other way. Someone should have gotten angry already. They should have fought each other already. The air around them should have grown cold already. Yet, here they are, lighting a fire within each other, heating the room with their desire. It shouldn’t be anyone else but him.
However, guessing and hearing it right from the person’s mouth were two different things. Having such proof laid out in front of him, spoken in such a sinful manner, was a revelation that hit him so bad.
So much that it’s hard for him to believe this was real.
He must have looked like Sawamura back then, dumbstruck with eyes blown open, cheeks burned red, and head stuck on a loop of inappropriate thoughts. The difference was that Miyuki hadn’t started laying a finger on himself. So, he only stood still with limbs numb, back pressed against the cold steel, enduring the strain in his pants instead of taking care of his arousal or yielding to his wishes and yearning for touches.
What made him finally break the silence was his reluctance to show more desperation than he already did. His insistence for Sawamura to give him more attention, to remind him of what’s happening, to overwhelm him with all the feelings of want and need.
“Is that what you call me in your dreams?”
Just like that, Miyuki let out one of the questions that still bothered him. Sawamura would usually refer to him as captain or Miyuki Kazuya out there, along with a few other made-up names here and there, denied him forms of formality until lately, but had no problems calling him senpai when getting off to an imaginary version of him.
Was it reserved for Sawamura's naughty thoughts? Did Sawamura think it would be one of Miyuki’s turn-ons? Did Sawamura think his voice wouldn’t be enough to spur something in him?
“No.” Sawamura grinned in mischief. “I just don't want to say your name when I'm all alone."
Miyuki wanted to reprimand him. To make him stop talking about being alone, about what’s not here and now. However, he couldn't bring himself to do it.
"And now, when I'm here?"
Instead, he took a step further and taunted Sawamura. He tried coaxing more information out of Sawamura, encouraging Sawamura to say what’s on his mind and get over this already.
Except that Sawamura could always make something more out of it.
"Kazuya,” Sawamura hummed his name, his given name, lowered the tone until it would be only audible to the two of them. He sounded so firm, so sure of everything. It was as if he had waited his whole life to address Miyuki in such an intimate matter. As if he wasn’t just lusting over Miyuki, as if he had something deeper inside. Perhaps, he attempted to prove it as he explained, “It only feels right to call you Kazuya if we're going to make love.”
Miyuki hadn't even processed the way his name fell from Sawamura's lips, hadn’t even felt the touch of Sawamura’s hands on his body today. It’s not like he didn’t want it, but sex was an overly ambitious idea, a far-fetched thing for him. He didn't want to allow things to escalate too far, too quickly, without preparation, not when he's going to end up on the bottom.
Still, at the same time, with Sawamura’s choices of words, he couldn’t help but wonder. Why should Sawamura say make love instead of fuck? Was Sawamura aiming to entice him even more? Was this a trick Sawamura learned somewhere, using that honey-laced voice of his to mess with Miyuki’s mind so that he would consider something as unfamiliar as romance? Or was he overthinking, giving them too much meaning, since Sawamura said it all in such a straightforward manner as if it was nothing?
He wanted to laugh at himself for what’s happening. For being so speechless, he couldn’t even come back with a good answer.
“Oh, sorry! Is that too much for you?”
With the agitation in his piercing voice, the concern that he couldn’t hide in his question, with the kindness in his speech that flowed through him like streams, Sawamura had turned back into his usual self.
It’s too much, seeing Sawamura pick up the pieces after he almost broke Miyuki apart.
“I’m saying, is that too much? Am I taking it too far?” Sawamura repeated himself, as he hadn’t gotten a response from Miyuki. “Are you not ready yet? Did I go overboard with that?”
He should have said yes, it’s all too much, but he didn't want things to stop yet.
“Not really? It’s just that—” Miyuki refuted him, then paused. He closed his eyes as he tried to think up an excuse that could give him some time off, anything other than just a plea to be embraced. Only to realize that he didn't have to make up things because he still had some unfinished business here. "I'm here to do something else. Not to watch you."
"Deal with it first, then. I’ll deal with myself."
Sawamura didn't need to tell Miyuki that. As he already turned his back, facing the lockers, taking a quick look at them for signs of damage that he could notice from the outside, only to find nothing. As he pulled out the master key from his pocket, trying to unlock each door one by one to confirm whether one of the lockers was truly malfunctioning or not.
As Miyuki was getting used to the metallic clinks and clicks that he made, he started to be aware of the other noises that were slowly filling the room from behind him. The slight rustle, followed by the wet squelch. Then, Sawamura’s deep groan,
"Damn it, Kazuya. Can't take it anymore."
It's obvious. Sawamura's touching himself again. He had been restraining himself since Miyuki asked him about senpai, about the person on his mind. It must have been bad for him, as Miyuki, too, could feel the discomfort in his tightening sweats. It did not make it any less nasty for Sawamura to do that in the same place as him, but still, maybe he should be glad that Sawamura had warned him before.
However, it took Miyuki long enough to realize the feeling of being watched, to realize that Sawamura has been staring, that Sawamura might have been using him to fuel his imagination when he's standing here.
“Kazuya. Kazuya. Miyuki Kazuya. Would that be too rude for you?”
How rude. How distracting.
Just how distracting Sawamura’s voice was to Miyuki that he’s now fumbling with his key, pausing before he could open the next locker, struggling on such a simple task.
Though, to be fair, he also had the same effect on Sawamura, even when he had done less. He’s merely showing his backside, simply existing, not even intending to tease him, just being out of his reach to be touched.
In a way, it was power. An immense power Miyuki had over Sawamura, a kind of power that he’s not used to, a type of power that made him both excited and anxious—
"Should I call you any other way? How about Kazuya-san?"
—but also, the power Sawamura had over him, the power they have over each other, that he only had recognized after they were this close, this vulnerable with each other. What drove him to finish examining the rest of the locker room as fast as he could, yet, it was also what made him dread its end at the same time.
As much as he was anticipating what could happen between them next, he couldn’t estimate what Sawamura could do to him, what he would tell him, how much further they would go in one night.
The unknown possibility was so terrifying that it left him tingling.
“Kazuya-san. Ah. That’s so good. Your ass looks so good. Bet it will be so tight. Will be better than my fingers.”
People often told Miyuki that his mouth was poisonous, but at this moment, he was nothing compared to Sawamura. He couldn’t even come up with half the things that Sawamura had unleashed from his mind. They should have just listened to what Sawamura could say when no one else was hearing.
However, they would never have experienced it the way he did.
Miyuki was the one who had to receive those words while he found that one locker with a broken keyhole (the second locker from the left row that belonged to a first-year named Yamada, he noted before moving on). He was the one who had to look Sawamura straight in the eye once he had done his business. He was the one who had to try to remember the one important thing he should report on later when he’s on the verge of forgetting himself.
They’re not him. They’re not the subject of Sawamura's affections. At the very least, Miyuki wished they’re not; because, at this point, he wouldn’t like it if those words have scorched someone else, burned them inside out like it did to him.
“Wish I could just be inside you already.”
The whole world could, and should, be made aware of those sentences. Of what Sawamura was capable of becoming. The only thing he cared about was for Sawamura to use them only on him. He wanted Sawamura to use them to push him, and only him, over his limits—though he'd rather keep that to himself for the time being.
Miyuki took a deep breath before he turned back, removing the gap between them. Before he laid his sight on Sawamura, matching the intensity of his gaze. As he was trying to put down Sawamura in return, he asked, “Do you want to fuck me that bad?”
After he left that as bait, he waited for Sawamura to pull him closer, to hold him tight. Or at least to say yes, to pronounce his desire right in front of him.
Neither of those happened.
“Enough about me, Kazuya-san. How about you?” Sawamura deflected him, using that concerned tone on him. Though he knew Sawamura was not that concerned, after all, with his hand not pausing its stroke on himself, still seeking gratification as he’s starting to grow even harder, even greedier than before.
At this rate, Sawamura must have felt like he could not be satisfied by the view of Miyuki's face, with his eyes trailing below, feasting on the sight of Miyuki’s fully-clothed chest and stomach. He progressed lower, undressing Miyuki with his gaze, not stopping until he’s practically looking down at Miyuki from his seat, fixed on Miyuki’s thighs and between his legs. "You seem to be enjoying this more than you should."
As if showing mercy on Miyuki, he ended it with a question, “Do you think about me, too?”
Miyuki wanted to yell at Sawamura so much. Who wouldn’t think about you when you’re putting on such a show for them? When you’re telling them sweet nothings and dirty things with that voice?
Instead, he’s snickering, “Anyone would have thought about you after seeing and hearing you like that. At least, they would have thought something’s wrong with you.” Before Sawamura could have gotten the wrong idea, before he could make Sawamura worry about him, Miyuki added, “Not me, though. I won’t bother to entertain you if I do think you’re disturbing me. I would have called you names and knocked you down already.”
"Thank you, but that's not what I meant. I know that much. What I want to know is, do you think about me when you touch yourself?"
Miyuki flashed Sawamura a shocked glare, his grin wiped off his face. He was visibly scandalized, yet his mind was running wild in response.
He didn't remember the past well enough to answer, but he didn’t think he should. Every rise and fall of Sawamura’s voice, every curve of his body, every second of this moment had permeated so deep into him, it had replaced everything else. Even if he hadn't thought about Sawamura yet back then, he wouldn't be able to think about anything else but Sawamura if he were to relieve himself at any given time after this.
“Forget about that. Isn’t it painful, having to hold back for this long?” Sawamura’s lulling him with his gentle persuasion. Smiling at him with kindness that could kill, showing him the tenderness that made him ache even more. “Don’t you want to be touched, Ka-zu-ya?”
Who wouldn't have felt pain, wouldn't have wanted to be touched if they were to be like this?
“Thought you would never ask.” Those words were out before Miyuki could realize what they implied. He cursed himself under his breath for the slip of his tongue, then rushed to correct himself, "Don't mind it, though, Sawamura. I can take care of it my—"
“Taking care of it yourself? You don’t have to do that. I have a better idea.”
Sawamura's voice was no longer as soft and sweet as before when he intervened, and it made Miyuki's heart race. This side of Sawamura he had never seen before, this situation he had never been through, it made him wonder and doubt at the same time.
It was true that he’s looking forward to chasing the release instead of staying still, to having Sawamura help him finish this instead of solving it alone, but, with all the uncertainty, he’s also feeling uneasy about it. He had no clue about what’s going on inside Sawamura’s head. He couldn't even take a guess.
“Only if you wanted it, though. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”
He couldn't even bring himself to ask, even when Sawamura reassured him that he wouldn’t use force on him.
Miyuki could only watch, anticipate, long, but also look out in caution.
At least, that’s what his short-lived plan was.
Since Sawamura only needed a few seconds to make him abandon it. He did that without even reaching out to touch him, without even lifting his eyes from where they were, without even skipping a beat. He just had to open his mouth and suggest, “How about you touch yourself with me now, and I’ll take care of you later?"
There’s no longer any use for Miyuki to be cautious when his defenses had collapsed around those words. There’s no way he could win against Sawamura when his intentions were this cruel.
How cruel of Sawamura to ask for the impossible and hush him with a promise when he should have made his move on Miyuki and give him his fill already.
Yet, Miyuki found himself surrendering, embracing his descent into madness and temptation, letting Sawamura bring him into further destruction. He’s facing the darkness of his fantasies, admitting to himself that he’s willing to do as Sawamura said. He wanted to entertain Sawamura, wanted Sawamura to memorize this encounter as well as he did, he wanted Sawamura to prove himself and his worth. He’d do anything if that’s his reward.
Touch yourself with me now. I'll take care of you later. Only if you wanted it, though.
Miyuki recalled the command with a sense of fondness that shouldn't be there as he came closer, as he dropped his clothes off the floor and slid his fingers up his legs. As he started to please himself and guide Sawamura into the depths of his desires.
Only then did he realize that he had always been in danger.