Cooling down was not happening.
He'd been fighting down distraction all through training, and by now he had his gut wound up tight enough to mold iron bars. Stuff. Too much fucking stuff kept playing silly buggers in his mind, making it hard to go to sleep and making his dreams a freaking disaster area whenever he did catch a few hours of slumber. Davide sneered at himself as the unwanted memory of that morning's throbbing wake-up shock resurfaced, sending tiny, frustrated shockwaves through his system.
Anger boiled up, as his body once again disobeyed him. He hated not being in control of himself. Absolutely loathed the fact that his subconscious was feeding images and words to his hormones, which in turn unsettled everything from his pulse and heart-rate to his breathing to his cock. Sooner or later he was going to snap and go off at someone for nothing. Or worse, hit someone.
Fuck. Gritting his teeth, he slowed his pace down even more and forced his mind to focus on breathing and nothing but. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Done.
Grimly, he went on to stretch. Muscle by muscle, slow, steady pulls and holds that only loosened him up briefly. He kept his angry bee-hive mind under tight control. Just a little more, and he'd line up a few puns to keep his friends happy, hide away the angry glower and . . . he didn't really know what yet. Something. Anything.
As he entered the clubhouse locker room, he nearly collided with Itsuki and Shudou on their way out. "Sorry, sorry," he murmured, slipping inside and doing his level best to ignore the immediate barrage of questions from Itsuki. Turning around to yell "It's none of your fucking business, Itsuki-senpai!" just wasn't an option, but oh, he wanted to.
Instead he flicked his finger at Kentaro's ear, drawing a surprised yelp from the boy. "Oi, Kenken. You staying behind to do paperwork, or did you shift it off on Sae-san again?"
"Mou, Dabideee..." Kentaro rubbed his ear and pouted accusingly at Davide. "It's not my fault that Kaasan makes me come straight home every Thursday! And Sae-san offered, it's not like I made him!"
"Yeah, yeah, sure. Sae-san offed and you excepted, as you-sual. I'm--"
A shoe smacked into the back of Davide's head, followed by Bane's annoyed snapping, "Shut the hell up, Davide, you're not funny!"
Davide rubbed the back of his skull, but otherwise kept himself under careful control. "Anyway, just leave the keys in my bag when you head off. You don't have to hang around here and wait, I'll come in early tomorrow, kay?"
"Um . . . okay!" Kentaro grinned and picked up Bane's shoe. "You lost your shoe, Bane-chan!"
"Yeah, imagine that! And straight onto the dorkiest noggin on the planet! Guess that's what they call divine intervention, ne?" Bane crowed, reaping laughs from Kentaro and Saeki both.
Not deigning to answer the taunt, Davide proceeded to strip out of his training gear, wrap a towel around him and march into the showers. A moment later, he marched out again to collect his soap, shampoo and conditioner. Sweet damnation, when had he gotten this careless?!
Fuming at himself, he didn't even listen to Bane's (or was it Saeki?) teasing comments about pun-induced brain damage (definitely Bane) and forgetfulness. Nor did he see the raised eyebrows and concerned looks that passed between his team mates when he failed to react.
---
Bane left the club house with a small frown tugging at his eyebrows. Davide was acting weird and now that he thought about it, the joker had been sort of . . . off for some time. What the fuck. It wasn't like Davide to be pissy and silent like that, and it sure as hell wasn't like him to have trouble focusing during training. On the other hand, it was entirely like Davide to throw in completely random actions and words, simply because he was an eccentric twit.
An eccentric twit who was real hard to keep your eyes off. Bane stopped and glared down at the pavement, daring it to comment. Lately, it was all he could do to stop himself from staring at his buddy. He'd had a couple of near-misses, where he'd nearly dropped a return because he couldn't drag his eyes away from those wild, red locks. Nah, scratch that 'near' bit. There was no way Saeki hadn't noticed, but so far he hadn't commented. Which was good, beucase if he did, Bane would have to kick him.
It was as if Davide had turned into a magnet or something, but in stead of pulling at electrons, he was pulling at Bane's attention. And now he was acting all grumpy and distracted and it wasn't like him to . . . arrgh!
Bane turned around and stalked back to the club house. He wasn't a patient guy at the best of times, and the current times were a far fucking cry from 'best'. Chinese-type 'interesting' was more like it. Quietly, he opened the door and entered the locker room again.
Hm. The shower was still running. That was unusual even for Davide, who took an abnormal amount of time to clean and condition his precious hair. Even Ryou, whose hair nearly reached his ass by now, didn't fuss that much. Bane decided to check in on his partner, just in case . . .
---
It felt good to just stand there soaking in the shower. Steaming hot water gushed down on Davide, and for a long while he focused on nothing but those steady jets numbing his scalp and shoulders.
Eventually, he reached for his shampoo bottle and started washing his hair, slowly and methodically. Lather, rince, repeat and then the conditioner.
Oh, wonderful. His stomack started fluttering again while he dragged his fingers through his wet tresses to work in the almond-smelling goop. His subconscious stirred, slipping his body the idea that those weren't his fingers running through his hair. The suggestion bordered on physical the way it pulled and pushed at his thoughts. It was so tempting to just give in and let that need take over and envelop him in the fantasy a part of him wanted so badly to be true.
Those were not his hands in his hair. Those were not his fingers running through his locks and massaging his scalp. Slow, deliberate, skilled luxury. Parting, rubbing, stroking, pressing, combing, again and again. Not him, not his hands -- palms just a little wider, fingers just a little longer -- but just as rough and hard from years of clutching tennis raquets.
Davide swallowed and flicked his tongue over his lips. His mouth was dry. The still sane part of his mind yelled at him to stop spacing out and just finish up already.
But he was alone in the showers.
All the others had left by now; there was nothing but silence emanating from the locker room.
He had the place to himself, and--
--and damn it all, he was aching with pent-up frustration and confused tension.
Davide drew a deep breath and lowered his hands. There was the soap bottle. He tried to breathe normally as he reached for it and squeezed a generous helping into his hand and started to spread it over his chest and shoulders in hesitant, yet firm strokes.
The sudden hitch in his breath as his chest clamped tight over his lungs, shoved normal out the door. His skin tingled and craved, helping the rest of his body and id drown out the remains of his control-freak superself.
Slowly, firmly, he smeared the soap around. He traced his collarbone to the left and then the one to the right. Then hands that his fantasy no longer recognised as his own, followed the curve of pectoral muscles downwards. They found his nipples already knotted into angry, hyperaware buds that sent lines of fire straight down to his groin when he touched them. Davide bit his lip and brushed his tumbs over his nipples again, setting off the same shock of carnal need that curled up and squeezed something inside his balls.
Oh God, so good. More. Gotta have more!
Lower, lower, palms slid down. Big hands, demanding hands that his skin couldn't get enough of. The hunger, the need to feel those hands that weren't his (but damn it they should be!) clawed like a trapped tiger in the pit of his belly and choked him so he could hardly breathe.
His cock had become so rock-hard it almost felt numb. It strained and begged and pulsed for attention, replacing reason and fantasy with mad lust. Still he held back, taking time to roam his hands over his belly, trailing the contures of the muscles, then down and to the sides, brushing calloused fingertips over his hip bones.
Crazy.
Want.
Mad.
Need.
Senseless.
"Touch me..."
Davide put one hand on the wall to brace himself and finally gave in to his body's desperate demands. He slid his other hand from his hip to his groin, pressed his fingertips flat against wet skin and pushed slowly through the redbrown curls. A low, animal grunt shuddered out when he closed his hand around his erection and squeezed, just trapping it there for one moment, two moments, while his body screamed for more.
---
Bane couldn't believe his own eyes when he peeked into the showers. There was Davide, and he was only technically cleaning himself. More like caressing. Stroking. Sweetmercifulgoddess! To be Davide's hands now . . . to be the one exploring that tall, statuesque body and map out all the sensitive spots. To be allowed to feel him, to--
Touch me?
The sound of his friend's voice gasping out those words froze Bane to the spot. He held his breath for several heartbeats, mind blanking out in panic.
No. No, it wasn't . . . Davide hadn't spoken to him. It was just words slipping out from whatever fantasy he was caught in.
Hot damn! A sudden sting of jealousy pierced through him as he watched, petrified, Davide brace himself against the wall. Just who was it he had with him in his mind? Whose face was he seeing behind those closed eyes? Whose lips was he imagining on his?
Who is he with in there? Who is he getting off with? It ought to be me!
Bane gritted his teeth, trying and failing to banish those thoughts. There was only one thing to do, and that was to stop this. Okay, so the right thing to do would be to retreat in silence and never mention this to anyone, least of all Davide, but he just . . . he just couldn't.
He took a deep, shaky breath, fixed a smirk in place and called out in his most obnoxious voice. "Yo Davide, need help with that?" His words hardly shook at all, he noted with some pride.
---
Davide nearly swallowed his tongue when his ears brought home to his brain that Bane's voice had actually come from the real world. From behind and to the right, just about where the door was. It should have yanked him straight out of the fantasy; it should have left him stunned. In stead it just pushed him deeper into his sinkhole of lust. His fingers clawed at the wall and he turned his head to look
and there he was
school uniform -- black
Bane
tall, broad shoulders--
want him
eyes, brown
now!
Dark fire roared up from his groin, through his belly and filled his chest and his mind, narrowing his vision the point where he could only see Bane and nothing else mattered. Even his voice wasn't his anymore; some darker, more primal master rode him and spoke where he couldn't.
"Why don't you . . . come here . . . and find out."
---
It was hardly more than a growl, but it hit Bane like a sledgehammer to his midsection.
The look in those eyes! When Davide glanced over his shoulder at him, face framed with dripping wet strands of red, all he could see was those eyes, pupils so dilated with lust that you could hardly see the green iris around them. Pits of merciless desire, radiating brutal need, nailed Bane to the spot and seared the stupid smirk off his face.
His mouth dried up and his spine caught fire. That tall, toned body supported against the wall with one hand while the other gripped that big, erect cock and the water running down that pale skin and sweet heavens above! It was the sexiest, most goddamn arousing sight he'd ever laid eyes on. It pulled him across the room in an instant as coherency fled down the drain. He barely managed to remove his jacket and chuck it out the door before he had his hands on Davide.
Feverishly hot skin. Almond scent. Well-defined muscles so tense he could feel the tremours under his hands.
Oh God. Yes. Mine.
He wrapped his arms around his partner, hard, not even noticing that his shirt got soaked from the still running shower.
Mine!
---
Davide leaned back into the embrace and clamped his fingers tight around one of Bane's wrists. Finally, finally those hands were on him; touching exploring taking. His now, and he wanted . . . had to make Bane touch him there! Now. No waiting. No tender foreplay. Too far gone for that. He had to have it at once.
"Touch me . . . feel my cock . . . got to . . ."
Bane let Davide pull his hand south, wincing at the bone-crushing grip at the same time as it heated him even more. The raw edge in Davide's voice, the uncompromising demand, the intoxicating aura of sex -- even if he'd wanted to, he didn't think it'd be possible to stop.
And then he had his hand on his partner's dick. Damn, he was hard!
Davide groaned and thrusted into his hand. "Harder! Pump me harder," he grated. His hands he shifted around to hold on to Bane's arms and shirt for dear life, while he leaned back against the broad chest.
"Do it!"
Bane growled and fastened his grip on Davide. Dipping his head, he bit his teeth into the redhead's neck and set to work. He pumped hard and fast against Davide's thrusts, taking fierce pride in the incoherent moans and groans from the other boy.
Davide felt something like nausea push up his throat; his belly had no room for more fire. Bane's arm was locked around his chest, Bane's mouth was on his neck, Bane's body was steady and hard against his back, Bane's hand was jacking him off. The white-hot, burning knot of pressure in the pit of his stomach wound tighter and tighter. His vision was failing. His mind was nothing more than a painful mess of--
"Fuck . . . Bane . . ."
--need.
"Let go, Davide." Rough words grunted into his ear. Another bite; this time on his shoulder.
"Come on," Bane whispered. "Let me hear you scream."
"Nngh, B-bastard--"
"Scream."
"Gah, I--"
"Scream."
His hips bucked and shoved at Bane's hand completely on their own accord now. Tighter, tighter, tighter, ohgodsotight, the sensation was searing between his legs. Growing, ever growing with each thrust and pull until there was no more give, no more stretch and something snapped.
Davide screamed and threw his head back on Bane's shoulder as the explosion raged through him. The shock fired his load straight at the tiled wall; one burst, two bursts, three! Muscles he didn't even know he had spasmed wildly, like a fist squeezing something inside of him, forcing out every last drop of come. All he could see was red-edged, white orgasm riding him like a beast and tearing him to pieces.
It took all of Bane's strength to hold his partner up when he lost it. The scream went straight to his own cock, didn't even bother to go via the ears, nearly pushing him over the edge too. It was all he could do to stop himself from slamming Davide up against the wall and fuck him right there. Rubbing himself against Davide's backside instead, he focused on holding on to the other boy until he stopped gasping and shaking.
"Shit...", Davide whispered, trying to stop his knees from giving way. He'd gone all liquid and gooey inside, feeling about as taut as a wet noodle. Exhausted no-mind.
Bane grinned, and when Davide finally reached out to put his hands on the wall to support himself, Bane turned off the shower.
An eerie quiet descended upon them, only challenged by Davide's still heavy, rapid breath. Bane was soaking wet, shirt and pants and everything, but he couldn't care less -- he had Davide's back before him, just waiting to be explored and tasted. Taking the opportunity presented, Bane ran his hands up his partner's back. He traced the dip along the spine with his thumbs, luxuring in the sensation of slick, hot skin and hard muscles.
Davide damn near purred, but caught himself in the nick of time. Instead he arched into the petting, pleased and heavy with afterglow. When Bane leaned in to plant a kiss between his shoulderblades, he smiled lazily to himself. Okay, so he could obviously have saved himself (them both?) a lot of grief by listening to his subconsious and libido earlier, but this made up for it all. Definitely.
A hiss of pleasure escaped him when Bane dragged his toungue up along his spine and ended up nibbling on his ear. And that's when he got a stiff, impatient reminder that they weren't quite done yet pressed against his buttock. A fierce, posessive blaze grew in him. Oh yeah!
Bane suddenly found himself thrown around and shoved up against the wall; strong, uncompromising hands firmly clutching his shoulders. The flushed, predatory smile Davide aimed at him made his heart skip several beats, while his cock yelled for attention nownownownow! It almost drowned out the competetive instinct that spiked up in response to the rough handling.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Davide?" he tried to snap. But even with the rush of blood roaring in his ears, he could hear how he failed to sound anything but needy.
"You didn't get off yet . . . Harukaze," Davide murmured and slipped one hand down to stroke the bulge in Bane's pants.
"Ahhh fuck!" The hot intimacy of Davide's tone and use of his name, the kneading his cock was receiving -- it all scattered his thoughts and left him easy prey.
Davide attacked Bane's fly, unbuttoning the pants with amazing speed even though the fabric was soggy and uncooperative. Once he got them undone, he pulled down the trousers and boxers, exposing the straining erection within.
"Your time to scream," Davide husked and took his partner's cock in hand, secure in the knowledge that what worked for himself would likely work for Bane too.
"As if," Bane hissed in protest, wanting to say more but he lost his words when Davide started working him. "Ah fuck! Davide..."
Davide leaned into Bane, setting just as punishing a pace for his friend as the other had done for him. When Bane moaned again and involuntarily leaned his head back, Davide went for the exposed throat. He attacked with kisses and nibbles, licks and bites, coaxing a steadily escalating string of greedy, guttural groans from Bane.
He drowned them out when he reached Bane's mouth. The strangled, throaty moan and the frantic fingers curling in his hair and pulling him closer told him all he needed to know.
If it occured to Bane that he was no longer in any kind of control, he didn't heed it. His mind had only room for one focus now, and that was Davide was doing to him. Davide's hand on his cock and Davide's lips on his lips and Davide's tongue brushing agains his own and Davide's body pressing against him. One sensation after the other flaring up in crazy whirlwind of pleasure.
Davide's hand tightened around Bane and wound him up tight like a white-hot spiral spring, making him whimper. His throat constricted.
So close . . .
When Davide started thrusting his tongue into his mouth in sync with the pumping, the floodgates exploded. Torrents of release surged through him; system overload, consciousness departing on a scream. Davide's low growl of pleasure at his loss of control sent several aftershocks shuddering through Bane, before he collapsed against his partner, spent and heavy.
Davide held on to his friend, only now wondering why Bane was still wearing a shirt. He listened to Bane breathing; heavy, but steadily slowing heaves for air, marking the boy's descent from orgasm. Savouring the moment, he shifted one hand up and stroked the back of Bane's neck, rubbing his thumb along the pulsating artery below his jaw.
"Damn . . ."
". . . yeah."
Eventually, they slid down onto the floor, resting their backs against the wall, and for a long time they just sat there side by side, speechless, dazed and sated. Once they got back out into the locker room, reality would catch up with them bigtime, but for now--
--they would rest.