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A shrill whistle cuts through the air, and Aomine is suddenly conscious of his surroundings. He blinks slowly against the bright stadium lights, the crowd’s distant roar mingling with the deep thrum of his heartbeat. He’s coming down from the high of the final quarter, fingers flexing around a ball that isn’t there, feeling unraveled and a bit out of control. Residual adrenaline from the game makes his body want to cry out or punch something, while his mind is perfectly, completely still. Blank. Ah, so this is what it feels like to lose, Aomine barely has time to think before footsteps enter his field of view. It’s Kuroko, of course.
He thought his need for Kuroko was something he’d grown out of, just like he grew out of that absurd playacting-as-a-team shit they did at Teiko. After so many months apart, Aomine could almost pretend it never existed: the easy banter with Kise, a natural talent who reminded him of his younger self; the grudging admiration for Midorima’s miracle shots, even though the glasses bastard had an insufferable personality; and the perfect rhythm he shared with Kuroko, his first and only true partner on the court.
Aomine was drawn to Kuroko from the day they met, fascinated by the scrawny kid who fought so hard to stand on the same court as players deemed miracles. He didn’t want to admit it, but Aomine almost viewed their partnership as a miracle, delighted to be playing basketball every day with someone who fully understood his love for the sport. So it wasn’t that surprising when his fascination developed into something more like a crush.
Sure, Aomine still crowed to his teammates about liking busty gravure idols and plastered their locker room with pictures of Mai-chan. But the Teiko first string didn’t know their ace also spent nights thinking about flashes of pale stomach, touching himself to the memory of sweat dripping down Kuroko’s flat, muscled chest after a particularly difficult win, and wanted. Wanted serious eyes staring up at him as Kuroko’s mouth wrapped around his cock, or Kuroko moving inside of him, thrusting, fucking him with a quiet, knowing confidence that made Aomine shake.
Truthfully, Aomine was tired of basketball and the way others revered him as a monstrous genius. No one was willing to put up a fight on the court or challenge the reigning king. It was incredibly boring, and amid the crushing apathy of being worshipped, Aomine felt his sense of self draining away. Aomine Daiki the man was being replaced by a nameless, faceless, unknowable god. But then came Kuroko—invisible, observant Kuroko with his clear eyes always fixed on Aomine, a silent presence who made Aomine crave the enormity of being understood completely by another.
But Aomine realized this need was a sign of weakness, incompatible with the style of basketball he'd honed through the years. He was the king of the court, a rising prodigy, and his inexplicable need for Kuroko was a clawing, obscene thing that dragged him back to earth. So Aomine cast it aside when he left Teiko and embraced the path of a selfish player who demanded subservience and bent teams to his will. But sometimes he’d see a flash of messy light hair on the train and be hit with an unexpected, all-encompassing ache, a desire that could only be fulfilled late at night, toes curling in his bedsheets as he worked three fingers into himself, stroking and pressing deeply enough that he could imagine it was Kuroko’s cock taking him apart, Kuroko’s dark eyes above him as Aomine was finally, completely dominated.
And so Touou Academy’s new hope, nationally-recognized power forward Aomine Daiki, never dreaded losing. Instead, he waited for it, in the way a man who had everything thirsted for the destruction only a god could bring.
In the present, Kuroko is saying something over the cheers of the crowd, propped up on Kagami’s shoulder, and yes, this is what Aomine was waiting for: a total defeat which shatters his façade, a forced rejection of feigned apathy and barbed arrogance towards his teammates. Aomine dimly registers Wakamatsu yelling at him from across the court, but the words fade as Kuroko limps past, calloused fingertips ghosting across Aomine’s knuckles. And then comes a low, even voice that sends a jolt straight to his cock: “Meet me at the Seirin locker room in 20.”
---
Aomine knows he’s selfish for abandoning his team so soon after a tournament-ending loss. (Even he notices the 3rd years’ gritted-back tears during coach’s post-game meeting.) But Aomine is a man, and Kuroko is his god. He slips out of the Touou locker room as soon possible, and as he strides down a darkened hallway, all Aomine can think of is Kuroko—the sweat that had pearled on his collarbones minutes ago in the gym’s oppressive humidity, his throat bobbing as he whispered words which made Aomine hard instantly, overcome with the urge to lick down Kuroko’s neck, follow the droplets with his tongue lower to worship pale skin stretched over thinly muscled abs, not giving a damn who was watching. Aomine on his knees for Kuroko, the way it should be.
When he enters Seirin's room, it’s dark, possibly empty. But the moment he steps inside, hands grab him by the collar, tugging sharply, and in his surprise Aomine allows himself to be manhandled until he’s lying against a wall, Kuroko’s warm weight settling across his thighs. “Tetsu,” he growls, not sure if in warning or invitation, and the answering chuckle makes his whole body shiver.
“You played well today,” Kuroko smiles up at him, fingers carding softly through Aomine’s hair, and the larger man fights against the urge to arch into his touch, gasping at the gentleness, so fucking turned on and still not quite believing this was happening.
“Testu, wait, are you seriously—“ Aomine mind blurs as Kuroko’s other hand somehow makes its way under his shirt, splaying across the bare skin of his stomach. Aomine is so hard it aches, abs flexing at the contact, and his words devolve into a broken moan as Kuroko brings his lips to Aomine’s throat, sucking on his pulse point.
“This is what you want, right?” Kuroko mumbles between kisses, and Aomine can feel the indulgent smile pressed against his skin. “I’m your shadow. You really think I didn’t notice all those years of you staring at me in the locker room?” Kuroko’s curious fingers finally find Aomine’s cock under his underwear, drawing a long, strangled noise from the larger man.
“Tetsu, I—“ Aomine breaks off, panting. It’s all too much: Kuroko’s soft voice and lips against his neck, skillful hands stroking his shaft, and oh—oh, Kuroko’s own hardness pressing into Aomine’s clothed thigh.
“You were kind of like a big dog following me around.” Kuroko nips at Aomine’s earlobe, teasing. “There’s no good denying it, Aomine-kun. I know you too well.”
A dog? Aomine's brow furrows amid the pleasure of whatever magic Kuroko is working with his lips. Who the fuck does Tetsu think he is? The taunts are kind of hot but also kind of pissing him off, so he can't help but snap back, “And what are you going to do about it?”
But words are barely out of Aomine’s mouth when his underwear is pushed down roughly, Kuroko bending to swallow Aomine’s cock in one swift motion. All coherent thought disappears from Aomine’s mind as Kuroko bobs his head, teasing with flicks of his tongue and warm suction and the barest hint of teeth and where the fuck did Testu learn how to suck dick like a champ, anyway?
“Oh, fuck, Tetsu, you’re so—“ Aomine’s ragged voice dissolves into a long moan, a sound so filthy he almost doesn’t recognize himself.
“Does that feel good? Tell me what you want, Aomine-kun,” Kuroko pulls off to say quietly, blinking up at Aomine with spit and pre-come shining on his lips, and it’s just like Aomine’s fantasies, maybe even better. Because Aomine couldn’t have imagined what it would be like to have all of Kuroko’s quiet intensity focused on him like this, so attentive and careful even when moments ago his mouth was full of Aomine’s cock.
“Oh shit, Tetsu, that’s so hot. I want—I want you, fuck, inside—“ In the dim light, Aomine feels rather than sees Kuroko’s smirk against his hip (still an overly confident bastard underneath that innocent face) and then two lubed fingers are sinking into him. Fucking hell, where did he even get the fucking lube, Aomine thinks wildly, crying out from the sudden sensation of fullness, hips jerking uncontrollably as Kuroko’s slender fingers pump slowly inside Aomine’s body.
“Yes, yes, so good, ah, Tetsu!“ Aomine pants as Kuroko’s fingers rub just right inside of him, his brain-to-mouth filter shutting off completely. When Kuroko adds another finger, hitting—ah fuck, there—Aomine nearly comes apart, muscles flexing and arching his back like a bow drawn taut.
“Have you touched yourself, thinking of me?” Kuroko asks casually, and suddenly Aomine’s hole is clenching around nothing, legs trembling at the feeling of emptiness. “Is that why you take three fingers so easily, because you’ve fucked yourself imagining it was me?”
The usually unruffled man sounds breathless, pleased, tracing Aomine’s reddened rim with a thumb, and Aomine whines when he realizes Kuroko’s other hand is languidly stroking himself beneath his uniform shorts. “Tetsu, don’t be a fucking tease,” he manages to grit out, even as his hips jerk involuntarily, his body longing to be filled again with something bigger.
“Look at you wagging your tail like a dog. I like dogs, but you need to be patient, Aomine-kun,” Kuroko says quietly, his usually monotone voice strained with arousal. He sits back on his heels, pushing his shorts and underwear down fully to free his erection. Aomine’s mouth goes dry at the sight of Kuroko’s surprisingly thick length, bobbing a pretty dark red against the white skin of his stomach, and Aomine wants it inside of him, preferably immediately. But Kuroko merely palms himself and says, “Why don’t you show me how much you want it?”
Seeing Kuroko jerk himself off is so hot that Aomine loses all sense of pride. His legs fall open slowly as he reaches down to stroke his stiff cock, but it's not enough. Soon he's got three fingers plunging inside of himself, stretching his hole wider, face burning but also incredibly turned on from putting on such a shameless display. “Here... I want you here...”
Kuroko groans at the obscene sight and grips Aomine’s thighs with surprising strength, pushing him back until he’s bent double, legs in the air, twitching hole exposed completely. Then Aomine feels something large and hot pressing against his entrance, and oh god it’s the blunt head of Kuroko’s cock sliding in slowly, maddeningly, stretching him further than he ever thought possible.
“God, yes, Tetsu, ahh more—“ Aomine groans, white-hot pleasure spiking through his body at being so utterly filled. “More, god, Tetsu, I want-“ He sobs when Kuroko slides out almost all the way then snaps forward harshly, thick cock bumping against a spot deep inside that has Aomine wailing,
“A-Aomine-kun, it feels so good inside of you.“ Kuroko grits out, setting a punishing pace as if he’s a mind reader privy to all of Aomine’s fantasies that play out exactly like this: Kuroko’s cock pounding into Aomine’s ass, Aomine unable to do anything but lie there and take it, wrecked and out of his mind with pleasure, rutting his hips to meet Kuroko’s thrusts, whimpering for Kuroko to fuck him harder. Aomine wonders deliriously if he was made for this, a king with immense power on the court made to bend and shiver and open up sweetly for one man only, for Kuroko alone.
Now Kuroko is kissing and biting along Aomine’s chest, tongue licking relentlessly against pert nipples while Aomine gasps, “I’m almost, ah—ah I’m gonna—“
“That’s it, let it go,” Kuroko breathes reverently, and Aomine is floored when he glimpses Kuroko’s expression: pupils blown wide, a mixture of wonder and self-satisfaction etched across his face that’s so very Tetsu. “You’re getting close, aren’t you, Aomine-kun? So am I.”
Kuroko is moaning pretty sighs against Aomine’s chest, Kuroko’s cock is pounding him deep into the cold floor, and Aomine sobs at the sensation of being owned so completely. “Tetsu, I love, ah, I love how you feel, oh god, yes ah, ahhh so good inside me.” He feels like he's going crazy, stroking his own cock in time to Kuroko’s hard thrusts.
Kuroko’s lips press against Aomine’s throat, jaw, cheekbones, littering soft kisses across his face until Aomine growls in need and frustration, reaching up to tangle his hands in Kuroko‘s hair and slot their lips together harshly. Aomine’s mind stutters—it’s his first kiss with Tetsu, it’s his first kiss, period—and then Kuroko’s tongue is licking deep inside of Aomine’s mouth, the smaller man moaning wantonly against his lips. It's a filthy sound he never imagined his quietest teammate capable of making and quite possibly the hottest thing Aomine has ever experienced, and suddenly Aomine’s coming from the dizzying feeling of having Kuroko’s tongue shoved down his throat while his cock fucks him open. Aomine’s whole body seizes, clenching down. He hears a low “fuck, Daiki,“ and finally Kuroko spills too, filling him deep inside with spurts of hot liquid that feel dirty and obscene and just right.
As they come down from the high, Kuroko’s cock still pulsing inside Aomine, the smaller man can’t help but snort, pressing a grin into Aomine’s sweaty neck.
“What are you laughing at?” Aomine drawls, running his hands through Kuroko’s hair and feeling a bit more like his previous self in the post-sex clarity, a younger self who genuinely loved basketball, his friends, and—
Kuroko smirks, “I get the whole lusting after me since middle school thing, but was it really so good that you came after just one kiss?”
Aomine rolls his eyes at Kuroko’s smug tone, too sated to think carefully about what he says next. “Shut up, it’s just because I’ve been in love with your ass since forever.”
Kuroko stiffens imperceptibly, then deadpans: “What a coincidence, same here,” in classic Kuroko fashion, and wait, what?
Aomine blinks down at blue eyes shining with an emotion he’s never seen in them before, and his mind spins.
Because Kuroko is a god on the court and off, capable of undoing Aomine with ease, but maybe Kuroko is a man too. And in that small sliver of possibility, there might be a future for both of them.