lysapadin: pen & ink painting of bamboo against a full moon (Default)
[personal profile] lysapadin
Title: Asking for It
Characters/Pairings: Imayoshi/Aomine; Momoi
Summary: Imayoshi decides it's time he set the bar a little higher for Aomine's behavior, but that ends up complicating things more than he expects.
Notes: Adult for smut; the further adventures of life in the Firm Hand 'verse. 4986 words.

~~~~~~~~~~


Asking for It

If she had anything like a besetting sin, Satsuki knew that it was her insatiable need to know. She managed to make it serve her most of the time—she'd dare any team in the country to produce a manager better-informed than she was—but sometimes it got the better of her. That was when she would find herself digging into obscure corners of the internet and delving into library books that hadn't been opened since before she'd started school, chasing after some crucial piece of information that would soothe the itch in her brain.

Of course, it wasn't always that easy. Sometimes the need to understand led her places that maybe she wouldn't have chosen to go, otherwise, and sometimes… sometimes it meant that she kept on picking at a matter that she knew she'd really ought to leave alone.

For instance, there was this: it was Saturday afternoon, again, and Imayoshi-san had dismissed the rest of the team from their extra practice again, and had held Dai-chan back again. And instead of doing what she knew she really needed to do, which was head back to her room to get some work done, Satsuki was loitering outside the gym again, trying to persuade herself that she didn't want to sneak inside to spy on Imayoshi-san and Dai-chan.

But she did. She really, really did.

Dai-chan had spent practice sulky and obviously not in any mood to play nicely with the other boys, apparently because the new Horikata Mai book had been delayed. That little disappointment was all the excuse Dai-chan had really needed to misbehave himself—and when he'd been behaving himself so well lately, too. Imayoshi-san was surely going to—punish—him for the relapse. Wouldn't he?

Satsuki bit her lip, eyeing the gym's doors, because she'd spent more time than she'd have cared to admit looking at some very specific things on the internet. It was easy to imagine Imayoshi-san holding a paddle or a crop, and easy to imagine him using it, too. (Easier than Satsuki thought it was supposed to be, though the guilt she felt about that and the amount of time she spent on that thought, her hand busy between her thighs, hadn't stopped her yet.)

And it was Dai-chan, who'd been her chosen responsibility for almost as long as she'd known him. From that perspective, she practically had a duty to—to make sure that Imayoshi-san was taking care of him properly.

It was specious logic, Satsuki knew that perfectly well, and she carefully did not let herself consider the matter any further before she stole to the doors and eased one open as quietly as possible, just far enough to slip inside. She held the door carefully, letting it swing shut again just as soundlessly behind her.

As before, the gym was quiet and deserted, the last clutter from practice tidied away, and the overhead lights turned off. Since she'd been watching and hadn't seen Imayoshi-san or Dai-chan leave, that meant they were probably in the locker room again.

Satsuki took a deep breath to steady herself and tried to ignore the tight, fluttering feeling in her stomach as she headed in that direction, careful to make no noise.

She didn't hear anything until she was close to the door, and then it was only the murmur of Imayoshi-san's voice. Satsuki edged as close to the door as she dared, straining to make out what it was he was saying. After a moment, the steady murmur of Imayoshi-san's voice was interrupted by Dai-chan's voice, petulant. "Don't you ever shut up?"

Satsuki blinked, thrown—that didn't sound anything like what she'd expected to hear.

"I'm sorry, was there something else you thought I should be doing?" Imayoshi-san sounded—well, he sounded bored.

"Well, gee, now, let me think," Dai-chan drawled, doing a reasonably good impression of Imayoshi-san. "I can think of a few things."

"I'm sure you can," Imayoshi-san said, still bored. Almost indifferent, Satsuki thought. "So what?"

Dai-chan dropped the imitation drawl for indignation. "What do you mean, so what?"

"I mean, so what? Am I supposed to care what you think? I'd swear that we've been through this before, but you are the worst recidivist that I know."

"A what?"

Satsuki could practically hear Imayoshi-san rolling his eyes as he said, "You backslide constantly, brat. It's getting to be a pattern, I've noticed."

"Yeah? You gonna do something about it?" Dai-chan was probably smirking—he had a particularly irritating version he used when he was trying to stir up trouble. Satsuki had seen him use it more times than she could remember. As she often did, she questioned his wisdom in choosing to deploy it now. She'd have thought better of it herself.

"Brat, you are not even half as cunning as you think you are." Imayoshi-san still sounded bored and not even particularly amused. "I reckon it's just about time I did something about these lapses you keep having."

"Yeah? Like what?"

"I think I'm going to require you to use your words from here on out. And the next time you act up like you did today, I'm throwing you off the team."

What?

Dai-chan sounded as shocked as she felt. "What? You can't do that!"

Satsuki flinched at the sharp crack and Dai-chan's yelp; Imayoshi-san's voice was just as sharp as that sound had been. "Don't tell me what I can and can't do."

"Imayoshi-san…" Dai-chan's voice had dropped, turning lower like he was responding to Imayoshi-san's sudden assertion of authority.

"The thing about you is that you keep looking for challenges. I figure it's about time I set you a new standard, since you like pushing your limits so much."

"What does that mean?" Dai-chan asked, not quite so insolent now.

"It means I expect you to show up to practice every day and behave yourself every day." Imayoshi-san's voice was so utterly flat that Satsuki bit her lip—he didn't sound at all like the guy who'd talked about Dai-chan deserving better.

"That's not what we agreed to," Dai-chan objected.

Satsuki made up her mind to peek around the edge of the doorway just in time to see Imayoshi-san deliver another slap to Dai-chan's ass—she covered her mouth to keep herself from making any sound and whipped her head back. Dai-chan was blindfolded, naked and kneeling on one of the benches, his ass in the air and his hands tied behind his back again, and his cheek was pressed against the bench. Imayoshi-san was prowling around him, watching him intently.

"No, I don't suppose it is." Imayoshi-san still sounded bored, though he'd looked anything but. Maybe that was why he had Dai-chan wearing the blindfold. "I don't think I'm asking too much of you to show up and behave during practice. I've watched you do it on a regular basis."

"Yeah, but—hngh!"

"But what?" Imayoshi-san asked, velvety. Dai-chan groaned. "I'm waiting, brat." Satsuki bit her lip and carefully peeked again—oh. Imayoshi-san had his hand between Dai-chan's legs, holding him—Dai-chan made another of those sounds, and Satsuki realized that Imayoshi-san was squeezing. "Well?"

"You promised!" Dai-chan gasped, hoarse. "Incentives!"

Imayoshi-san released him and Dai-chan groaned, sounding disappointed. "Yes, I did. I'm not proposing to go back on my word." He resumed pacing, circling Dai-chan's bench, watching him. "I'll still reward you for good behavior."

Dai-chan wet his lips. "Will you?"

"If you earn it, of course. Virtue may be its own reward, but I like something a little more tangible myself." Imayoshi-san reached out as he strolled around Dai-chan, brushing his fingers over Dai-chan's ass. He was smiling, small and amused.

"So what's the catch?" Dai-chan rasped.

"I already told you." Imayoshi-san let his fingers drift down between Dai-chan's thighs, stroking the insides of them. "All you have to do is use your words."

"What does that mean?" Dai-chan asked, hoarse; Satsuki could see him flexing his fingers.

Imayoshi-san smiled, looking pleased, completely at odds with the way he purred, "It means I'll indulge you as much as you like… as long as you ask for it nicely."

"What?" Dai-chan asked. Satsuki couldn't blame him for sounding distracted, since it had to be hard—oh good grief—difficult, it had to be difficult to think clearly while Imayoshi-san was running his fingers along the insides of his thighs like that.

He made a disappointed sound when Imayoshi-san drew his hand away and resumed his slow circling around the bench. "It's very simple, brat. It's time for you to begin taking on some more responsibility around here. I'm not asking for much, really. Just tell me what you want for your incentives, and I will provide."

She would have torn her hair out with frustration if she'd been Imayoshi-san, because even then Dai-chan wasn't getting it. "What? I don't understand."

Imayoshi-san sighed heavily, though he was actually smiling at Dai-chan, fond. "It's a good thing you're pretty, and that's all I can say about that." He slapped Dai-chan's ass again when Dai-chan protested. "Let me make this simple. We're going to stop disrupting the team's practice based on what we get up to in our private time. You are going to behave in practice no matter what you want me to do with you, and the reward for that is that I will do whatever it is you ask me to do afterwards, as long as you're direct about it. Understand?"

Dai-chan was silent, mulling it over. "Are you serious? I'm not going to do that." But his voice was rough, husky.

That made Imayoshi-san smile. "You're not? But it's so simple, brat." He ran his fingers along Dai-chan's spine, starting with his nape and skipping over his bound hands to linger at the pit end of it. "If you want me to fuck you, all you have to say is, 'Sir, please fuck me.' That wouldn't be so hard, would it?" Dai-chan was silent, though Satsuki heard him suck in a deep breath. Imayoshi-san carried on, still smiling. "I'm not asking for eloquence here, I know better'n that. You don't have to get fancy. If you want it, all you have to do is tell me you want to suck my cock. Or that you want me to fuck your mouth." He patted Dai-chan's ass lightly and resumed his relentless pacing around the bench. "That's not much to ask for, is it?"

Dai-chan drew another raspy breath. "What's the catch?"

Imayoshi-san seemed to be delighted by the question. "I'm glad you asked," he drawled, grinning, and rolled his head on his neck to stretch it out—a process that had him taking his eyes off Dai-chan, with the accidental side effect that Satsuki found herself making eye contact with him.

Imayoshi-san froze, staring at her and looking genuinely stunned to see her. Satsuki saw his lips move, silent, possibly shaping the syllables Momoi-chan, and for the life of her she couldn't look away or retreat like she knew she ought, because she had no business being here and watching this.

They stared at each other across the room, over Dai-chan's bound form, and the silence stretched out so long that Dai-chan shifted, restive. "Well?"

Imayoshi-san passed his tongue over his lips, not breaking eye contact with her, and said, slowly, "I'm glad you asked, brat. Because that's what you're going to do if you want something from me. You're going to ask. You'll get whatever you ask for. Exactly what you ask for, and only what you ask for."

Satsuki had to swallow hard, because oh—oh, she saw exactly what Imayoshi-san was going to make Dai-chan do, and she could imagine it all too easily—Imayoshi-san's implacable will standing up to Dai-chan's stubborn pride and bending it, humbling it, driving Dai-chan to that place where he'd looked so content. So sure of his place and Imayoshi-san's shoulder to lean on.

It didn't take Dai-chan very long to grasp the essentials of what Imayoshi-san was saying. "Only what I ask for?" he repeated, hoarse.

"Precisely," Imayoshi-san said, slowly, still watching her. "Starting today. If what you want from me is to make you beg, then you ask for it. If what you want is for me to punish you, then you ask for it. If what you want is for me to push you as hard and as far as you can go and then keep going, you ask for it, and you stop throwing tantrums during practice just to get my attention. Got it?"

"You can't—I can't—" Dai-chan stopped and started again, voice raspy. "I can't—"

Imayoshi-san took his eyes off Satsuki then and dropped a hand to Dai-chan's nape. "Yes, you can. You can do more than you think you can, brat. You will." He sounded stern, unyielding, but the lines of his expression were almost gentle, though hardly as unguarded as they'd been the last time Satsuki had watched them together. Well, why would they be? He knew she was there, this time. (Why was she still standing there? She had no right to be here. And yet she wasn't moving.) "You can do this, too."

"Sir…" Dai-chan said, low and desperate.

"You can do it," Imayoshi-san told him again. "You can tell me what you want. You know you can." He slid his fingers through Dai-chan's hair, ruffling it. "You know I'll give you what you need." He glanced up again, looking right at Satsuki. "What else is a captain for?"

Satsuki's heart skipped a beat, because—because—surely that didn't mean—

Imayoshi-san smiled, the faintest quirk of the corners of his mouth, wry, and then returned his attention to Dai-chan. "Tell me, brat. What do you want?"

Dai-chan shuddered; Satsuki was barely able to hear him when he whispered, "Push me. Please, sir."

"Good boy." Imayoshi-san's voice was warm, rich with his satisfaction. He looked up then and jerked his chin at Satsuki, pointed.

She felt her face go hot—of course he wanted her to leave, she shouldn't have even been standing there watching to begin with. She ducked her head and went, nearly stumbling over her own feet as she made her hasty retreat. She didn't stop moving until the gym doors were shut behind her; she leaned against them then and took a deep breath, trying to steady herself and trying to make some kind of sense out of what Imayoshi-san had been saying and why he'd waited so long to dismiss her. She tried, anyway, but her thoughts kept whirling and refused to settle at all, much less decipher Imayoshi-san's motives.

It was a long time before she was able to make herself walk away.

 
 

Shouichi waited until Momoi-chan had disappeared from her vantage point just outside the door—there was no way of knowing whether she'd simply ducked out of sight or had actually followed instructions to go away. For his own peace of mind, he had to assume that she was better about following orders than the brat was.

He took a deep breath and very firmly set the matter of Momoi-chan's unexpected penchant for voyeurism and the naked look of longing she'd been wearing to the side. There were only so many complicated things a man could focus on at a time.

Besides, the brat deserved his full attention now that he'd settled enough to do what Shouichi was asking of him. "Such a good boy." He squeezed Aomine's nape, holding him, and slid his other hand up the taut line of his back, touching the scarf binding his hands together and testing the temperature of his fingers (still warm and limber). He moved on and fitted his hand around the curve of Aomine's ass, gripping it and squeezing. "How hard do you want me to push you, brat? Shall I spank you until your ass is red? Maybe even until you'll be too sore to sit down tonight?"

Aomine moaned, shivering under his hands, but he didn't say anything.

Shouichi carried on, squeezing his ass again before spreading him open and sliding his fingers down to rub against his entrance, slow and hard, pushing until Aomine gasped and tensed and he could feel the muscles of the brat's body on the verge of giving way. Shouichi eased back and Aomine made a soft sound, very nearly a whine, that had Shouichi raising his eyebrows. "I almost thing you want me to take you dry," he said softly, fondling Aomine's entrance. Aomine shuddered underneath his hands. "I suppose you did say you wanted me to push you."

"Yes," Aomine said, guttural. "Yes, please…"

Shouichi only managed to keep his voice steady through will, because that operated on him in a powerful way. He rubbed his fingers back and forth, stroking firmly. "I need you to be a little more specific for me than that," he said, his own voice dropping low and husky in his ears. "Yes, you want me to push you hard, or yes, you want this?" He pressed his fingers against Aomine again, circling them firmly, and this time he didn't stop when he felt the brat's muscles begin to soften, sinking a finger into Aomine right up to the second knuckle and biting his lip to keep himself from groaning at how tight and hot the grip of Aomine's body was.

Aomine didn't groan, exactly—he trembled under Shouichi's hand, drawn tense like he didn't know whether to pull away or push back, and the sound he made was like a whine.

Shouichi squeezed his nape gently. "It's all right to say it's too much," he murmured. "I want your honesty, brat."

Aomine drew a breath like a sob. "I can't… I can't, sir, I'm sorry—"

"Shh, there's nothing to be sorry for." Shouichi eased free of his body and stroked his hand over Aomine's ass, gentle. "You're a good brat to be honest with me like that. You're such a good boy when you want to be." The trick was just in getting the brat to want that.

Aomine sighed, settling under his hands as Shouichi continued to ease him, and he wet his lips. "Will you still fuck me, please?"

"Of course I will." Shouichi squeezed his nape. "Do you still want me to push you?"

Aomine moaned, "Please…"

Shouichi smiled and moved to stand behind him so he could stroke his hands over Aomine's ass and hips, slow and sure, sliding them down his thighs and up the insides of them, squeezing the solid muscle of them. "You liked it, didn't you? How hard the stretch was." Aomine shuddered, uttering a groan as Shouichi cupped his cock, weight the hardness of it against his palm. "I think I'll take you tight, brat. Just think how big I'll feel pushing into you like that." Aomine groaned again as his cock twitched against Shouichi's palm. "Mm, I think you do like the thought of that." He slid his fingers up, sliding them over the head of Aomine's cock, slow, and caught the brat's hips when he would have rocked forward. "Let's not be hasty, now."

Aomine groaned, open, straining against Shouichi's hand, trying to press forward against his fingers. "Sir…"

"Easy, brat." Shouichi released his cock and gripped his ass again, squeezing it firmly and working the muscles until they began to turn hot under his hands. "We're not in any hurry here. Besides, I'm still not convinced you don't want a good spanking first."

Aomine jerked under his hands, his entire body shuddering. Shouichi waited for it, and after a moment he was rewarded by the brat's whisper. "Please, sir…"

"What's that?" Shouichi asked, letting his voice drop. "There something you wanna say?"

Aomine shuddered again. "Please… please spank me."

Shouichi took a deep breath, not least because it was so much hotter to hear the brat asking for it than he'd thought it would be. "Since you asked so nicely, like a good boy…" He held Aomine steady and brought his hand down on his ass, harder and heavier than the brisk slaps he'd used to get the brat's attention.

Aomine jerked against his hand, groaning. "Yes… oh, yes, please sir…"

Shouichi brought his hand down on Aomine's ass again, and again, heavy against skin that had been hot even before he'd begun to spank the brat. Aomine rocked forward with every blow, gasping as his ass turned red and Shouichi's palm began to sting. He moaned when Shouichi paused, sliding his hand over his hot skin. "No, please, don't stop…"

"Not enough yet?" Shouichi asked him, switching hands and bringing his hand down again.

"Want to feel it… want to keep on feeling it," Aomine gasped, breathing hard. "Please…!"

That was something interesting to think about later, when he had the time to review the day's session. For now Shouichi braced Aomine and let his hand turn hard and heavy as he spanked him steadily. "You'll feel this later," he promised, punctuating each word with a blow. "You'll have to eat your dinner standing up tonight, have to sleep on your stomach, won't be able to sit comfortably while you do your homework, because every time you move you'll feel where I had my hands on you—" Aomine shouted, bucking against his hands as he came, and Shouichi caught him, holding him up as he shook and gasped for breath. It was enough to take Shouichi's breath away. "Fuck, brat, look at you…" Aomine's ass just about glowed red and was fever hot under Shouichi's palm when he stroked it as Aomine stilled. "You're going to feel this for a couple days."

Aomine moaned; his expression had gone slack and open beneath the blindfold. "'s what I want."

"And it's exactly what you got." Shouichi ran his hand over Aomine's ass, slow. "Just like I told you. All you have to do is ask."

The brat made a sound, wordless and low in his throat, something hungry. Shouichi paused briefly and the brat squirmed. "Please," he said, husky. "You said you were going to fuck me, sir. While I was still tight."

Shouichi bit back the urge to groan, heat knotting tight in the pit of his stomach. "Fuck, brat…" He took a breath against the flare of impulse. "You know you'll be sore, right?"

Aomine moaned again. "Yes, please… please, I need to feel it."

Shouichi looked down at him, wondering at that and the mood that had led the brat to push for punishment so hard during practice. Then he shook himself; he'd think it over later, along with everything else. "All right, if that's what you want…"

He'd put the lube in his pocket earlier, so it didn't take long to shove his shorts down and slick his cock a little more thoroughly than usual. The brat knelt against the bench, waiting, and groaned softly when Shouichi took hold of his hips again to spread him open. "Yes… oh, please…" He shuddered, uttering another wordless sound as Shouichi guided his cock against him and began to press. "Ah…!"

Shouichi groaned with him, breathing hard as he sank into Aomine, impossibly tight around the head of his cock, and sank his teeth into his lower lip against the urge to let go and just drive himself all the way home. Aomine panted, open-mouthed and harsh, taut in his hands as Shouichi worked himself deeper, rocking his way into the brat with thrusts that started shallow and gradually turned deeper, until he was buried inside the brat and breathless with how tightly Aomine's body gripped his cock. "Fuck, brat," he gasped, leaning over Aomine, not sure whether moving would set him off or not.

Aomine groaned, hoarse. "Please, sir…"

"You're going to be so sore," Shouichi told him, but it only made the brat quiver. He shuddered in response, gasping, "Don't say I didn't warn you."

The brat just groaned, full-throated, as Shouichi drew back and sank into him again, one long hard roll of his hips that punched the breath out of his throat with how good it was. After that there wasn't any room to think, not properly, not when the brat moaned for more every time Shouichi sank into him and the pleasure of it sang through Shouichi, loud enough to drown out his qualms at taking the brat so hard. Aomine shuddered under his hands, pushing back against them as Shouichi fucked him, and gasped, "Please… please, I need more, please touch me, I want to come while you're inside me—" Shouichi bit his lip until he tasted blood, nearly undone by that, and slid his hand under Aomine to jerk him off. Aomine cried out, his cock pulsing over Shouichi's fingers as he came again, and Shouichi's whole world disappeared in the white-hot blaze of pleasure that swept over him when the brat's body wrung even tighter around him.

He braced himself against the brat as he came down, throat dry with panting and still shuddering with the electric jolts of heat that still shook him. Aomine was breathing deeply, somehow managing to sprawl languidly even with his ass in the air and his hands bound behind his back. Shouichi wet his lips and eased out of the brat, who moaned softly but didn't react otherwise. "That was good, brat," he said softly as he undid the scarf around Aomine's hands and lifted him enough to sit and settle the brat again. Aomine sagged against him, nearly dead weight, and only made a soft sound as Shouichi tugged his blindfold loose before running his hands up and down his arms and rubbing his hands, coaxing the muscles of them loose. "Very good."

Aomine sighed and leaned against him more heavily; if they were anybody other than the two people Shouichi knew they were, he would have said that the brat was snuggling. As it was, he was tempted to call it that anyway. He curled an arm around Aomine, settling him closer, and rubbed a hand up and down his back. Quietly, he said, "You did well. I'll be happy to oblige you again any time you ask. Just let me know."

Aomine made a quiet sound, pressing against him. Shouichi looked down at him and the way Aomine had tucked his head against his shoulder, eyes closed and a calmness to his expression not normally found there, and found himself bending to brush his lips against the brat's temple.

It was a gesture he questioned even as he made it, not least because he'd never done anything like it before, not with the brat and certainly not after they'd fucked, but it felt right, all things considered.

Aomine shivered, a tiny spasm that was barely perceptible even with the way he was pressed against Shouichi. He turned his face against Shouichi's shoulder and—

Shouichi took a careful breath and slid his hand up, settling it against Aomine's nape, because those were Aomine's lips pressed against the base of his throat. "Shh, brat," he said, though Aomine hadn't made any sound. He rubbed his thumb along Aomine's hairline gently. "I have you."

Aomine sighed again, his breath warm against Shouichi's throat, and leaned against him—trustingly, Shouichi thought, with a faintly hysterical edge to the idea—maybe pushing the brat as hard as he'd done this afternoon hadn't been such a good idea after all, disruptive practice habits or not, because he was pretty damn sure they weren't going to be able to walk this back.

He glanced down at Aomine, at the careless curl of his body that the bench was barely wide enough to accommodate, and saw the small sweet curve of the brat's smile, different from the broad, blissed-out grin he tended to wear after Shouichi had fucked him silly. Fuck. He wasn't going to try to walk it back, was he, even if such a thing were possible. Not when he'd put a look like that on the brat's face, however inadvertently.

Shouichi sighed, recognizing that his life was about to become even more complicated than it had already been, and ran his fingers through Aomine's hair. "I have you," he told Aomine again, resigning himself to that fact (even if he didn't know what he was going to do with the brat now that he did).

He didn't know whether the brat had any idea what sort of epiphany he'd just had, but maybe there was something to be said for animal instinct: Aomine made a quiet sound, a contented sound, and kissed Shouichi's shoulder, murmuring, "Sir," against his skin.

There wasn't much he could do in the face of that, not really. Not that he wanted to. "Yeah," Shouichi agreed, rubbing his hand down the brat's back. "Yeah, okay."

Aomine made another of those contented sounds as Shouichi settled him closer, apparently satisfied to lounge against him for as long as Shouichi cared to let him.

Shouichi let him get on with it, not prepared to disturb the moment before it was necessary to do so, and it wasn't until then that he remembered Momoi-chan and her unexpected penchant for voyeurism, not to mention how much naked longing she'd been wearing on her face and the impromptu offer that had prompted him to make, back when he'd thought he had a grip on where things stood with Aomine.

Shouichi closed his eyes and raised a hand to his face, sliding his fingers under his glasses to grip the bridge of his nose to stave off what he was afraid was going to be a real headache. It was that or groan, and he didn't want to disturb the brat or answer any awkward questions just then. Fuck.

He was willing to bet that neither Kasamatsu nor Ootsubo had this much trouble handling their Miracles, those lucky bastards.

end

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