The Way [Prince of Tennis, Yukimura/Sanada, R]
title: The Way
characters/pairing(s): Yukimura/Sanada
genre: slash, light smut
rating: Barely an R
wordcount: 970
prompt: From potkinkmeme2011: "Alpha pair with Yukimura topping. Preferably inside Sanada's dojo. Bonus if Yuki jumps Sana while he's meditating". Originally posted anonymously here.
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Sanada has his eyes shut but he recognises the sound of feet padding across the wood floor. Yukimura is the only person who never bothers to disguise the noise. It could be construed as rude. It could be that in Yukimura's opinion Sanada should be able to ignore it and continue meditating as required. That would be like him.
He keeps his face still as Yukimura's footsteps die out directly in front of him. Yukimura must be just standing there, looking down at him, Sanada suspects, but he breathes and lets that thought go after having acknowledged it as reality.
"Don't stop," Yukimura says cheerfully. He pads around Sanada a few steps to sit down behind him, crossing his legs and pressing up against the back of Sanada. "I wouldn't want to disturb you."
Sanada takes a deeper breath this time, to draw more vitality into himself and centre him, and just as easily lets the breath go again. Yukimura is a disturbance just by being here. They both know that. But Yukimura enjoys testing him; playing the fine line between Sanada being aware of everything around him, but not being so aware that he gets stuck on the details and deprives himself of the big picture.
It is easier to accept and then set that acceptance free to settle somewhere into your subconscious where it may be drawn on as needed in the moment. Sanada breathes: Yukimura's legs are warm against him. Yukimura's breathing makes only a slight sound, but is multiplied by the vastness of the room and the absolute lack of any other noise. Yukimura's fingers play with the fabric of his hakama, lingering at the waistband. He is a nuisance and an opportunist both.
"You can do this and meditate at the same time, can't you?" Yukimura asks slyly, hands slipping around Sanada's waist and searching for entrance beneath the folds of fabric. "Rely on your instinct."
Somehow for all their differences Sanada will never forget one thing. The attitude Yukimura brings to tennis is the same one Sanada has learned from kendo and meditation, it's just that Yukimura never had a name for it before he met Sanada. That do-or-die attitude that insists a loss is akin to death. That a mistake could cost you your life. He can be all smiles and serenity until his feet touch the court, and then Yukimura goes into battle mode and there is nothing else but the fight. He plays daring his opponent to unleash the best he has, secure that if this match is his last he will go down to only the worthiest opponent possible. Yukimura has the confidence of someone who has never lost a fight.
Every match Sanada has played against Yukimura has been recorded as a loss for him, and yet Sanada never comes away feeling like a loser. He gives in, and it must be somewhat visible because one of Yukimura's hands slides over and under, pressing palm-flat against the skin of his chest, while the other reaches back to play with the rough strands of hair at the base of Sanada's neck. Sanada realises that Yukimura feels much closer than before, his upper body close enough to touch Sanada's shoulder as he searches with his fingers. Sanada accepts that and tries not to think about it again. His body responds on its own.
The first few times they had slept together Sanada remembers it being clumsy - recalls them both fumbling their way through - when he thinks back on it. After those experiences he had then spent so much time concentrating on exactly where to touch Yukimura and how that it had become somewhat like rehearsal, or delivered performance.
Now, they have it down just right.
Sanada is naked and on his hands and knees, and his mind is completely clear. Open. He is aware of everything that happens; Yukimura unzipping his jeans and shoving them down around his thighs, Yukimura's hands on his ass, squeezing the firm muscle with obvious delight, Yukimura's fingers slicked and exploring inside him. Everything that happens passes through Sanada's mind and forms a picture he doesn't need to look at to understand. Sounds fall from his mouth but he doesn't think about them or what words they might be shaping. Everything they are is right, and no doubt encouraging Yukimura on.
It's like a tennis match, except the focus is not on the ball. It's like kendo, except the importance is not in what your opponent will do next.
His mind is supposed to be completely clear. But Yukimura is thrusting into him, and Sanada's thoughts come crashing back into full force as he wraps a hand around his cock and jerks off frantically. One arm bracing him against the floor, sweat breaking out across his body, and Yukimura's hands on his sides, stroking down to his hips with the same rhythm. Sanada can't be completely disappointed with himself for losing his meditative state of mind, because he also knows the importance of living in the moment and giving your all to one purpose. Yukimura has a way of subverting that purpose sometimes, that's all.
Sanada has been so focused that when he comes he almost collapses to the floor. Giving your all is fine until it is all over and the adrenaline gives out. Sanada is used to that by now, and no matter the situation when he has given his all he always comes out of it a winner. It's why Yukimura has never had reason to be disappointed in him.
"I haven't achieved the perfect state of mind yet," Sanada says between breaths, chest heaving and cheeks developing a flush. Yukimura smiles back easily, allowing it to morph into a smirk as he shrugs, and says:
"We'll just have to keep practising then."
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characters/pairing(s): Yukimura/Sanada
genre: slash, light smut
rating: Barely an R
wordcount: 970
prompt: From potkinkmeme2011: "Alpha pair with Yukimura topping. Preferably inside Sanada's dojo. Bonus if Yuki jumps Sana while he's meditating". Originally posted anonymously here.
-
Sanada has his eyes shut but he recognises the sound of feet padding across the wood floor. Yukimura is the only person who never bothers to disguise the noise. It could be construed as rude. It could be that in Yukimura's opinion Sanada should be able to ignore it and continue meditating as required. That would be like him.
He keeps his face still as Yukimura's footsteps die out directly in front of him. Yukimura must be just standing there, looking down at him, Sanada suspects, but he breathes and lets that thought go after having acknowledged it as reality.
"Don't stop," Yukimura says cheerfully. He pads around Sanada a few steps to sit down behind him, crossing his legs and pressing up against the back of Sanada. "I wouldn't want to disturb you."
Sanada takes a deeper breath this time, to draw more vitality into himself and centre him, and just as easily lets the breath go again. Yukimura is a disturbance just by being here. They both know that. But Yukimura enjoys testing him; playing the fine line between Sanada being aware of everything around him, but not being so aware that he gets stuck on the details and deprives himself of the big picture.
It is easier to accept and then set that acceptance free to settle somewhere into your subconscious where it may be drawn on as needed in the moment. Sanada breathes: Yukimura's legs are warm against him. Yukimura's breathing makes only a slight sound, but is multiplied by the vastness of the room and the absolute lack of any other noise. Yukimura's fingers play with the fabric of his hakama, lingering at the waistband. He is a nuisance and an opportunist both.
"You can do this and meditate at the same time, can't you?" Yukimura asks slyly, hands slipping around Sanada's waist and searching for entrance beneath the folds of fabric. "Rely on your instinct."
Somehow for all their differences Sanada will never forget one thing. The attitude Yukimura brings to tennis is the same one Sanada has learned from kendo and meditation, it's just that Yukimura never had a name for it before he met Sanada. That do-or-die attitude that insists a loss is akin to death. That a mistake could cost you your life. He can be all smiles and serenity until his feet touch the court, and then Yukimura goes into battle mode and there is nothing else but the fight. He plays daring his opponent to unleash the best he has, secure that if this match is his last he will go down to only the worthiest opponent possible. Yukimura has the confidence of someone who has never lost a fight.
Every match Sanada has played against Yukimura has been recorded as a loss for him, and yet Sanada never comes away feeling like a loser. He gives in, and it must be somewhat visible because one of Yukimura's hands slides over and under, pressing palm-flat against the skin of his chest, while the other reaches back to play with the rough strands of hair at the base of Sanada's neck. Sanada realises that Yukimura feels much closer than before, his upper body close enough to touch Sanada's shoulder as he searches with his fingers. Sanada accepts that and tries not to think about it again. His body responds on its own.
The first few times they had slept together Sanada remembers it being clumsy - recalls them both fumbling their way through - when he thinks back on it. After those experiences he had then spent so much time concentrating on exactly where to touch Yukimura and how that it had become somewhat like rehearsal, or delivered performance.
Now, they have it down just right.
Sanada is naked and on his hands and knees, and his mind is completely clear. Open. He is aware of everything that happens; Yukimura unzipping his jeans and shoving them down around his thighs, Yukimura's hands on his ass, squeezing the firm muscle with obvious delight, Yukimura's fingers slicked and exploring inside him. Everything that happens passes through Sanada's mind and forms a picture he doesn't need to look at to understand. Sounds fall from his mouth but he doesn't think about them or what words they might be shaping. Everything they are is right, and no doubt encouraging Yukimura on.
It's like a tennis match, except the focus is not on the ball. It's like kendo, except the importance is not in what your opponent will do next.
His mind is supposed to be completely clear. But Yukimura is thrusting into him, and Sanada's thoughts come crashing back into full force as he wraps a hand around his cock and jerks off frantically. One arm bracing him against the floor, sweat breaking out across his body, and Yukimura's hands on his sides, stroking down to his hips with the same rhythm. Sanada can't be completely disappointed with himself for losing his meditative state of mind, because he also knows the importance of living in the moment and giving your all to one purpose. Yukimura has a way of subverting that purpose sometimes, that's all.
Sanada has been so focused that when he comes he almost collapses to the floor. Giving your all is fine until it is all over and the adrenaline gives out. Sanada is used to that by now, and no matter the situation when he has given his all he always comes out of it a winner. It's why Yukimura has never had reason to be disappointed in him.
"I haven't achieved the perfect state of mind yet," Sanada says between breaths, chest heaving and cheeks developing a flush. Yukimura smiles back easily, allowing it to morph into a smirk as he shrugs, and says:
"We'll just have to keep practising then."
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