A/N: This is my first ES21 fic. I am not sure I like it, however if people are interested there is another chapter to this story. If you are interested in what happens in the locker room, let me know.

Disclaimer: I do not own Eyeshield 21 and I don’t make any money for my stories.

Summary: During practice, Shin has been able to tackle Sena more often then he should be able to. Shin wants to know why.

Warnings: PG-13. May change to R or NC-17. Yaoi.

Pairing: Shin x Sena

Contact Sport

It’s not like he had been deliberately letting Shin tackle him. That would be…

Painful?

Yes.

Stupid?

Definitely!

Sena knew that he wasn’t the brightest bulb in the bunch, but he did have a certain functional survival instinct. Well kinda. It was there if one ignored the whole ‘running towards men that could shatter every bone in his body without breaking a sweat’ thing. At the very least he wasn’t a masochist.

And, he knew that he wasn’t a complete idiot or at any rate he wasn’t an idiot when the standard of comparison included people like Taki and Otawara. So what, exactly, was wrong with him lately? More importantly, how in the seven levels of heck did he end up in this situation? Sena continued to stare down at the very nice pair of cotton encased legs as a red brilliant enough to rival the setting sun crept above the collar of his own jersey. It was one thing to feel this way. It was a completely different thing to let it affect his behavior to the point that others noticed…especially THAT other.

Sena nervously rubbed the back of his helmet while unconsciously tucking his head down further between his shoulders. Indeed, if he had been a turtle, you would have seen no trace of his head.

“Wha…What da da do you mean Sh Shin-san?” Sena stuttered nervously.

The same voice, calm and without any inflection or hint of emotion, restated the earlier question as an undoubted fact. “Kobayakawa Sena, you no longer wish to practice with me.”

Sena’s gaze snapped up to fix on Shin’s face so quickly that if a football had been situated on his shoulders instead of a head, the ball would have flown into Shin’s face with enough force to break that regal, aquiline nose. That would be such a shame. What would the linebacker’s continually aloof expression do without that appendage? It’s such a nice appendage; like the legs. The small boy practically fell over his own, usually fleet feet….dang feet….in an effort to reassure the slightly older and MUCH bigger boy.

Although, if Sena was being entirely honest with himself, it didn’t really look as if the older boy needed any reassurance. In fact, to Sena it looked like Shin couldn’t care less whether he wanted to practice with him or not. Nevertheless, Sena’s arms were frantically gesturing, practically slapping the rock hard body directly across from him. What a nice body.

“NO!! No! I do want to practice with you. Really Shin. Please. I’m sorry I’m not really, ummm….up to snuff today. I’ll…”

Sena paused as he tried to think of something really good. He couldn’t. What he wouldn’t give to have a piece of Hiruma’s mind right now. On second thought…no. Sena winced internally. Whoa! Did that ever come out wrong or what? Recognizing that his mind had wandered and he had been silent for just a little too long, Sena finished a little lamely, “I’ll try harder?”

Sena cringed as Shin continued to look intently at him only to start sharply at the next words out of his rival’s mouth.

“Is something wrong?”

It wasn’t the question that startled Sena. It wasn’t even the tone or the timing. Those things were as neutral and assured as ever. What captured Sena’s attention and attached it with all the tenacity of a clinging octopus to his rival’s always messy not-quite-hair-style was the way the other’s head canted slightly to the side while asking. That tiny gesture, an almost unperceivable bit of nothing really, so small it could almost have been a figment of his imagination, signaled a genuine interest in Sena’s welfare. Sena continued to study Shin. Was his regularly low brow raised marginally in question? Sena gasped. Was that a minute shift? Could Shin Seijuro…Mr. Perfect…Football fanatic extraordinaire…well maybe not fanatic….definitely fantastic….Could it be that he was a little nervous?

Sena felt his own breathing hitch incrementally. Before squeaking out meekly, “Do you really want to know?”

Without uttering a word, Shin nodded firmly, his ice blue gaze never shifting off of Sena’s face by even the barest millimeter.

Consciously Sena closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Outside, he knew the change in him must seem almost mystical. His whole body firmed, his gaze turned solid as his shoulders squared. Internally, his heart pounded a rapid tattoo against his chest.

His voice carried across the field, empty of everyone baring the two of them, “Alright.” He paused briefly and breathed deeply, bracing for the battle ahead, “If you want to know why you’ve been able to tackle me more frequently over the last couple of weeks, I’ll show you.”

“Show me?” Shin’s voice demanded an answer to the unspoken question of WHY Sena had to SHOW him when he could just TELL him and save time. After all, time is a valuable commodity. Why waste it when you could be using it to play football or to get better at football or to develop new skills that will be useful in….? Well, you get the point.

Briefly, a comical mix of emotions fought for dominance on Sena’s face not the least of which included fondness, exasperation and resignation. He was going to die. Canting his head to look away into the distance, Sena sighed, “I don’t think I could really find the right words to tell you Shin-san.”

Unconsciously, yet again, he cast his gaze down before whispering to himself, “And anyways, even if I did, I don’t think you would really understand what I was REALLY saying.” He released a quiet, self-depreciating snort.

Coming back to himself, he firmed his stance once more and looked yet again at Shin, “Let’s do this.” Sena slammed one fist into the palm of his other hand.

Shin looked as confused as he ever did, which, admittedly wasn’t very confused looking.

“Do what?”

Sena couldn’t help but think that Shin should thank the beer-bellied gods of football that there were no mandatory high school courses that required a mastery of facial expressions.

Sena gave a slight smile and, heart near to bursting, he shouted, “I run. You tackle.”

Even before the last syllable completely exited from Sena’s lips, the boy was all but airborne, his feet eating up the turf.

Sena knew that Shin didn’t waste any time being confused; not on the heels of those words. In fact, he could already feel that beast of a man breathing down his neck. And GOD! It felt intoxicating.

Sena had never drunk liquor. He had never dared touch the stuff. But, even so, he was sure…indisputably; undeniably sure that nothing could feel more invigorating, more exhilarating than this. The rush of the wind sensitized every inch of exposed skin. His heart pounded a tribal tune as his legs beat a harsh accompaniment against the earth. And most of all, his emotions swirled and eddied like the surface of the ocean in the midst of a typhoon. His head reeled in anticipation of so many contradictory things. The unending desire for victory and a true dread of pain dragged his protesting body forward at an unbelievable pace while a yearning for the sweet heat of contact made each forward step an agonizing denial of longing.

For just a moment, Sena allowed his craving for contact to slow his steps. A moment was all it took. An instant shock of pain, like the impact of a sledgehammer or a ‘small’ semi-truck, sent Sena barreling into the ground. For an instant, Sena was disconcerted and breathless, but then, other oft-time coveted sensations started to seep into his body.

Heat.

It encompassed him.

Weight.

It pinned him.

Arms.

They embraced him.

Breath.

It tickled him.

The steady rise and fall of a rib cage against his back steadied him. It made him feel secure, protected, enveloped and….he dare not even think it. He would just feel.

Despite the pain, Sena almost purred. As Sena felt color creep back into his cheeks, he was grateful that he had landed on his stomach. It allowed him to hide his face in the grass. When the body above him began to shift, Sena quickly grasped the arms on either side of him.

“What are…?” Shin started only to be cutoff by the actions of the small boy trapped beneath him.

Burrowing his face into the ground and keeping a firm grip on Shin’s arms, Sena jumped off the proverbial cliff. With any luck, the trip wouldn’t kill him. Slowly, deliberately, Sena arched up into the body above him.

Sena breathed deeply while he thought, “in for a penny, in for a pound.” In an excruciatingly slow and blatantly intentional motion, Sena ground his ass into the figure frozen above him. In smooth, undulating motions he rubbed his whole body against Shin’s muscled frame, savoring each infinitesimal contact. Carefully, he took note of every sensation from the occasional scrape of the other’s hip and shoulder pads against his own ass and back to the pressure of two thighs ensnaring one his own. Both terrified and exhilarated, he made no attempt to regulate his own breathing.

One second Sena was luxuriating in the feel of another’s warmth and in the next he was dangling free in the cold air. It took a few additional seconds for Sena’s head to clear enough to recognize that Shin had lifted them both to their feet simultaneously. Sena was only dangling due to the fact that it was all done in one motion and Shin had lifted him all the way up to his own considerable height leaving Sena free-floating in his iron grip.

Sena glanced up at Shin’s face as he was lowered gently to his feet and he felt his heart drop into his shoes.

Nothing.

Shin’s expression said nothing.

Shin’s voice however was clear and decisive. “Locker Room. Now.”

Shin turned and walked away without looking back, sure that the small boy would follow.

Sena bowed his head and followed. Shin was right.