Title: Locker Room Warm-Ups.
Author: SYNdicate 930.
Summary: AU. Teikou. "What if someone catches us?" "If you're so worried, bite your lip and keep quiet." AuKuro drabble. Tumblr prompt.
"What if someone catches us?"
"If you're so worried, bite your lip and keep quiet." Aomine hisses against Kuroko's vehement flesh, his lips coming down to take the hard bulge of his collar bone between his lips. Kuroko's head rolls back to accommodate the power forward's desire, arching his back against the frigid locker next to his own, letting the latter's hands skim against his bare back and assisting in the removal of his school shirt. "None of the guys get here early. Practice isn't for another twenty minutes, and even then some of us are late."
"Aomine-kun, we mustn't. Even if we were to rush—"
"Just keep quiet. No one'll know."
Moving upwards to capture Kuroko's gasping mouth with his own, his rough fingers fumbling with the light plastic of his shirt crudely, nearly tearing off the bottom couple in a show of brash impatience, the kind that has Kuroko's thoughts unfocused and reflexes delayed as he is pushed and pulled this way and that.
Kuroko blinks; Aomine's tongue darting into his awaiting mouth assertively
He inhales sharply; his slacks removed, and briefs tugged.
A moan absorbed by his lover's possessive growl, a hand coming up to clutch a fistful of demure cerulean hair, pulling him away roughly, the fire of a monstrous cobalt spotlight. Ladies and gentleman! Attention to the pale young boy, reserved and impassive, detached from the commotion around him, the cool voice of blunt reason, whose disinterested features are disrupted by the sporadic influx of mutual sin, balanced by premature self-indulgence, an unassuming patch of untouched frost which has accumulated in the absence of the sun's heated stare trampled and stained with tactile rogue of a sharp encounter! Bending at the waist, breath hot with his face against the surface of a beaten up locker, the pressure of his teeth against his swollen lips is nearly enough to draw blood as the tanned lad behind him grits his teeth, and pushes further, dazzled by how such heat lies within a seemingly icy teen.
Messily, they move and reposition themselves. Atop the wooden bench which separates a row of lockers that face each other, staring these lovers down —oh, the things they could say!—against one's locker, and then the other, on all fours, sprawled in a disarray of bare limbs, the faintest bit of muscle hidden with a layer of milky skin as Kuroko's body tenses, from behind, to face each other, they speed through positions, wary of undesired guests. With a shaky moan into Aomine's strong shoulder, and a grunt into the air above his shadow's head, they achieve rushed completion.
They breathe, off beat, out of sync as they raise from their place on the concrete of the change room. Aomine tosses over Kuroko's clothes by his feet, that the latter tosses into his locker. "I told you we wouldn't be caught." Aomine states, smug, and the duo quickly slip into their gym clothes.
On the way out together, Aomine reaching with a sweaty palm to pull on the metal hand of the door, his body goes stiff, and his breathing, first uneven, stops, caught on its way out through his dried mouth as a voice floats through the cracks at the top and bottom of the heavy wood. "Oya? It appears as though they've already warmed up. Light and shadow—only a fool wouldn't hear these two from a mile away. Everyone, go through warm ups as usual. Do not worry about them, I have something else planned for these two."
The door swings open, a dangerous twist of thin lips. "Well, well, isn't it Daiki and Tetsuya?"