Work Text:
When Aomine slams the locker shut his anger is real. Wakamatsu gets up in his business over two measly points the opposing team managed to score while he was on court. Touou was already over 40 points ahead and the other team were playing like retards so Aomine couldn't really be assed wasting his energy.
He tells Wakamatsu to fuck off with a lazy fist to the stomach, but then Captain gets in on it, smirking and patting his shoulder saying that maybe Aomine's losing his touch and that's what he gets for not turning up to practice, and that is it. He's so done with this horseshit he doesn't even bother putting on his uniform shirt and blazer over his t-shirt before he grabs his bags and leaves.
Sakurai catches up to him at the train station, looking damp and rocking a trackpants and blazer combo because he was probably last out of the showers again.
In the train, Aomine keeps Sakurai pressed up against the divider near the door, trapped with his body, half-boner occasionally pressing to Sakurai's hip as the train moves; and Sakurai's got his head down, warm neck exposed inside his shirt collar.
'I'm gonna mess you up,' Aomine leans down to whisper, and Sakurai shrinks away, or tries to, because he doesn't have the room to move. Aomine grips Sakurai's ass, digs his fingers into a soft cheek to stop him squirming away. Sakurai stills, all tense and doesn't try to jerk away even though he winces and sounds distressed. Aomine relaxes his grip slowly, telling Sakurai that if he tries to wriggle away again he's going to get it.
After that, he knocks his knees into the backs of Sakurai's legs, making him whine and teeter every few times, just a monotonous movement to keep himself distracted on the ride to Sakurai's stop.
At the right stop, Aomine moves his hand to the back of Sakurai's collar and shoves him out onto the station platform through the afternoon throng, barging people with his shoulders and bulky sports bag, and scowling at anyone who looks at his face. Sakurai's apartment complex is close to the station and they've got long legs to get there fast.
Sakurai's hands are trembling when he tries to get his house key into the lock while still clutching his bag in front of him.
'Tch.' Aomine rolls his eyes and snatches the keys, pushing Sakurai to the side. 'Fucking useless.' He gets the door open and slips the keys into his own trouser pocket.
While Sakurai's still unbalanced after taking his shoes off, Aomine shoves him against the wall face-first and grinds his dick on Sakurai's ass like he's been wanting to do since getting off the court, really getting a feel of it after the light tease of the train ride. Sakurai's breathing is shallow, and each hard shove brings a shaky gasp out of him.
'Please, not in the hallway,' Sakurai says. Aomine gets a hand down the back of Sakurai's track pants and boxers, pushes a finger against his hole and Sakurai clenches against him in a defensive spasm. Aomine sighs and eases off. 'Too damn tight like this.' He flips Sakurai around so they're face to face.
With Aomine's arm under his chin Sakurai's forced to show his flushed shiny face. Aomine can feel Sakurai's pulse racing. 'You got supplies in your room?' Sakurai nods as much as he can.
'All right.' Aomine shoves at Sakurai's neck with his forearm. 'Here's the deal. You go get yourself nice and loosened up so I don't rip your ass, and I'm gonna go get a drink.'
In the kitchen-dining room, Aomine holds a tea bottle against his hot forehead and looks around the tiny space. It's so familiar by now. There was that one time Sakurai blew him while he was leaning against the sink like this, open window across from him. Absentmindedly he squeezes his dick through his trousers, thinking about Sakurai's sweet little mouth, and how he should be kneeling on his bed right now with slick fingers up his ass, waiting for him. He doesn't even feel all that angry any more. Aomine sighs and drags his hand away, adjusts his boxers, and drops the tea bottle back in the fridge door.
When he gets to Sakurai's bedroom, the little bitch is still dressed and almost glaring at him. Aomine pulls his t-shirt over his head and throws it at Sakurai. He flinches but doesn't move otherwise. 'Hurry up and strip. I'm not in the mood for your shit.'
'Can I go to the bathroom first?'
Aomine's not sure if he's serious or if it's just another stall tactic. He clicks his tongue and steps up into Sakurai's space, taking a hold of his shirt. He nearly unbalances Sakurai, and Sakurai sinks onto the edge of his bed, a little smoother than falling.
'Shut up and take your fucking clothes off.' Aomine lets him go with a shove and steps back to watch.
Sakurai strips quickly, nothing sexy about it and presses his hands over his chubbed dick to hide it.
'That's more like it. Now get over here,' Aomine says. Sakurai hesitates, but then he gets to his knees in front of Aomine, automatically reaches for his fly and brings out his dick. The way he licks his lips looks way too comfortable compared to a moment ago, and when Sakurai tries to get his mouth on his cock, Aomine grabs his hair and pulls his head to the side.
'Don't even think about it, slut. I know how much you love sucking cock, but I'm gonna use your ass and that's it.'
He takes a condom from his pocket and flicks it down into Sakurai's lap. With fingers still slightly unsteady but quick, Sakurai gets the condom out and rolled over Aomine's cock.
Sakurai's pale back is pricked up in gooseflesh. Aomine can smell the lube mixed up with sweat. Good boy. But when he spreads Sakurai's cheeks it looks like a quick and rough job, still looking so tight he knows Sakurai's going to hurt. He spreads some of the thick remainder of lube around with his thumb and then pushes inside. Sakurai trembles on the edge of the bed, cheap mattress amplifying every shiver. Not so bad on the inside and relaxing more as Aomine presses down towards his sweet spot.
'Say you want it.'
Sakurai tenses up, and almost glances over his shoulder. 'W-what?'
Aomine slaps his ass and then reaches down, takes a light hold of his balls. Pretty nice since Sakurai decided he'd keep shaving his pubes. Aomine gives a short tug and Sakurai takes in a noisy breath.
'Say you want me to fuck you. Tell me how much you want it.'
Sakurai shakes his head. 'Aomine-san, you know I… please, just please… I want it…. You can fuck me, I want it.'
When Aomine holds his hips and pushes all the way in Sakurai cries out and his head tips down onto the blanket, his hands scrunched up. He feels so strained, trembling while Aomine keeps going. That tension makes him squeeze tighter and Aomine enjoys it, snapping into him fast, without thinking about how maybe Sakurai's moaning in pain.
After the initial rush Aomine slows a bit, running his hands up to Sakurai's shoulders and pulling him to slide all the way over his cock until his pubes are crinkling at Sakurai's ass. He holds there, taking his time to watch Sakurai's arms twitch from fatigue and listens to his muffled grunts. He continues nudging with his hips until Sakurai opens his mouth and lets himself moan. He still sounds uncertain, ashamed.
Aomine eases out, and then pulls Sakurai hard into his next thrust. Sakurai lifts his face from the bed, mouth open and letting out his rasping groans. He arches his back and Aomine rolls his hips into the movement, doesn't think he could get any deeper than he is like this flattened to Sakurai's big ass. It's pretty fantastic, something he savors, considering how Sakurai generally has a no-buttfuck policy.
He takes a hold of Sakurai's hair and tugs his head up further.
'Look at you, man. I'm just using you and you're so hot for it. Why don't you just admit you love taking it up the ass?'
'A-Aomine-san, that hurts. Please--'
Aomine lets him go, but leans further over him, talks right into Sakurai's ear. 'You're so good at taking it. Squeezing around my dick so tight and hot. You know, at least your ass is honest about being cock-hungry.'
'No, that's not true…' Sakurai whines.
Now close enough to reach, Aomine bites at the exposed arch of Sakurai's nape, and gets more turned on by Sakurai's instinctive reaction of whimpering and trying to shrink away.
'Fucking truth is you want to be fucked and used and pushed around like a worthless piece of shit,' Aomine says, his voice sounding harsh and distant to himself. Sakurai sniffles and twists his head on the sheets as if meaning to shake his head, ending up with his face in profile, tear-wet trails exposed to Aomine.
Damn he's got no right to look so hot with snot dripping out his nose and bright splotches on his cheeks. Aomine groans and nuzzles into the space above Sakurai's shoulder, into the scent of Sakurai's hair and sweat, where he can feel him tremor, and hear his little moans mixed in with tearful breaths.
'Down,' Aomine says, and Sakurai goes, awkward sprawl of limbs and tension. Aomine fucks him against the mattress, just wanting to come now, rocking Sakurai against the bed-cover with fast thrusts; there's barely space to breathe, panting turned to a high pitch, no chance of getting himself off even though Sakurai now sounds like he'd want to. Let him chafe against the bed. He's awash in heat and too aware of his heart racing, thinking about Sakurai's face, how he'd look squirming and coming under him, a fucked out mess. So good, and he holds onto that until he's coming.
With eyes closed he breathes into the damp hair under his face. He's sagging, and Sakurai moves and tilts, making him reluctantly roll onto his side. Aomine brushes the edge of Sakurai's face while he's still turned away. 'You okay?'
Sakurai lets out a little unsteady laugh. 'Yeah.' Then he sniffs, or tries to, through his clogged up nose. 'Yeah. I'm fine. A little sore, but good,' he adds quickly. 'It's okay, really. Just--' and he pulls Aomine's arm around his middle, and holds onto Aomine. 'Stay like this a bit.'
Aomine draws him into a full hug, ignoring the stickiness and discomfort, content for now to keep Sakurai in his arms because he needs this too.
Sakurai stirs when their breathing is soft and relaxed. 'But, um, was that okay, for you? I mean, are you okay?' Sakurai says, stroking between Aomine's shoulder blades.
'I guess so. It was awkward though, saying and doing some of that stuff. Like on the train I kept thinking someone might notice and report me or something.'
Sakurai giggles self-consciously. 'In this case I'm really glad they didn't.'
'And seeing you scared of me,' Aomine says, squeezing Sakurai closer to his chest.
'Scared but safe. That's a bit how it felt being around you before we... got closer.'
'So you're not scared any more?'
'Not really. I mean, I know you're not going to seriously hurt me--not on purpose. You've never hurt Momoi-san, right?'
'Hm, not on purpose,' Aomine grumbles. 'Shit but I was surprised when you started crying.'
'Ah, sorry about that. It kind of just happened, and it felt good to let it out in that moment. Did I scare you?'
'Pfft, no. It just wasn't part of the plan, so I was surprised.'
'Oh, surprised? Even though you also used to tease me about being a crybaby?' Sakurai prods Aomine's cheek, and kisses him while he's stuck for an answer.