Chapter 1
Ryo is already regretting inviting his teammates into his home.
It's been roughly twelve minutes since they walked in the door and the mistake is glaring.
Ryo doesn't understand why they can't watch this game tape alone in the first place.
It started a week and a half ago when Coach Barrett read some article about group analysis being superior to individual review and it ended with a mandate for the whole team to group up to watch a recent Wings v. Crimson Hawks game.
Ryo supposes this is better than the elevation training idea the coach was obsessed with during conditioning camp.
He's still convinced that the mountain cold left him with nerve damage in his pinky toe, even though the trainers assured Ryo there's nothing wrong with it.
"Tachibana-san, do you want one of my sodas?
!" Sato asks loudly from Tachibana's armchair.
As if Ueda's unending energy hadn't been enough for one team...
Ryo can feel a headache forming between his eyes.
Please... please don't spill,
he thinks to himself as he watches the bottle balance precariously between the wing spiker's knees, trying and failing to keep his brow from pinching into a scowl.
"No, thank you," he replies.
"Aww, you sure, 'Tachi?
It's melon flavor!" Ueda says, horrifically waving his own bottle over his head.
"Yeah, Ryo-kun.
Dontcha want somethin' sweet?"
And then there's him.
Nakamura Sota is slouched into the corner of his couch, arms spread out over the back of it like he owns the place.
His cocky, heavy-lidded gaze nearly makes Ryo roll his eyes.
"I'll get the tape cued up," he says instead, ignoring them.
The thing is, there weren't really any better venue options for this than Ryo's apartment.
Sato is still living out of a hotel.
Sota's place is apparently a small studio picked more for location than size.
Ueda apparently had the space and was willing to host, but...
Ryo's seen the way he lives on the road.
To continue playing on the same side of the net as Ueda, it is absolutely essential that Ryo never witness the surely horrific state of his home.
Ueda's boyfriend seems to have a good head on his shoulders, but there's only so much Fujimoto can do for Ueda's apartment when he spends most of his time in Crestview.
So, in picking the least of a series of extreme evils, Ryo invited his teammates to his own apartment.
In all honesty, he regretted it the moment it left his mouth.
He regrets it now.
He's sure he'll continue to regret it throughout the night.
Ryo ends up being right in ways he never could have predicted.
Sota honestly agrees with Tachibana that this whole group tape watching exercise is pretty futile, which is why he already watched it earlier in the afternoon.
With Sato and Ueda in the same room, there's no way anyone could focus enough to break down the opposition's receive formations.
Even so, he's been vocally supportive of the whole group watch party concept just for the opportunity to see Tachibana squirm.
His current objective is less centered around match footage and more focused on seeing how many times he can make Tachibana look like he's just stepped in gum.
Sota knows it's not exactly mature, but hey, he's a twin.
Whenever Kota isn't around, he has to find a way to fulfill his innate need to good-naturedly torture someone.
And Tachibana is
easy to torment.
Speaking of the devil, Sota's phone buzzes on the arm of the sofa, flashing Kota's name over an extremely unflattering picture of his face.
He stands up to take the call, dodging around Sato, who just hopped up from the couch singing some ditty about going to the bathroom.
Sato acts like a twelve-year-old off the court but damn it if Sota doesn't find it endearing as hell.
He ruffles bright ginger hair as he heads down the hallway behind him and picks up the call.
"Sup, 'Kota?"
Just got off the phone with Ma'.
She's gettin' rid of a few things and needs some help movin' things.
I'd help but I'm up'n Crestview workin' on the new store 'til the end of next week..."
They chat about logistics for a minute, Sota confirming that he'll have time to swing by home sometime in the next day or two.
When he hangs up, Sota realizes that he has to take a leak as well but, judging by the singing still coming from the bathroom in the hall, it's occupied.
Sota
wait, but he glances at the door that must lead to the bedroom.
This is a nice place; Tachibana surely has an ensuite, he thinks to himself.
He'd be lying if a desire to see the neat-freak's bedroom isn't also at play here, but he'd never admit it out loud.
He wonders if Tachibana uses plastic sheets that can be sterilized each morning.
The thought makes him chuckle to himself.
Carefully, Sota cracks the door open, leaning to look inside.
There's nothing particularly weird about the room, to Sota's deep disappointment.
It's nice, though: lots of cast iron and soft greys with wood accents.
There's even a fleece throw blanket casually draped over a metal accent chair in the corner with a potted plant on the seat.
Sota sniggers.
It isn't surprising considering the size and furnishings in the main areas of the apartment, but this seals Sota's belief that Tachibana
absolutely
comes from money.
A little rich kid, who'd have thought?
Sota slides quickly and quietly into the room and towards the open bathroom door.
He makes it to the doorway, pleased at his successful territory breach, and then Sota freezes.
Feet rooted to the ground.
Jaw dropped.
No brain activity.
Frozen
It's strange, the way the world immediately tips sideways and Sota forgets where he is as he takes in black leather.
There's
black leather
hanging from a curtain rod—from
Tachibana's curtain rod
Sota snaps back into spacetime.
The biggest item looks like some sort of harness, with buckles and silver rings.
Next to it is something that Sota can definitely identify: thick leather cuffs, four of them, with a series of chains delicately draped beside them.
Finally, small enough that Sota doesn't notice it until he staggeringly
does
, is a ball gag.
The ones that Sota has seen before, in the margins of porn sites or on the front of smutty manga, always feature a bright red ball.
This one is all black.
Tachibana has a sex toy aesthetic
, some voice in the back of his head muses as the rest of his brain goes into a momentary nuclear meltdown.
He's already back at the bedroom door by the time that his brain comes back on line.
He shuts the door, nearly body-slamming Sato when he turns around.
"Uwah!" the redhead exclaims.
"Ah!
Sota-san!
Were you waiting to use the bathroom?"
"Nope!" Sota says, his voice coming out pitchy and strained.
Sota spends the rest of the evening looking anywhere
but
at Tachibana.
He doesn't watch the game, either.
He doesn't do much of
except blink repeatedly at the wall and try to figure out how he's going to live with the knowledge that Tachibana is into kinky sex.
Tachibana can
find out that he knows.
He'd never even
thought
of Tachibana as a sexual being before today.
Sota always figured physical intimacy would be beneath him, base and disgusting.
Sota is so wrapped up in his thoughts that it takes Ueda waving a hand in front of his face to snap back to the present.