#kagishira

The lockers rattle noisily when Shirahama's back collides with them, the harsh metallic clang ringing distantly in his ears. But it's hard to worry about how loud they're being, or how roughly he's being handled, when Kagiura's mouth is unrelenting on his. 

Battling for breath, Shirahama desperately parts his lips, but that's only an invitation to Kagiura's hungry tongue. The lack of oxygen is dizzying, and eventually Shirahama's body decides it's a better use of his energy to ease into the searing kiss. He can barely keep up with Kagiura's stamina on a good day, much less immediately after a game. 

Because Kagiura understands Shirahama's limits even better than he does, he relents on his mouth and moves his kisses down along his jaw. Or, well, there might be too much teeth involved to call them kisses anymore--

"Ah!" Shirahama gasps when there's a tug at his throat. It takes him a moment to remember how they got here, the gold medal around his neck that is now also wrapped up in Kagiura's fist. He groans again, going weak in the knees, when Kagiura uses the medal to yank him around, pull Shirahama's body up against his own. 

"The team—!" he manages to stammer, head tilting back as Kagiura bites a bruise into his sensitive, sweaty collarbone. 

"All celebrating," Kagiura responds, his own breathlessness surprising Shirahama even though it makes perfect sense. "Just like we are." 

"C-Could still come in," Shirahama tries to debate.

"No one'll say anything," he insists. Even so, Kagiura does pull his face a few centimeters back, enough to show off his flushed skin, swollen lips, and dark, dilated pupils. He doesn't unravel the medal cord from around his fist, and Shirahama won't ask him to. They stare at each other, both panting for breath, and Kagiura grins so hard his canine teeth are on full display. 

"You did it, Captain. You won." 

"We won," Shirahama counters.