Your friendly neighborhood disclaimer: I own neither Kuroko no Basuke nor its characters. If I did, there would be more group okonomiyaki outings. All I own are the words on the page and the ideas in my head.

Here there be monsters: This fic features a yaoi pairing and a little bit of kink. Caveat emptor.

. . . . .

Midorima Shintarou is completely silent during sex.

And Kuroko, who is both fascinated and frustrated by this discovery, wonders just how much it would take to make him come undone.

Kuroko is not asking for a miracle. He doesn't even think he is being unreasonable. All he wants is to fracture Midorima's façade, just for the briefest of moments. He wants to watch that cool composure splinter. He wants to mark the handiwork as his own.

Is that so wrong?

Today's lucky item is a grey plush elephant sporting a glossy red ribbon about its neck. The elephant, which is about the size of a basketball, is presently perched next to Midorima on a pillow at the head of the bed, its black, beady eyes fixing Kuroko with an unseeing glare and boring straight into his soul. Like it knows.

Kuroko frowns as a sense of resolve settles around his shoulders. He reaches out, grasps the elephant by its ribbon, and pointedly turns it to face the wall. Midorima, who is lying beneath him, tracks every movement with his eyes, tight-lipped but ever-calculating, his intense gaze framed by the severe black rims of his glasses and the softer fringe of his bangs.

Their eyes meet as Kuroko brushes Midorima's bangs out of the way and removes his glasses, folding them with care and placing them safely out of harm's way on the pillow next to the elephant. Midorima cocks one eyebrow at him in wordless challenge. Kuroko doesn't hesitate.

The first kiss is an attack, rough and forceful, betraying the edge in Kuroko's manner. Midorima stiffens reflexively beneath him, refusing to yield, and Kuroko immediately changes tact. He palms Midorima's crotch through the mesh fabric of his shorts, coaxing and teasing until arousal stirs, hot and heavy beneath his fingers. Only then does Midorima relax his jaw and allow his lips to part.

Midorima tangles the fingers of his right hand in Kuroko's hair and drags him down until their lips meet again. Their second kiss is deep and deliberate, accented with tongue and teeth. Kuroko rolls his hips, velvet heat spiraling deliriously in the pit of his stomach, and nibbles at the plush of Midorima's lower lip. Midorima reciprocates, cinching his grip in Kuroko's hair until the strands are pulled taut and Kuroko is forced to stifle a pained gasp.

Seeking a distraction, Kuroko makes short work of their t-shirts and loose-fitting basketball shorts, barely breaking the kiss as he does so, and tosses them into a pile on the floor without bothering to separate his own clothes from Midorima's. The first touch of skin on skin is like heaven and hell all at once, pushing Kuroko dangerously close to the edge. Flushed, feverish heat radiates between them, but Midorima's eyes are as sharp and focused as ever, just shy of emotionless. Kuroko knows it's now or never.

He presses one last kiss to the corner of Midorima's mouth, almost chaste, and eases up into a sitting position. He then reaches down and takes Midorima's left hand in both of his own, gently cradling the taped fingers. Midorima narrows his gaze and settles his head on the pillow, curious but cautious as he analyzes this new development.

Patiently, painstakingly, Kuroko unwinds the athletic tape bound tightly around Midorima's pinky finger. He watches as the unwrapped tape falls to the bed, coiling about itself in a lazy whorl. Kuroko locks eyes with Midorima, brings Midorima's hand to his mouth, and uses his tongue to lathe a wet, messy stripe from the base of Midorima's wrist and across his palm all the way to the very tip of his finger. Kuroko takes it in his mouth up to the third knuckle, swirling his tongue across a perfectly trimmed nail, and sucks.

Midorima's eyes widen in surprise, a burst of color lighting his cheeks. He struggles half-heartedly in spite of himself, pinned beneath Kuroko but clearly the stronger of the two even so—only to freeze in place almost comically when Kuroko releases his finger with a devilishly lewd pop.

Midorima shivers, long eyelashes fluttering. A shadow of a grin quirks the corner of Kuroko's lips, but only for an instant, as he has soon unwound the tape on Midorima's ring finger and occupied his mouth with two fingers at once, teasing the sensitive skin between them with long, sloppy swathes of his tongue.

Kuroko continues, giving similar treatment to Midorima's middle finger and thumb, before at last his index finger is the only one that remains bound in tape. Midorima is panting harshly, face flushed and thighs trembling, eyes glazed but still attentive—striking a sharp contrast with his earlier display of indifference.

With tortuously slow movements, Kuroko unbinds the final strip of tape, working it loose in an elegant spiral as if he has all the time in the world. Midorima shifts uneasily, yearning for friction but intent on denying the temptation to the very last. Kuroko draws out his little tableau, biding his time as long as he dares. Midorima cants his hips upward once, twice—and suddenly the world narrows to a peak of white-hot sensation, engulfed in the feeling of a warm tongue on sensitized skin.

Midorima gasps as he climaxes, syllables that sound suspiciously like Kuroko's name torn from his throat. The sound is raw and honest—more than enough to drive Kuroko over the edge. They ride out the waves of pleasure, thrusting wantonly against one another but too far gone to care, until the starbursts behind their eyes lose some of their blinding brilliance.

Kuroko longs to continue—his body is aching for it, but Midorima is lost in a daze, his eyelids already sliding shut with exhaustion. Kuroko's mind is sluggish, his limbs weigh like lead, and the lure of sleep teases at the edges of his consciousness. Even so, he gathers his remaining strength, refusing to surrender just yet.

He shuffles downward and parts Midorima's thighs before sweeping his tongue in one long stroke along the cleft of his ass to the tip of his cock. A violent, bone-deep shudder courses through Midorima in response, and Kuroko hums in hazy satisfaction as he leans in to plant an open-mouthed kiss on the inside of his thigh. Kuroko bites down just hard enough to leave a mark—a promise—before working his way to the head of the bed, curling up next to Midorima, and allowing sleep to take him.

. . . . .