(no subject)
This is for all the lovely TeniPuri fans who take the time to frequent my journal, as well as commenting on my posts to TeniPuri Yaoi. It is, unfortunately, rather badly written, and pretty silly, but I hope you like! ^_^
Title: Jishin--Omake
Part: 1/1
Rating: NC-17ish
Warnings: Silly. Very. ^_^
Pairings: EijiOoishi, TezuFuji
Disclaimer: Not my tennis courts. Not my sandbox.
For those just joining up--this story doesn't actually require any previous knowledge of any of the rest of the Jishin story. Nutshell: the Seigaku tennis club has moved on to high school. Take it from there. ^_^
~Omake~
Hyakubun, Ikken
(One Hundred Hearings, One Sight)
Hyakubun ikken ni shikazu (One hundred hearings is not as good as one viewing)
Seeing is believing
There was still, Ooishi thought, something new about being able to look at Eiji through soft eyes and see that same warmth looking back.
That warmth wasn't looking at him now.
There was still, he mused absently as Eiji mock-scowled at the ball that Ooishi could say with a fair amount of confidence had landed giri-giri on the line, something very familiar about the face Eiji made when he lost a tennis match. Oh, they were years and years again away from the days when an adorable, cocky little boy with a spin to his racquet and a white band-aid on his nose had looked at him, crestfallen, across the courts, after having refused rather bluntly his offer of a doubles partnership, but some things just didn't change.
He knew Eiji was just playing at being pouty, but they would just pretend he didn't. Sometimes, he thought that Eiji just lost to him for the sole purpose of being able to give him those adorable, violet puppy-dog eyes, almost drooping in that happy face--because, well, Ooishi was perfectly aware of the fact that though doubles was still his forte, and always would be... Eiji, over the years, had become more than good enough to not only beat him in singles most days, but to beat most people.
He wasn't going to complain, though.
After all, winning at tennis made Eiji bouncy, euphoric... and very, very, very hot. Another good reason for them to finish a game off quickly was simply that, well, if they did--the chances are that they could go home and, oh blessed miracle, not have anyone there yet.
Then again, Ooishi had discovered that he liked winning more than for its own sake--simply because he so enjoyed replacing that mournful, reproachful little look with a half-happy, half-dazed little Eiji-grin he'd gotten very familiar with over the course of the past year.
Ooishi had also realised, much to his chagrin, that he was horribly possessive over things like goofy, misty smiles and the sated look in Eiji's eyes before he drifted off.
Which was all right, too, because, as Eiji said so happily, he was the only one who got them, anyway.
He simply let Eiji's complaining tumble over him, making just the right little soft soothing noises--something about his Moon Volley being just too high and wasn't it just mean of him to drag his racquet if he was going to do a drop shot?--and, the moment they were close enough to the clubhouse...
Ooishi smiled, grabbed his partner--who stopped complaining mid-word, tone of indignance cutting off in a yelp--and kissed him. Kissed him until Eiji's arms wrapped around his neck. Then backed him against the white, pitted surface of the clubhouse and kissed him until his partner was whimpering almost pathetically and the only thing holding Eiji up was the pressure of Ooishi's hips against his, pinning him to the wall.
He did so love making Eiji's knees 'go noodly', as they called it.
Eiji did, after all, like to be pounced on just as much as he did.
"You complain too much," Ooishi teased, unsurprised that his voice was deeper, rougher than it had been--he just couldn't reduce Eiji to being whimpering and boneless without wanting to pull the squirming little temptation to him to see if he couldn't make him scream.
It didn't help that he knew that he could, because he had.
How was it that he and Eiji had discovered practically all there was to know about each other's body, all the little spots and motions that could bring the other to the brink of insanity or drive him over the edge--but the desire to actually do so, at least for him, hadn't waned at all?
Ooishi held his friend until Eiji pushed away from the wall and leaned into him, red hair soft and damp, pressed against his cheek, arms wrapped around his waist...
Ooishi blinked.
"Eiji!" he swatted behind him at the hands that had hooked deft fingers into the waistband of his pants.
"But Ooishii, nya," Eiji pouted at him, and, well, there was that glazed, hot look that he'd aimed for... "Playing tennis with you makes me so... so... horny."
And Eiji knew far too well what it did to him to hear him say things like that.
Ooishi closed his eyes and wished, suddenly, that he had a wall behind him to lean on when his knees went weak.
Still, he had to try. "Eiji, we can't." He was going to put his foot down about this, because while he would freely admit that they just didn't ever have enough time to play private games together that had absolutely nothing to do with tennis... he was not going to risk their reputations in school, and he knew that his mother had stayed home from work today, and that there was almost invariably someone at Eiji's home, he had so many relatives.
The Regulars knew about them--Momo had spotted them sharing a kiss on the way home, as he'd been running after them to return a wristband Eiji had forgotten, and had subsequently, being Momo, told the rest of the Regulars... but much to Ooishi's bemusement, the only one who had seemed at all surprised by the announcement had been Momo himself.
Still, even though the courts were empty, and even Tezuka had left a half-hour before... it was impossible to predict when, say, a freshman, would come back for something he'd forgotten in the club room--and even if he had been willing to risk their reputations (and he wasn't) Ooishi wasn't willing to risk the Seigaku tennis club's.
It was still hard to choke out, with Eiji mouthing enthusiastically up the side of his neck and nearing with dangerously warm breath the lobe of his ear, "Remember, we agreed--no more fooling around in the club room?"
"But... Ooishi, it's been so long!" Eiji bit him, gently, and a shiver touched down his spine. It hadn't been that long since they'd had the chance to touch each other--they could muffle themselves enough to stroke, lick, tease, that sleepovers at his house invariably ended up involving very little sleep--but it had been what seemed a very long time since they'd actually made love... "I want you inside me, Ooishi-chan..."
Eiji was most definitely trying to seduce him.
It, he mused grimly, was working.
Ooishi opened his mouth--dodged his head to the side to avoid his partner's seeking lips--and set himself, firmly determined to refuse despite the way the words made everything from his skin inwards tremble--because, well, he wanted to be inside Eiji enough that his insides ached and twisted dully with want. This was entirely his fault, he knew, but--
Ooishi was distinctly surprised to hear himself murmur in a shaky, husky voice, "I don't have any lube."
Eiji blinked, as if he couldn't quite believe that Ooishi had agreed, either, before breaking into a smile happy enough to rival any Seigaku victory. "We'll figure something out!"
Ah, well, he thought, in amused despair as Eiji tugged him happily towards the club room--he just couldn't bring himself to wipe that delight from his lover's face. At least it's Friday--no-one wants to stay late or come back after practice on a Friday...
But then there was no more thought, because they were in the club room and when had he sat down on a bench? Eiji was perched on his lap, Eiji's hands were underneath his jersey, long strong hands stroking at the taut muscle of his back as he tugged it up, away, and then those knowing hands had yanked off his own jersey and Ooishi allowed himself to feast, starving, at the sight of his best friend, before leaning down to lap with soft little nips at small, flat nipples--it always made Eiji squirm, and he allowed it for only a second before Ooishi felt those hands against the nape of his neck and looked up.
"Want... you..." Eiji gasped, eyes glazed, impatient. "Come on, Ooishi..."
He had a brief moment, a lucid instant, to consider with some amusement the fact that his partner really was particularly eager today--maybe it was the tennis. If so, than Ooishi definitely had to win against him more often. "How?" it was a valid question, and he murmured it against that little sensitive spot right between Eiji's shoulder and his neck, eyes closed--they hadn't had the opportunity to make love nearly often enough that they wouldn't need some kind of preparation or lubricant, and if Eiji even suggested it, he most definitely was going to put his foot down and say no. Really, he was.
The grin that bloomed across his lover's face was wicked enough to have counted as an example of decadence all on its own, he observed, half-dazed. "Na, Ooishi," the sound of that voice, half a croon, half a purr, against his shoulder as Eiji bit him, was going to kill him--his pants were already far, far too tight for comfort, and he was already wearing his Seigaku sweatpants, as it was. "It never takes you very long to get hard again, does it...?"
Ooishi felt crimson flush his cheeks, his pulse beating hard in his ears like the sound of wings--it was true, and Eiji had turned around more than once, as they cuddled on his futon, to grin at him and quip 'Again?' due to the rather insistent press at the small of his back, but... but then again, he was never really soft for any longer--or any shorter--than Eiji himself was. "Look who's talking," he tried to growl, but it sounded more like a moan as Eiji propped himself up and rubbed their straining erections together, the rasp of athletic cloth almost as sweet as the calluses on his partner's hands. "Wh-what are you thinking?"
Eiji sat back and licked his lips--a long, slow round, the very tip of that pink tongue venturing in an easy curve and leaving a glistening trail behind it, and Ooishi resisted for about as long as he could--about three-fourths of the way around the circle; he was getting better at holding back when Eiji did that--before he dragged his partner's head down to his and kissed the breath from both of them, because if his lover kept on doing that with that expression on his face, Ooishi was not going to hold himself responsible for what would happen.
"I think..." Eiji was panting, but that terrible, delightful smile was still there, "that it's been too long since I had you in my mouth, Ooishi-chan. Nya, you like that, right?"
He saw what Eiji was thinking at about the same time as his breath shuddered from his body, and when his partner slid to the floor, he stood with him, and purred, softly, tilting that little tipped chin upwards, "Eiji, you know I do. And..." he was not quite--not yet--entirely comfortable with talking about such things, but Eiji did so enjoy it when he did... "I think I'm going to like what you're planning to do with my come even better."
Ooishi didn't think his pants had ever come off so quickly, and he had to steady himself, laughing, against the shelves as Eiji pushed him back down to the bench, those quick, lush lips wrapping around him, and they'd done this often enough that he knew he no longer had to restrain himself so totally, that it was okay to rock, just enough, into that sleek, wet mouth, watch those delicious eyes darken to dusk when he did...
He held on to control, though, for as long as he could, hands gripping at nothing in taut fists--because Eiji loved breaking that control as much as he enjoyed letting it go.
Perhaps because it never took very long, and it might have been no more than a moment later that the tip of that quick, talented tongue ventured like a kiss against just the right spot, and Ooishi let his head fall back, let himself move, just a little--
"Ita--" Ooishi started at the little sound that popped like a bubble from his own lips, and blinked, Eiji pulling himself off his shaft with a soft little wet noise. What the--
"I hurt you?!" Eiji sounded incredulous--Ooishi couldn't really blame him, not when Eiji had done this very thing to him, just the same way, a hundred times before, and--he wasn't ashamed to say it--Eiji had gotten very, very good indeed at it.
Ooishi shook his head, and stood, wincing as he glanced behind him--at the bench. "Iya. I don't think... I don't think these benches were meant for sitting on without pants on." The surface was roughly corrugated with time and pitted paint, bits of wood showing through the blue lacquered surface--it hadn't hurt when he'd just been sitting, but the moment he'd rocked his hips... Ooishi winced again at the thought of abrasions on his rear end, and reached down to pull up his pants before sitting down again, looking down at Eiji with some chagrin. This was, for all his worrying, definitely not a problem he'd ever really thought they were going to encounter.
Eiji blinked, looked around his hips--still kneeling on the floor--and Ooishi saw those large eyes widen with realisation as he ran those nimble fingers gently over the coarse grooves in the wooden surface, testing--yes, Ooishi was fairly sure he didn't want to be rubbing against the splintery wood without his pants on. "Yaaa, I see." Eiji plopped down onto Ooishi's lap with such a cute little huff, and Ooishi let his arm wander around his partner's waist--it was one of their favourite positions for just cuddling. "Well, I mean... there's other ways, we don't have to be on the benches, right?"
There were other options rather than using one of the benches--they'd tried some of them--but he knew from experience that looking into his partner's violet eyes as they went blank and empty and hot, seeing a mouth bitten by kisses fall open, was still--probably would always be--his favourite; one just couldn't get that when one's partner was leaning up against a wall and one was behind him, but, well, they would take what they could get. A towel laid across the wood... just wouldn't hold up against what he wanted to do to his hungry little neko.
Almost reluctantly, he slid Eiji off his lap, stood--and, suddenly, smiled, reaching out to wrap an arm around his partner's waist and pulling him backwards until their bodies were lined together, his hands resting almost casually against those slim hips, nose buried in the thick silk of Eiji's hair. "All right, then, but Eiji," he murmured--just the briefest breath, the faintest hiss of sound, and he couldn't quite believe he was saying it--but that often happened, when he was with his lover. "I'm not going to be able to see your eyes--so you're going to have to moan extra-loud, so that I can tell you're enjoying it, all right?"
It might have been demonstration--it might have been reaction--but he had to smile, had to lean down to nip at a neck stretched taut as Eiji canted his head back and moaned. "But... but Ooishi, I... I want to... wanna see your face."
"It works better on the benches with a school uniform on," the voice was soft, rich with amusement, and perhaps just the faintest hint of an entirely unholy glee. "That way, you can just open the front and not worry about splinters."
Several things happened at about the same time.
First, Eiji blinked, then yelped, and dove behind him.
Second, Ooishi raised his head, and unconsciously stood straighter to cover his partner--admittedly, considering that he was lacking a shirt and sporting a rather prominent bite-mark on his shoulder, he knew that it was a little absurd, but--
Third, Fuji Shuusuke smiled at them, so very innocently, from the door to the shower room, his hair wetly slicked and cinnamon-hued. "Maa, ne. Or you can do it standing. You're both about the right height. Ii, naa..."
He was going to die. His cheeks were going to set him on fire and he was just going to die of utter humiliation. And he was not going to think about Tezuka and Fuji doing it standing... because, well, Fuji had just said that he was jealous that they were the right height to, and did that mean that Tezuka and Fuji weren't, and hadn't he just told himself he was not going to think about that?
"Ah--but you know that," he'd wondered how the tensai could have discussed the Facts of Sex with Eiji with such a straight face, as it were, but he noted, in some small part of him that wasn't melting from utter mortification, that the smile was as disturbingly gentle and the closed eyes as sweet as ever. "Are you done with the translation, by the way? I think Inui wants it back."
"In my racquet bag," Ooishi answered automatically, glad somehow of being able to say something coherent--he'd kept it in his racquet bag in the hopes that Inui would take it back, because he just couldn't bring himself to just hand it to him...
An instant of realisation later, his mouth fell open. "Fuji--you--you didn't--" Oh, it was starting to look like a very, very good thing that he hadn't given the booklet back to Inui...
"Me? No." Fuji just smiled, his eyes still closed as he reached for the papers, and Ooishi was willing to swear that the blush was never, ever going to come off his cheeks. Eiji, from behind him, actually whimpered. "Tezuka did, actually."
But Tezuka and Fuji had been together since they'd all been in juniour high--and considering Fuji, and how passionately Tezuka applied himself to something that mattered to him, Ooishi very much doubted they needed a beginner's guide.
Which meant that Tezuka had... actually asked Inui to make a translation.
For him. Or, rather, for them.
Fuji... just smiled.
Ooishi didn't believe in people being born bad, but he would have been willing to swear that there was just something fundamentally evil to that grin.
"But Fuji, nya," his partner's voice was halfway between a wail and a chagrined moan, Ooishi thought, as Eiji peeked out from around his shoulder and Ooishi peeked down at him--he was flushed crimson enough clash with his hair, and it was, quite frankly, adorable; he had to smile, despite the utter awkwardness of this all. "What are you doing here this late?!"
The evil smile widened to something that might have almost been chagrin at about the same time as Ooishi's eyes snapped open--wide.
Nowadays, Fuji never left the tennis courts before... Tezuka did.
The tensai mock-pouted--not so dissimilar from the expression he wore when deprived of wasabi--and opened his eyes, the keen edge of them like a knife. "Mou, Tezuka, you might as well join us. I think Ooishi figured it out. And they're dressed."
Ooishi spread his arms, just a little, the better to hide a partner who--Eiji!--was trying to peek out from around him. Oh. No. We are in so much trouble...
Eiji disappeared into a tiny little ball of Eiji-cringe behind him, clinging to his waist, as their buchou stepped out from the shower room with his quiet, pacing grace. Ooishi wished, vaguely, that he had the option of ducking beside someone, because, well, for all that Tezuka was one of his best friends... running a hundred laps when all he wanted to do was pound Eiji into a mattress was not his idea of a good time.
Ooishi looked at Tezuka.
He should have remembered. Their buchou had always been dedicated--long after Tezuka had left the courts, he stayed to do paperwork, sometimes, or talk to the coaches and the sensei, or sometimes even the school board. He should have remembered.
Tezuka, his eyes stern behind slim, silver glasses, ran a hand, slowly, through his own hair, almost black when damp, before his eyes fell away to somewhere behind Ooishi. It wasn't shame, or embarrassment, or anything so plebian--Ooishi might have been lacking his shirt, but most any sign of arousal had faded with startling speed the moment he'd realised that the tensai was laughing at them.
It took Ooishi yet another moment--he was taking a few of those--to realise that the reason for which Tezuka was looking behind him was that Tezuka's shirt was neatly folded and in a cubbyhole behind him, and he was standing there as confidently as ever in just his pants--with what looked very much indeed like a tube of lubricant tucked into one big hand.
One generally didn't need lubricant to do paperwork.
As if that weren't enough--Tezuka also had a love-bite, fully as vivid a crimson as the one on Ooishi's own shoulder, on the arch between his throat and his collarbone.
He wasn't sure whose mouth had twitched first, but a moment later, he was doubled over and just couldn't stop laughing, and...
"Wa, sugoi," evidently, Eiji was as startled by the rare occurrence as he was--he sounded downright awed. "Tezuka's smiling."
And not just a faint smile that twinkled at the corners of slim eyes, either--a full-fledged smile, the likes of which he didn't think he'd seen since they'd all been in middle school together, and their buchou raised a hand to cover those suspiciously curved lips--
Except he raised the hand that was holding the lubricant.
Ooishi was entirely certain he was going to die. Tezuka was going to make the two of them run laps until they simply dropped in their tracks, or perhaps until Inui arrived to feed them a juice concoction. He really did have to stop laughing, because Eiji was staring at him as if he'd gone completely mad, and the way Fuji was smiling was downright dangerous...
Except that the look of mild chagrin, telling as a blush on Tezuka's face, wouldn't let him.
Something that might have been a breath of laughter in anyone else bubbled from Tezuka's lips before he settled himself with a shake of his head, no more, and lowered his hand to his side again, raising both eyebrows as if silently and simply daring them to say anything. "Could you pass me my shirt, Ooishi?"
Tezuka did everything with such... efficiency; it was one of the things that Ooishi had always admired most about him, and that included dressing himself, despite the strangely charged, amused atmosphere that had filled the high school club room. "How was the game?" he queried, simply, doing his buttons up with care, long, surprisingly graceful fingers--the lube had since disappeared into his racquet bag. Ever the team captain.
Ooishi sat down on the offending bench--which he was actually rather grateful for, come to think; who knew what Fuji would have walked in on if it hadn't been splintery--and shrugged, glancing at where Eiji looked... rather stupefied, still. "Not terrible."
"Ah." Fuji's smile into the silence after Tezuka's word-that-wasn't filled the room, and he reached over with careless affection to correct the arch of Tezuka's collar.
"Thank you, Fuji, you don't have to do that. Then whose idea was it to engage in... an encounter, in the club room?" Tezuka did up the last button, not even looking at them, and started placing his neatly-folded Regular uniform into his tennis bag.
Ooishi winced--he'd known that the question would be coming, eventually. "I take full responsibility, Tezuka." It might have been Eiji's idea, but he hadn't exactly protested... and the fact remained that he had started it by squashing his ridiculously sexy partner against a wall. This was going to get him more laps than he could count, but... well, maybe it was different, because it was fairly obvious that Tezuka and Fuji had not exactly been unoccupied in the showers. Still, though, they had had the self-control to not, well, jump on each other the moment they'd gotten into some ostensible privacy...
"Which means that Eiji seduced him, and he gave in," Fuji piped up--and Eiji squawked.
That noise was cute, too, come to think.
"Ah." Tezuka shouldered his tennis bag in one fluid motion, picked up his schoolbag. "I suggest that the next time, if there is a next time, you check the showers, first."
"You're not going to make us run laps?" Eiji piped, genuinely tremulous, and Ooishi reached around to squeeze his partner's hand.
The contact was sweet enough that they smiled at each other--with relief, maybe.
Tezuka shrugged, the faintest, faintest touches of a smile still lingering on his lips as he made his way, as crisply as ever, towards the door. "It would be extremely hypocritical of me to, wouldn't it? Thank the uke."
Ooishi and Eiji were both still gaping at him when Fuji waggled his fingers at them and followed their buchou out the door.
"Ooishi?" Eiji's voice sounded pinched, but Ooishi wasn't terribly surprised--he felt as if his eyes were about to fall out of his head, and why did the word 'uke' just sound so terribly, terribly wrong from lips from which he'd expected to hear 'Gurando, nihyaku shu!?' "W-was he talking about me... or... was he...? He wasn't talking about me, was he."
Ooishi gathered Eiji to him, and just hugged him. "Don't think about it, koi. Just... don't think about it."
~owari!~
Okay, so I never really did get to any serious smuttage. Still, though. ^_^ I'm actually far, far too busy to have taken the time to write this, much less post it, but there it is! *wry*
I hope you guys enjoyed the Jishin story-- tell me if you think this should be posted on TeniPuri Yaoi or something similar, okay? ^_^
Title: Jishin--Omake
Part: 1/1
Rating: NC-17ish
Warnings: Silly. Very. ^_^
Pairings: EijiOoishi, TezuFuji
Disclaimer: Not my tennis courts. Not my sandbox.
For those just joining up--this story doesn't actually require any previous knowledge of any of the rest of the Jishin story. Nutshell: the Seigaku tennis club has moved on to high school. Take it from there. ^_^
~Omake~
Hyakubun, Ikken
(One Hundred Hearings, One Sight)
Hyakubun ikken ni shikazu (One hundred hearings is not as good as one viewing)
Seeing is believing
There was still, Ooishi thought, something new about being able to look at Eiji through soft eyes and see that same warmth looking back.
That warmth wasn't looking at him now.
There was still, he mused absently as Eiji mock-scowled at the ball that Ooishi could say with a fair amount of confidence had landed giri-giri on the line, something very familiar about the face Eiji made when he lost a tennis match. Oh, they were years and years again away from the days when an adorable, cocky little boy with a spin to his racquet and a white band-aid on his nose had looked at him, crestfallen, across the courts, after having refused rather bluntly his offer of a doubles partnership, but some things just didn't change.
He knew Eiji was just playing at being pouty, but they would just pretend he didn't. Sometimes, he thought that Eiji just lost to him for the sole purpose of being able to give him those adorable, violet puppy-dog eyes, almost drooping in that happy face--because, well, Ooishi was perfectly aware of the fact that though doubles was still his forte, and always would be... Eiji, over the years, had become more than good enough to not only beat him in singles most days, but to beat most people.
He wasn't going to complain, though.
After all, winning at tennis made Eiji bouncy, euphoric... and very, very, very hot. Another good reason for them to finish a game off quickly was simply that, well, if they did--the chances are that they could go home and, oh blessed miracle, not have anyone there yet.
Then again, Ooishi had discovered that he liked winning more than for its own sake--simply because he so enjoyed replacing that mournful, reproachful little look with a half-happy, half-dazed little Eiji-grin he'd gotten very familiar with over the course of the past year.
Ooishi had also realised, much to his chagrin, that he was horribly possessive over things like goofy, misty smiles and the sated look in Eiji's eyes before he drifted off.
Which was all right, too, because, as Eiji said so happily, he was the only one who got them, anyway.
He simply let Eiji's complaining tumble over him, making just the right little soft soothing noises--something about his Moon Volley being just too high and wasn't it just mean of him to drag his racquet if he was going to do a drop shot?--and, the moment they were close enough to the clubhouse...
Ooishi smiled, grabbed his partner--who stopped complaining mid-word, tone of indignance cutting off in a yelp--and kissed him. Kissed him until Eiji's arms wrapped around his neck. Then backed him against the white, pitted surface of the clubhouse and kissed him until his partner was whimpering almost pathetically and the only thing holding Eiji up was the pressure of Ooishi's hips against his, pinning him to the wall.
He did so love making Eiji's knees 'go noodly', as they called it.
Eiji did, after all, like to be pounced on just as much as he did.
"You complain too much," Ooishi teased, unsurprised that his voice was deeper, rougher than it had been--he just couldn't reduce Eiji to being whimpering and boneless without wanting to pull the squirming little temptation to him to see if he couldn't make him scream.
It didn't help that he knew that he could, because he had.
How was it that he and Eiji had discovered practically all there was to know about each other's body, all the little spots and motions that could bring the other to the brink of insanity or drive him over the edge--but the desire to actually do so, at least for him, hadn't waned at all?
Ooishi held his friend until Eiji pushed away from the wall and leaned into him, red hair soft and damp, pressed against his cheek, arms wrapped around his waist...
Ooishi blinked.
"Eiji!" he swatted behind him at the hands that had hooked deft fingers into the waistband of his pants.
"But Ooishii, nya," Eiji pouted at him, and, well, there was that glazed, hot look that he'd aimed for... "Playing tennis with you makes me so... so... horny."
And Eiji knew far too well what it did to him to hear him say things like that.
Ooishi closed his eyes and wished, suddenly, that he had a wall behind him to lean on when his knees went weak.
Still, he had to try. "Eiji, we can't." He was going to put his foot down about this, because while he would freely admit that they just didn't ever have enough time to play private games together that had absolutely nothing to do with tennis... he was not going to risk their reputations in school, and he knew that his mother had stayed home from work today, and that there was almost invariably someone at Eiji's home, he had so many relatives.
The Regulars knew about them--Momo had spotted them sharing a kiss on the way home, as he'd been running after them to return a wristband Eiji had forgotten, and had subsequently, being Momo, told the rest of the Regulars... but much to Ooishi's bemusement, the only one who had seemed at all surprised by the announcement had been Momo himself.
Still, even though the courts were empty, and even Tezuka had left a half-hour before... it was impossible to predict when, say, a freshman, would come back for something he'd forgotten in the club room--and even if he had been willing to risk their reputations (and he wasn't) Ooishi wasn't willing to risk the Seigaku tennis club's.
It was still hard to choke out, with Eiji mouthing enthusiastically up the side of his neck and nearing with dangerously warm breath the lobe of his ear, "Remember, we agreed--no more fooling around in the club room?"
"But... Ooishi, it's been so long!" Eiji bit him, gently, and a shiver touched down his spine. It hadn't been that long since they'd had the chance to touch each other--they could muffle themselves enough to stroke, lick, tease, that sleepovers at his house invariably ended up involving very little sleep--but it had been what seemed a very long time since they'd actually made love... "I want you inside me, Ooishi-chan..."
Eiji was most definitely trying to seduce him.
It, he mused grimly, was working.
Ooishi opened his mouth--dodged his head to the side to avoid his partner's seeking lips--and set himself, firmly determined to refuse despite the way the words made everything from his skin inwards tremble--because, well, he wanted to be inside Eiji enough that his insides ached and twisted dully with want. This was entirely his fault, he knew, but--
Ooishi was distinctly surprised to hear himself murmur in a shaky, husky voice, "I don't have any lube."
Eiji blinked, as if he couldn't quite believe that Ooishi had agreed, either, before breaking into a smile happy enough to rival any Seigaku victory. "We'll figure something out!"
Ah, well, he thought, in amused despair as Eiji tugged him happily towards the club room--he just couldn't bring himself to wipe that delight from his lover's face. At least it's Friday--no-one wants to stay late or come back after practice on a Friday...
But then there was no more thought, because they were in the club room and when had he sat down on a bench? Eiji was perched on his lap, Eiji's hands were underneath his jersey, long strong hands stroking at the taut muscle of his back as he tugged it up, away, and then those knowing hands had yanked off his own jersey and Ooishi allowed himself to feast, starving, at the sight of his best friend, before leaning down to lap with soft little nips at small, flat nipples--it always made Eiji squirm, and he allowed it for only a second before Ooishi felt those hands against the nape of his neck and looked up.
"Want... you..." Eiji gasped, eyes glazed, impatient. "Come on, Ooishi..."
He had a brief moment, a lucid instant, to consider with some amusement the fact that his partner really was particularly eager today--maybe it was the tennis. If so, than Ooishi definitely had to win against him more often. "How?" it was a valid question, and he murmured it against that little sensitive spot right between Eiji's shoulder and his neck, eyes closed--they hadn't had the opportunity to make love nearly often enough that they wouldn't need some kind of preparation or lubricant, and if Eiji even suggested it, he most definitely was going to put his foot down and say no. Really, he was.
The grin that bloomed across his lover's face was wicked enough to have counted as an example of decadence all on its own, he observed, half-dazed. "Na, Ooishi," the sound of that voice, half a croon, half a purr, against his shoulder as Eiji bit him, was going to kill him--his pants were already far, far too tight for comfort, and he was already wearing his Seigaku sweatpants, as it was. "It never takes you very long to get hard again, does it...?"
Ooishi felt crimson flush his cheeks, his pulse beating hard in his ears like the sound of wings--it was true, and Eiji had turned around more than once, as they cuddled on his futon, to grin at him and quip 'Again?' due to the rather insistent press at the small of his back, but... but then again, he was never really soft for any longer--or any shorter--than Eiji himself was. "Look who's talking," he tried to growl, but it sounded more like a moan as Eiji propped himself up and rubbed their straining erections together, the rasp of athletic cloth almost as sweet as the calluses on his partner's hands. "Wh-what are you thinking?"
Eiji sat back and licked his lips--a long, slow round, the very tip of that pink tongue venturing in an easy curve and leaving a glistening trail behind it, and Ooishi resisted for about as long as he could--about three-fourths of the way around the circle; he was getting better at holding back when Eiji did that--before he dragged his partner's head down to his and kissed the breath from both of them, because if his lover kept on doing that with that expression on his face, Ooishi was not going to hold himself responsible for what would happen.
"I think..." Eiji was panting, but that terrible, delightful smile was still there, "that it's been too long since I had you in my mouth, Ooishi-chan. Nya, you like that, right?"
He saw what Eiji was thinking at about the same time as his breath shuddered from his body, and when his partner slid to the floor, he stood with him, and purred, softly, tilting that little tipped chin upwards, "Eiji, you know I do. And..." he was not quite--not yet--entirely comfortable with talking about such things, but Eiji did so enjoy it when he did... "I think I'm going to like what you're planning to do with my come even better."
Ooishi didn't think his pants had ever come off so quickly, and he had to steady himself, laughing, against the shelves as Eiji pushed him back down to the bench, those quick, lush lips wrapping around him, and they'd done this often enough that he knew he no longer had to restrain himself so totally, that it was okay to rock, just enough, into that sleek, wet mouth, watch those delicious eyes darken to dusk when he did...
He held on to control, though, for as long as he could, hands gripping at nothing in taut fists--because Eiji loved breaking that control as much as he enjoyed letting it go.
Perhaps because it never took very long, and it might have been no more than a moment later that the tip of that quick, talented tongue ventured like a kiss against just the right spot, and Ooishi let his head fall back, let himself move, just a little--
"Ita--" Ooishi started at the little sound that popped like a bubble from his own lips, and blinked, Eiji pulling himself off his shaft with a soft little wet noise. What the--
"I hurt you?!" Eiji sounded incredulous--Ooishi couldn't really blame him, not when Eiji had done this very thing to him, just the same way, a hundred times before, and--he wasn't ashamed to say it--Eiji had gotten very, very good indeed at it.
Ooishi shook his head, and stood, wincing as he glanced behind him--at the bench. "Iya. I don't think... I don't think these benches were meant for sitting on without pants on." The surface was roughly corrugated with time and pitted paint, bits of wood showing through the blue lacquered surface--it hadn't hurt when he'd just been sitting, but the moment he'd rocked his hips... Ooishi winced again at the thought of abrasions on his rear end, and reached down to pull up his pants before sitting down again, looking down at Eiji with some chagrin. This was, for all his worrying, definitely not a problem he'd ever really thought they were going to encounter.
Eiji blinked, looked around his hips--still kneeling on the floor--and Ooishi saw those large eyes widen with realisation as he ran those nimble fingers gently over the coarse grooves in the wooden surface, testing--yes, Ooishi was fairly sure he didn't want to be rubbing against the splintery wood without his pants on. "Yaaa, I see." Eiji plopped down onto Ooishi's lap with such a cute little huff, and Ooishi let his arm wander around his partner's waist--it was one of their favourite positions for just cuddling. "Well, I mean... there's other ways, we don't have to be on the benches, right?"
There were other options rather than using one of the benches--they'd tried some of them--but he knew from experience that looking into his partner's violet eyes as they went blank and empty and hot, seeing a mouth bitten by kisses fall open, was still--probably would always be--his favourite; one just couldn't get that when one's partner was leaning up against a wall and one was behind him, but, well, they would take what they could get. A towel laid across the wood... just wouldn't hold up against what he wanted to do to his hungry little neko.
Almost reluctantly, he slid Eiji off his lap, stood--and, suddenly, smiled, reaching out to wrap an arm around his partner's waist and pulling him backwards until their bodies were lined together, his hands resting almost casually against those slim hips, nose buried in the thick silk of Eiji's hair. "All right, then, but Eiji," he murmured--just the briefest breath, the faintest hiss of sound, and he couldn't quite believe he was saying it--but that often happened, when he was with his lover. "I'm not going to be able to see your eyes--so you're going to have to moan extra-loud, so that I can tell you're enjoying it, all right?"
It might have been demonstration--it might have been reaction--but he had to smile, had to lean down to nip at a neck stretched taut as Eiji canted his head back and moaned. "But... but Ooishi, I... I want to... wanna see your face."
"It works better on the benches with a school uniform on," the voice was soft, rich with amusement, and perhaps just the faintest hint of an entirely unholy glee. "That way, you can just open the front and not worry about splinters."
Several things happened at about the same time.
First, Eiji blinked, then yelped, and dove behind him.
Second, Ooishi raised his head, and unconsciously stood straighter to cover his partner--admittedly, considering that he was lacking a shirt and sporting a rather prominent bite-mark on his shoulder, he knew that it was a little absurd, but--
Third, Fuji Shuusuke smiled at them, so very innocently, from the door to the shower room, his hair wetly slicked and cinnamon-hued. "Maa, ne. Or you can do it standing. You're both about the right height. Ii, naa..."
He was going to die. His cheeks were going to set him on fire and he was just going to die of utter humiliation. And he was not going to think about Tezuka and Fuji doing it standing... because, well, Fuji had just said that he was jealous that they were the right height to, and did that mean that Tezuka and Fuji weren't, and hadn't he just told himself he was not going to think about that?
"Ah--but you know that," he'd wondered how the tensai could have discussed the Facts of Sex with Eiji with such a straight face, as it were, but he noted, in some small part of him that wasn't melting from utter mortification, that the smile was as disturbingly gentle and the closed eyes as sweet as ever. "Are you done with the translation, by the way? I think Inui wants it back."
"In my racquet bag," Ooishi answered automatically, glad somehow of being able to say something coherent--he'd kept it in his racquet bag in the hopes that Inui would take it back, because he just couldn't bring himself to just hand it to him...
An instant of realisation later, his mouth fell open. "Fuji--you--you didn't--" Oh, it was starting to look like a very, very good thing that he hadn't given the booklet back to Inui...
"Me? No." Fuji just smiled, his eyes still closed as he reached for the papers, and Ooishi was willing to swear that the blush was never, ever going to come off his cheeks. Eiji, from behind him, actually whimpered. "Tezuka did, actually."
But Tezuka and Fuji had been together since they'd all been in juniour high--and considering Fuji, and how passionately Tezuka applied himself to something that mattered to him, Ooishi very much doubted they needed a beginner's guide.
Which meant that Tezuka had... actually asked Inui to make a translation.
For him. Or, rather, for them.
Fuji... just smiled.
Ooishi didn't believe in people being born bad, but he would have been willing to swear that there was just something fundamentally evil to that grin.
"But Fuji, nya," his partner's voice was halfway between a wail and a chagrined moan, Ooishi thought, as Eiji peeked out from around his shoulder and Ooishi peeked down at him--he was flushed crimson enough clash with his hair, and it was, quite frankly, adorable; he had to smile, despite the utter awkwardness of this all. "What are you doing here this late?!"
The evil smile widened to something that might have almost been chagrin at about the same time as Ooishi's eyes snapped open--wide.
Nowadays, Fuji never left the tennis courts before... Tezuka did.
The tensai mock-pouted--not so dissimilar from the expression he wore when deprived of wasabi--and opened his eyes, the keen edge of them like a knife. "Mou, Tezuka, you might as well join us. I think Ooishi figured it out. And they're dressed."
Ooishi spread his arms, just a little, the better to hide a partner who--Eiji!--was trying to peek out from around him. Oh. No. We are in so much trouble...
Eiji disappeared into a tiny little ball of Eiji-cringe behind him, clinging to his waist, as their buchou stepped out from the shower room with his quiet, pacing grace. Ooishi wished, vaguely, that he had the option of ducking beside someone, because, well, for all that Tezuka was one of his best friends... running a hundred laps when all he wanted to do was pound Eiji into a mattress was not his idea of a good time.
Ooishi looked at Tezuka.
He should have remembered. Their buchou had always been dedicated--long after Tezuka had left the courts, he stayed to do paperwork, sometimes, or talk to the coaches and the sensei, or sometimes even the school board. He should have remembered.
Tezuka, his eyes stern behind slim, silver glasses, ran a hand, slowly, through his own hair, almost black when damp, before his eyes fell away to somewhere behind Ooishi. It wasn't shame, or embarrassment, or anything so plebian--Ooishi might have been lacking his shirt, but most any sign of arousal had faded with startling speed the moment he'd realised that the tensai was laughing at them.
It took Ooishi yet another moment--he was taking a few of those--to realise that the reason for which Tezuka was looking behind him was that Tezuka's shirt was neatly folded and in a cubbyhole behind him, and he was standing there as confidently as ever in just his pants--with what looked very much indeed like a tube of lubricant tucked into one big hand.
One generally didn't need lubricant to do paperwork.
As if that weren't enough--Tezuka also had a love-bite, fully as vivid a crimson as the one on Ooishi's own shoulder, on the arch between his throat and his collarbone.
He wasn't sure whose mouth had twitched first, but a moment later, he was doubled over and just couldn't stop laughing, and...
"Wa, sugoi," evidently, Eiji was as startled by the rare occurrence as he was--he sounded downright awed. "Tezuka's smiling."
And not just a faint smile that twinkled at the corners of slim eyes, either--a full-fledged smile, the likes of which he didn't think he'd seen since they'd all been in middle school together, and their buchou raised a hand to cover those suspiciously curved lips--
Except he raised the hand that was holding the lubricant.
Ooishi was entirely certain he was going to die. Tezuka was going to make the two of them run laps until they simply dropped in their tracks, or perhaps until Inui arrived to feed them a juice concoction. He really did have to stop laughing, because Eiji was staring at him as if he'd gone completely mad, and the way Fuji was smiling was downright dangerous...
Except that the look of mild chagrin, telling as a blush on Tezuka's face, wouldn't let him.
Something that might have been a breath of laughter in anyone else bubbled from Tezuka's lips before he settled himself with a shake of his head, no more, and lowered his hand to his side again, raising both eyebrows as if silently and simply daring them to say anything. "Could you pass me my shirt, Ooishi?"
Tezuka did everything with such... efficiency; it was one of the things that Ooishi had always admired most about him, and that included dressing himself, despite the strangely charged, amused atmosphere that had filled the high school club room. "How was the game?" he queried, simply, doing his buttons up with care, long, surprisingly graceful fingers--the lube had since disappeared into his racquet bag. Ever the team captain.
Ooishi sat down on the offending bench--which he was actually rather grateful for, come to think; who knew what Fuji would have walked in on if it hadn't been splintery--and shrugged, glancing at where Eiji looked... rather stupefied, still. "Not terrible."
"Ah." Fuji's smile into the silence after Tezuka's word-that-wasn't filled the room, and he reached over with careless affection to correct the arch of Tezuka's collar.
"Thank you, Fuji, you don't have to do that. Then whose idea was it to engage in... an encounter, in the club room?" Tezuka did up the last button, not even looking at them, and started placing his neatly-folded Regular uniform into his tennis bag.
Ooishi winced--he'd known that the question would be coming, eventually. "I take full responsibility, Tezuka." It might have been Eiji's idea, but he hadn't exactly protested... and the fact remained that he had started it by squashing his ridiculously sexy partner against a wall. This was going to get him more laps than he could count, but... well, maybe it was different, because it was fairly obvious that Tezuka and Fuji had not exactly been unoccupied in the showers. Still, though, they had had the self-control to not, well, jump on each other the moment they'd gotten into some ostensible privacy...
"Which means that Eiji seduced him, and he gave in," Fuji piped up--and Eiji squawked.
That noise was cute, too, come to think.
"Ah." Tezuka shouldered his tennis bag in one fluid motion, picked up his schoolbag. "I suggest that the next time, if there is a next time, you check the showers, first."
"You're not going to make us run laps?" Eiji piped, genuinely tremulous, and Ooishi reached around to squeeze his partner's hand.
The contact was sweet enough that they smiled at each other--with relief, maybe.
Tezuka shrugged, the faintest, faintest touches of a smile still lingering on his lips as he made his way, as crisply as ever, towards the door. "It would be extremely hypocritical of me to, wouldn't it? Thank the uke."
Ooishi and Eiji were both still gaping at him when Fuji waggled his fingers at them and followed their buchou out the door.
"Ooishi?" Eiji's voice sounded pinched, but Ooishi wasn't terribly surprised--he felt as if his eyes were about to fall out of his head, and why did the word 'uke' just sound so terribly, terribly wrong from lips from which he'd expected to hear 'Gurando, nihyaku shu!?' "W-was he talking about me... or... was he...? He wasn't talking about me, was he."
Ooishi gathered Eiji to him, and just hugged him. "Don't think about it, koi. Just... don't think about it."
~owari!~
Okay, so I never really did get to any serious smuttage. Still, though. ^_^ I'm actually far, far too busy to have taken the time to write this, much less post it, but there it is! *wry*
I hope you guys enjoyed the Jishin story-- tell me if you think this should be posted on TeniPuri Yaoi or something similar, okay? ^_^