Concerto (an Oshitari/Tezuka experimentation)

[krystalepyon]

Author: Krystal_Epyon
Email: [e-mail]
Title: Concerto
Warnings: Yaoi, Lemon, just a ‘touch’ of voyeurism, dead sexy Oshitari Yuushi – not for those prone to nose bleeds and spontaneous death by bishiness. DEFINITELY for those with a weakness for violins. Mmm.

Pairings: Oshitari/Tezuka. Yes, you heard me right. Not only is it a very rare pairing, but Tezuka is on the BOTTOM. (Well, someone had to be…)
Atobe/Yukimura
And some in the past that you'll find out about.
(Who knows whether the current pairings will stick or not? I sure don't.)

Dedication: Kia-chan. It’s all her fault. I made a silly suggestion and she called me out on it… but then the silly suggestion kinda got implanted in my brain, and… well, this is the result. ^.^

Notes: There is SO much I want to say about this fic, like how it’s all experimental and how I really, really like it, but, I’ll stick with this…

Setting: Tezuka, as well as several other players from various schools and Hyoutei middle school’s own tennis team have been invited to a tour of Hyoutei high. Needless to say, there’s no way they’d all obediently follow the tour through to its end, and certain members of the tour are already quite familiar with Hyoutei high school such as a certain tensai who has performed there many times. His subtle manipulations separated Tezuka from the group and landed them both in the one place with nothing better to do than a little music recital…

I didn’t want to overload this fic with a whole lot of exposition. It’d ruin it. So now you know how and why Tezuka and Oshitari ended up where they are, you can FORGET the back-story and simply enjoy this little piece of a very unique pairing…

Concerto

Tezuka stared dazedly up at the graded roof. He was in Hyoutei Highschool's small music auditorium, his upper body draped over the stairs to the stage and Hyoutei’s Oshitari Yuushi between his thighs, sucking diligently on his erection.

The whole situation seemed immensely surreal.

But that didn’t mean Tezuka didn’t want to be there. Every time his eyes drifted closed, he relived the memory of Oshitari’s fingers drifting over the strings of his violin, the bow caressing at various tempos and producing a variety of sounds that still seemed to linger in the air. Each reiteration of the memory sent tremors through Tezuka’s body as his cock recalled its original awakening.

Tezuka had never before been so turned on by music, but the way Oshitari wielded a bow… It wasn’t just the beautiful music, though that was entrancing enough by itself. Somehow, Oshitari, who had never seemed especially attractive, suddenly became the sexiest guy Tezuka had ever seen. The movements of his fingers, his posture, the contrasting intensity and detachment in his eyes, the set of his lips, even the way his hair fell over his face as he played. Though Tezuka never absorbed even half of this at the time, he knew he appreciated the performance.

A quarter of the way through the piece, he was hard. At halfway, Oshitari had paused in his playing, his eyes lifting from the violin, first to Tezuka’s crotch and then all the way to his face. He played the last half of the song staring into Tezuka’s eyes.

By the time the bow lifted from the strings for the last time, Tezuka was not only emotionally moved, but also irrevocably hard and completely unable to move for fear of coming in his pants. And he hardly understood it at all.

That was why he kept reflecting on the performance even as Oshitari sucked him off. He couldn’t help analyzing because he simply wasn’t the type to act so spontaneously and carelessly. If they were caught…

But Tezuka was still there, now with his fingers woven into raven-black hair and his hips thrusting ever so subtly as Oshitari deep-throated him, sending pleasure throughout every nerve in his body.

As Oshitari had walked towards him, violin and bow hanging limply from his hands, his steps were like a panther… For the first time ever, Tezuka had been unable to suppress his desire. As Oshitari had crawled into his lap, draping his arms over Tezuka’s shoulders and gently letting the instrument slip through his fingers onto the seat behind, Tezuka had allowed himself to be kissed, sinuously humped, and partially undressed, until he wore only his school shirt. He’d moaned as Oshitari sucked on his tongue, and gasped as the tensai ground mercilessly into his almost painful erection.

Tezuka rolled his head, moaning breathily as his hips twitched with the longing to drive his length down Oshitari’s throat. Between recent memories and current administrations, he was completely losing control.

Not that he’d ever had it to begin with. No, that had been perpetually in Oshitari’s hands.

The tensai had dragged him by the collar, still kissing him deeply, trying to make it to the stage for some reason. However, their clumsy making out had caused them to fall just short of the rise, Tezuka landing atop of the tensai.

For only an instant, he had paused, intending to inquire whether Oshitari was alright. In the next moment, he was on his back, the tensai atop him and already undoing his shirt buttons, nipping at snippets of flesh as Tezuka’s chest was revealed. He simply lay there and allowed Oshitari to do as he wished, and all he could think of to explain such uncharacteristic behavior was that he couldn’t get that song out of his head and it was driving him mad.

Even so, he wanted to be exactly where he was despite every fault with the situation.

Suddenly, Tezuka’s thoughts were disrupted and his eyes flew open as he came, influenced by a subtle probing into his previously untouched entrance. He clenched his fingers as his body seized and trembled, Oshitari’s hair rubbing between his knuckles and providing him something to focus on aside from the overwhelming pleasure.

He wasn’t ready to lose himself completely just yet.

But Oshitari wasn’t done. The moment Tezuka’s orgasm abated and his trembling began to subside, the tensai lifted the captain’s hips, his tongue flicking over Tezuka’s entrance and probing briefly inside.

Tezuka gasped, a belated spasm seizing him momentarily.

Satisfied and smirking, Oshitari crawled up Tezuka’s body, though his fingers stayed beneath Tezuka’s ass, gently rubbing his tight ring and trying to coerce their way inside. A moment later, Oshitari’s lips were on his, and Tezuka sucked in a quick breath, still recovering from the partially unexpected orgasm.

Not one to go on acting so dependently, he reached down and grasped Oshitari’s belt, slipping the leather through the buckle until it fell open. He struggled with the tensai’s button and fly even as his own tongue was skillfully guided and manipulated in a smooth kiss that affected his re-awakening libido rather drastically.

Once again, Oshitari’s sensual performance emerged in his memory and his erection began to stir back to life. Various images chased themselves around his mind, all the while supplemented by Oshitari’s skillful tongue and the memory of his playing.

Tezuka slowly slid his hands around the tensai’s slim hips, slipping them inside Oshitari’s jeans and pushing them off from there. He wasn’t in an ideal position to do so, but the tensai was more than happy to help, finally breaking the intense kiss to rid himself of the clothing.

Half naked, he lay flat atop Tezuka and began rubbing against the captain’s still saliva-moistened cock, quickly bringing Tezuka’s erection back to life. Meanwhile, Oshitari’s eyes were narrowed in restraint behind his thick glasses as the grinding of his already rigid arousal threatened to surpass his limits of self-control.

“Oshitari,” Tezuka breathed, trying to stop the tensai by holding him still. As an afterthought, he added the honorific. “-san.”

Showing incredible patience, Oshitari ground to a halt. “Yes?” he asked, his voice remarkably stable.

“How far do you intend this to go?” Tezuka asked, glad that his voice didn’t crack at least.

He wasn’t usually so undisciplined, but he couldn’t even seem to hold it against himself as he felt the subtle shift of Oshitari’s muscles against his own, catching his breath. Something about the Hyoutei tensai had thrown him completely off guard, and now he was paying the price.

“How far will you let it?” Oshitari replied, his deep voice washing over Tezuka.

The captain closed his eyes, taking a moment to seriously consider his response, even though he knew what it would be without a moment’s thought. He’d come this far. Why back down now?

“Be mindful,” Tezuka cautioned – his idea of replying in the affirmative. “I have a qualification match tomorrow.”

“I know. By tomorrow, you won’t even feel it,” Oshitari murmured, kissing him again, only this time, there was less passion and more of an exchange of trust and promise.

It didn’t last long. Oshitari broke the kiss, growling in frustration as he hastily removed his own glasses which had finally gotten in the way one too many times. He then plucked Tezuka’s away, sending both pairs skittering across the stage before he kissed the captain again to make up for the delay.

But Tezuka had had enough of kissing. He was already hard again, and he could tell that Oshitari was nearing his limits.

As he’d already submitted to being taken, Tezuka wasn’t about to let it end short of exactly that, and unfortunately, they didn’t have all day to lie around and arouse each other again and again. Someone could walk in on them at any moment, and all that was obscuring them from the main entrance was a grand piano.

Tezuka tore his lips away, gasping for breath. “We have to be quick,” he urged.

Oshitari, recognizing this as a wise decision, nodded minutely. “Very well,” he agreed, though he expressed no signs of haste. “But you’ll have to be patient if you want me to keep my promise.”

“If someone walks in…-”

Oshitari smirked. “It’s unlikely, but if that did happen, we’d have some explaining to do, wouldn’t we?” he teased, not reassuring Tezuka at all even as he began to press his fingers into the captain’s ass.

Tezuka wasn’t a virgin, but of his two lovers, only one had ever taken him, and only once. He found it hard to believe that of all people, he was submitting so easily to Oshitari. It was so subtle that Tezuka had never previously noticed, but he could now recognize that the tensai harbored an incredibly strong will which seemed to eclipse even Tezuka’s own.

Still, what Tezuka had taken for an incredible sense of self control was apparently truly a self imposed attempt at restraining a typically passionate nature. The result was a very quiet intensity all wrapped up in one person that Tezuka hadn’t been able to recognize until it was released through the medium of music, and once unleashed, Oshitari was a formidable force.

Ever aware of their public location, Tezuka held back a moan by biting his lip. He forced himself to breathe and relax as Oshitari’s fingers moved within him, and distracted himself by running his hands over the firm, taught muscles of Oshitari’s back. He traced the tensai’s spine through his shirt, wishing he could touch the skin, but knowing it would take too long for them both to fully dress again.

It was almost amusing taking such precautions when all anyone had to do was walk into the room and they’d instantly be aware of what was happening, but Tezuka couldn’t quite quell his cautionary instinct. He arched as Oshitari nibbled his nipple and then teased it with his tongue, forcing a muffled sound from Tezuka’s throat even as he strained to hold back the groan that wanted to escape.

He took a deep breath and swallowed, trembling as Oshitari lightly bit his nipple once more. Somewhat calmed, he managed to speak almost coherently.

“That’s enough,” he said. “A little discomfort isn’t going to make me lose a match.”

Oshitari’s fingers slowed to a stop and he raised his head from Tezuka’s chest, his dark, lust-disturbed eyes meeting Tezuka’s challengingly.

“This from the cautious captain of Seigaku?” he teased, though his tone was decidedly serious. “‘Yudan-sezou-ni-ikkou’-Tezuka-Kunimitsu?”

“Shut up and take me now or you’ll never find out just how reckless I can be,” Tezuka threatened, knowing that he was insinuating the desire for a continuation of what Oshitari might consider to be a simple one-time lay.

Thankfully, the bond they’d begun to form didn’t appear to be entirely his imagination, whether it turned out to be emotional or purely sexual.

“Now that is something I intend to see,” Oshitari drawled, gently withdrawing his fingers from Tezuka’s ass.

He sat back, he eyes roaming over Tezuka’s body as he positioned himself. Tezuka was similarly admiring Oshitari’s figure, especially his muscled thighs visible below the buttoned school shirt still hanging over the tensai’s frame.

Without another word, Oshitari began to press into him, and Tezuka stiffened instinctively, but Oshitari’s steady gaze calmed him and he relaxed, allowing the tensai to enter his body. Oshitari had a nicely proportioned cock, not too large but large enough to caress every inch of Tezuka’s insides, causing him to shudder in pleasure. The reason he’d only been taken once wasn’t that he didn’t like it, but because he preferred to maintain control, especially over his two previous lovers. He would never admit that the one time he’d allowed Atobe to fuck him, he’d enjoyed it thoroughly and often masturbated over that still very distinct memory.

The diva would probably throw a fit if he knew that Tezuka had practically offered his ass on a platter to Oshitari. He hadn’t even questioned his sudden willingness to allow the tensai to take him. And he certainly didn’t regret it.

He turned his face ever so slightly into the fingers caressing his cheek. He was breathing hard, his whole body tense as Oshitari moved within him, every motion sending pleasure rippling through his body. He gladly accepted Oshitari’s lips, hardly aware of anything but the incredible feeling welling within him.

Still he could hear the song in his mind, seeming to fuel the rhythm with which Oshitari took him. Though his vision was blurry without his glasses, he consciously opened his eyes and looked up into the tensai’s face once the kiss was broken, both of them panting hard and longing to moan.

All of a sudden, the pace increased, and Oshitari began thrusting hard and fast, causing Tezuka’s senses to overload. He closed his eyes, wrapping his arms about the tensai’s back and arching though it drove his shoulders uncomfortably into the stairs.

“I’m coming,” he whispered, unable to withhold his orgasm any longer.

Oshitari simply grunted in acceptance, and as Tezuka’s release shuddered through his body, he felt the tensai’s tightly reigned control snap. Oshitari growled and frantically drove into Tezuka, instantly reaching his own climax which had been restrained for several minutes.

The following bliss was something Tezuka could barely remember even moments after it passed, and something he could never suitably describe. He felt warm and complete as Oshitari’s weight rested fully on top of him and the two lay there trying to catch their breath, trying to think of something to say, and trying gain the impetus to break the moment, separate, and pull on their clothes.

A disturbing giggle provided that impetus.

“My, my. What would dear Keigo say, I wonder?” taunted a familiar, slightly effeminate voice.

Tezuka looked blurrily up past Oshitari’s shoulder at the familiar figure he could make out through sheer individuality of appearance. Besides, he recognized the voice.

“Keep this to yourself, Yukimura,” Tezuka ordered. Anger and embarrassment causing him to push the boundaries of their scant familiarity.

“Or what?” the Rikkaidai captain challenged, leaning over the piano and resting his chin on its sleek surface.

“Or lose Atobe through sheer force of jealousy,” Oshitari replied, hardly acknowledging Yukimura as he pulled out of Tezuka and got to his feet. He threw a brief glance over his shoulder at Yukimura who was still wearing an expression of amusement by the time Tezuka had found his glasses and slipped them into place.

“I suppose that’s true,” Yukimura agreed, though his eyes were fixed firmly on Tezuka rather than Oshitari. “Well, since I enjoyed the show so much, I should repay you both with a little warning. The tour is on its way here, and your mutual disappearance has been noted.”

Tezuka stiffened in apprehension, but a glance at Oshitari was enough to calm him and remind him that short of being caught in the act, there was nothing to prove they’d even been together.

Seeming rather pleased with himself, Yukimura left them with a little chuckle. Tezuka watched him go, still with a slight feeling of insecurity. He was way out of familiar territory.

Oshitari approached him from behind, sliding strong hands over his shoulders. “As unfortunate as that-” Yukimura’s appearance “-was, I very much enjoyed our little detour today,” he said.

Tezuka leaned back against his body, wondering why he was exhibiting such trust. He barely knew Oshitari as a player let alone as a person, and yet he felt like he knew the tensai almost better than he knew himself after what they’d just shared. It was almost as if Oshitari had bared his soul through his violin and proceeded to confirm that there was nothing further to hide by playing Tezuka's body equally well.

Reluctantly, Tezuka gathered his wits and pulled away, surprised by a feeling of disappointment the moment he no longer felt Oshitari’s touch. “I’d best go find myself a viable excuse,” he said, not looking back at the tensai as he walked straight out of the auditorium.

As soon as the tour was over and they were led back to their school bags, he would write down his number and slip it into Oshitari’s hand.

What happened from there was up to the tensai.

[krystalepyon]

Waltz in d minor

Tezuka sat beside Fuji, his mind a million miles away. His fingers twitched at the remembered feeling of Oshitari’s touch as he slipped his number into the Hyoutei tensai’s hand. Oshitari’s momentary acknowledgment, the set of his eyes and very slight turn up of his lips, had made Tezuka feel rather warm and that warmth hadn’t yet faded.

In fact, he felt rather uncomfortable sitting next to Fuji who had once filled him with a similar warmth, but the tensai had noted Tezuka’s position on the outside seat and simply stepped over him to take the window seat. If Tezuka had moved then, it would have been an obvious insult, and would worsen the state of their already fragile relationship - which was something that had been carefully hidden from the team for a long time.

“Ne, Tezuka. Hyoutei is a lovely school,” Fuji began.

Had Tezuka been a lesser man, he would have startled at the sudden statement. Instead, he shoved his fingers into his pockets to divert himself from the distracting memory and met Fuji eyes.

“Of course,” he agreed, wondering if Fuji was actually considering moving there. “Did you expect anything else?”

“Not really… Although, there was one thing that seemed out of place,” Fuji replied, a frown of curiosity bending his brows just slightly.

“Oh?” Tezuka prompted as he was expected.

“Mmm… Don’t you think the auditorium had the distinct smell of sex?” Fuji questioned.

“The auditorium?” Tezuka responded, his blood running cold though he did his best not to show it.

“Oh, that’s right! You weren’t there, were you? Say, what did happen to you?” Fuji asked, his eyes opening and peering into Tezuka’s, right through the fragile lenses of his glasses.

“I got lost,” Tezuka replied, with just a touch of chagrin so as to make the excuse realistic. Not that it would fool Fuji. Nothing ever did.

“Aa. Well, it happened to several people. Sengoku, Kiyosumi. Akazawa from St. Rudolf. We lost Oshitari, Yuushi at one stage, and even Yukimura disappeared for a little while.”

“Yukimura?” Tezuka asked lightly, as if making simple conversation rather than fending off a lethal interrogation.

“Atobe’s current lover,” Fuji replied, obviously thinking it would hit a nerve.

“I know who Yukimura is,” Tezuka replied, stating the obvious. “I’d have thought he would have been too attached to Atobe’s side to wander off.”

“Seems that curiosity got the better of him,” Fuji replied. “Actually, I think he returned from the direction of the auditorium… I wonder if he was cheating on Atobe. Or maybe he saw the culprits.”

“If so, then I pity them,” Tezuka replied.

He thought it was quite a good evasion, but a second later, he realized that he wasn’t counting on one thing. Where Fuji was the type to pick up on the scent of sex, Tezuka would probably never notice, and if told in gossip, he would probably just snort and brush it off. By agreeing with Fuji's speculation that someone had had sex in the auditorium, he was practically admitting to his knowledge of, and thus involvement in whatever had occurred.

“I don’t,” Fuji answered, and Tezuka was too busy kicking himself to immediately figure out what the tensai was referring to. Oh, ‘-pity them’. “I’m jealous,” Fuji told him, looking out the window and drawing a close to the conversation.

Looking at the tensai, Tezuka felt just a tiny stab of guilt. Sometimes he got so caught up in Fuji’s games that he forgot the tensai was just as easily hurt as everyone else. He forgot he was in a better position to hurt Fuji than anyone else. He forgot that even though they’d broken up over Fuji’s games and puzzles, he didn’t want to hurt Fuji who had been his friend, and then his lover, for a long time. And Fuji still wasn’t over him, even after Atobe.

Resisting the urge to sigh, Tezuka turned his eyes away from the tensai, studying the back of the seat in front of him. He wasn’t quite sure what he was getting himself into this time, but he wasn’t going to stop it just because of Fuji. The tensai had to understand that Tezuka simply couldn’t handle him. The captain had to move on. As did Fuji

*

Atobe thrust slowly but firmly upwards as Yukimura’s ass slammed down to meet him. He wound his arm about his beautiful lover’s back, pulling the rival captain down for a kiss while his other fingers traced Yukimura's hip.

As their tongues wound, strands of Yukimura’s hair fell to tickle Atobe’s face and he moaned. He loved the feel of that soft, oddly colored hair. He also loved the feel of Yukimura’s perpetually soft skin, the vision of his tender eyes, the touch of his gentle hands...

The only thing about Yukimura that was not along the lines of soft, gentle, or tender… was his tongue. When one was least expecting it, he could produce the most cutting remark possible and manage to tear you to shreds. It took someone incredibly patient and strong to keep control of him, and that person was Atobe. It was a small sacrifice to make to keep such an incredible lover.

In fact, it was about time for-

“You don’t love me.”

Anticipating the attack, Atobe had already begun to roll them, shifting until he was in the dominant position – and one better suited for a discussion.

“What?” he asked, prompting the explanation that was sure to come.

It didn’t. Not really.

“I don’t love you, either. It’s not something I’m really capable of, but that doesn’t stop me from getting jealous,” Yukimura continued fluidly, his voice light and nonchalant.

Atobe, not entirely sure of where it was going this time, wisely kept his mouth shut to wait out the storm. Instead, he began to rock, gently continuing the activity they had been in the midst of. Once they were done talking, he didn’t want to have to start from scratch.

“Once upon a time, I would have thought the only person you could ever love was yourself, but now I know better.”

Yukimura paused for a moment, gasping and closing his eyes as Atobe purposely ground firmly into his prostate – several times. He’d let Yukimura finish in a moment, but it was important to remind the subtly dominant captain of just who was in control.

Smirking, Atobe backed off, leaving Yukimura trembling and biting his lip. Momentarily, his fingers tightened, causing his nails to dig deeply into Atobe’s skin, and then the moment passed and Yukimura was in control of himself once more.

He opened his eyes, took a steadying breath, and continued as if nothing had happened, but there was a slight tremble to his voice that hadn’t been there previously.

Atobe was satisfied.

“You’re still in love with Tezuka,” Yukimura continued, as if Atobe himself wasn't aware of the fact. “Whatever I am to you, I don’t really care, and it doesn’t matter who you love as long as I’m the one who makes you tremble and scream, but I will not accept losing you to a previous lover who has already moved on.”

“What do you mean?” Atobe’s eyes narrowed and he stopped rocking.

“Don’t stop,” Yukimura ordered.

For a moment, Atobe hesitated. However, despite his reluctance to follow orders, he did as Yukimura asked and continued driving himself slowly and shallowly into the Rikkaidai captain’s body.

“A certain tensai seems to think I would lose you to jealousy if I told you what I know - but I don’t agree.” Yukimura looked straight up into Atobe’s eyes, their gazes locking with an intensity that very few couples could achieve. “You don’t love me, but you love to have me.”

It was true, and to prove it, Atobe forgot his curiosity for long enough to respond to Yukimura’s subtle physical prompts and leaned down to kiss his lover deeply. It was an intense kiss, especially in the midst of such a conversation, and Atobe found himself thrusting much harder, deeper, and faster into Yukimura to the point that he had to break the kiss or risk a bitten tongue.

His head bent low, he continued to drive into his lover, his breath coming evenly but heavily as his skin broke out with sweat. Yukimura’s soft, breathless whimpers reached his ears, sending minute shudders through his body.

Sex with Yukimura was always incredible, and he was right: Atobe never wanted to give that up.

But he was still curious.

“And which tensai might this be?” he prompted, picking up the previous conversation. The words huffing out with his breath as he vigorously fucked Yukimura. “Fuji?”

Oh, how he expected the answer to be yes. He wouldn’t be at all surprised if Tezuka and Fuji had gotten back together, but he knew it wasn’t going to last long. Tezuka would lose his patience with Fuji within a week.

“Oshitari, Yuushi,” Yukimura breathed as his entire body tightened and shuddered.

Atobe was momentarily distracted by the intense pressure as Yukimura clamped around him, prompting his own orgasm. It wasn’t until the waves of pleasure began to subside that he registered the name his lover had offered.

As he began to collapse, he suddenly found a new reserve of strength and locked his arms to support himself.

“What?” he asked simply, further put off by the unnatural tone of surprise in his own voice.

But Yukimura wasn’t listening, he was already snuggling into the pillows with an expression of satisfaction plastered over his features. Atobe tried to snap him out of it, but it was no use. Yukimura could be damned stubborn when he wanted to.

Growling in frustration, Atobe conceded this one battle out of many and left his lover lying alone in bed. He had been looking forward to holding Yukimura’s lovely body against his own as he drifted off to sleep, but instead, he stormed off to have a shower and some late night tea.

Damn Yukimura and his perfectly bad timing.

TBC...

I need to make sure the third chapter is really going where I want it to go, but it shouldn't be too long before I post it. ^.^

[Lovux The Great]

*reading* Hm... Hmmm... *nods* Aha... Oh... Hmm... Yeah.

Very good job. Still feeling a little icky about the whole tounge-you-know-where deal, but hey, it's your fanfic, it's all up to you what you want to have in it, not me.

However...

krystalepyon said:

Somehow, Oshitari, who had never seemed especially attractive,

WAT

[krystalepyon]

lol To Tezuka, dear. To Tezuka.

[melichan]

Wonderful story ^-^

[Lovux The Great]

Tezuka must have a strange taste then. (O.o)

[krystalepyon]

He's just always had people like Fuji (and Atobe) all over him, so he was a bit too distracted to notice Yuushi's charm. Plus he hasn't had much interaction with Yuushi in the past. Sometimes people can't see what's right in front of them. Yuushi could easily be a diamond in the rough what with that shaggy hair and the fake glasses. O.o Maybe he wears them to try and his his ultimate sexiness. (Not that it's working, but it would explain a lot.)

[krystalepyon]

Wow. I've re-written this chapter about a billion times, but I think I'm finally content. It's about ten pages long, but it's an important chapter in deciding the direction of the fic, so I hope I pulled it off well. ^.^

Chapter three - Fanfare

Tezuka gratefully sunk onto the bench, a towel around his neck. He groped blindly for his water bottle and took a long pull, his body hungrily accepting the cold liquid, cooling almost instantly – though not enough under the hot sun.

The match had not been too difficult once Tezuka learned to compensate for Kamio’s speed by forcing the other under his control. It was hard work, but fairly simple to attain victory. The heat had worked against them both, though. Kamio was practically flat out across the court, and Tezuka was finding it hard to balance the regaining of his breath with his dire need for water.

He needed a shower, too.

“Congratulations,” awarded a familiar voice.

Tezuka looked up to see Fuji right beside him, smiling his usual, cheerful smile.

“Thank you,” Tezuka accepted with a brief nod. “You came to watch?”

“Of course. We all did,” Fuji replied.

Tezuka glanced past Fuji to see his grinning team approaching to offer him their praise.

“Don’t you have a match soon over at court F?” Tezuka asked, returning his attention to the tensai.

“Aa. But I decided to watch yours before I warm up. Your form inspires me.”

Before Tezuka could so much as glower at the subtext of that statement, he was barraged with claps on the shoulder and cheerful accolades. He glimpsed Echizen standing back behind Momoshiro and Kaidoh, the rookie tipping his hat as if to say ‘well done’ before taking a sip of his Ponta.

“You’ll make it to the camp this year, Tezuka. And it’s about time,” Oishi told him, the pride and happiness in his voice unmistakable.

For just one moment, Tezuka caught that sentiment and felt tears sting his eyes which he hid by dabbing the sweat out of his eyes with his towel. He had indeed been kept out of the running by his injuries for several years. It wasn’t a major training camp, as the Juniors had been held before the National Tournament, but to finally be able to take part…

Having completed the first round of a minimum of four qualifications rounds for the Kantou region, Tezuka felt more enthusiastic than he had in a long time, and he wanted to share that excitement – but not with his team. He had an image to maintain.

“Excuse me,” he said, his voice brimming with pride though he tried to keep a lid on it. He rose and nodded at his friends and peers. “I need to take a shower.”

With that, he left his grinning team behind and headed off the court into the locker room. Sengoku, Kiyosumi was already there, stretching in preparation for his coming match.

“How did it go?” asked the cheerful redhead. “Took longer than I expected.”

“Then I apologize for the delay,” Tezuka replied. “But Kamio-kun is not an opponent to be underestimated.”

Sengoku snorted. “Maybe not, but he’s not quite at your level.”

“You’re playing Sanada?” Tezuka confirmed, hanging up his sweat drenched neck towel and taking a fresh one from his locker.

“Yeah.” Sengoku winked. “Maybe I’ll get lucky and that tight cap of his’ll finally cut off the blood to his brain.”

Briefly, Tezuka glanced at Sengoku, sizing him up. Before, he wouldn’t have afforded the boy a chance, but despite his words, Sengoku no longer relied on luck to defeat his opponents. His new style might just be fresh enough and simple enough to take on Sanada’s ironically flashy tennis where Tezuka had failed at the Nationals. Sanada would lose to Echizen in a later match. If Sengoku won, then that would almost take Sanada out of the running.

“I won’t wish you luck,” Tezuka said as he stripped off his shirt and headed towards the showers. “You shouldn’t need it.”

*

Tezuka had only meant to spend a short time in the shower. Wash the sweat off his skin and out of his hair, cool his body a little…

Instead, he got lost under the spray, the luke-warm water running down his body and allowing him to relax. The tension that went along with a match subsided and he was able to think back to ‘before’ the match. ‘Before’ the preparation. ‘Before’ the morning.

He thought of his excursion to Hyoutei the day before, and of Oshitari, and with a little jolt, he realized that that was who he wanted to share his excitement with. He wanted to call the tensai, and express how happy he was, and how excited and scared. He wanted to hear Oshitari’s congratulations and thrive on that praise. He wanted to ask Oshitari out on a date – because after his clean victory, he felt confident in himself as he hadn’t since his loss to Sanada.

Perhaps that was what had been missing from his tennis and allowing him to lose. Both before his relapsed injury and after his recovery, he had not played any serious matches against opponents skilled or otherwise. Perhaps it was sheer experience missing from his tennis that had allowed him to fall flat against both Atobe and Sanada. All of a sudden, he felt like he was finally getting back in the game and that boost of confidence was going to do wonders for his tennis.

Not to mention other aspects of his life. He was young, but his relationship with Fuji had been long and serious. He had loved the tensai, and to be honest, he still did to an extent. He didn’t think he would ever be able to truly move on from the ups and downs of that relationship, especially not with Fuji constantly in his daily life as a friend and team-mate. Maybe Tezuka should seriously consider moving to Hyoutei. He had a feeling Fuji was leaning towards Rikkaidai.

Snorting to himself, Tezuka flicked his head back, letting the cooling water wash over his face.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire.

No matter how hard it was to deal with Fuji at his side, Atobe would be far, far worse. The diva would never afford him a moment’s peace. They would be rivals in tennis, rivals in school, rivals for captaincy… Rivals in just about anything. Either never forgive Tezuka for the break up, or he would never stop trying to get Tezuka back into bed. Both were practically unbearable options.

On the other hand, Oshitari went to Hyoutei. If they really did start something serious, something good…

Tezuka sighed, knowing he was overly emotional. The adrenaline in his system was latching on to thoughts and feelings he would never normally allow. He was acting stupid and childish. He was foolish to even think of calling Oshitari to say ‘I won!’ when it should be obvious against such an opponent, and anyone might have assumed-

“Tezuka?”

Stiffening in surprised response to the voice calling his name, Tezuka froze.

“In the shower,” he called, regaining his speech after a moment and grateful that his voice came out smooth and controlled.

“Then I’ll wait,” Oshitari told him. “Out here,” he said, his voice sounding from just outside the shower cubicle.

“I’m finished.”

Tezuka turned off the taps, using the action to still the sudden, inexplicable trembling of his hands. What was Oshitari doing there? He didn’t have a match for another two days according to the line-ups. Did he come just to watch Tezuka?

Of course not. He came to watch Atobe, whose match against Rokkaku’s Kurobane must have just stared.

“Aren’t you missing Atobe’s match?” Tezuka asked, as non-chalantly as he could manage as he wiped the water from his eyes.

“He won’t miss me.”

Tezuka startled as he heard the curtain clatter open and he was suddenly embraced in a warm, dry towel with Oshitari’s arms surrounding both it and him. He felt slightly vulnerable, captured so by his lover of only one day who he knew barely anything about.

That Oshitari would presume as much as to-

“I wasn’t going to watch, but I couldn’t resist,” Oshitari murmured, his attractive voice temporarily smoothing away any doubts. “You’ve always been a pleasure to watch on the courts, but this was different. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from you.”

Tezuka shivered. Perhaps in response to the words, or perhaps from the combined warmth of a fresh towel and a tensai wrapped around him, driving the residual cold of the spray from his body.

He sucked in a breath. “I…” but he didn’t know what to say.

He just didn’t know.

Memories of the previous day flooded his mind. He was getting way ahead of himself, but what he felt with Oshitari was something completely new and so… full. He’d never felt so close to anyone after such a short association, perhaps not even after all the time he had spent with Fuji. It was strange and confusing, and he knew his decisions were compromised by what could be as fickle as a temporary hormonal imbalance, but… He didn’t want to pass up such strong feelings.

And yet he had no idea of what to expect. What kind of relationship were they bound for? Was Oshitari experiencing the same surprising feelings? Was he really this spontaneous, or was it a ploy? Was Tezuka going to get himself hurt?

He thought of Fuji and Atobe and the failure of those ventures, and wondered just what he thought would be different this time around. Was it worth the risk?

“I’m glad you came,” he said in a calm, precise voice, just to shut up his confusion-numbed mind. “I was going to call, but I realized I didn’t have your number.” Just saying those mundane words relieved him enough that he could relax in Oshitari’s arms and let his damp body sink into the towel. After all, he’d thrown away his chance to back off.

“Then I’ll have to give it you,” Oshitari replied, gently kissing Tezuka’s jaw. “Judging by how much I’ve missed you since only yesterday-” another kiss, closer to Tezuka’s lips “-I think it best that we’re able to contact each other freely.” Barely a brush at the very corner of Tezuka’s mouth. “Do you agree?”

Unable to resist the invitation, Tezuka turned and pulled his arms free, wrapping them about Oshitari’s neck as he met the tensai in a deeper kiss than he had expected.

He forgot the towel, which fell to the tiles, soaking up all the moisture at their feet.

*

Yukimura was momentarily distracted from Sengoku’s serve, his eyes slipping towards the distant Eastern locker rooms where a familiar dark-haired Hyoutei-an disappeared through the doorway. That’s was Tezuka’s locker room. He wondered if Atobe had already noted the absence from his observing – and adoring – team.

Well, it wasn’t really any of Yukimura’s business… Except that the whole situation was rather interesting.

*

Tezuka moaned, reassured that Oshitari’s wonderful kisses of the previous day were not just a fluke. They certainly seemed to have good chemistry in that department, their lips fitting and moving together perfectly, their tongues dancing in a subtle battle for dominance without ever really clashing.

Being naked, Tezuka did not have the upper hand. He was certainly in the more vulnerable position, but this time, it was his game. This time around, it was ‘his’ performance to captivate Oshitari, and he intended to make use of it.

He slid his hand up the tensai’s back, his fingers very gently brushing the nape of a bare neck. Oshitari shuddered under the touch, and Tezuka made a mental note of the sensitive spot.

He brought his other hand around, sliding it up inside the shirt of the other athlete, feeling out the elegant muscles hidden beneath slightly baggy clothes. Pleased by Oshitari’s relinquishment of power, he began to play a little game with the tensai’s tongue, retreating whenever his lover grew even slightly aggressive.

Tezuka was in control, and that was what he wanted. He wanted to know that he ‘could’ take charge – that Oshitari would let him.

*

Fuji didn’t play aggressive tennis. He let his opponent’s strength become his. Of course, the problem with that strategy lay in playing a weak opponent. You can’t use an opponent’s strength against them if they don’t have any.

His counter tennis sealed by the pure incapability of the unknown player, Fuji’s tennis, and his mood, became aggressive. He began slamming the ball across the court, eliciting and error here or there. He even racked up one or two double faults, forgetting – or rather, irrationally deciding that it was unnecessary to keep his composure.

And still, he won. Not as flawlessly as he should have, and certainly not in any blaze of glory, but he won easily enough. He put the ball away with a simple smash afforded by a stupid lob, shook his opponent’s hand, and stalked off the court, his smile feeling more like a glower only to himself.

“Fuji-senpai,” came an impudent drawl, “Mada mada dane.”

“Gomen, ne, Echizen,” Fuji replied, his voice almost acidically sweet. All of a sudden, he frowned – well, it was his version of a frown, his smile rounding out a little. “Where’s Tezuka?”

“Who knows?” Echizen responded with a shrug.

“Fujiko, not bad, hoi? Don’t listen to O’chibi, he’s just being mean,” Eiji chirped, jumping in.

“Thanks, Eiji,” Fuji said with an honestly grateful smile for his friend’s support. He was fully aware of how badly he had played, but it was nice of the acrobat to try and cheer him up. Fuji didn’t need cheering, though. What he needed was for Tezuka to scold him and tear apart his awful game-play. What he needed was to know that Tezuka cared even that much – enough to watch his game – enough to be angry with him for screwing up.

The disappointment of that expectation hurt.

*

It was slippery in the shower, and Tezuka found himself gripping the meager edges of tiles to his left to steady himself as he drove into Oshitari.

The tensai was bent over, his outstretched arms pushing off the tiled wall and absorbing every increasingly intense thrust. Tezuka’s other hand held the tensai’s hip, keeping both of them from slipping on the wet surface and yet endangering their stability at the same time.

It wasn’t easy, but it was good. Damn good.

Oshitari was an incredible lover. Sexy sounds dripped from his lips like honey and his boy reacted perfectly to Tezuka’s every action. He clenched when Tezuka most wanted it, and his rhythm adjusted frequently to Tezuka’s control of the pace. It was like they were made for each other.

Tezuka was briefly able to identify a little lump in his chest that he suspected had something to do with feelings deeper than he should have after such a short time of intimate acquaintance with the tensai. But he did feel it. Happiness. Joy. Something he hadn’t experienced in a very long time, if ever.

And then it was forgotten, the heat in Tezuka’s body driving away sentiment in favor of pleasure. His head rolling back on his neck, Tezuka’s hips took control and he let out a little groan of satisfaction as he released himself into Oshitari’s ass. The tensai clamped around him and Tezuka blindly reached down, wrapping his hand about Oshitari’s length.

It only took a stroke or two for the tensai to join him in orgasm, and then they were on the floor, Tezuka leaning against the wall and holding Oshitari in his arms. With his eyes closed, he could smell the scent of sex all over them and weakly reached up to turn on the taps, carefully adjusting the heat so that they weren’t jolted by cold water or scolded by hot.

As the water trickled over them, Tezuka appreciated the shape and feel of Oshitari in his arms. It was different to that of his previous, slighter lovers. He decided he liked it.

*

Atobe narrowed his eyes as he approached his waiting team. Oshitari had not returned.

“Ore-sama is magnificent, ne?” he urged, indicating that the tension of the tensai’s disappearance was to be immediately dropped and praise lavished on Atobe instead.

His glower did not fade, though, as he sunk onto his bench, accepting the cool, wet towel that Ootori handed him. Kabaji placed his jacket over his shoulders, and Atobe leaned back, staring up at the sky.

It was so hard to appreciate his overwhelming victory when he knew his on subordinate was off somewhere with his ex – an ex he was not over at all.

Sensing a keen gaze on him, Atobe sat up a little, looking across the court. Yukimura was there with a couple of drinks in his hand, wearing that smug smile of his.

After catching Atobe’s eyes for a scant moment, he continued back to the court where Sanada was playing.

*

Tezuka was used to snuggling after sex, though not after such public sex. Once the lethargy of orgasm wore off, he was a little tense, returning Oshitari’s light embrace and shallow, gentle kiss.

“Relax,” Oshitari urged. “Sengoku’s match is going to go on for a while. He won’t be back any time soon.”

“We should be more careful,” Tezuka replied as he dodged Oshitari’s next kiss. He was fully aware of Yukimura’s observance the day before, and that they couldn’t afford for their infant-staged relationship to become public knowledge just yet, if ever.

“You look incredible without your glasses.” Oshitari murmured, deciding to ignore Tezuka’s paranoia. He then kissed Tezuka’s jaw very lightly. “Do you mind if I call you Kunimitsu? Is there a nickname you prefer?”

Tezuka generally had a tighter reign on his reactions, but he couldn’t suppress the little twitch that ran through him at the use of that name. Nobody had called him that for a long time. Not even his mother.

It was something Fuji had often used to manipulate him, something the tensai had exploited and ruined. Once, Tezuka had liked to hear Fuji mutter his name after sex, or as a whisper in the corridor. Now, he couldn’t stand the sound of it.

Oshitari sighed suddenly and pulled away, his lips drawn down into a grimace.

“What’s wrong?” Tezuka asked, discomfort at the name forgotten as his heart fluttered uncomfortably in his chest with the fear that he’d done something he shouldn’t have.

“Nothing,” Oshitari replied instantly. “Except that I’m moving too fast for you.”

Tezuka was taken aback and floundered for a moment. Hadn’t he been the one in control, the one steering and guiding their actions, this time, the one who decided whether or not they were going to have sex?

“What?” he asked stupidly.

The tensai was already on his feet, reaching beyond the curtain for a towel. “I’m coming on too strongly, cornering you like this, asking about nicknames... I feel close to you, so I’m moving faster than I should… I want to consolidate our relationship, but not until you’re ready.” The word relationship was said with only a touch of hesitation, Oshitari meeting Tezuka’s eyes before he looked away and pulled his pants on.

“I’m ready,” Tezuka argued, his hand on the wall to support him to his feet. Neither Fuji nor Atobe would ever sacrifice their needs because they thought Tezuka was having second thoughts. It was …really sweet, a sign that Oshitari truly cared. He picked up the tensai’s glasses near his feet. “I-” How could he be so sure of himself, and yet so unsure…? “Honestly, I-”

Oshitari pressed a finger firmly against his lips, halting him in his tracks.

“We got off to a wonderful start, yesterday,” he began, his lips twitching at the innuendo. “But not the best of foundations. I’ve learned that I want more from you than sex.” The tensai released Tezuka abruptly and backed out of the cubicle. “I’m not content to base a relationship on sex, and I doubt that you are. I want do this properly.” He moved out of sight for a moment, returning with another dry towel and Tezuka’s clothes which he hung on the rail across from the showers. “Get dressed. We’re going on a date.”

“Now?” Tezuka asked almost incredulously.

“Yes,” the tensai replied, replacing the glasses which he’d subtly taken from Tezuka’s limp fingers.

“Atobe-”

“-Has doubtlessly already won. Why should he expect me to stay and watch a pre-ordained outcome?”

That was probably the one argument Atobe would forgive, Tezuka realized.

But where Atobe might forgive Oshitari, there were others who might not be so benevolent.

“I can’t. Not right now,” Tezuka said quietly. “My team supported me. I need to repay their loyalty.”

“Fuji?” Oshitari asked quietly, ducking into his shirt to avoid eye contact. He was obviously aware of the past relationship.

“Fuji’s match is already over,” Tezuka replied with confidence. “He won’t forgive me for missing it, but he’ll be even angrier if I miss Echizen’s.”

“I see,” Oshitari muttered, nudging his glasses further up his nose. “Then I’d better not keep you any longer.”

“Oshitari.” Tezuka’s soft appeal stopped the retreating tensai. “I want to go on that date. Are you free tonight?”

“I will be,” Oshitari replied, half turning with a little smile to show that he was appeased. “And call me Yuushi.”

Tezuka watched him go, unable to hold back a smile of his own. Fuji’s inevitable anger seemed infinitely more bearable.

TBC...

[krystalepyon]

And another update. ^.^

I'm pretty happy with this chapter...:

Dedication: To Y-chan, for riding out my bitching about Oshitari’s lack of co-operation, and for nudging my bunny in a new direction. ^.^

And thanks to everyone who reviewed. You inspired me to write this next chapter in record time for something so complex. I hope this is a just reward!

Quickstep

There really was a sense of finesse to Tezuka’s tennis. Every movement was well timed, well executed… and looked good. From his precise, elegant serve, to the way he framed the racket, Tezuka’s game was aesthetically pleasing.

But that wasn’t all. It was also efficient and effective.

He never moved more than he had to, never overplayed a step, never pushed his opponents too far, just far enough – and with every match Tezuka won, his confidence grew and his game evolved notch by notch.

It wasn’t something everyone would be able to see. It wasn’t obvious at all. Oshitari saw it because he was looking for it.

He didn’t know Tezuka all that well, not as well as certain others such as one Fuji, Syusuke who was intently observing Tezuka’s match against Atobe. Still, Oshitari had noticed a subtle but noticeable change in Tezuka’s personality since their first date, and once he started looking for that same confidence boost in the Seigaku captain’s tennis, it was relatively easy to spot.

Oshitari didn’t know why Tezuka had been doubting himself, but he did know that whatever it was, Tezuka was now over it. He was playing flawlessly – and that was grinding on Atobe’s nerves. Without fatal weaknesses in an opponent, Atobe’s form of aggressive counter-tennis was useless.

Not that Atobe was a meager player in any aspect. His game was well rounded. It was just that Tezuka’s… seemed to be better.

*

As first dates went, this one was progressing quite well, considering that they’d already had sex twice… The food was good, the coffee was even better, and the third floor view of Akihabara was lovely.

Before dinner, they’d discussed tennis – a nice comfortable topic for them both. During dinner, there was a bit of light chatter about their families. After dinner, they talked about school – what subjects they enjoyed and what they thought about their teachers… It was pleasant, informative, and made Oshitari feel extremely happy to be where he was.

It wasn’t like they knew everything about each other already, but it was a promising start to filling in the gaps with which they had begun.

“Yuushi…”

It was obvious that Tezuka was still struggling with the informality, and he apologized with a little embarrassed smile, so Oshitari graciously decided to ignore the anomaly and nodded in acknowledgment of the coming change of subject…

Tezuka regained his composure, pasting on his ‘business face’. “I’ve been thinking a lot since this morning, and although I’m not entirely sure where this is going, I know it’s something I want to continue – which is why I have to set some ground rules.”

“Go on,” Oshitari drawled, having an idea of where Tezuka was going.

“Though I haven’t decided which school to attend next year, I am still captain of Seigaku and even though the inter-school tournament has ended, it is my duty to afford my full attention to my team and their training. That’s not to say I mean to shut you out completely, just that in any situation where my time or loyalties are divided, my team must come first. That is what I chose when I accepted captaincy,” Tezuka told him, stiff and formal in his nervousness that Oshitari would object.

Instead, the tensai nodded, unable to keep a satisfied smirk off his face. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he said. And he wouldn’t. One of Tezuka’s most endearing surface-qualities was his devotion to his team. “Obviously I have less obligations than someone of your rank, but I also fully intend to devote my support to my team during our remaining time as a whole – now that we’ve reached an… agreement, that is,” he added with a touch of chagrin for his earlier behavior.

Tezuka caught it as expected, and relaxed a little in return. “I’m sure Atobe will be glad to hear that.”

“Not really, but at least he won’t be able to yell at me for it,” Oshitari replied, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

Was it his fault if Atobe’s scolding had been heard by half the spectators upon Oshitari’s re-appearance? Hardly. The diva had a flare for drama – and it wasn’t that Oshitari had forgotten that, he just didn’t care. Let Atobe berate him for his ‘lack of loyalty’. It was a minor transgression and would all be forgiven with each victory Oshitari won in the name of Hyoutei.

Humor set aside for one last serious subject, Tezuka cradled his coffee cup in his hands and looked Oshitari in the eyes. “When I play Atobe on Saturday…-”

“My full support will be behind him, win or lose,” the tensai finished as expected.

“Good.” Tezuka offered another one of those rare smiles – and Oshitari decided that his short term goal was going to be in raising the percentages of those smiles. “So,-” and back to their previously scheduled date, “-do you play any other instruments?”

Oshitari wasn’t blind to Tezuka’s very slight blush following the question, and he found it… interesting.

*

“Yuushi, you’d better wipe that smirk off your face before Atobe sees it,” Gakuto warned in a nervous whisper.

Glancing down at his regular doubles partner, Oshitari raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t realized he was smirking.

“Gomen, ne, Gakuto,” he said, with a little smile for his worried friend.

The acrobat snorted. “Don’t apologize to me… But whatever’s going on with you, you’d better decide what comes first between it and the team, and by ‘the team’ I mean Atobe cause he’s the one that’s gonna kill you.”

“The team, naturally,” Oshitari replied without skipping a beat. That was, of course, what he and Tezuka had agreed upon.

It was just difficult to watch Tezuka play and not be emotionally – or hormonally – affected. Besides, Atobe was losing rather ungraciously.

*

Tezuka backed up two steps, delayed his swing for a moment, and then, with a little jump, brought his racket down to meet Atobe’s defensive lob, sending the ball smashing across the court.

A lesser opponent would never be able to return that smash – but Atobe was nothing of the sort. With a burst of strength and agility, he sent the ball flying cross-court.

But Tezuka was already there. He was ready and waiting. He judged the speed, trajectory, and weight of the ball, adjusted his racket, and prepared himself for the impact – and sent the ball sailing just over the net with a perfect Zero Shiki Drop Shot.

There was nothing Atobe could do. He charged towards the net, made a dive for the ball, and tripped in the frantic attempt.

Tezuka let his tension out with a breath. It had been a difficult rally and an import point, consolidating the second break of Atobe’s serve.

Looking down into frustrated blue eyes, Tezuka extended a hand to his ex, but Atobe angrily swatted it away and climbed to his feet without help. He dusted himself down, mostly for show as there wasn’t much dirt on the court, and then raised his eyes to Tezuka.

“It isn’t over,” he said, his voice tight with emotion and adrenaline.

For the briefest of moments, Tezuka got the impression that he wasn’t talking about the game, but then Atobe picked up his racket and walked off court. Tezuka had almost forgotten they were due for a break.

“How’s your arm?” Oishi asked immediately, his expression etched with worry.

“Fine,” Tezuka replied honestly.

“That drop shot…”

“I didn’t have a choice,” the captain replied. “Atobe would have caught a normal shot on the bounce.”

“Tezuka, the way that ball was flying towards you, it can’t have been easy on your arm to convert it… At least use some ice.”

Tezuka didn’t want to show any weakness.

“Please?”

It didn’t even hurt.

“Buchou. If you lose to him again due to injury, we’ll have to put up with his stupid bragging for the whole camp,” Echizen drawled, sipping a can of Ponta as he sauntered over to throw in his two yen.

Fine.

*

Oshitari frowned as he peered over at Tezuka’s bench. Seigaku’s captain was holding an ice pack to his arm. Had he re-injured it returning that heavy ball? Or was it the Zero Shiki that took its toll on his arm? Yes, the angle of his elbow when he hit that drop did seem a touch precarious, and when used to return a ball like the one Atobe had flung at him…

“Stop fretting. There’s nothing wrong with it,” Atobe murmured.

Oshitari glanced briefly at Atobe before realizing it was him the diva was speaking to.

“Ara? Nothing wrong with what?” he asked. The notion that Atobe had injured himself in the fall took a momentary hold over his mind, but his captain dashed that theory.

“Tezuka’s arm, you moron. There’s nothing wrong. He’s just babying it.”

Oshitari stiffened at Atobe’s sullen reply. What did Atobe know? Everything, it seemed. That also changed everything.

Lowering his chin, Oshitari adjusted his glasses. It was time to forget about Tezuka. He could handle himself. Meanwhile, Atobe was losing a mental battle and now Oshitari knew why.

“Then perhaps you should try a different tactic,” the tensai suggested. “It’s no good trying to hack at diamonds with a knife.”

Tezuka’s confidence was so solid that Atobe’s usual ‘seek weakness and destroy’ method was futile. Instead, he was stubbornly taking the rebound and destroying himself instead.

“Are you implying that Ore-sama’s game is less than perfect?” Atobe challenged, one dangerous eyebrow raised.

“That is exactly what I’m saying,” Oshitari replied.

*

Atobe had to hand it to the tensai. Oshitari really knew how to play both sides. Considering it was probably him who had given Tezuka such diamond studded confidence in the first place, he had a lot of nerve insulting Atobe’s concentration.

It just happened that he was right, and when Atobe saw sense in the suggestion and calmed himself down, he was able to see the path before him more clearly. The only way to beat such a Tezuka was simply by being better than him. Atobe had to raise the level of his tennis and play with 100% committed aggression.

He had let anger and jealousy sneak into his game, forcing his actions and compromising his judgment. Ironically, he had Oshitari to thank for that error as well as for correcting it.

“How’s the arm?” Atobe asked as he and Tezuka passed each other, changing courts.

“Fine,” Tezuka replied without a waver.

“Good. That traitorous tensai of mine will be relieved.”

Tezuka did falter a step at that revelation, but he regained his composure nicely, smoothly walking to the service position.

Atobe broke Tezuka back, 15 – 40. It wasn’t easy, but it didn’t take an excess of effort once he focused and fought. Then, it was his serve.

Looking across the court at his opponent, he took a moment to remember the brief, rocky, and devastating relationship they’d had together – which had been the highest point in Atobe’s young life. He could make out Tezuka’s deep brown eyes, staring intently at him and waiting for his serve. Those eyes were the first thing he’d fallen in love with.

He’d always thought Tezuka looked better without his glasses.

Throwing the ball up in the air, Atobe jumped to meet it, knees bent, body extended – and slammed the ball with his racket, sending it hard and fast across the court. It rose with a little kick, and Tezuka had no time to react as it caught the edge of his glasses and sent them flying.

Raising a hand in obligatory apology, Atobe couldn’t keep a slight smile from his face. Tezuka was not going to control this match any longer.

*

Oshitari brought his knuckle to his lips, paying close attention to the match while his mind was simultaneously elsewhere.

Atobe was now methodically and symbolically destroying his ties with Tezuka. He was trying to stop loving Tezuka by forcing himself to denounce everything he loved about Tezuka. It was a great strategy – for the match – but it was only going to make him crash harder once everything was over and he realized that you can’t stop loving someone just because you want to. If Tezuka won – and the odds were still in his favor – Atobe’s resulting crash would only be worse. Oshitari was going to have to prove himself, because he refused to let Tezuka go, and Atobe was not going to like that at all.

Forming a relationship with Tezuka was the easy part. Keeping it was going to take everything Oshitari had.

At first, it had been a little experiment. He was tired of always being alone, of watching Atobe go through relationship after relationship and never even looking at him. He’d noticed just how much Atobe still gazed after Tezuka even after they’d broken up, even after Yukimura had entered the picture. He’d wondered what was so special about Tezuka.

So he’d done a little research. He’d observed Tezuka’s matches. He’d looked into past relationships – and found only Atobe, which he already knew about, and the bombshell that was Fuji. Not that it had surprised him to find that Tezuka and Fuji had been involved, but a lot of digging had uncovered a long, deep relationship that had ended rather badly.

Oshitari had gained a new sense of respect for Tezuka, having never noticed any such thing affect him. In retrospect, there were signs of it between then two of them, but nothing that couldn’t easily be explained by other things.

So Oshitari had grown interested. He’d paid close attention to Tezuka’s finals match against Sanada, and Tezuka’s incredible potential had woken something in Oshitari.

He’d wanted to learn more, to find out if maybe what Atobe found in Tezuka during their relationship was something Oshitari had previously begun to long for.

He bided his time, observed the circumstances, and made his move. He lured Tezuka away from the others during the tour of Hyoutei High, playing the obliging guide, and pointing out a rock climbing station that was unlikely to be on the vast list of facilities to tour.

Tezuka had, of course, been interested, and after a little visit to the station, it hadn’t been too difficult to get Tezuka where Oshitari wanted him – the auditorium. His interest in Tezuka had been dutifully flared and nurtured. He needed something to make Tezuka interested in him.

The one thing that could do that, aside from tennis, was Oshitari’s violin. Tezuka wasn’t a musician, but he had a healthy interest in music. If Oshitari played his ‘cards’ right, he’d have Tezuka in the palm of his hand.

And he did. He got Tezuka exactly where he wanted – and the view took away his breath.

What he hadn’t expected was to fall so hard himself. He never noticed the transition from keen interest to sexual and romantic feelings. Before he knew it, he lost control, pouring himself into the playing of his violin and through that into Tezuka.

And he got lost.

Now, he’d begun something he hadn’t exactly intended to. He’d been curious, and he’d followed the path of that curiosity, but he hadn’t expected to find anything substantial at the end of that road. What he did find had blown his mind, and now he didn’t want to let it go.

He hadn’t anticipated the need to stand up to Atobe, but now he could clearly see that obstacle before him, and he would surpass it or be crushed, because he was too far gone to turn back. Worse, he’d dragged Tezuka along for the ride. Maybe not with love, but certainly with a good dose of passion.

*“How far do you intend this to go?” Tezuka had asked as they lay on the edge of the stage, on the verge of sleeping together despite all odds and better judgment.

“How far will you let it?” Oshitari had replied.*

In that moment, he’d put the ball in Tezuka’s court, and in doing so, had opened Tezuka up to a world of potential pain and disappointment. Tezuka had become vulnerable, and Oshitari had selfishly noted and allowed it, and that was now his responsibility.

He owed it to Tezuka not to let him be hurt again, not like Fuji had, not like Atobe could have.

The last week had not given Oshitari any reason to regret his mistake. The little, trivial things he had learned about Tezuka – the things that people think don’t hold any bearing on a relationship, the things that usually get overlooked and cause all the real problems – those little things had drawn them closer together, emotionally rather than sexually. In a week, they had formed the basis of a relationship that could heal and satisfy them both, if only it could survive.

Not that Oshitari doubted it would. He would stand firm, and so would Tezuka. They would grow closer, and together they would face whatever was thrown at them.

Beginning with Tezuka’s victory over Atobe as Tezuka’s drop volley landed well behind Hyoutei’s captain, bouncing low, and striking the court a second time before Atobe could even react.

The match was over. Tezuka had won.

TBC...

The next chapter's already started. ^.^ I love Yukimura...

(And a little treat for my fellow DSP-ers:)

Yukimura hissed as he was tossed about like a ragdoll. His back, the only thing supported by Atobe as the diva threw him down on the bed, protested, and he squirmed to relieve the awkward position even as Atobe kissed him hard.

He wasn’t surprised by the rough greeting. In fact, he had been expecting it. Though that didn’t make it any less pleasant – not if he wasn’t in control.

Atobe could be as rough as he liked, but not without prior consent.

Yukimura rallied his strength and pushed the diva over, quickly crawling to pin down Atobe’s shoulders before he mastered his surprise and fought back.

“Uh ah,” Yukimura murmured, shaking his head. “Not until you listen.”

“Don’t tell Ore-sama what to do!” Atobe snapped.

It was so cute the way his hair fell about his face, especially when he was mad. And with his arms pinned down, he really couldn’t do anything about it.

“I’m not telling you to do anything,” Yukimura clarified, leaning down to place a very soft kiss at the corner of Atobe’s lips, and continued speaking softly and sweetly. “I’m giving you a choice. You listen, or I leave you to deal with your frustration all alone.”

Atobe struggled. Yukimura held him down.

(XD)