Prince Of Tennis Fan Fiction ❯ Stay ❯ One-Shot
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: agamemnon09 
Yaoi. People regard his stoic nature as one of his best traits. The one that led him a successful life. But does it always do him good?
Anime/Manga: Prince Of Tennis Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Hentai / Drama | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 06.18.2004 | Updated On: 06.18.2004 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.1K | Visits: 1.2K | Status: Completed
Yaoi. People regard his stoic nature as one of his best traits. The one that led him a successful life. But does it always do him good?
Anime/Manga: Prince Of Tennis Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Hentai / Drama | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 06.18.2004 | Updated On: 06.18.2004 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.1K | Visits: 1.2K | Status: Completed
Fandom: Tennis No Oujisama
Title: Stay
Pairing: Tezuka x Fuji. I leave them nameless most of the time. But I think it's not difficult to guess which one is who.
Genre: Angst
Rating: As much as I want to go smut, I'll leave it as R this time. And it's set on years after they graduated from Seigaku, so both guys are legal.
Standard Disclaimer: All characters belong to Konomi Takeshi respectedly. Me own only the plot and some miserable thoughts.
Summary: People regard his stoic nature as one of his best traits. The crucial element of his shining life. But does it always do him good?
~*~*~
He stirred slowly as he opened his heavy eyes. Sunlight went through the thick beige curtain covering the wide glass sliding door that led to the balcony, faintly lightened up the dark bedroom. He knew the sun had set high, yet he didn't bother to get up and begin the day as he always did. Instead, he rolled and moved to the side where the other had lain a couple of hours earlier. White sheet covering his body from the waist trapped his legs, making him hard to move. But the man cared no less. He lay facing the bed, exposing his bare back to no one. Closing his eyes, his senses quietly registered the familiar scent and warmth belonged to the other, as his mind started playing back memories.
The other had gone. At the early dawn after bidding him a silent goodbye. Without looking back. Adjusting the small hand-carried bag slinging over his right shoulder, he walked in a steady pace to the door, leaving him all alone in the empty room. He had wanted to beg the other to stay, but it was nothing he did, for he had known that there was no use of doing. The other had made his choice. To move on with his life. To leave him behind.
There wasn't any real strong base that held their relationship to begin with. Of course, there was tennis. They were all bound by tennis. His teammates. He led them to the Nationals. And the other had been there, quietly stood by him through all the hardships. It was only a constant presence behind the fence outside court at the start, then before he knew it the other had become the closest person ever in his life. They fit together, supported each other by filling in the gaps until everyone started to see them as a pair, something inseparable. Not as devoted and trustful as the Golden Pair, but definitely more intense than just friends. And with that, they both managed to go on for years.
To be honest, he had no idea how their relationship could advance to this stage. It started with a kiss, on that rainy day in the Tennis Club locker room. A chaste, awkward press on the lips driven by the need to seek small warmth between two shivered bodies drenching from the tears of spring. He wasn't sure who had started it, although he was sure the other definitely shared the part for his seemingly insatiable hunger in teasing his stoic nature all the time. Not that he minded, though, despite the constant growing headache he suffered ever since. Although there was no way in hell he would ever admit it in front of the other, he enjoyed himself being sweetly provoked. For he understood it was one of the many eccentric ways of the other in showing his affection.
And then there was sex. Indeed, it took time before their first full-blown initiation. But he had to admit that there wasn't anyone in his life who knew him better than the other. In and out. And it went just the same way for the other, who had never once turned away from him.
He never said I loved you, although he knew damn well how the other loved him. Being the successful pillar for many had earned him praises and respects all his life. People had always looked up to him with endless admiration, and so he had gotten used to it. The other admired him, showered him with constant affection, patience, and tenderness. However, he never felt the need to return those feelings. Not that he didn't have anything to give; it was just his plain and rigid nature that didn't seem to suit the thing so-called open affection. And not that he didn't realize the silent frustration the other was feeling, either; despite the constant warm beams the other kept showing him, he could always trust his senses.
As the man kept saying to himself, he had his own way.
Still, it was nothing he showed.
Until there came the day when the other finally decided to move on with his life.
"I'm leaving."
Inwardly, he flinched at the words. He had known that this was going to happen. And he had known that there was no way he could change it once the other's mind was set, so he could only stare at him. At a pair of cerulean blue orbs gleaming with silent determination. And the faintest mist of hurt he would have missed had he not known the other too well. He knew how hard it must have been for the other to say it. Still, he couldn't bring himself to say the words, no matter how true his feelings were.
Sometime later, he thought that maybe the constant restraints he had been putting in his life had finally eaten him.
And the bitter fact showing that the man had forgotten the most important thing in a relationship: it takes two to work it out.
On their last night together, the other made love to him. As he walked towards the quietly reading man by the couch - whom was actually scanning over blurry letters due to the building storm in his heart, the smaller man reached down to remove his glasses and the thick book in his hands, then positioned himself on his lap, facing him.
"Fuji..." he said as the other began kissing his face.
The other pressed his cheek to the bigger man's, hands running down his shoulders and squeezing his arms as his lips let out a soft, soothing shush.
"Let's make a night to remember."
And with that, the other sucked his left earlobe deep and slow. All the while long graceful fingers started unbuttoning his shirt, slipping his white palm to roam around the bare smooth skin in an oh-so-familiar way. Then the other found a spot in between his neck and shoulder, and bit there.
The man soon lost himself.
There was no sound could be heard from behind that closed door, except for the faint moans and some small crackling sound of bed. Inside, the room was bright with white candles, the faint scent of vanilla and mint was a remedy for the tumbling mind. Seemed like the night had been set. On the bed in the center of the room, a certain brown-haired was seen sitting on top and facing a dark tousled-haired, legs spreading out to the sides. The latter man had let the other do the rhythm, while putting his hands firmly on his hips to keep the other in place. Leaning against the headboard, he watched with fascination as the slender but well-toned body sheathing up and down, slick-sweat, smaller hands on his shoulders. Head slightly tossed up, baring a long, smooth white neck under the slightly crimson face. Locks of light brown went darker as they grew damp with sweats. Cerulean blue orbs gazed behind the half closed eyelids. They looked dazed and lost, and helplessly devoted. Dry thin lips half opened, begging for being captured, whispering the unspoken feeling.
Beautiful. He had noticed long ago of how unearthly creature the other had been. That was why at moments like these, no matter how severe the pleasure had done to his consciousness, the man never let his eyes closed, for he drank from the ravishing sight. Often, his heart quietly stated that it must have been a miracle to have such an ethereal being come to brighten his tedious life.
"Ohh.... Tezuka....."
The soft moan coming from between the rosy lips combined with the plea shining from the glistening eyes finally crumbled the last barrier he kept. With a loud growl, he turned the other's body in one swift movement so that the smaller man was now lying under him, gasping, eyes wide in shock - partly of the confusion, partly of the pleasure derived from the sudden jolts. He knew very much of himself being overwhelmed by emotions, yet he knew nothing of controlling them. Anger, guilt, fear, hurt, and love. He crushed the trembling lips, pouring out whatever he was feeling. Over and over, he lunged forward and down, hard and fast, until he felt something wet and warm spurted onto his abdomen and the walls that sheathed him tightened up, thus left him blinded by white light.
The man went boneless and then collapsed.
In the dark he lay still, eyes closed as he felt the other stir, turning his back against him. He was left naked and alone by the other's side, despite the burning passion they had shared about half an hour ago. The other had closed the door, had locked it away so that he couldn't see the love that the other kept inside. The love that was kept for him: the one and only Tezuka Kunimitsu.
He stirred to the side to take a good look at the other. Pale, smooth shoulder blade half tugged under the white sheet. One side of the damped and now tousled brown head was glued to the pillow. He reached out and stroked the other's hair, feeling the softness against his calloused fingers. Then he closed the remaining space between them and wrapped his bigger arms and legs around the love of his life: the one and only Fuji Syuusuke. He kissed his lover on the hair, neck, and shoulder.
"Fuji... don't go..."
Rough and choked it sounded, as his vision went blur with warm water.
Upon hearing the man's silent confession, the other shut his previously opened yet empty eyes. Despite the blood flowing out from his heart, he was too tired to think of other response. Too numb to say anything. It was no use. His mind was set already.
Upon seeing the other's quiet response, he tightened his embrace and closed his eyes. In the closeness of their body he watched the other breathe. In the dark of the night he watched him fly, escaping through a dream. He knew it was over. In a matter of hours, he would witness the other's departure from his life. Forever.
How he wished by gods the other would stay.
~owari~
A/N: Um, well... guess I made tezuka kinda selfish here. But sometimes I can't help but think that he's just not playing fair with Fuji. I mean, they used to be together, and suit well to my *raburabu* eyes. And seeing them apart in the anime is just hurt, so I made it worse with this. *cries*
Anyway, that's just me and my rather masochistic thoughts. Should you feel like dropping a C&C, please do, it'd be highly appreciated. Should you feel like dropping a flame, it'd go straight to have a business w/ my voodoo dolls. [heheh, j/k]
For any of you who happened to notice, yes, the idea popped up after intensely stuffing my ears w/ the song "The Second You Sleep" by SAYBIA, a growing Danish pop group. I just luv the air in this song.
Thanks for reading. ^^
Title: Stay
Pairing: Tezuka x Fuji. I leave them nameless most of the time. But I think it's not difficult to guess which one is who.
Genre: Angst
Rating: As much as I want to go smut, I'll leave it as R this time. And it's set on years after they graduated from Seigaku, so both guys are legal.
Standard Disclaimer: All characters belong to Konomi Takeshi respectedly. Me own only the plot and some miserable thoughts.
Summary: People regard his stoic nature as one of his best traits. The crucial element of his shining life. But does it always do him good?
~*~*~
He stirred slowly as he opened his heavy eyes. Sunlight went through the thick beige curtain covering the wide glass sliding door that led to the balcony, faintly lightened up the dark bedroom. He knew the sun had set high, yet he didn't bother to get up and begin the day as he always did. Instead, he rolled and moved to the side where the other had lain a couple of hours earlier. White sheet covering his body from the waist trapped his legs, making him hard to move. But the man cared no less. He lay facing the bed, exposing his bare back to no one. Closing his eyes, his senses quietly registered the familiar scent and warmth belonged to the other, as his mind started playing back memories.
The other had gone. At the early dawn after bidding him a silent goodbye. Without looking back. Adjusting the small hand-carried bag slinging over his right shoulder, he walked in a steady pace to the door, leaving him all alone in the empty room. He had wanted to beg the other to stay, but it was nothing he did, for he had known that there was no use of doing. The other had made his choice. To move on with his life. To leave him behind.
There wasn't any real strong base that held their relationship to begin with. Of course, there was tennis. They were all bound by tennis. His teammates. He led them to the Nationals. And the other had been there, quietly stood by him through all the hardships. It was only a constant presence behind the fence outside court at the start, then before he knew it the other had become the closest person ever in his life. They fit together, supported each other by filling in the gaps until everyone started to see them as a pair, something inseparable. Not as devoted and trustful as the Golden Pair, but definitely more intense than just friends. And with that, they both managed to go on for years.
To be honest, he had no idea how their relationship could advance to this stage. It started with a kiss, on that rainy day in the Tennis Club locker room. A chaste, awkward press on the lips driven by the need to seek small warmth between two shivered bodies drenching from the tears of spring. He wasn't sure who had started it, although he was sure the other definitely shared the part for his seemingly insatiable hunger in teasing his stoic nature all the time. Not that he minded, though, despite the constant growing headache he suffered ever since. Although there was no way in hell he would ever admit it in front of the other, he enjoyed himself being sweetly provoked. For he understood it was one of the many eccentric ways of the other in showing his affection.
And then there was sex. Indeed, it took time before their first full-blown initiation. But he had to admit that there wasn't anyone in his life who knew him better than the other. In and out. And it went just the same way for the other, who had never once turned away from him.
He never said I loved you, although he knew damn well how the other loved him. Being the successful pillar for many had earned him praises and respects all his life. People had always looked up to him with endless admiration, and so he had gotten used to it. The other admired him, showered him with constant affection, patience, and tenderness. However, he never felt the need to return those feelings. Not that he didn't have anything to give; it was just his plain and rigid nature that didn't seem to suit the thing so-called open affection. And not that he didn't realize the silent frustration the other was feeling, either; despite the constant warm beams the other kept showing him, he could always trust his senses.
As the man kept saying to himself, he had his own way.
Still, it was nothing he showed.
Until there came the day when the other finally decided to move on with his life.
"I'm leaving."
Inwardly, he flinched at the words. He had known that this was going to happen. And he had known that there was no way he could change it once the other's mind was set, so he could only stare at him. At a pair of cerulean blue orbs gleaming with silent determination. And the faintest mist of hurt he would have missed had he not known the other too well. He knew how hard it must have been for the other to say it. Still, he couldn't bring himself to say the words, no matter how true his feelings were.
Sometime later, he thought that maybe the constant restraints he had been putting in his life had finally eaten him.
And the bitter fact showing that the man had forgotten the most important thing in a relationship: it takes two to work it out.
On their last night together, the other made love to him. As he walked towards the quietly reading man by the couch - whom was actually scanning over blurry letters due to the building storm in his heart, the smaller man reached down to remove his glasses and the thick book in his hands, then positioned himself on his lap, facing him.
"Fuji..." he said as the other began kissing his face.
The other pressed his cheek to the bigger man's, hands running down his shoulders and squeezing his arms as his lips let out a soft, soothing shush.
"Let's make a night to remember."
And with that, the other sucked his left earlobe deep and slow. All the while long graceful fingers started unbuttoning his shirt, slipping his white palm to roam around the bare smooth skin in an oh-so-familiar way. Then the other found a spot in between his neck and shoulder, and bit there.
The man soon lost himself.
There was no sound could be heard from behind that closed door, except for the faint moans and some small crackling sound of bed. Inside, the room was bright with white candles, the faint scent of vanilla and mint was a remedy for the tumbling mind. Seemed like the night had been set. On the bed in the center of the room, a certain brown-haired was seen sitting on top and facing a dark tousled-haired, legs spreading out to the sides. The latter man had let the other do the rhythm, while putting his hands firmly on his hips to keep the other in place. Leaning against the headboard, he watched with fascination as the slender but well-toned body sheathing up and down, slick-sweat, smaller hands on his shoulders. Head slightly tossed up, baring a long, smooth white neck under the slightly crimson face. Locks of light brown went darker as they grew damp with sweats. Cerulean blue orbs gazed behind the half closed eyelids. They looked dazed and lost, and helplessly devoted. Dry thin lips half opened, begging for being captured, whispering the unspoken feeling.
Beautiful. He had noticed long ago of how unearthly creature the other had been. That was why at moments like these, no matter how severe the pleasure had done to his consciousness, the man never let his eyes closed, for he drank from the ravishing sight. Often, his heart quietly stated that it must have been a miracle to have such an ethereal being come to brighten his tedious life.
"Ohh.... Tezuka....."
The soft moan coming from between the rosy lips combined with the plea shining from the glistening eyes finally crumbled the last barrier he kept. With a loud growl, he turned the other's body in one swift movement so that the smaller man was now lying under him, gasping, eyes wide in shock - partly of the confusion, partly of the pleasure derived from the sudden jolts. He knew very much of himself being overwhelmed by emotions, yet he knew nothing of controlling them. Anger, guilt, fear, hurt, and love. He crushed the trembling lips, pouring out whatever he was feeling. Over and over, he lunged forward and down, hard and fast, until he felt something wet and warm spurted onto his abdomen and the walls that sheathed him tightened up, thus left him blinded by white light.
The man went boneless and then collapsed.
In the dark he lay still, eyes closed as he felt the other stir, turning his back against him. He was left naked and alone by the other's side, despite the burning passion they had shared about half an hour ago. The other had closed the door, had locked it away so that he couldn't see the love that the other kept inside. The love that was kept for him: the one and only Tezuka Kunimitsu.
He stirred to the side to take a good look at the other. Pale, smooth shoulder blade half tugged under the white sheet. One side of the damped and now tousled brown head was glued to the pillow. He reached out and stroked the other's hair, feeling the softness against his calloused fingers. Then he closed the remaining space between them and wrapped his bigger arms and legs around the love of his life: the one and only Fuji Syuusuke. He kissed his lover on the hair, neck, and shoulder.
"Fuji... don't go..."
Rough and choked it sounded, as his vision went blur with warm water.
Upon hearing the man's silent confession, the other shut his previously opened yet empty eyes. Despite the blood flowing out from his heart, he was too tired to think of other response. Too numb to say anything. It was no use. His mind was set already.
Upon seeing the other's quiet response, he tightened his embrace and closed his eyes. In the closeness of their body he watched the other breathe. In the dark of the night he watched him fly, escaping through a dream. He knew it was over. In a matter of hours, he would witness the other's departure from his life. Forever.
How he wished by gods the other would stay.
~owari~
A/N: Um, well... guess I made tezuka kinda selfish here. But sometimes I can't help but think that he's just not playing fair with Fuji. I mean, they used to be together, and suit well to my *raburabu* eyes. And seeing them apart in the anime is just hurt, so I made it worse with this. *cries*
Anyway, that's just me and my rather masochistic thoughts. Should you feel like dropping a C&C, please do, it'd be highly appreciated. Should you feel like dropping a flame, it'd go straight to have a business w/ my voodoo dolls. [heheh, j/k]
For any of you who happened to notice, yes, the idea popped up after intensely stuffing my ears w/ the song "The Second You Sleep" by SAYBIA, a growing Danish pop group. I just luv the air in this song.
Thanks for reading. ^^