Prince Of Tennis Fan Fiction ❯ The Games We Play ❯ Chapter Twelve ( Chapter 12 )

Warning: Let me reiterate what I said at the end of the last chapter: this story is YAOI. If you haven't already figured out what that is, please look it up. Seriously. While the last couple tidbits in previous chapters were sex skims and would be less offensive to those who may not care for the devil in the details, this chapter contains a sex scene. And we yaoi fans love our devils.

 

With that said, the majority are ready for me to get on with it.

 

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Chapter Twelve

 

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Tezuka had been briefed upon arrival of the hotel's extensive guest facilities, but he was still surprised when Echizen led him out of the elevator on the second floor rather than heading for the lobby. Echizen appeared to note his silent inquiry after glancing at his watch.

 

“Inui already set it up. They're letting us have it after hours for my `therapy'.”

 

Tezuka acknowledged that with a nod as Echizen passed the glass double-doors which declared `Guest Spa Services - By Appointment Only” and instead swiped his keycard through the reader on an unmarked door further down the hall. At least Echizen sounded incredulous about Inui's one-day regimen; that would make his job of convincing Echizen to withdraw from the exhibition easier. Tezuka also had his doubts. If Echizen's overall physical condition was so bad one more match could do irrevocable damage, then Tezuka could not comprehend what Inui had devised which would make Echizen fit to play, especially against Tezuka himself, in less than thirty-six hours.

 

However Tezuka felt more confident that the time frame was more than sufficient to talk sense into Echizen, no matter how stubborn his former teammate could be.

 

When they entered the first thing Tezuka noticed was the sound of water swirling in contained areas. For the first time he actually began to read Inui's instructions. His eyebrows rose immediately.

 

“These instructions are rather…”

 

“Unconventional?” Echizen supplied dryly. Tezuka didn't give preference over either insertion; he simply nodded. Echizen snorted. “Yeah, that's a polite way to put it. This is going to suck.” Then Echizen flashed a grim smile. “But at least I won't suffer alone, right?”

 

Tezuka's mouth formed a grim line. He had committed to helping Echizen after all, no matter what. ”Indeed.”

 

“Don't worry. Thanks to the damn near illegal doses of cortisone Inui slipped me for the problem areas, I should be able to get by on my own for a while.”

 

“And what are those `problem areas'?” Tezuka dared to inquire. He was rewarded with that championship smile that could have been pulled from a magazine cover.

 

“Everywhere.”

 

That explained the more unconventional idea of the pools, Tezuka reasoned. There were only so many places you could put a cold pack on the human body after all.

 

Without added ceremony, Echizen pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it haphazardly onto a bench against the wall. Tezuka stared for several seconds before he realized he needed to do the same thing. He averted his gaze, unbuttoned his own shirt, and reminded himself that he'd seen all of his regulars, including Echizen, changing in the locker room at the tennis club. There was no reason to feel uncomfortable or…anything else…towards Echizen.

 

Except that this was not the tennis club, and neither he nor Echizen were children anymore.

 

Braving another look as he deliberately removed his own clothing, every inch of Echizen's exposed skin supported that fact Tezuka was trying so hard to forget. Not only had the younger player grown taller over the years, but as Echizen stepped out of his sweatpants, the muscles along his arms, back, and legs bespoke his years as a professional tennis player. His flawless skin had tanned as well, Tezuka noted, although it still paled against the haphazard black hair that almost reached his shoulders in the back. Tezuka removed the rest of his clothes and his glasses, leaving only his boxers, using it as an excuse to tear his gaze away once again. He was thankful that the next time he saw Echizen his vision would be less than perfect. With any luck that would be enough to keep him from fixating on Echizen's painfully too-grown-up physique any longer.

 

When he heard Echizen toss his last piece of clothing aside and walk towards the pool Tezuka looked at him out of reflex. His nearsightedness blurred the image, true, but there was no way to miss Echizen's naked form moving toward the cold whirlpool.

 

Tezuka wondered who really needed the frigid water more at this point - Echizen or him.

 

Desperate to regain his composure before joining Echizen in the water, frustrated that he seemed less and less able to do so, Tezuka put Inui's instructions up to his nose and read them again while Echizen entered the Jacuzzi. And then he read them again. And again.

 

Ten minutes in the cold pool. Basic stretches and exertion exercises for twenty minutes-Tezuka wasn't sure what Inui meant by his side note `be creative' since it seemed self-explanatory. Thirty minutes in the hot pool. Repeat all steps again. Eight hours of bed rest. Follow-up examination at noon.

 

Tezuka omitted the remaining notes as he assumed it would depend mainly on Echizen's condition in the morning, or if Tezuka could talk some sense into him by that time. That reminder helped Tezuka refocus on his main purpose. He needed to take this time to convince Echizen that playing his final game in the exhibition was not in his best interest, that there would be plenty of time to face strong opponents, namely Tezuka himself, in the future.

 

With his thoughts back on track, Tezuka replaced the paper in his pants pocket and did a time check. He swore softly when he realized his musings had lasted eight of Echizen's ten minutes.

 

“Echizen?”

 

“St-still w-waiting on y-you,” Echizen called back. “G-get in here, B-buchou. The w-water's gr-great.”

 

Tezuka smiled minutely. “I'm sure it is, but I'm afraid you've only got,” he stated and checked his watch again as he made his way past the hot tub and stood at the edge of the cold water Jacuzzi, “one more minute.”

 

Having crouched down so that only the nose-up was out of the water, when Echizen huffed, it sent extra bubbles up to the surface of the water. Otherwise he remained still until Tezuka nodded at the ten-minute mark. Echizen nodded stiffly and stood up and shivered. He immediately followed that by shaking his wet hair a few times before sweeping it out of his eyes with both hands. At full height, he was treading in the water up to his hips, so when he lifted his arms...

 

The sufficiently clear image nearly hijacked Tezuka's train of thought for a third time. Indeed Tezuka could appreciate general aesthetics and good proportion on anyone with modest detachment. It was one of the more attractive aspects about Fuji. Indeed he'd initially been intrigued by Fuji's romantic advances for just those reasons when combined with their personal rivalry throughout middle and high school. But Fuji looked very delicate, feminine, ethereal. It was as though his physical appearance offered the best indication of the psychology behind the former Seigaku prodigy: an impeccable outer layer contained a kaleidoscope of emotions enforced by the wrath of Ares when threatened or jilted in any way.

 

In contrast, there was nothing feminine about Echizen. His body, his demeanor, everything left no doubt that he was devilishly beautiful, but he was wholly and exceptionally masculine. From the trademark smirk down to his—

 

Tezuka attempted to clear his head, something he was finding himself having to do much too often this evening. Giving up on complete disregard, he resolutely tried to shove unnecessary ideas to the back of his mind and attend to the more important matter at hand. His goal was to help Echizen. That was his only ambition, his guiding desire. His goal was to help Echizen. Nothing more than that. His goal was to help Echizen…

 

Suddenly Tezuka became aware of certain details simultaneously. First, he had been staring at Echizen the entire time he'd been standing there, his breathing abnormally shallow and loud enough to hear throughout the room, his hands clenched at his sides. Secondly and to Tezuka's greater mortification, this time Echizen had obviously caught him in the act; there was no doubt despite Tezuka's lack of ocular clarity that the younger man had his eyes trained like a guided missile onto his expression. Thirdly, most disturbingly, Echizen had made no attempt to stop him, to negate his blatant avarice in any way.

 

All excuses and apologies deserted Tezuka under Echizen's brazen scrutiny. For the first time in his life, Tezuka felt like he might be getting himself into a situation that could spiral, or may have already leapt, out of his control.

 

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Ryoma was still speechless. His brain however had gone into overdrive.

 

At first he'd been a little ticked off that Tezuka-buchou had stalled so long that he hadn't had company to go along with his misery while he was neck deep in the torturous water. Then Tezuka had appeared poolside, bare save for his boxer shorts, and Ryoma had forgotten what he was thinking in the first place. Or that he was supposed to think at all. All he'd known in that moment was that never in the history of man, nor in his most imaginative fantasies, had one been created in such immaculate form as Tezuka Kunimitsu. He'd been grateful for the freezing water then, and he'd immersed himself as deeply in the water as possible and still allow himself to breathe, however difficult it became.

 

He'd run out of diversions once Tezuka had called time, and with mindless obedience he'd stood out of the water. Ryoma had felt himself shiver both from the temperature change or the weight of Tezuka's gaze or both, so he'd tried to hide it by shaking his hair out. He'd hoped when he took another peek, Tezuka-buchou would be once again consulting Inui's instructions. He'd inwardly begged for the reprieve, or things would get embarrassing really fast.

 

When he did move his hair out of his eyes and braved another glance, Ryoma found himself unable to do anything but stare back. Tezuka-buchou was still watching him, yes, but the elder man's expression had morphed from sharp observation into…something entirely different.

 

Memories reeled backward, stopping eight years in the past in Japan at the tennis court below the train line. And suddenly Ryoma was a boy again, but this time he stared across the court at Tezuka-buchou with the eyes he'd gained through adulthood.

 

Ryoma met the eyes of his greatest opponent, his most revered role-model, his captain. He saw his own feelings reflected in those eyes, feelings that had not diminished in nearly a decade.

 

The fierce desire to engage in the fight, to dominate, to ultimately conquer…

 

The intrinsic, adrenaline-igniting fear that by accepting the battle, you faced the possibility of being conquered yourself…

 

The will to brave either possibility, because the regret of not trying, of not fighting, of not going after something so precious and irreplaceable was far worse than failure…

 

And failure just wasn't an option at all.

 

Ryoma's mind fast-forwarded to the present in a millisecond. He wasted no time getting out of the pool, noting subconsciously that Tezuka looked visibly startled at the swift exit. The older player looked like he was trying to regain his composure, preparing to say something to diffuse the situation.

 

This was a match, or a re-match, or perhaps it was the match. No matter; Ryoma did not intend to lose at any cost.

 

Tezuka did indeed take a deep breath and open his mouth, but Ryoma cut him off with a commanding, “Don't.” No other warning was offered; Ryoma wound both hands into Tezuka's hair and pulled the man down to him, commandeering Tezuka's mouth with self-proclaimed entitlement to sole and sacred possession. Tezuka gasped through his nose and his body went rigid against Ryoma's save for an initial head-to-toe quiver. Ryoma ignored it. The only thing that mattered at that moment was the combined sensations of Tezuka's heated skin grazing against his own and the discovery of something so perfect he could scarcely comprehend how he'd survived twenty years without it.

 

Ryoma wasn't sure which of them truly broke first or if they had done it in sync. He only knew that suddenly Tezuka wound both arms around him, crushing their bodies together and returning the embrace with uncharacteristic abandon. The battle raged; both attacked the other ruthlessly. Ryoma noted every moan Tezuka made into his mouth, recorded every weakness. Tezuka seemed to proceed the same way. Of course Ryoma knew better than to think Tezuka would allow himself to be outplayed for long.

 

Ryoma marveled as Tezuka's mouth finally released his and moved down the plane of his neck while the floor seemed to disappear from beneath his feet. Then it occurred to Ryoma that his feet had left the ground; Tezuka had lifted him with one arm. Ryoma didn't have time to analyze the strength the act denoted. Tezuka's free hand slipped down, pulling Ryoma's right leg up and around his waist, forcing the other to follow suit while Tezuka repositioned himself to hold him up, his teeth sliding across Ryoma's collarbone all the while. Despite the water still on his skin, the friction from the sudden adjustment left Ryoma a panting mass of unguarded nerve endings which Tezuka relentlessly sought and destroyed inch by glorious inch.

 

When his back met the wall causing another sudden jerk of Tezuka's body against his own, Ryoma was sure he would lose his mind then and there. Tezuka continued his epic assault, sliding Ryoma down just another to reclaim his mouth. Within the haze, Ryoma noted the current obstacle and updated the score. While he was fighting insanity with every movement of Tezuka's body against his bare skin, Tezuka still had his boxers on. Advantage: Tezuka Kunimitsu.

 

To hell with that. You're hardly being fair, Buchou.

 

Loosening his legs, Ryoma descended suggestively until his feet were on solid ground again, grateful that Tezuka had moved them from the tile around the Jacuzzis to the plush carpeted outer area where the benches sat. He finally broke from Tezuka's demanding kiss and maneuvered just enough to sneak a glance around the taller man's chest. Even better; each bench was equipped with an attached tray displaying variety of soaps and oils for patron use. The closest bench was just within his reach, making his counterstrike almost too easy. He hid what he knew would be a damning grin against the lines along Tezuka's chest and down his stomach while his fingers relieved Tezuka of his only remaining garment.

 

Ryoma decided Tezuka was long due for a turn of torture, so he attacked Tezuka at his most vulnerable exposure. He was rewarded when Tezuka swore and fell against the wall for support, one hand woven into Ryoma's hair while the other held him up straight, cushioning his forehead against the marble lining the walls. Ryoma refused to give up his newfound power play and still managed to reach out and grab one of the bottles he'd scoped specifically from the nearby bench selection. Ryoma had the bottle cork pulled and tossed aside within seconds.

 

Deuce.

 

When Ryoma did finally release Tezuka from his orally created sensual abyss a few minutes later, the taller man fell to his knees in front of Ryoma. While Tezuka was still off balance Ryoma began another assault, forcing Tezuka to shift sideways to give them both more room. Another predatory kiss and a tennis grand master's finesse stroke between Tezuka's legs left the older man squirming on his back. Ryoma only backed off for a moment, despite his desire to linger, and looked just long enough to take in the image and burn it into his permanent recall. Nothing, absolutely nothing could ever be as beautiful as that. He wished he could freeze this moment, just to buy him more time to truly appreciate it.

 

The buck of Tezuka's hips and the animalistic rumble which escaped his chest demanded action, and Ryoma couldn't deny that request. Plus Ryoma knew if he didn't have Tezuka right now, he would go out of his mind.

 

Ryoma positioned himself above Tezuka, distracted his elder with searing kisses and nips everywhere he reached as he spread the bottle's contents on himself, leaving a liberal amount on his fingers for Tezuka. It wasn't until he began preparing Tezuka that his former captain suddenly gasped and, for the first time Ryoma could ever remember, jerked his head up. Tezuka's reservations were clear despite the rampant desire still tightening his features.

 

Ryoma had to stop for just a moment and realize what Tezuka's uncertainty was really about.

 

Ryoma fought back a snicker, knowing this was a situation he had to treat with extra care. Still, why did it not surprise him that Tezuka-buchou had never been on the receiving end? Ryoma could empathize; he rarely took that position himself, but nevertheless he had done so. And he felt certain that, despite the age difference, he was the more experienced of the two of them when it came to sex, period. For the situation at hand though…

 

First time for everything, Buchou.

 

And Ryoma couldn't deny that there was something infinitely gratifying about being the first, the only man to ever consume the infallible Tezuka Kunimitsu so wholly and completely.

 

Ryoma kissed Tezuka again before heading south. He brought all tools at his disposal and focused them below Tezuka's navel. Focusing greater attention on pushing Tezuka to the brink of sensory overload, he knew it would be easier to do what he needed for his, but more especially for Tezuka's, sake. The distraction worked. Tezuka threw his head back once again, gasping, clawing at the carpet, and even doing the greatest part of Echizen's work as he rocked his hips.

 

Once Ryoma felt he'd done as much as he could, he brought himself back up, easing himself into place. This time though he changed the pace. He cupped one of Tezuka's feverish cheeks in his hand and kissed him thoroughly, reverently. He conveyed his intention and offered the most earnest of assurances without uttering a single word. Ryoma didn't dare speak, didn't trust his own voice at the moment for he too was overwhelmed by the resplendence of what was to come.

 

Tezuka trembled - actually trembled - and then gave his unspoken permission after a moment of hesitation. Ryoma accepted it immediately, releasing his mouth and began gently, slowly, remaining intent on Tezuka's face. The older man's initial reaction was not unexpected. Tezuka's jaw and eyes clenched shut, and he hissed through his teeth. Despite Ryoma's near fatal desire to lose himself completely, he mastered the urge. His greatest desire was reality in flesh at the moment, and nothing in the world meant more at the moment than bringing Tezuka into this utopia with him. So Ryoma waited, aching so much it was beyond any pain he'd endured on a tennis court, until Tezuka's breath evened into manageable gasps and the man's ever penetrating eyes opened and refocused.

 

This time the embrace they shared was synchronously pursued and exploited; the hardest part was over. Ryoma lifted Tezuka's hips a bit more and began what seemed like a an act decreed by the gods long before their souls had met with flesh, flesh which Ryoma believed must not have been whole until it molded to and was enveloped by Tezuka. Tezuka's concern showed no more as the taller man moved with Ryoma, indicating a desire for more, demanding everything Ryoma could offer and then some, pushing him beyond anything he'd experienced before. And Ryoma obliged.

 

He did speak between kisses then, although Ryoma could hardly recall from one second to the next what he was saying against Tezuka's skin as he worked toward their mutual release. Maybe he confessed his transcendental view of the moment; perhaps he spoke of how completely exquisite Tezuka was by every fathomable standard; he may have just said his name over and over. He may have even admitted that he was hopelessly and utterly enamored with Tezuka, that he desired nothing less than exclusive rights to Tezuka's heavily guarded and largely unexplored soul, or that he was and may have always been in love with him.

 

And everything came together. He was in love with Tezuka. A small part of his brain recognized he should feel shocked, but then, why would he? After all who else could it ever have been but Tezuka-buchou? However that it was Tezuka also made the realization absolutely terrifying.

 

Every visible muscle contracted as Tezuka arched and cried out in finality, and Ryoma followed suit almost immediately thereafter. They ended in a heap of useless limbs beneath sweat and skin, physically used up and, in Ryoma's clearing mind, emotionally reeling.

 

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A/N: I'm going to take author's liberties this time and talk it up for a minute now that the important stuff is out of the way. Feel free to skip this if you'd like.

 

First of all, I want to thank everyone who has patiently waited as I worked on this story and are still reading. I know it was frustrating when updates took almost a year, and it means more than you can imagine that many of you who started at the beginning stuck it out with me. Seriously, thank you all! Despite the warning I gave at the beginning, I still work very hard to keep my sex scenes within the R-rated bounds, so if anyone's disappointed or feels gypped in any way you'll get no apologies from me. I think it's also worth noting my pride in the timeliness of this update; I got halfway through the first draft of the chapter, hated it, and did a complete re-write, all in 4 days. Two updates in a single week; that's got to be some kind of record for me.

 

Also being a music junkie, I have to share the playlist I comprised which inspired this story and drove the momentum of this chapter (especially since some of these bands don't get the attention they deserve): Damn, I Wish I Was Your Lover - Sophie B. Hawkins, Animal I Have Become - Three Days Grace, Good Enough and Lose Control - Evenescence, Everything to Me - Liz Phair, Ten Miles From Nowhere - Five for Fighting, and especially Memories and Forgiven - Within Temptation. I'd recommend hitting iTunes, Yahoo or AOL music to check all of these songs out.

 

If all goes as planned, the next chapter will be the last. I make no promises however, as my muse and I have been going rounds lately over this kind of thing. We'll see what pans out.