Prince Of Tennis Fan Fiction ❯ Touched - Rikkaidai - SanadaKirihara ❯ Chapter 4

Title: Touched

A Prince of Tennis Fanfiction
By Andrea Readwolf [andrea_readwolf @hotmail.com]
Chapter: 4/?
Rating: NC-17
Pairings/Characters: Kirihara Akaya + Sanada Genichirou, Rikkaidai
Genre: Teen-Angst Drama, Teen Sexuality
Warnings: Hospitals, grumpy-vice-captains, deviously-plotting captains, mischievious koheis, easily-amused friends, and teenaged libidos.
Spoilers: Rikkaidai Arc
Summary: Kirihara schemes to get some time alone with his vice-captain and worries he's bitten off more than he can chew.

Disclaimer: Tennis no Ohjisama, characters and settings are the property of Konomi Takeshi. Original characters and story idea are property of Andrea Readwolf.

Date Started: March 2005
Word Count:

 

 

~~~"Touched"~~~

 

THURSDAY

 

It was practically impossible to catch Yanagi alone at school. Kirihara had tried all of the day before and failed miserable, which was why, this morning, he was laying in wait for the other teen on his way to school.

 

"Good morning, Yanagi-sempai," he called super friendly-like.

 

"Akaya," Yanagi greeted with a welcoming smile. "Good morning. I was expecting you yesterday."

 

Kirihara frowned poutingly. "Every time I tried, you were always busy doing something or talking to somebody else."

 

Yanagi stopped walking and turned to face his younger teammate. "I'm never too busy for you, Akaya," he told Kirihara softly. "Don't ever think that, okay?"

 

And then Yanagi turned back towards the road ahead, prompting, "So, come. Ask me your questions."

 

"You already know what I'm going to ask," Kirihara replied mulishly, scowling more at Yanagi's suddenly very-amused expression.

 

"Perhaps, but perhaps you'll also surprise me," he responded, and Kirihara huffed some more.

 

"Fine then. How do I get Sanada-fukubuchou to start playing normally again?"

 

Yanagi's smile brightened. "Now, see? I expected you would ask me specifically how to seduce our dear vice captain, which, by the way, is my suggestion for this situation. If you're serious about your affections towards Sanada then you need to be more aggressive in your pursuit."

 

"Does--- Do you think," Kirihara tried. "I mean--"

 

The second year sighed. "You're Sanada-fukubuchou's friend, Yanagi-sempai. So, do you think, I mean, does he like me? Like that? Or is this just a waste of time?"

 

"Akaya, if he didn't like you, do you think his game would have become so affected like this? No," Yanagi shook his head slightly. "There is no doubt in my mind that Sanada likes you 'in that way', but..."

 

Yanagi stopped again and turned towards Kirihara, leaning forward until their faces were close enough for him to whisper, "If you ever change your mind about Genichirou..."

 

Yanagi pressed his lips lightly to Kirihara's and the younger teen blinked. Pulling back, Yanagi continued to smile pleasantly at the younger boy as he gently wiped his thumb over Kirihara's lips.

 

"Hurry up, Akaya. You don't want to be late to homeroom," he reminded the second year.

 

And then he left.

 

*

 

It felt a bit like deja-vu, chasing Sanada down after practice that afternoon and silently following him. Only, this time the other teen wasn't heading to the hospital first--Yukimura had been discharged that morning. Kirihara was tempted to try and get his vice-captain to buy him another meal when they passed the same convenience store as last week, but apparently, Sanada had decided he'd had enough.

 

"Enough, Kirihara," he finally spoke, stopping suddenly so that Kirihara almost walked right into him.

 

Kirihara grinned, having won a small battle in his head, making Sanada finally say something to him. "Sempai?"

 

Sanada growled inarticulately again, seeming to rethink something quickly because he quickly turned back to the path ahead. He didn't say another word until they reached his home and he announced his presence. No one answered.

 

Technically, Kirihara knew Sanada's family ran a school for kendo, but he'd never really given much thought about what kind of house the other boy lived in. Kirihara's own family lived in a modern two-story single family housing unit, but Sanada's home was more like Kirihara's grandparents'--a traditional home standing that had probably been built at least a hundred years ago.

 

He followed Sanada through the narrow hallways between sliding doors, their sock-clad feet almost completely silent against the straw mats and wooden floors. In fact, the house all together was too quiet for Kirihara's tastes---no music running or TV rambling from somewhere.

 

"Where is everyone?" he asked nervously as Sanada parted one of the screen doors and led him into what was the other teen's bedroom, Kirihara realized. Suddenly, he felt overwhelmed with doubts and misgivings. Did he really want to be all alone with Sanada, in Sanada's home, with no one else around, and-- Okay, so maybe a part of him was really excited at the prospect, but only a small part, he told himself.

 

"My family teaches in the dojo behind our house," Sanada answered, setting his book bag and tennis bag in the corner near his rolled up futon before turning to look directly at Kirihara, arms folded. "Now, enough with the pretenses, Kirihara. What do you want from me?"

 

Kirihara swallowed nervously. "My homework," he began before Sanada cut that excuse apart.

 

"You have above average marks in all your classes and no outstanding projects. Try again--with the truth. I don't appreciate being lied to."

 

"Sanada-sempai," Kirihara began, but this far away from Yukimura's and Yanagi's firm advice, all his self doubts were out in full force and he faltered. "I'm sorry, Senpai. I didn't mean to bother you. I--I'll go now."

 

He turned to leave, but Sanada stopped him, and Kirihara winced as the strong fingers dug into his right shoulder.

 

"I'm sorry," Sanada said loosening his grip immediately upon seeing Kirihara's look of pain. "Does it still hurt?" he continued flexing his hand loosely over the wounded shoulder.

 

"Not really," Kirihara muttered, still sore about the events that had led to the injury.

 

"Come here," Sanada directed, leading him further into the bedroom and tossing some cushions on the floor for them to sit on. "Take your shirt off and let me check it," he added, going to retrieve a jar of massage cream.

 

Seeing Kirihara still standing hesitantly by the door, he ordered, "Shirt. Sit."

 

Cautiously, the underclassman dropped his bags beside the door and sunk down onto one of the cushions, watching Sanada watch him as he began to unbutton his shirt.

 

"Off," Sanada barked when he determined the younger boy was going too slow. He moved a cushion around so he could sit behind Kirihara, and then, warming some of the lotion in his hands, he cleared his throat and warned, "I'll--I'll try to be gentle."

 

A heady scent tickled Kirihara's nostrils, filling him up with a warm, lazy feeling--seconds before Sanada's large hands brushed against Kirihara's exposed skin. He fought to keep still as roughened fingers scraped and slid over his shoulder, the slick oily cream easing their path. Fingers pressed assuredly yet seemingly cautious, too; a palm cupped his shoulder and its heel pressed, Sanada's entire hand working a relaxing magic on Kirihara's shoulder.

 

The younger boy tried not to moan. It didn't hurt--not his shoulder, anyway; other parts of his body were starting to hurt though, very much so, and Kirihara was very thankful for the fact that he was sitting with his back to Sanada since that made it easier to hide his body's reaction to the other teen's proximity.

 

"Are you all right?" Sanada asked, his voice seeming deeper and huskier and hot, and Kirihara shivered, imagining he could feel Sanada's breath against his neck and ear. "Does it still hurt?"

 

Kirihara cut off what he was sure would have been a girly sound and swallowed, somewhat short of breath suddenly.

 

"No, sempai." He licked his dry lips. "It feels... good."

 

"Good?" Sanada queried and Kirihara thought he could detect a note of amusement in the older boy's voice. Sanada's hand slid lower off Kirihara's shoulder, smoothing the oil down the younger boy's upper arm, and he squirmed where he was sitting.

 

"Ah," he breathed. "Good." His eyes were closed, his body tingling wickedly from Sanada's touch. "Sempai..." he gasped as fingertips brushed against the back of his neck and Sanada's other hand settled against his other shoulder. He fought not to lean into the touch, but it was very tempting.

 

"Kirihara?" the older boy asked, and the smaller teen decided now was the moment Yukimura had been talking about. He leaned back completely into Sanada, feeling the other boy's crisp school shirt adhere to where the oil had been applied. Kirihara twisted his head, just a little, to look up at his vice captain.

 

"Sanada-sempai," he breathed again, licking his lips and eyeing Sanada's mouth hungrily. Sanada's hands slid off his shoulder until they were gripping his upper arms again.

 

"Be sure of what it is you're asking for," Sanada warned in a low growl, his voice shaking with... something that made Kirihara shake, too. Not in fear. No, quite the opposite. It was that same nervous excitement that gushed through him during an interesting match. He pressed back more firmly against Sanada, this time taking care to ensure that his backside also slid into the cradle of Sanada's lap--and the heat of Sanada's crotch.

 

Sanada made a little sound--somewhere in between a moan and a whimper, Kirihara thought. Large, hot hands slid down Kirihara's arms until strong fingers curled around his wrists. Kirihara felt incredible small like this. He usually felt smaller than his upper classmen--a phenomenon that had little to do with his actually height or body measurements and everything to do with personal intensity and ego. He wasn't physically small at all, and he wasn't weak either. He knew this, but, in his current position, perched in Sanada's lap, with Sanada's fingers wrapped around his wrists--he was forcibly reminded yet again of the fact that Sanada was definitely stronger than him--he could lift nearly twice as much as Kirihara could in the weight room, and his endurance seemed unlimited. Kirihara had admired him so much.

 

He admired all of his upper classmen, but Sanada most of all. Sanada was strong; he was intelligent; he was in firm control of himself and held everyone to high standards. He was... perfect.

 

Kirihara moaned longingly.

 

And now Sanada was hot and hard and touching him.

 

*

 

tbc