Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Pairing: FujiRyo
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Note: Part 5 of 5 from the Five Senses Arc.
Feedback: Yes, please.
Archive: As you will. Just let me know.
Dedication: Touch was written for Wai of Wai-Aki for her birthday. :D :sparkly heart:
Touch
by Ryuuza
It was rather fortunate for Ryoma that he was only watching a tape of Fuji's match with Hyotei's Jirou Agatuma when he was hit with a sudden rush of arousal. Had it happened during an actual match…well, he didn't want to consider the consequences there. All the possible outcomes included his complete mortification. Then again, while he was thankfully not in front of dozens of onlookers with no place to hide, it was less fortunate that he was crowded in a room of Seigaku regulars…with no place to hide.
Ryoma had spent the duration of the Fuji and Jirou match on the coaching bench, observing Seigaku's prodigy at work and being impressed despite himself. He'd been focused on the actual play then, rather than the smooth lines of Fuji's arms as he executed a perfect Hakugei, or the way his shirt flirted with the wind, fluttering up to expose the barest expanse of skin, or those intensely blue eyes…
He had to bite his tongue when that wash of awareness assailed him, a full-body attack that left him feeling as if every inch of skin was tingling. Thanking the gods that he hadn't been drinking anything at the time, Ryoma set his can of Ponta down on the table and cursed his traitorous body, willing it to behave. They were in the Kawamura sushi shop a year later, reliving the match because Eiji had stumbled upon a tape of the regional matches in his family's collection and decided their bi-monthly get-together was a good time as any to share it.
They'd already seen first and second doubles, and Kawamura had laughed sheepishly throughout his match with Kabaji, but now, halfway through Fuji's match with Jirou, Ryoma suddenly found himself panicked.
This, he thought in a fit of annoyance, was what came from dating that stupid tensai. You couldn't stop thinking about him. And wanting him.
Oh gods did Ryoma want Fuji. Scooting a little further away from Momoshiro, who was sharing his side of the table, Ryoma's eyes left the Fuji on the television screen and came to a rest on the slim figure seated beside Kawamura and Tezuka. Unconsciously, Ryoma licked his lips as his gaze trailed down the smiling profile and lingered on the pale expanse of neck and collarbone exposed by Fuji's loosely buttoned shirt and vest.
Heat pooled in his stomach as he mentally undid the buttons, straddling Fuji's lap as he proceeded to leave marks down that chest.
Catching his breath, Ryoma hastily jerked his eyes back to the screen, hoping none of his senpai would notice the blush stealing across his face. Oh, but the screen didn't help at all, because Fuji was there too and looking just as sexy. There was something about the way he smiled, confident, and the way he handled his racket that just made Ryoma's blood rush downward. There was no question about it.
Ryoma groaned inwardly even as he fidgeted in his seat, averting his eyes from the screen. Watching Fuji play tennis had lately become a very big turn-on. It was like sex, almost, he thought, desperately wanting a private room where he could pounce on his boyfriend and let things take their course.
He wanted to touch Fuji, dammit, and he was in the worst possible position for it.
In a public place. Surrounded by the former Seigaku team, for crying out loud. Five meters away from Fuji.
Ryoma truly hated his life at that moment.
His fingers curled as he ran his tongue nervously over his lips, at once concerned that his condition might be discovered and completely, totally aroused and pissed off that Fuji was so far away. He wanted his mouth on that skin, wanted his hands on it, wanted his skin on it and god—this train of thought was not helping.
Briefly, he closed his eyes, and then suddenly, as if in a dream, he heard Fuji saying pleasantly, "Echizen, do you want another Ponta?"
His eyes flew open and flicked down to the half-full can of grape soda in front of him. Thinking quickly, rushed by need, he said, "Please," and lifted his gaze to meet Fuji's unwaveringly.
It seemed to him as if Fuji's smile widened slightly. "In that case," the prodigy said, soft voice almost purring, "I'll bring it to you." He rose to his feet and Ryoma tensed, eyes trained warily on Momoshiro and the others, hoping they would remain as oblivious as usual. He didn't think he could stand another five minutes in the room and remain casual; his hormones were on overdrive tonight, but they seemed to happen frequently nowadays with Fuji.
Five minutes later found Fuji and Ryoma in the stockroom of the restaurant. Not as romantic as a beach, or as comfortable as Fuji's bed, or even as daring as an empty classroom at school, but it would suffice for now. They were desperate, after all, and Ryoma was delighted to find that he wasn't the only one craving touch and skin and heat.
"Saa," murmured Fuji between kisses, hard and hot, "excited, Ryoma?"
In reply, Ryoma wrapped himself tighter around his boyfriend, hands sliding under Fuji's shirt. His head was spinning and it was difficult to breathe, he being as reluctant as he was to pull his mouth away from where it was currently very happily occupied. A small sound escaped him though and Fuji obligingly traced it back to its source, mouth latching onto Ryoma's throat.
"Aah" Ryoma said raggedly, feeling a warm tongue slide across his Adam's apple.
"Do you like watching me play tennis?" Fuji questioned, lips moving across skin as he spoke. His fingers spread comfortably over Ryoma's hips, pressing them together.
Ryoma refused to admit to anything, though he was fairly sure that Fuji already knew. "Do you like watching me?" he countered, staring down challengingly.
Fuji looked up from where he was tracing Ryoma's collarbone with his tongue, eyes lidded. "Quite," he purred. "The way you move is so sexy, Ryoma. Confident and aggressive and taunting." His mouth curved in a possessive little smile. "And it's nice to know that no matter how many opponents you play, or their skill level, in the end all of that, all of you, is mine." He stroked Ryoma's side lightly.
Ryoma's head fell back. "Hn," he replied, eyes shut and hands clenched in Fuji's shirt. "I like watching you play tennis too."
For all the same reasons, he added to himself, losing himself in Fuji's touch.
To go: Taste, Hear, Smell, Sight, Touch DONE!
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