left my heart in camelot. ♕ (choseri) wrote in starry_ink,
left my heart in camelot. ♕
choseri
starry_ink

Citrus Aroma - Perfect Pair, Prince of Tennis

Title: Citrus Aroma
Fandom: Prince of Tennis!
Pairing: Perfect Pair - Tezuka Kunimitsu x Fuji Syuusuke
Author: choseri</lj>  
Rating: M
Summary: So Fuji was fully seducing Tezuka in a math class with an orange. It was definitely unusual, but Fuji Syuusuke was always one for unusual things... Fuji grows bored in math class, and Tezuka falls victim to the tensai's tricks.
Disclaimer: I don't own Prince of Tennis. :(
Author's Notes: Just a drabble, guys, not for any claims, because I desperately felt like writing some Prince of Tennis, so here it is, my first Prince of Tennis fic. As for the smut, I was dared by a certain friend of mine that I won't name, and anyways, I hope I learned the lesson that I can't write smut. Oh well. But I love TezuFuji, and here I am. Don't read if you don't like smut ;) 

Citrus Aroma

It was math class again.

Fuji Syuusuke doodled absentmindedly in the top margin of his fresh sheet of notebook paper, thinking that he should probably take notes on whatever the teacher was droning on about – logarithms, Fuji thought, or at least, the teacher had been the last time Fuji had bothered to look up.

Logarithms were easy. The log base 6 of 36 equals 2, and Fuji (being the tensai he was) had learned it years ago. All around him, though, his classmates were taking frantic notes as the teacher demonstrated the properties of logarithms on the board.

“The exponent is the log of base x…”

Logarithms, logarithms, logarithms. Fuji drew an excellent tennis racket in the top right corner of his sheet of paper.

Fuji felt eyes focusing on him, and raising his head in his customary closed-eye smile, he saw from across the room imperceptible golden-hazel eyes watching him.

Tezuka.

Fuji saw that Tezuka had half of the teacher’s notes neatly copied out in front of him, but now the messy-haired tennis captain was watching Fuji and even twirling his pencil in a distinctly Fuji-like way.

Fuji was impressed and flattered. He had that much of an influence on Tezuka?

Tezuka’s eyes snapped up to Fuji’s, and Fuji smiled slowly at Tezuka, allowing Tezuka’s eyes to trace over Fuji’s face. Tezuka’s glasses gleamed under the fluorescent lights in the classroom, and Fuji turned away, should the teacher notice that Fuji and Tezuka, his best two students, weren’t paying attention to the lesson at all.

“The log base b of M multiplied by the log base b of N…”

Fuji looked idly out of the window at the tennis courts showcased below the window. It had rained last night, and there were still a few stray puddles on the courts, although most of the courts were dry. Fuji hoped that tennis practice would still continue as usual after class.

The tennis tensai’s eyes strayed again to the head of messy russet-and-gold colored hair hunched over the paper. His eyes roamed over the sharp angles of Tezuka’s face, the nimble fingers writing down the examples written on the board, and the cuffs of Tezuka’s school shirt were impeccably rolled up, showing off Tezuka’s tennis-toned forearm muscles and golden skin.

Fuji continued to smile serenely as he reached down to his school bag and retracted an orange. A simple, round, orange fruit, and Fuji set it on his desk. Out of the corner of his eye, Fuji saw Tezuka turn his head the slightest bit to look at Fuji.

Fuji sunk his nails into the peel of the orange, and a fresh citrus aroma burst from the fruit. He peeled the orange, neatly depositing the peel in a corner of the desk, before he split the orange in half and raised a piece of it to his mouth.

A bit of orange juice dripped from the fruit, and Fuji delicately licked it away with his tongue before he slowly, agonizingly, dropped the piece of fruit into his mouth and then bit into it. A spray of sweet juice filled his mouth and Fuji swallowed it, licking away any remnant of juice on his lips with his tongue.

If Fuji closed his eyes for a second, he could imagine that instead of an orange he was sucking on, it was Tezuka’s compliant, hot flesh as the tennis captain writhed and moaned under Fuji’s attentive ministrations. Cracking open an eye, Fuji saw that Tezuka, from across the room, was riveted on the slight actions of Fuji’s fingers and tongue and that was when Fuji knew that he had Tezuka, every last inch of the stoic, commanding Tezuka, under his grasp.

Fuji felt himself start to grow uncomfortably hard in his school pants and shivers coursed down his body as his erotic imagery of Tezuka gasping and panting and screaming for more as Fuji sucked on Tezuka’s dripping cock. Fuji breathed in sharply, feeling a faint sweaty sheen grow on his skin. Judging from the way Tezuka was repeatedly running his hands through his hair, Fuji knew that Tezuka was just as distraught.

Fuji sneaked a glance at the clock. Seven minutes of class left to go.

“There are nine basic properties of logarithms…”

So Fuji was fully seducing Tezuka in a math class with an orange. It was definitely unusual, but Fuji Syuusuke was always one for unusual things. Sometimes, said unusual things turned out surprisingly well (like wasabi sushi, and Fuji couldn’t understand why he couldn’t get anybody else, not even Tezuka, to try it).

--

Tezuka couldn’t tear his eyes away from Fuji as he watched the tennis tensai bite tantalizingly into each slice of the orange.

His eyes followed Fuji’s delicate fingers picking up a slice of orange, to when Fuji dropped the slice of orange into his mouth and the smallest bit of pink tongue swiped his lips clean. Tezuka’s nerves stirred uncomfortable and he almost shivered, right there in the middle of math class

Fuji just didn’t know what such a small effect like licking his lips had on Tezuka, did he? Fuji was—

Fuji was fully seducing Tezuka.

Tezuka almost gasped as realization dawned on him and he tore his eyes away from Fuji and let his eyes wander around the rest of the class. Nobody noticed Fuji eat his orange, and before too long, Tezuka was imagining that even from across the room, he could smell the fresh citrus aroma in the air and the sweet yet tangy orange juice rushing down his throat.

Tezuka was staring at Fuji again. Talk about self-control.

Fuji raised half-lidded eyes to meet Tezuka’s as he sucked the juice from a particularly juicy slice of orange and then slowly licked his lips. Cerulean orbs glittered under the fringe of smooth light brown hair. Fuji’s eyes were enticing, beckoning Tezuka in towards him. Tezuka shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he felt his erection start to rise in his pants. His boyfriend was an evil, scheming person – only Fuji could turn him on by eating a goddamn orange.

Tezuka was glad that math class was the last class of the day – only tennis practice was after this, and tennis was usually soothing to Tezuka.

Tezuka couldn’t fathom why some people told him Fuji was a kind, gentle person when Tezuka knew Fuji was just plain evil. Tezuka felt beads of sweat grow on his brow and he ran a nervous hand through his already-rumpled hair, willing his erection to go away and to not look at Fuji. Tezuka looked at the clock, and saw that there was only four more minutes of class left. He just might make it out of school alive today.

“Tezuka!” the teacher’s sharp voice cut through Tezuka’s Fuji-induced haze, and Tezuka’s back stiffened as he snapped to attention.

“What is the log based b of one?”

Tezuka’s mind whirled back to a time when he had been at Fuji’s house (had it really only been a week or two ago?) and Fuji had been tutoring him on logarithms.

“A logarithm, or logarithmic function, is the inverse of an exponential function,” Fuji explained, his eyes closed as customary, and his voice warm and soothing. Tezuka felt lulled by the waves of Fuji’s voice and he dreamily thought that Fuji would make an excellent teacher.

“All right Tezuka, here, it says to evaluate these problems,” Fuji continued, not appearing to notice that Tezuka was daydreaming ever so slightly. “What…is the log of eight based sixteen?”

Tezuka scratched out the problem on a sheet of paper, and after a few seconds, he came up with the answer. “Three fourths.”

Fuji’s smile got even wider, if possible, and he got up and walked around the table to Tezuka’s seat, leaning down to blow in Tezuka’s ear. Tezuka’s ear was particularly sensitive, and Fuji knew that and fully used it to his advantage.

Tezuka shivered and dropped his pencil on his notebook, struggling to stay still. Fuji’s tongue and teeth worked on Tezuka’s ear and Tezuka moaned.

“Very good, Kunimitstu,” Fuji murmured in Tezuka’s ear. Tezuka loved how they called each other Tezuka and Fuji in public, and even in private, unless they were kissing or having sex, which was when they threw out the Tezuka and Fuji and became Kunimitsu and Syuusuke. It was a good thing, and threw in a touch of intimacy.

“Now,” Fuji continued, not stopping with his ministrations on Tezuka’s ear, “What about the log based b of one?”

Tezuka took a while to think about it, because naturally, with Fuji doing delightful things to his ear, Tezuka wasn’t able to think very clearly. “Z-Zero,” Tezuka finally stammered out.

“Excellent,” Fuji whispered. Then, Fuji had sat on his lap and their erections had ground together and their lips had smashed together and Tezuka really couldn’t remember much else other than the fact that Fuji’s kitchen floor was quite hard and not really an ideal place to have sex.

“Zero,” Tezuka replied to the teacher at last, his countenance as stoic as ever. Satisfaction washed over him as the teacher nodded at one of his best students and resumed his lecture on logarithms.

Tezuka’s eyes darted to Fuji and he saw the tennis tensai smile lazily at him. Tezuka realized that Fuji had known exactly what he had been thinking about.

“Syuusuke,” Tezuka gasped, arching his neck and back to give Fuji better access to his neck. Fuji had always had a talented tongue, memorizing the spots where Tezuka groaned or screamed in pleasure, and made sure to hit every one of those spots.

A couple of sheets of notebook paper, Tezuka’s pencil, and the sheet of logarithm problems Fuji had been helping Tezuka with fluttered to the floor, but neither Tezuka nor Fuji bothered to stop their actions to pick up the objects.

Tezuka’s pants were tossed in an untidy heap to the side, as was Fuji’s shirt. Tezuka gripped Fuji’s back as he tried his best to repress the urge to come right there and right now. Fuji’s tongue suckled several choice spots along Tezuka’s neck, and one of Fuji’s graceful, delicate hands was fondling Tezuka’s balls and fully erect cock, occasionally dragging his nails gently down Tezuka’s cock and eliciting a sharp gasp from Tezuka.

“Shouldn’t—shouldn’t we finish those logarithm problems?” Tezuka choked out as Fuji’s hand started pumping Tezuka’s cock.

Fuji kissed Tezuka lightly on the lips. “No,” Fuji replied, and smiled.

Fuji blinked open his beautiful deep blue eyes and Tezuka was taken aback by the intense lust and want in Fuji’s glazed eyes. That caused Tezuka to harden even more as Fuji swallowed the last piece of orange.

Very good, Kunimitsu, Fuji mouthed to Tezuka, and Tezuka was a bit surprised that Fuji used “Kunimitsu”, even though they weren’t talking out loud. Then, making sure that Tezuka’s eyes were riveted on Fuji’s fingers, Fuji gently let his fingers stray down to stroke the front of his pants.

Even though Tezuka couldn’t see it, he could guess that Fuji had a full erection judging by the way he shivered and how he threw his head back, although he never moved his fingers.

Fuji’s fingers danced across the front of his pants, stroking his erection, and Tezuka watched this greedily, feeling his own erection tighten even more in his pants. Fuji fixed Tezuka with his open, hazed eyes and mouthed a single word.

Kunimitsu. The intense longing and want in Fuji’s eyes as he mouthed that one little word was nearly enough to throw Tezuka over the edge as he gritted his teeth and told himself to wait.

The bell conveniently rang at that moment and the students stampeded out of the classroom as the teacher yelled the assignment for tonight after them. Tezuka didn’t bother to listen because he ha already completed all of the problems the teacher had named at Fuji’s house.

They were sweaty and naked, but Fuji still insisted that Tezuka rummage around on the floor for the logarithm problems and finish the last bit. So Tezuka and Fuji moved to the sofa and curled up next to each other, and Fuji helped Tezuka finish the last of the logarithm problems. Tezuka thought that he fell asleep next to Fuji after he threw the sheet of paper and his pencil down onto the floor, or maybe he didn’t, because one minute he was breathing in Fuji’s familiar scent and feeling Fuji’s hair tickle his nose, and the next minute Fuji was gently nudging him to get up and get dressed.

Tezuka slowly packed all of his books in his bag and then tugged his shirt down a little, hoping nobody would notice the conspicuous erection in the front of his pants. He watched Fuji neatly deposit the orange peel into the trash can, before Fuji practically flounced out of class and Tezuka followed suit (although Tezuka couldn’t understand how Fuji could flounce out of class with a full-on erection).

The couple walked down the hallway to the tennis locker rooms, Tezuka struggling to keep his hands off Fuji instead of slamming Fuji against a locker and taking him, right there in the hallway. Fuji smiled at everybody, as was customary, and if Tezuka noticed that they were walking slower today to the lockers than they usually did, he said nothing about it.

Tezuka and Fuji entered the locker rooms (more like Fuji waltzed in – this was disturbingly Atobe-like) when everybody else had changed and rushed out to the courts already. Kaidoh was training some new move or the other with the data-muttering Inui, whose glasses gleamed in the sunlight. Momoshiro and Echizen were playing a friendly warm up match as Takashi kept score. Only Oishi still remained in the locker rooms, lacing up his sneakers as Eiji nagged at his doubles partner from the doorway.

“Oishiii—oh, Tezuka-buchou!” Eiji cried happily. “And Fuji, nya!”

Oishi looked up. “You two are a bit late today.”

Tezuka gritted his teeth and tried to ignore his raging hard-on and the light, sensual touches Fuji was subtly giving him. “We—”

“We got held back a bit by our math teacher,” Fuji cut in smoothly, and smiled at the vice-captain. Sparkles practically flew from his face.

Tezuka nodded, playing along with Fuji. “Start the team on their warm-ups and twenty laps for everybody. We’ll be out in a second.”

Eiji moaned dismally at the thought of twenty laps, but Oishi looked at both of them curiously, an understanding spark in his eyes.

Tezuka wished Oishi would leave already so that he could kiss Fuji and do something about his erection. “Well, what are you waiting for?” Tezuka asked, a bit crossly.

Oishi nodded silently and went outside, Eiji trotting along beside him. As soon as the doubles pair disappeared from sight, Tezuka slammed the locker room door shut and securely locked it before whipping around to stare at Fuji.

Fuji smiled serenely at Tezuka. “My, my, Kunimitsu. You certainly look hungry.”

“Maybe,” Tezuka murmured, as he grabbed Fuji and pinned him against a solid wall, “I am.”

Tezuka covered Fuji’s lips with his own and the tennis tensai threw his head back so that it nearly knocked the wall and moaned into Tezuka’s questing mouth. Tezuka was ruthless today, because he was going to get what he wanted, and never mind Fuji’s little tricks. Tezuka ground their hips together, biting back a moan of his own as their erections rubbed against each other.

Fuji tasted deliciously of sweet and tangy orange juice, and as nimble fingers ran through Tezuka’s hair, Tezuka dizzily realized that Fuji’s hands smelled like orange too. Tezuka could get used to this; a citrus-smelling Fuji.

“That was a dirty trick you pulled in math class,” Tezuka hissed as he unbuttoned Fuji’s shirt and threw it off to one side.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Fuji replied innocently, although he certainly didn’t look sorry. His fingers started undoing Tezuka’s belt. “You didn’t look so comfortable yourself, either.”

There were just some unpredictable things that could happen when one dated a sadist.

“It was all your fault,” Tezuka said, his voice breathier than normal as Fuji yanked down his pants and soft fingers played with his cock.

God, this felt so good, Tezuka thought. Fuji’s smooth skin sliding against his own, hot breath in each other’s ears, soft lips mashing together, lust-ridden eyes meeting in a hot stare, and the overwhelming scent of citrus penetrating everything.

“Syuusuke,” Tezuka panted as he finally stripped Fuji of his pants and he positioned his throbbing cock at Fuji’s entrance.

“Kunimitsu,” Fuji moaned in response.

Tezuka slammed into Fuji mercilessly, and Fuji let out a piercing scream that escalated in volume as Tezuka pulled out and slammed back in.

“Kunimitsu…Kuni-kuni—ah!”

This was the way life should be, Tezuka thought. It should be full of adrenaline highs, of unpredictability, and of love…

He had all that with Fuji.

“I won’t last much longer,” Fuji gasped out. “Come with me, Tezuka.”

Tezuka silently complied, reaching down with one long-fingered hand to painstakingly stroke Fuji’s trembling cock. Fuji shuddered and their eyes met in one searing stare before Fuji cried out and threw himself over the edge, screaming “Kunimitsu, Kunimitsu!”

Fuji’s muscles clenched around Tezuka and Tezuka roared before flinging himself off the cliff with Fuji, both of them spiraling into the darkness with the cries of their names echoing around them.

“Kunimitsu!”

“Syuusuke!”

Both of them tumbled to the ground in a daze, their knees weak and unable to hold their trembling bodies up. They lay on the floor of the locker room floor for a moment, Tezuka in disbelief that they had just had sex in the locker room (again, Tezuka mentally added, not that it helped him feel any better) and Fuji smiling contentedly.

Eventually, Fuji leaned over and planted a soft kiss on Tezuka’s nose, staring serenely into his lover’s deep golden-brown eyes. “We should get dressed and clean up,” Fuji murmured. “Oishi can’t cover for us for that long.”

Tezuka barely registered Fuji’s words; instead, he wordlessly pulled on his tennis shorts and shirt. Fuji wiped up the mess their actions had made on the floor, and almost as if Tezuka had read Fuji’s mind, Tezuka handed Fuji his Seigaku jersey.

Just as Fuji was about to turn the doorknob on the locker room door and head out, Tezuka grabbed Fuji by the arm and kissed him, with no regrets and with all the passion and love and any other feeling he could manage, fitting it all into one kiss.

Fuji clutched at Tezuka’s shirt front, eagerly kissing him back, their tennis rackets bumping, until finally they both had to pull away.

“Saa…Tezuka, do you want another go?”

Tezuka stared seriously into Fuji’s eyes. “I love you, Syuusuke, no matter how sadistic your tendencies are.”

Tezuka fervently thought to himself that he would never think of eating an orange the same way again, not without the erotic imagery of Fuji’s pink tongue swiping droplets of orange juice, and the citrus taste of Fuji’s mouth just then when Tezuka had kissed him.

Fuji grinned widely, and planted a chaste, soft kiss that was everything Fuji on Tezuka’s lips. “I know, Kunimitsu. I love you too.”

Fuji opened the door and stepped out into the sunlight, beckoning for Tezuka to follow. Tezuka sighed irritably and ran a hand through his hair, before following Fuji.

“Nya! Fuji! Buchou! What took you guys so long?”

“Eh…” Tezuka struggled to find words.

“I appeared to have misplaced my shirt,” Fuji replied, as smooth as ever. “But see; now I found it.”

Eiji nodded sagely and trotted off again to resume his game with Oishi.

Fuji smiled at a few of his teammates before eventually accepting a request for a match with Takashi and following the hadokyuu use to court C. Tezuka drifted along the sidelines and watched the matches going on. Echizen was still playing Momoshiro, four games to two, although Horio was now the referee. Kaidoh and Inui had retreated to a far corner of the tennis courts, and it appeared he was trying to convince Kaidoh to drink another one of his Inui juices. Oishi and Eiji had started to play the Fuji-Takashi pair, with Katsuo as the referee.

Neither Fuji nor Tezuka noticed Echizen’s gleaming eyes watching the two of them as the freshman spun his racket thoughtfully on his finger and Momo yelled at Echizen to stop daydreaming and get back to the match.

--

Echizen wasn’t stupid or slow, but sometimes pretending he was stupid and slow led people to not be suspicious about him whenever he did something too smart or fast for his age and category. Ryoma knew that buchou and Fuji-senpai had probably been involved in a relationship involving sex for a while now, because if the rumors had any truth in them (not that Ryoma listened to gossip anyways, but when Tomoka hung around you, you kind of had to listen to gossip), buchou’s and Fuji-senpai’s relationship was bound to be an interesting one.

Kikumaru-senpai sometimes spoke of the notes buchou and Fuji-senpai would pass in class, and how Fuji-senpai would tease buchou endlessly, and buchou always tolerated it.

Ryoma had most likely had his suspicions confirmed when buchou and Fuji-senpai exited the locker room much later than everybody else, when everybody had already finished their warm-ups and customary jogging. Usually nobody questioned the two of them, because they were buchou and the tennis tensai, although Oishi sometimes shot the two of them a look mixed between curiosity and worry.

It also interested (and occasionally amused) Ryoma to carefully note that Fuji-senpai’s plays became a lot more concentrated, with more power, after these locker room stints before tennis practice. On the few occasions that Tezuka-buchou played a match or two after staying longer in the locker room with Fuji, Ryoma noted with some sadistic, perverted delight that the same higher power could be accounted to buchou (and no, Ryoma was not becoming like his father, but Oyaji was too much of a bad influence of Ryoma anyways).

Ryoma wondered if Inui was collecting data on these things, or if Ryoma was just slowly going insane.

The freshman was faintly aware of Momo slowly working into a rage on the other side of the net as Ryoma stopped for a few moments to think about this new development in the relationship between buchou and Fuji-senpai. Ryoma looked up to both of them a lot, especially buchou, and he wondered how it would affect their tennis playing.

From all that Ryoma had gathered, the sex (or assumed sex – but even for a startlingly young, innocent freshman like Ryoma, he was pretty sure it was sex) in the locker room only helped Tezuka-buchou’s and Fuji-senpai’s tennis, so Ryoma wouldn’t interfere.

Sometimes, Ryoma thought, as he bounced the ball to prepare for his serve, buchou even smiled at people and Fuji-senpai’s ever-present smile seemed to widen into a grin.

Ryoma hit the ball across to Momo in a perfect Twist Serve, and the older player gaped at Echizen and dodged the ball just in time.

“Next time, Echizen, tell me when you’re going to serve! I wasn’t ready!”

Horio didn’t seem to care. “Fifteen love!”

Ryoma readied for his next serve, and as he turned his head, he saw buchou smile (a rare, genuine, smile) and nod at Fuji, who opened his deep-blue eyes to stare longingly at Tezuka-buchou and cock his head and smile back.

Ryoma served, and as the ball bounced off the tennis court, that was when he realized, from buchou and Fuji-senpai, what love was.

It was a nice thing for buchou and Fuji-senpai to have, Ryoma thought, as he darted for the ball.

“Thirty love!”

“Very good, Echizen,” a voice murmured from behind him, and as Ryoma took out another ball for his serve, he turned around and saw Tezuka.

Ryoma pulled down his cap over his eyes and muttered “Che,” before adding as an afterthought, “Thanks, buchou.”

Tezuka didn’t appear to hear him, because when Ryoma looked up at the captain again, Tezuka was watching Fuji’s game with a far-away look in his eyes.

Ryoma bounced the ball, once, twice.

“Buchou?”

Tezuka tore his eyes away from watching Fuji’s form to look at Ryoma. “Hai?”

“Why do you smell like orange?”

-fin-

A/N: Oh god, I just realized how bad that was ;__; Well, I kind of liked Ryoma at the end. :3 
Tags: drabble, fanfiction!, prince of tennis, tezufuji
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    default userpic
  • 0 comments