Disclaimer: If I was Konomi-sensei, then I'd devote a whole volume to just TezuFuji fluff. But alas, I'm not.
Rating: PG-13 for very very VERY clear implications of sex.
Setting: after college; Tezuka and Fuji are probably in their mid twenties.
Summary: Fuji hates sitting down to eat dinner when it's so much easier to get it another way…
Word Count: 333
Escargot.
"No."
The left corner of Fuji's smile lifted a fraction of an inch, and as Tezuka had learned over countless late-night dinners, that spelled more trouble than his normal smile did. Trouble that usually ended in the meal on the floor and two hot sweaty bodies arranged in rather compromising positions on the table. Not that he minded, but that was precisely what was wrong. Fuji had a way of making him forget about everything and everyone, except… Fuji.
Words, people, objects, rules, even tennis… All disappeared as soon as Fuji stepped into view. Which was precisely why Tezuka had banned Fuji from entering his office building during the daytime anymore.
"Try it, please?" wheedled Fuji, who slid the plate towards Tezuka again.
Tezuka stared down blankly at the nauseating medley of green and brown.
Despite whatever Fuji had said about it being a delicacy in France, Tezuka found the idea of eating snails, especially ones drenched in wasabi sauce, (Fuji insisted – "To make it more traditional and less exotic for your tastebuds.") rather… unpleasant. And he knew his stomach most definitely agreed with him.
Looking back up at Fuji's smiling face, Tezuka pushed it away once more.
"No."
Sighing in defeat, though Tezuka could clearly tell it was fake, Fuji stood and came around to his side of the table. Without warning, he plopped himself down onto Tezuka's lap. Seductive cerulean eyes stared hungrily at his former tennis captain.
"Well," murmured Fuji, voice lowered a notch. "That was all I made for dinner. So if you're hungry, then I guess…" His voiced trailed off as he leaned in to gently nip at Tezuka's neck. One hand trailed slowly down Tezuka's chest. And went lower. And lower…
Groaning, Tezuka twisted his head to catch Fuji's lip in a searing kiss as he pushed the tensai onto the table.
And when yet another meal crashed onto the pristine hardwood floor, Tezuka was far too distracted by Fuji's hand down his pants to care.
---owari---
AN: My shrine to TezuFuji in the form of drabbles. And only drabbles. Future drabbles will not be linked together unless stated at the top. This is not a drabble fic/story. It's simply where all my TezuFuji drabbles will go in.
Right now, we're having standardized testing in school. Which means oodles of free time after finishing the test, so hopefully, I'll be able to churn out a few more. And I also need to get back to work on my 30 Kisses fic…