A/N: God. Um. This story is crack. CRACK. Y'see, my friend and I like Ranma ½, and I promised her I'd write a story for her. Thing is, I think Ranma and Ryouga are straight as line through two points. She thinks Ranma and Ryouga are more like sine functions. This is the result of a compromise. It's also the crudest thing I've ever written, with regard to subject and language...
Physical Attraction
He was a man – a man, damn it – and no one had better tell him otherwise, save for as a joke. Born male, grew up male, is male.
And he wasn't gay. He loved girls. Sure, the ones in his life could piss him off beyond comprehension and sanity, but he loved and lusted after girls with their soft curves, plush lips, hourglass shape, and fragrance. If his cadre of female suitors were any indication, girls love him, too, and probably too much.
No, he wasn't gay, because what she and Ryouga did didn't count. Not at all. Ranma didn't think so, and neither did Ryouga. It was sexual drive, hormones, and the possession of an opposite set of genital features, simply that.
Mutual physical attraction had been there from the start. Ranma'd never admit it, but when he turned into a girl, she was completely a girl, and gifted with all the urges of one, and when she saw Ryouga, she was the one that wanted to bat her eyelashes, leer, and jump him. Ranma, for his part, had reined in any such thoughts, suppressing them. That girl wasn't him.
When Ryouga saw her, he had to rein in impulse, too – the girl was Ranma, right? Never mind that his eyes went to her ample chest and heart-shaped bottom; it was a guy in that body, a guy that he had no intention of hugging and kissing and fucking. Not at all.
When these two incongruous ideologies met, they melded and mutated.
The first incendiary spark had been awkward as hell. Ranma, tired of being hounded by the girls, had disguised himself with a splash of cold water, a wig, and a floral dress. Ryouga, like always, was horribly, horribly lost. They literally crashed into each other as they rounded the same corner from different directions, Ryouga falling on top of the pretty young woman.
Ranma, eyes closed in a wince, muttered his catchphrase, polite apologies, asking with a courteously concerned tone if Ryouga was okay. Ryouga was smitten by the unkind hand of attraction, because damn it all, he'd been too long without seeing either Akane or Akari, and this girl was being nice when most would have called him a pervert and lobbed him into the neighboring island for falling on them like that.
So on impulse, he bent over and kissed her. The girl stared at him with wide-eyed shock...
...And screamed bloody murder. As recognition dawned on Ryouga as to who the girl was, he did too.
For a month after, before Ryouga wandered off lost again, the whole of Nerima was baffled by how Ryouga and Ranma could coexist in the same district without so much as a word in banter. Some purported that it was an omen of the imminent explosion of the universe.
Fate hated the two with a passion, however, and wouldn't stop with a mere curse and a perturbing moment. Scant two months had passed before a rain-soaked and miserable Ranma – Akane had, in a furious tizzy, declared that she'd rather marry Kuno than him after Shampoo's latest escapades – stumbled into an inhabited cave. It's inhabitant was none other than Ryouga, himself in a woeful state from not being able to find his way back to Akari.
The two sat wordlessly for a few hours.
Finally, lust threw her power behind fate, curiosity joined them to make it an unholy threesome, and together, they overrode the sensibilities of the cave's unlucky occupants. Neither was sure who'd started it, but by the time they'd finished as a sticky, hot mess caked with sweat and other bodily fluids, neither cared, largely because neither wanted to think about what had transgressed, or that it even happened at all.
The second time arose just as spontaneously under similarly outstanding circumstances, and again, both discounted it. Quirk of fate, right?
Quirk of fate indeed – fate's quirk of liking to screw with the two by having them screw each other.
By the third time, they'd begun to accept that it was just something that happened, and they'd be better off not even giving it thought. After all, thought wasn't needed to duel with their tongues, to caress her breasts, to lick his manhood, to move their hips together in rhythm as they climaxed.
Ranma wasn't gay. Neither was Ryouga. There was no love between them, no roses or courtship, no standing under one umbrella or cuddling under the covers – just raw, unadulterated physical desire. She wanted him, he wanted her, they were the ones who had sex, and that was that. Ranma? He wasn't involved.
No, they were both straight. Others could call their nighttime activities, their carnal knowledge of each other, their sexual encounters – their fucking – what they will. They were not gay.
A/N: I can't see a relationship between these two any other way. The slash or yaoi fans won't like it, the het fans won't like it - I'm good either way! Flame away at this one, if you want.
The asexual authoress found writing this emetic, so excuse me while I go dry heave.