Disclaimer: Not mine.
Warnings: shounen-ai, light kissing, Thrill Pair (Ryoma/Fuji S.)
Prompt: Thrill Pair with Ryoma as seme.
A/N: Title says "Flipped" if you were too lazy to turn your screen. Anyway, this has been sitting for a while and it's not too great but it's... here, right? That has to count for something, no?
Dedicated to ImperialPairFanatic! (Gift fic for the 600 review marker on EDAH.)
Fuji Syusuke was a constant surprise. He looked gentle and fragile, almost feminine: He was incredibly strong despite his lithe look. He looked kind and caring: Many people who knew him well could attest to his sadistic qualities. When thought of in a relationship, these qualities could only point to one place: he led, always. Which had been true. Until a certain cap-wearing freshman had come along.
"Fuji-senpai," the voice said, delectably delicate on the surface with a rougher, more weighty tone underneath.
"Saa Echizen?" Fuji responded, turning around. He had expected to find the boy standing there looking less than smug and more than somewhat nervous, as everyone else who had ever approached him this way had. Instead what he found was an overly smug Echizen Ryoma; despite the fact that his cap was pulled down, hiding his eyes from view, Fuji knew just how deeply Echizen was staring at him.
And then Fuji couldn't move – he was frozen on the spot, no way to escape. His own cerulean eyes were met by two very sharp, hazel ones, which rooted him to in place. Before he could even attempt to collect his bearings the younger boy closed in on him; like a python on its prey, the young prodigy's gaze was the sweet poison that was numbing him slowly as he suffocated in the already stifling heat of the club room.
Then Echizen moved in for the kill. Despite the fact that he was at least eighteen centimeters – a full seven inches – shorter, the freshman still managed to pin him mentally until he could do so physically.
"Fuji-senpai," he said again, the older boy pushed up against the back wall of the clubroom, hidden from view by the shelf of shoe lockers. Fuji did not even have time to respond, or even think, because Echizen had pulled himself up and pulled Fuji down so that their faces were nearly touching, the younger boy's hot breath tickling his face and neck.
"Echizen," he said again, voice nothing more than a hoarse whisper that sounded all the more flimsy, fading away and drowned out by the humming of the overhead fan and the voices calling from the nearby tennis courts. His façade was hopelessly down now, and Echizen knew it – he knew that he could do anything he wanted to or with his senpai and Fuji would comply, because Fuji couldn't not comply.
And their lips met and they were kissing and it was like flying and falling and everything and nothing and Fuji didn't mind the assault – had forgotten it, really – because it all seemed so meaningless now that he was exactly where he had pictured himself, even if not by his own means, and that was good enough for him.
Gradually the pressure on the tensai's lips increased, and a tongue darted out of Echizen's mouth, pressing gently against Fuji's in hopes of being granted access. Fuji didn't comply right away, still unsteady and not enjoying the fact that he was in no way in control of the situation, but as Echizen lightly traced the curves of his lips with his tongue, Fuji couldn't not let him in. Carefully the younger boy entered his mouth, tracing the older boy's lips once more before smoothing over his perfect teeth and delving in, exploring the contours of Fuji's mouth.
Small hands worn with calluses from years of tennis moved up Fuji's back, feeling through flimsy blue and white fabric then slipping under. One settled firmly on the tensai's hip and the other skimmed up the front, leaving feather light touches across the toned muscles. Fuji felt the fingers skirt over his body, not enough pressure for the touch to be anything more than annoyingly teasing.
Then without warning Echizen broke away, for air or simply because his ankles hurt from standing in such an awkward position, though he continued to keep contact with those gorgeous cerulean orbs, making sure that he still had the upper hand. Fuji was still somewhat stunned, the time he had needed to collect his bearings thrown off by the kiss, and the kiss unlike anything he had ever really had – which was enough to throw him off of his game right then and there. (Because, quite frankly, he led: he always led, or always had, and so having him be the one kissed, him ending up being the puppet who was turning to putty, that was something strange – a different and… oddly enjoyable experience, he had to admit.)
"Thanks," the boy said simply.
And with that he slung his jacket over his shoulder, his hips swaying as he swaggered off.
Ending A/N: Reviews and critique appreciated, because Seigaku isn't quite my forte. -_-" Sorry for the not-quite-so-great-ness of it, hope you found it suitable anyway?