Calling A Truce
Pairing: TezukaFuji
Rating: R
Genre: A bit of angst
Warnings: Uhm, it's R. T.T
Disclaimer: If I owned Prince of Tennis, the main characters would be Tezuka and Fuji – not Echizen.
A/N: I'm supposed to be writing a different fic. This is for Nhowy.
Calling a Truce
Tezuka forced himself to his feet when he heard the doorbell ring. The ending credits of the late-night news already began rolling and he had a pretty good idea on who could be visiting at this ill-chosen time. When he opened the door, a familiar smiling face, more tanned and bonier than he remembered, greeted him by the doorway and confirmed his guess. "Welcome back to Japan," Fuji said.
Too used to this kind of encounter, Tezuka no longer asked why Fuji came to his house at the dead of the night. Anyway, Fuji would most likely answer him in the usual cryptic fashion. Maybe somewhere along the lines of "I think I've adapted the nocturnal ways of the bats in Kitum Cave. I'm hunting my prey when the sky is at its darkest." He simply stepped aside, allowing Fuji to invite himself in. "Tea?"
Fuji shook his head. "I brought something stronger." He raised an ochre bottle with his right hand and raised a plastic bag with his left. "I brought some fruits too."
Tezuka left Fuji to wander in the living room and headed to the kitchen carrying the rather heavy plastic. He tore away the vacuum packaging and ran water on the fruits while he grabbed a couple of wineglasses. After cleaning the fruits, he sliced the apples into bite-sized pieces and dumped the lot together with grapes and cherries into a porcelain bowl. Carrying the bowl and glasses on a tray, he strode back to the living room. He found the space empty, all seats unoccupied, but a gentle breeze came into the room and brushed against his face. When he tilted his head to check, he saw that the garden door had been slid and left fully ajar. Knowing where Fuji was, he set the tray on the lacquered mahogany stump he used as a coffee-table and made his way to the garden.
Seated on the blue tiles of the edge of the koi pond, Fuji watched the fish swim up the surface and gather in a cluster to feed. He looked up when he heard footsteps and then he smiled at Tezuka. "You have more fish and," he threw a glance at the potted plants lining the base of the bamboo fences, "more bonsai too."
Tezuka, leaning against the doorframe, only nodded. Trust Fuji to remember little things like that, he thought. They had lived together in this house for a few months before they broke up two years prior.
The decision had been mutual. The new tennis year was about to begin for Tezuka and Fuji had mentioned traveling and taking photos around the world. Although they had been sure of what they felt, been certain of it for years, emotions alone could never be enough. Both felt too proud to ask for the time and companionship they wanted. To Fuji, suggesting Tezuka to retire early from his professional tennis career and climb the world's peaks instead was taboo. He knew Tezuka would break more than a shoulder if taken away from his tennis. Tezuka, on the other hand, refused to drag Fuji and tie him to a world filled with tennis and the media. Fuji always reminded him of a bird in the wild, always more beautiful in flight. But they also felt too stubborn to stay beside each other, too driven by ambition to give up their dreams. Thus, not knowing what they would be in the future, not knowing whether they'd meet again and start over or if they'd completely give up on each other, they parted ways.
"Well, where's my brandy?" Fuji asked. He rose from the pond's edge and went through the door. Tezuka suddenly felt goose-bumps run up his arm when Fuji walked past him and caused a brief skin contact. Fuji lounged on the white sofa, raising his legs, comfortable as if he were in his own home. He straightened his arm and rested it on the back cushion. As Tezuka poured the brandy into the glasses, Fuji hummed contentedly to himself. "I heard you had a marriage proposal from a French fan," Fuji said, reaching out for several pieces of grapes.
Tezuka passed Fuji a glass, his expression still the immovable stoic mask. He leaned in to sit on the armchair to Fuji's right but Fuji patted the large, unoccupied space on the sofa. He smiled, silently urging Tezuka to take up that space near him. Once Tezuka was seated, Fuji stretched his legs and perched his feet on Tezuka's lap.
It was precariously high in Tezuka's opinion; he couldn't help noticing that Fuji's ankle almost touched his crotch. He glared at Fuji who obliviously cradled the fruit bowl in his arm and popped a slice of apple into his mouth with such an innocent childish delight.
"But Frenchmen aren't your type." Fuji chuckled. He took a large swig of the brandy and smiled. The sharp curve of his lips indicated that of course he knew exactly the type of men Tezuka liked. "No other marriage proposals?"
In an attempt to steer the conversation away from the topic of marriage proposals and alluring men, Tezuka asked, "How was Africa?"
Before answering, Fuji took a piece of cherry and sucked on it. The way his lips and tongue wrapped and twirled around the cherry made Tezuka turn away. "Mount Elgon is lovely. You would have liked it," he said placidly.
Tezuka looked at Fuji but eventually wished he hadn't. Through Fuji's slightly open mouth, he could see Fuji's pink tongue move about, trying to make a knot out of the cherry stem. He swallowed the brandy that got stuck on his throat. His free hand unconsciously grasped Fuji's heel and rubbed it gently with his palm.
Fuji stuck out his tongue to remove the knotted stem. "I can develop the pictures for you," he offered. A satisfied grin marked his face, showing that the little action on Tezuka's part pleased him immensely. He replaced the bowl of fruits on the table and lounged back so that his head rested on the sofa's rolled arm.
Tezuka grunted. "Where will you go to next?" he asked. His hand kneaded Fuji's heel. When Fuji wriggled his toes, Tezuka stiffened. He wore a pair of flannel pajama bottoms, which were unfortunately thin enough that he felt the bump on Fuji's sole graze momentarily against his groin.
"Australia," Fuji sighed, releasing a deep, ragged breath. "That is if I can pull it off."
"Marsupials will be your next target then," Tezuka noted. Fuji gave him no answer. He cast his gaze on Fuji for a while. His eyes lingered on Fuji's lips before roaming on the lean torso that the fabric of the white dress shirt hardly concealed. When his eyes reached the bulge between Fuji's thighs, he gulped the rest of his brandy and placed the glass on top of the stump, his other hand running up to massage Fuji's calf.
He heard Fuji cluck his tongue so he glowered. But he had expected Fuji's reaction: a mere shrug. Fuji's smile, broad and knowing, seemed to encourage Tezuka. If Fuji kept smiling that way, Tezuka knew he would have to give in.
Despite the breakup, despite Tezuka's busy schedule, despite Fuji's jetsetter lifestyle, they've seen each other more than a handful of times over the past two years. They kept running into each other all too many times they've stopped pretending that those meetings happened by accident. Furthermore, Fuji had once pointed out, and Tezuka reminded him that he really did not have to say it, that none of those rendezvous had been a simple get-together. They always ended up on a bed in a hotel room somewhere.
Thus far, the last time they've seen each other had been more intense than the rest. A few months back, Fuji barged into Tezuka's hotel room in France and crashed into the shower room that Tezuka was using. Ignoring the jet of warm water, Fuji slammed Tezuka against the wall, knelt down and gave Tezuka a blow job that up to now entered his dreams and made him wake up feeling hot and sticky in the mornings.
"Tezuka?"
"What is it?" Tezuka asked impatiently. He had managed to scoot closer to Fuji, his hands already undoing the buttons of Fuji's shirt. He swooped down to nip at Fuji's lower lip before fully claiming Fuji's mouth.
Fuji pulled away. He arched his brows and said, "I thought the point of our breakup is to keep our hands away from each other."
But Tezuka ignored Fuji. He closed the gap between them and sucked on Fuji's tongue, so hard that Fuji felt like Tezuka wanted to suck even his throat. His head began floating in the air when Fuji's tongue pushed, twirled and fondled. He flicked his tongue everywhere inside Fuji's mouth to taste more of the brandy, the cherry and Fuji.
As they kissed, his right hand roved on Fuji's revealed skin. He drew circles around Fuji's navel and let it travel to a nipple. With the pad of his thumb, he caressed the tautening bud. Then he pinched, surprising Fuji and thoroughly enjoying the earthly moan that followed.
Fuji, however, was not daunted. He slipped a hand between them and inserted it beneath the garter of Tezuka's pajamas. At the feeling of Fuji's fingers wrapped around his cock, Tezuka stiffened. He tore his lips away from the kiss and rested his forehead against Fuji's shoulder. He bucked down each time Fuji pumped. Fuji tugged harder and picked up pace, his smile growing when he felt Tezuka's flesh shudder. Tezuka gave a last tremble and came in Fuji's hand. "Fuji, Fuji, Fuji," he whispered breathlessly against Fuji's tanned skin.
Fuji smiled like he had just won his first conquest. He wrapped his arms around Tezuka's waist and asked, "When will you start training for the Australian Open?"
"In a month," Tezuka replied huskily.
"Hmm…" Fuji hummed in thought. "Maybe I can help you train. If you'll let me, of course."
Tezuka finally looked up. Creases formed on his forehead.
"I said I want to go to Australia next, didn't I?" Fuji answered the unspoken question with a chuckle before shutting his eyes to sleep.
End
A/N: I cannot write hot fics. I try. I just can't. Anyway, see you in a week guys. I'm going to start writing this late muse now. :D