In the summer it had been admittedly awkward at first, what with them both calling out someone else's name and everything. Near the end of summer, with only a month left, Sanada hadn't been able to stop himself. He had called Tezuka's name, Not Yukimura's, when he'd found release. And Tezuka had called Fuji's. That had caused a long moment of supreme awkwardness, to say the least. Sanada had wanted Tezuka to hear him out and as it'd been clearly killing Sanada, Tezuka had complied. And it'd been worth it.
"I thought you liked Yukimura," Tezuka had blurted out when Sanada had explained, twitching slightly, that he'd started liking Tezuka instead.
"Do you still like Fuji?" Sanada had asked, scared in a way he'd never felt before.
"No." Tezuka had invited Sanada over to his house to spend the night. His parents had been gone for the weekend and Tezuka had gotten the house all to himself. That night, Tezuka had showed Sanada precisely how over the tensai he was. That'd been the night Tezuka had lost his virginity. He and Sanada had fooled around before then, but nothing other than a blow job. Tezuka had never been penetrated by someone else, which had turned Sanada on more than he'd been able to express. Tezuka had told him later that he'd done a pretty good job; it hadn't been too painful. But more importantly, Tezuka hadn't thought he was being reckless. He hadn't regretted having his first time be Sanada, not with someone who shared the same insane work and moral ethic he did.
Sanada had known he was done for the first time he'd heard Tezuka's voice rasping and calling out a heated, "Genichirou". Not Fuji. His name. And he planned to keep it that way. Tezuka was his now, and Sanada knew he would fight to keep Seigaku's Buchou. It was an improbable love they shared, but between the two of them, anything was possible. Anything indeed, considering the fact that not long after they became a couple, Sanada beat Yukimura Seiichi in a match 7-6.
*
After a fitful round of sex in which Tezuka had been slightly more aggressive than usual, Sanada rolled over to look at his lover.
"What's wrong?" Sanada asked plainly.
Tezuka knew there was no beating around the bush. "It's Fuji," Tezuka sighed. He was careful to use Fuji's last name.
"Talk to him," Sanada advised. He adjusted the sheet so it covered up to his waist.
"I plan to during tomorrow's practice." Tezuka then laughed at Sanada's modesty. He wasn't wearing his glasses and looked a good deal younger. A little less knowing, a little more naïve. But still dignified.
Sanada had always held a sort of fascination with Tezuka. Prideful, strong, and decidedly masculine. Before Tezuka, Sanada had never thought of a man as beautiful, other than Yukimura, and that was different. Tezuka and Yukimura, for all their fire and talent, were different. Beneath Yukimura's mask was more fire and bitterness. And probably something more, but even Sanada was privy to that. Beneath Tezuka's was the kind heart of a boy who knew that his stoic façade was his best offense as well as defense. Sanada had been pleased to find that Tezuka really wasn't as scary as he seemed to be. But maybe he would keep that to himself. No one else had to know how gorgeous Tezuka looked without his glasses, or how hot his blood ran under the taught, toned skin. No, that would be their little secret.