[Dirty Old Man] [Nanjirou/Fuji - PoT] [#21] [NC-17]
title: Dirty Old Man
artist/author:
gottis_chan
theme: #21. voyeurism & masturbation
rating; NC17.
Warnings: Slight shota, Man/Teenager, slight het (Lolita) hinting at the beginning
disclaimer/claimer: Prince of Tennis and all it’s characters belong to Konomi Takeshi and others, not me.
author's/artist's notes and/or summary: Nanjirou watches Fuji in the showers. This is meant to be part 1 in a series, where each theme is one chapter. Do enjoy! ^.^
“I’m glad you’re doing this”, Ryuzaki Sumire mumbled as she looked up from the bed, her nose red and almost double it’s original size. The middle aged man at her side flashed grin and patted her on the arm, shaking his head.
“Don’t worry about it”, Echizen Nanjirou said. “Just remember that you owe me one, old bag.” With that he walked away from the woman’s bed and made it outside. Sumire’s grand daughter Sakuno sat crouched over by some flowers, apparently she was tending to them. Nanjirou stopped for a second, admiring her beautiful long hair and legs. She had a pert little behind that could be hinted at underneath her skirt. Delicious little thing…
“I’ll be off now, Ryuzaki-chan”, the man called out and the little girl got to her feet, smiling shyly.
“Oh, I see. Did you… Did you agree to coach the tennis team while grandmother is sick, Echizen-san?”
“Sure did. I’ll see you later.” He waved and made his way towards his car.
On the drive home he couldn’t help but think a little. Sumire had come down with an awful cold and after debating with herself she had called him for help. He actually didn’t mind helping out, all though he figured that his son would have lots and lots of objections, but part of the reason Sumire had finally called him was that all though he was known as a lecher, he had never once hinted at being interested in boys. Sure, he complained that Ryoma wasn’t cute enough, but Sumire had never heard that, and Ryoma himself thought that his father was only teasing him, like he usually did. What the two of them thought was that he only liked to look at young girls and women; boys were safe from him.
That was not entirely true however. He did like young boys. Not the overly masculine kind, like Tezuka or Inui, but if they were small enough or effeminate enough, he had no trouble checking them out. And boys had another thing going for them that Nanjirou couldn’t help but appreciate: They couldn’t get pregnant so they were easier to bed than girls. And the thought of him coaching an entire club of young boys in their early teens made him almost painfully hard. He decided he would try and single one of them out so that he didn’t lose his focus completely and then concentrate on that boy alone. He already knew which one of them he would choose…
***
After giving the club members their instructions, Nanjirou studied the Seigaku tennis team as the boys stood lined up in front of him. Inui stood perfectly still, his eyes invisible behind his square glasses, but Nanjirou got the feeling he was studying him closely. Oishi looked slightly worried, he was probably thinking about Sumire and how she was doing. Tezuka looked stoic as ever. Kikumaru fidgeted, unable to stand still, either scratching himself behind his head, on his arm, or shifted his weight from one foot to another. Nanjirou mused silently at that; he was a cutie, wasn’t he? Kawamura waited patiently for his instructions, Momoshiro waited too, less patiently. Kaidou looked like he really wanted to get going, giving Nanjirou a cold glare from underneath his bangs, and Ryoma really looked like he wanted to be somewhere else, his face almost completely hidden underneath his cap.
And then there was Fuji.
It was all Nanjirou could do to keep from licking his lips in anticipation. The boy stood straight, his face wearing the smile Nanjirou had almost never seen him without, thin strands of honey brown hair flowing in front of his delicate face in the gentle breeze. His lips were thin, but not too thin, and were pink and inviting. Thin arms poked out from his t-shirt and slender hands held the racket firmly. Nanjirou could only imagine those hands wrapped around himself instead, those pink lips underneath his own, claiming, owning, possessing.
The truth was that he had lusted after the young tensai for months now and he had since long decided that he would do something about that, before it was too late, before the school year was over and the third years would move away towards new horizons. This opportunity presented to him was too good to pass up and he would damn well make the best of it, since they were already well into September; time was running short. He would bed the boy, would make him his, would be the supreme ruler of his life.
The thoughts that came to his mind when he thought about Fuji Syusuke still frightened him; they were dark, far too dark, and promised nothing good for the boy. Nanjirou himself had never labeled himself a sadist, never thought of himself as a rapist, quite the contrary, he detested people who abused women with a passion, but the thoughts that came to him as he watched the tensai couldn’t be described as anything else but evil.
He shook his head and tried to focus on the now. He said a few words to the boys, instructed them and then walked over to the fence, picking up one of his magazines and flipped idly through it, while keeping his attention on the practicing boys around him.
***
Practice was over and the boys hurried towards the locker rooms. A couple of them stayed behind to clean up the courts; one of them was Fuji Syusuke. Why? Because Nanjirou had asked him, in a completely friendly matter, to help out to keep one of the first years off it, since the boy had tripped and sprained his ankle. He felt sorry for the little first year, but this was an opportunity he wouldn’t pass up. He approached Fuji with a big grin on his face as he said:
“Great performance today, as always, right, Fuji-kun?”
The boy looked up; smile still in place, then made a grateful nod. “Thank you so much, Echizen-sensei.”
“It’s great to see that you’re all still serious about this, even after the nationals are over you know? It’s always nice to watch people who are passionate about certain things in life.” He grinned widened and he clamped down with his hand on Fuji’s shoulder, feeling soft flesh and hard, yet fragile bone underneath his touch.
Was it his imagination, or did the boy’s smile turn a tiny bit strained? Not that it mattered. He removed his hand and walked back towards his own bag, giving the boy one final grin.
Not long after the few remaining club members began to drop off, making their way towards the showers. Nanjirou wished them all a good night and that he would see them tomorrow. He took his own time, gathering up his things, before he took a deep breath, making his way towards the showers. He knew a secret passage where he could have a full view of the showers while being hidden from plain view; he had found the place when he was a student at Seigaku and he had used it to his heart’s content back then. It was time to start using it again, oh yes it was…
The middle aged man arrived at the spot and peeked out through the little hole someone before him had drilled through the wall. He searched the shower room and sucked in his breath as his eyes fell upon the lithe figure that stepped inside, turning the shower on.
Fuji was beautiful; soft, light skin and well honed muscles that worked underneath as he moved. He had a few cuts and scrapes here and there, probably from practice, but they did nothing to make him less attractive in Nanjirou’s eyes. He moved with an almost elven grace, and as he reached out to turn the water on, Nanjirou could only imagine that very same hand on his cock, gently touching it, stroking it, making him hard and ready…
“Time for a solo show just for me, Fujiko-chan…”
He felt extremely dirty, like he had finally reverted into the dirty old man everyone thought that he was - he wasn’t, really, he had never actually done anything and therefore he wasn’t a dirty old man, not from Nanjirou’s point of view anyway. Smirking to himself he picked himself out from his pants, stroking his already semi hard cock as he watched the water that flowed down the young boy’s body.
Fuji apparently liked to enjoy himself in the shower. The boy touched himself all over the body, slow, sensual movements, fingertips touching gleaming skin on the arms, the torso, the face, his legs and back to his arms. Nanjirou’s eyes followed intensely, drinking the sight like a wanderer lost in the desert, finding an oasis after days of wandering.
The boy picked up a bottle of shampoo and began to work it into his hair. Nanjirou still watched, watched the hands working, watched the muscles in the back stretch, watched how the beautiful buttocks wriggled as Fuji shifted his feet a little. Nanjirou watched and worked his hand quickly up and down his cock, pulling it, toying with the glans, gently applying pressure with his thumb onto the weeping head. He imagined; imagined that lithe body underneath him, imagined that it was his own hands that roamed over that adolescent body, teasing, touching, twisting, teaching… Fuji’s own cock was small, typically Asian really, and very cute. Nanjirou wanted to feel it, touch it, suck it… He would be able to fit most of it into his mouth without even deep throating he figured. Maybe it would taste sweet… Fresh. Youthful…
Fuji rinsed the shampoo from his hair and applied some conditioner instead, then went ahead to put some shower gel into the palm of his hand, rubbed his hands together and then began to rub his lathered hands over his body. Watching this brought Nanjirou closer and closer to a release, he could feel the juices rise from his balls and as Fuji went ahead to wash himself in his lower regions, crotch and ass, Nanjirou felt himself explode. Thick jets of semen spewed all over the wall, where stains of previous visitors were quite visible. The man moaned and leaned his head against the wall, panting hard. Gorgeous, just gorgeous. And the boy would be his, he was dead certain now. It was only a matter of time…