Fic (Mostly Experimental)
So some of you might remember Manifest. This is the first part of the sequel and I'm really, really worried that this is OOC, badly written and stupid. So, comments/critisizm would be much appreciated. =/ seriously, if its bad fic, just be like "omg sux" and I will totaly be cool with it. I neeeeed to know for reals. <3
Title: Pseudo
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Pairing: Niou/Yagyuu, Niou/Marui
Rating: R-ish
Summery: Niou works through his new relationship with Yagyuu and deals with the memories of the past.
Comments: This took me forever, and surely it’s a disappointing, sucky sequel. But I tried, damn it, I tried =3 Thank you all for suggesting it and challenging me.
Copyright: Definately not mine, as you can tell by the ooc ick
It was exactly thirteen months after Niou’s last relationship when Yagyuu asked him to dinner. The late afternoon air had been cool, and Niou’s shoulders twitched under his leather jacket at the question. He had wanted to growl out “About time…” but Yagyuu looked confident, a small smile across his lips, glasses reflecting in the sunset.
So Niou shrugged, hands in pockets, one hip jutted out as he watched the other through pale lashes. “Maybe.”
The smile slipped slightly and Yagyuu looked a little wary, like he was standing on the brink of uncertainty and about to fall-already falling into that black abyss. But Niou thought he was maybe thinking too much and nodded, “Yeah, sure, of course.”
And then it was okay-they both had laughed softly, leaning close, like two magnets drawn against their will. Yagyuu wanted everything right away. Waiting so long had been a slow bleed and his heart pumped painfully, wanting so much to just absorb Niou’s being. But then Niou had rolled his eyes, nudging Yagyuu’s shoulder as he asked about a time and place and he could breathe again.
Their first date was at a nice tempura place, ten minutes from Yagyuu’s house. He pulled open the door and when Niou walked through, he pressed his hand to Niou’s lower back, guiding him inside. That hand burned deep into Niou’s skin and he gritted his teeth, growing tense. To be pushed-guided like some girl, like a dependant… He almost snapped at Yagyuu, but the hand disappeared as they sat down and Yagyuu’s eyes held so many gentle secrets that Niou got over it.
They ate slowly, drawing out the conversation, never having had much to say. The food was decent and Yagyuu’s hand looked graceful as he set down his chopsticks in favor of tea.
They walked along the streets in silence, shoulders brushing, stealing glances and hiding smiles. When they reached Niou’s house, he joked about getting lucky, grinning until Yagyuu’s fingers touched his jaw and lips were upon his own. They pulled away soon after, a line pressed into Niou’s brow from glasses’ rims, a frown on Yagyuu’s lips.
“You ever done that before?”
“No.” Yagyuu replied, feeling embarrassment rise like a wave.
“Heh. Well, then…” And his glasses vanished, hands running along his shoulders. “Let’s try that again.”
It was better the second time. Yagyuu followed his lead, Niou’s mouth hot and his hands pressed against his shoulders, demanding the submission that Yagyuu was willing to give.
Yagyuu walked home alone flustered, parts of his body aflame. He resisted the urge to call Niou the moment he got home, opting to take a cold shower instead.
When he got out, dripping wet and still on fire, there was a text message on his phone; a simple “Thx”. He replied with “My pleasure,” allowing a smile to dance across his still-red lips.
Niou never really talked about Marui-barely talked to him when they had practice. Sometimes he’d open his mouth, frown with some pain Yagyuu couldn’t erase and his mouth would snap shut. Yagyuu never pried, but he wondered and watched, and tried to find things to say to smooth away Niou’s frown.
Yagyuu always said the prefect thing-if he couldn’t, he didn’t say anything at all. Sometimes, when Niou found himself alone in the locker room with Marui, or paired up for doubles training by their new coach, the silence would stretch on between them indefinitely. He’d finally just grasp Niou’s arm or shoulders and squeeze, bringing his attention back to the present. They’d go to Niou’s house and play X-box, scooting closer and closer until they ended up making out for hours.
Niou once broke Yagyuu’s glasses. He had been throwing a tennis ball in his room; enjoying the dull clunk it made as hit it the walls, disrupting Yagyuu’s studies. The ball bounced off the green-blue desk lamp and hit Yagyuu’s glasses square in the middle, snapping the frame and snapping Yagyuu’s patience.
They had their first argument since the date, bickering and snarling like old tom cats; Niou sarcastic, avoidant and insulting, Yagyuu aiming below the belt, throwing words back into Niou’s face.
The argument ended when Yagyuu apologized with a hand to his temple, and Niou backed him up against the dresser, jacking him off slowly, because Niou still didn’t say “I’m sorry.”
Yagyuu had tried to push Niou away, control slipping from his fingers just as Niou’s fingers slipped past his waist band. But he couldn’t deny the heat and the waves of pleasure that were building inside him with clever words. So he gave in, latched onto Niou’s shoulders and never looked back.
Romance and “lovey-dovey shit” never came easily to Niou when he was with Yagyuu. On the courts, he was an equal. During sultry make-outs, he was superior. But Yagyuu had a way of making him blush; making butterflies mass in his belly; making him feel like a damned sissy.
They went on a date once in early December, the first part of Niou’s birthday present. It was a cold, bitter evening. They walked together, bundled up-Niou’s cheeks flushed from the cold and a gloved hand grasping his own.
The streets were less crowed than usual and no one gave them a glance. Niou let his head fall against Yagyuu’s shoulders, his eyes drooping closed. They walked in silence until Yagyuu murmured a word of caution and Niou’s eyes snapped open. He avoided the curb, but caught sight of himself in a store window-huddled, withdrawn, docile. He tore away from Yagyuu and marched into the restaurant without a backwards glance.
He hated feeling that way. It was as if his tricks stopped working and he was caught in limbo. It was like being tossed from a window, twisting as he waited for the ground to approach so he could land on his feet. Sometimes, when Yagyuu said something particularly poetic or when he chuckled low and deep during a quite lunch hour, the ground was a long time in coming.
After a tense dinner, the dark mood pulsing through Yagyuu’s temples, they returned to Niou’s house. His parents were gone and Yagyuu walked in with a sense of foreboding. He was on unfamiliar ground, tension churning through the air.
Yagyuu hated the way his brain seemed to vanish when Niou looked at him a certain way. Niou knew which buttons to stroke, how to kiss him breathless and just when to pull away, leaving Yagyuu wanting something beyond his comprehension.
They made it to the bedroom before Yagyuu grabbed Niou by the shoulders, desperation causing his fingers to clench tightly. Niou just laughed and pushed him back against the wall. They kissed long and slow, fingers nervously tugging on clothes as they fumbled towards the bed.
Niou knew what to do, but he didn’t know Yagyuu’s body--didn’t know how far or how fast. He lost confidence as Yagyuu tried to gain some measure of some control, searching for his bearings. They fell into each other, tangling limbs, nervous and new like Niou’s first time. It was slow, and a little awkward, elbows getting in the way and flesh bruised with intensity. Yagyuu bled, and Niou couldn’t kiss away all the pain, even though he tried so hard to be careful. They both trembled and breathed deep, but some voice in the back of Niou’s mind wondered why Yagyuu didn’t laugh.
Two weeks later, Niou kicked and squirmed when he found himself on his back, Yagyuu straddling him on his immaculately clean bed, grasping wrists and holding his gaze.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Niou snapped, eyes narrowed into slits.
“I’m going to fuck you, Niou-kun. Slowly.” Yagyuu’s lips quirked slightly, drawing out Niou’s name like a caress.
Niou had watched him warily, Yagyuu no longer having glasses to dull the intensity of his eyes. But he soon relaxed and laughed, because it was okay. Yagyuu was the only person he’d let do this-the only person he wanted to trust this much since that time so long ago.
And with painful heat pushing inside him and his thoughts jumbled into the single perception of God that’s good, he didn’t have to worry about his mind playing tricks on him any more. He didn’t have to worry about seeing pink hair against his pillows or tasting sugar on his tongue.
The arguments started after three months of dates, sex and infallible tennis. Yagyuu always surprised Niou, his moods changing and flickering underneath his mask of calm. Niou was sometimes privy to Yagyuu’s inner thoughts and his bitter words or cold silences seemed like they came from a stranger. Yagyuu would sit sometimes silently during lunch, expression calm as Niou tried to start a conversation. Niou would finally curse, glaring through glasses into Yagyuu’s eyes until he was broke from his thoughts with a start. Yagyuu would say something trivial and pull out a book and Niou would lean his head on a tense shoulder, forgetting about it once class began again.
Niou, however, never surprised Yagyuu. He had gotten used to expecting the unexpected, and guessing which outburst was coming up next became simple as Niou became more and more a part of his life. They would bicker about the smallest things and Yagyuu would count the stages of anger-annoyance, sarcasm, avoidance, distraction and then defeat, or flight. Niou never stayed too long after he lost an argument. He would storm from the room to blow off some steam, back again after minutes, hands itching for contact with Yagyuu’s skin.
Sex was better and better; half angry hips and biting teeth, half soft fingers and whispering lips. Yagyuu absorbed Niou’s anger in bruises and strained nerves, wrestling for control as he made his own imprints on pale skin. Yagyuu worried less and less about control-he learned just how far he could push Niou and how to bring him back after he snapped.
“Stop that. Please.” Yagyuu’s eyebrows twitched as he leaned over his desk, physics homework un-finished.
“No...” Niou smirked, sprawled out on Yagyuu’s bed, tossing a tennis ball around the room once more.
“Stop being childish.”
“Fuck you.”
“Niou-kun, you’re acting like a child. And children do not use such language.”
“Fuck. You.”
The silences had begun again-stretching out as Yagyuu battled his frustrations and Niou slipped deeper into boredom. Niou began looking forward to arguments, saying certain things that made Yagyuu’s eyes twitch and his shoulders tense. Yagyuu let him, his anger flaring up just enough to let him forget the discontent.
“Would you like to come to dinner tonight?” Yagyuu spoke softly as if speaking to a wild animal. They had fought the day before over a doubles match against Yukimura and Renji and Yagyuu was determined to try. Fights lead less and less to passionate sex or apologies. Nearly a year after that first date, Yagyuu was determined to try just because he always tried, even when he didn’t care.
Niou lifted his eyes from his lunch, chopsticks hanging from lips. They’re eyes met for an instant and Niou looked away. There was silence for a moment and Yagyuu knew the answer before Niou even opened his mouth.
“No thanks.”
Yagyuu stopped trying. It ended as it had begun-slowly, quietly and Yagyuu relinquished control once again. He let Niou drift away-let himself drift, because this wasn’t tennis and he didn’t have to win.
Title: Pseudo
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Pairing: Niou/Yagyuu, Niou/Marui
Rating: R-ish
Summery: Niou works through his new relationship with Yagyuu and deals with the memories of the past.
Comments: This took me forever, and surely it’s a disappointing, sucky sequel. But I tried, damn it, I tried =3 Thank you all for suggesting it and challenging me.
Copyright: Definately not mine, as you can tell by the ooc ick
It was exactly thirteen months after Niou’s last relationship when Yagyuu asked him to dinner. The late afternoon air had been cool, and Niou’s shoulders twitched under his leather jacket at the question. He had wanted to growl out “About time…” but Yagyuu looked confident, a small smile across his lips, glasses reflecting in the sunset.
So Niou shrugged, hands in pockets, one hip jutted out as he watched the other through pale lashes. “Maybe.”
The smile slipped slightly and Yagyuu looked a little wary, like he was standing on the brink of uncertainty and about to fall-already falling into that black abyss. But Niou thought he was maybe thinking too much and nodded, “Yeah, sure, of course.”
And then it was okay-they both had laughed softly, leaning close, like two magnets drawn against their will. Yagyuu wanted everything right away. Waiting so long had been a slow bleed and his heart pumped painfully, wanting so much to just absorb Niou’s being. But then Niou had rolled his eyes, nudging Yagyuu’s shoulder as he asked about a time and place and he could breathe again.
Their first date was at a nice tempura place, ten minutes from Yagyuu’s house. He pulled open the door and when Niou walked through, he pressed his hand to Niou’s lower back, guiding him inside. That hand burned deep into Niou’s skin and he gritted his teeth, growing tense. To be pushed-guided like some girl, like a dependant… He almost snapped at Yagyuu, but the hand disappeared as they sat down and Yagyuu’s eyes held so many gentle secrets that Niou got over it.
They ate slowly, drawing out the conversation, never having had much to say. The food was decent and Yagyuu’s hand looked graceful as he set down his chopsticks in favor of tea.
They walked along the streets in silence, shoulders brushing, stealing glances and hiding smiles. When they reached Niou’s house, he joked about getting lucky, grinning until Yagyuu’s fingers touched his jaw and lips were upon his own. They pulled away soon after, a line pressed into Niou’s brow from glasses’ rims, a frown on Yagyuu’s lips.
“You ever done that before?”
“No.” Yagyuu replied, feeling embarrassment rise like a wave.
“Heh. Well, then…” And his glasses vanished, hands running along his shoulders. “Let’s try that again.”
It was better the second time. Yagyuu followed his lead, Niou’s mouth hot and his hands pressed against his shoulders, demanding the submission that Yagyuu was willing to give.
Yagyuu walked home alone flustered, parts of his body aflame. He resisted the urge to call Niou the moment he got home, opting to take a cold shower instead.
When he got out, dripping wet and still on fire, there was a text message on his phone; a simple “Thx”. He replied with “My pleasure,” allowing a smile to dance across his still-red lips.
Niou never really talked about Marui-barely talked to him when they had practice. Sometimes he’d open his mouth, frown with some pain Yagyuu couldn’t erase and his mouth would snap shut. Yagyuu never pried, but he wondered and watched, and tried to find things to say to smooth away Niou’s frown.
Yagyuu always said the prefect thing-if he couldn’t, he didn’t say anything at all. Sometimes, when Niou found himself alone in the locker room with Marui, or paired up for doubles training by their new coach, the silence would stretch on between them indefinitely. He’d finally just grasp Niou’s arm or shoulders and squeeze, bringing his attention back to the present. They’d go to Niou’s house and play X-box, scooting closer and closer until they ended up making out for hours.
Niou once broke Yagyuu’s glasses. He had been throwing a tennis ball in his room; enjoying the dull clunk it made as hit it the walls, disrupting Yagyuu’s studies. The ball bounced off the green-blue desk lamp and hit Yagyuu’s glasses square in the middle, snapping the frame and snapping Yagyuu’s patience.
They had their first argument since the date, bickering and snarling like old tom cats; Niou sarcastic, avoidant and insulting, Yagyuu aiming below the belt, throwing words back into Niou’s face.
The argument ended when Yagyuu apologized with a hand to his temple, and Niou backed him up against the dresser, jacking him off slowly, because Niou still didn’t say “I’m sorry.”
Yagyuu had tried to push Niou away, control slipping from his fingers just as Niou’s fingers slipped past his waist band. But he couldn’t deny the heat and the waves of pleasure that were building inside him with clever words. So he gave in, latched onto Niou’s shoulders and never looked back.
Romance and “lovey-dovey shit” never came easily to Niou when he was with Yagyuu. On the courts, he was an equal. During sultry make-outs, he was superior. But Yagyuu had a way of making him blush; making butterflies mass in his belly; making him feel like a damned sissy.
They went on a date once in early December, the first part of Niou’s birthday present. It was a cold, bitter evening. They walked together, bundled up-Niou’s cheeks flushed from the cold and a gloved hand grasping his own.
The streets were less crowed than usual and no one gave them a glance. Niou let his head fall against Yagyuu’s shoulders, his eyes drooping closed. They walked in silence until Yagyuu murmured a word of caution and Niou’s eyes snapped open. He avoided the curb, but caught sight of himself in a store window-huddled, withdrawn, docile. He tore away from Yagyuu and marched into the restaurant without a backwards glance.
He hated feeling that way. It was as if his tricks stopped working and he was caught in limbo. It was like being tossed from a window, twisting as he waited for the ground to approach so he could land on his feet. Sometimes, when Yagyuu said something particularly poetic or when he chuckled low and deep during a quite lunch hour, the ground was a long time in coming.
After a tense dinner, the dark mood pulsing through Yagyuu’s temples, they returned to Niou’s house. His parents were gone and Yagyuu walked in with a sense of foreboding. He was on unfamiliar ground, tension churning through the air.
Yagyuu hated the way his brain seemed to vanish when Niou looked at him a certain way. Niou knew which buttons to stroke, how to kiss him breathless and just when to pull away, leaving Yagyuu wanting something beyond his comprehension.
They made it to the bedroom before Yagyuu grabbed Niou by the shoulders, desperation causing his fingers to clench tightly. Niou just laughed and pushed him back against the wall. They kissed long and slow, fingers nervously tugging on clothes as they fumbled towards the bed.
Niou knew what to do, but he didn’t know Yagyuu’s body--didn’t know how far or how fast. He lost confidence as Yagyuu tried to gain some measure of some control, searching for his bearings. They fell into each other, tangling limbs, nervous and new like Niou’s first time. It was slow, and a little awkward, elbows getting in the way and flesh bruised with intensity. Yagyuu bled, and Niou couldn’t kiss away all the pain, even though he tried so hard to be careful. They both trembled and breathed deep, but some voice in the back of Niou’s mind wondered why Yagyuu didn’t laugh.
Two weeks later, Niou kicked and squirmed when he found himself on his back, Yagyuu straddling him on his immaculately clean bed, grasping wrists and holding his gaze.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Niou snapped, eyes narrowed into slits.
“I’m going to fuck you, Niou-kun. Slowly.” Yagyuu’s lips quirked slightly, drawing out Niou’s name like a caress.
Niou had watched him warily, Yagyuu no longer having glasses to dull the intensity of his eyes. But he soon relaxed and laughed, because it was okay. Yagyuu was the only person he’d let do this-the only person he wanted to trust this much since that time so long ago.
And with painful heat pushing inside him and his thoughts jumbled into the single perception of God that’s good, he didn’t have to worry about his mind playing tricks on him any more. He didn’t have to worry about seeing pink hair against his pillows or tasting sugar on his tongue.
The arguments started after three months of dates, sex and infallible tennis. Yagyuu always surprised Niou, his moods changing and flickering underneath his mask of calm. Niou was sometimes privy to Yagyuu’s inner thoughts and his bitter words or cold silences seemed like they came from a stranger. Yagyuu would sit sometimes silently during lunch, expression calm as Niou tried to start a conversation. Niou would finally curse, glaring through glasses into Yagyuu’s eyes until he was broke from his thoughts with a start. Yagyuu would say something trivial and pull out a book and Niou would lean his head on a tense shoulder, forgetting about it once class began again.
Niou, however, never surprised Yagyuu. He had gotten used to expecting the unexpected, and guessing which outburst was coming up next became simple as Niou became more and more a part of his life. They would bicker about the smallest things and Yagyuu would count the stages of anger-annoyance, sarcasm, avoidance, distraction and then defeat, or flight. Niou never stayed too long after he lost an argument. He would storm from the room to blow off some steam, back again after minutes, hands itching for contact with Yagyuu’s skin.
Sex was better and better; half angry hips and biting teeth, half soft fingers and whispering lips. Yagyuu absorbed Niou’s anger in bruises and strained nerves, wrestling for control as he made his own imprints on pale skin. Yagyuu worried less and less about control-he learned just how far he could push Niou and how to bring him back after he snapped.
“Stop that. Please.” Yagyuu’s eyebrows twitched as he leaned over his desk, physics homework un-finished.
“No...” Niou smirked, sprawled out on Yagyuu’s bed, tossing a tennis ball around the room once more.
“Stop being childish.”
“Fuck you.”
“Niou-kun, you’re acting like a child. And children do not use such language.”
“Fuck. You.”
The silences had begun again-stretching out as Yagyuu battled his frustrations and Niou slipped deeper into boredom. Niou began looking forward to arguments, saying certain things that made Yagyuu’s eyes twitch and his shoulders tense. Yagyuu let him, his anger flaring up just enough to let him forget the discontent.
“Would you like to come to dinner tonight?” Yagyuu spoke softly as if speaking to a wild animal. They had fought the day before over a doubles match against Yukimura and Renji and Yagyuu was determined to try. Fights lead less and less to passionate sex or apologies. Nearly a year after that first date, Yagyuu was determined to try just because he always tried, even when he didn’t care.
Niou lifted his eyes from his lunch, chopsticks hanging from lips. They’re eyes met for an instant and Niou looked away. There was silence for a moment and Yagyuu knew the answer before Niou even opened his mouth.
“No thanks.”
Yagyuu stopped trying. It ended as it had begun-slowly, quietly and Yagyuu relinquished control once again. He let Niou drift away-let himself drift, because this wasn’t tennis and he didn’t have to win.