Hakugei [R; Fuji/Oshitari]
Title: Hakugei
Author: worblehat
Genre: Prince of Tennis
Pairing: Fuji/Oshitari
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Konomi owns all this.
Summary: Everyone has their own talents.
Word Count: 385
There are some things Fuji does better than Oshitari. On the courts, both hold back a little bit - for different reasons, but their composure is the same. Oshitari pushes up his glasses and Fuji smiles, but it is the same thing: talent hidden until necessity prods it forward. Oshitari doesn't think himself fancy and maybe Fuji doesn't either - he never thinks to ask. They don't share a lot of words between them, Fuji preferring to be quick, his lips insistent and hard, pressing his mouth against Oshitari's. It's tricky to find places at the tournaments, but Fuji doesn't seem to care and Oshitari can't pretend to either. Fuji's body pressed against his makes being found out almost entirely irrelevant. He's never pegged Fuji as being bold or rash, but almost every time they meet is rushed or hurried in some way. Maybe that's what makes it better. Oshitari's blood pumps faster and his teeth bite harder and Fuji feels warm when he shifts one leg between Oshitari's.
They don't fuck but they touch, everywhere, as much as they can. Oshitari hasn't asked and Fuji hasn't offered and maybe that's better. He's heard already that Fuji lives for the thrill in tennis; it seems safe to assume he does this in other aspects as well. Oshitari doesn't care for thrill but he likes Fuji and the way it feels pressed against his. He likes the moans and the high voice at his ear, the tongue on his neck and the hand slipping beneath his tennis shorts. Sometimes their skin touches and Fuji's cock slides on his, hard and blunt; and they come, spilling onto each other's bodies.
And sometimes he drops to his knees, and sometimes Fuji does, wrapping lips, tongue and teeth around hard flesh, sucking deep until warm spurts flow down respective throats. Sometimes Fuji calls his name and other times he doesn't. Oshitari keeps track; it's a fifty-fifty split.
No matter the percentage, Fuji is definitely better with his tongue - at licking and finding the spots that make Oshitari's hands clench, his whole body expectant. He's better at making Oshitari weak.
It doesn't matter. There are always going to be things other people do better than him, Oshitari knows. But as long as it works to his advantage...
He doesn't really care.
Author: worblehat
Genre: Prince of Tennis
Pairing: Fuji/Oshitari
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Konomi owns all this.
Summary: Everyone has their own talents.
Word Count: 385
There are some things Fuji does better than Oshitari. On the courts, both hold back a little bit - for different reasons, but their composure is the same. Oshitari pushes up his glasses and Fuji smiles, but it is the same thing: talent hidden until necessity prods it forward. Oshitari doesn't think himself fancy and maybe Fuji doesn't either - he never thinks to ask. They don't share a lot of words between them, Fuji preferring to be quick, his lips insistent and hard, pressing his mouth against Oshitari's. It's tricky to find places at the tournaments, but Fuji doesn't seem to care and Oshitari can't pretend to either. Fuji's body pressed against his makes being found out almost entirely irrelevant. He's never pegged Fuji as being bold or rash, but almost every time they meet is rushed or hurried in some way. Maybe that's what makes it better. Oshitari's blood pumps faster and his teeth bite harder and Fuji feels warm when he shifts one leg between Oshitari's.
They don't fuck but they touch, everywhere, as much as they can. Oshitari hasn't asked and Fuji hasn't offered and maybe that's better. He's heard already that Fuji lives for the thrill in tennis; it seems safe to assume he does this in other aspects as well. Oshitari doesn't care for thrill but he likes Fuji and the way it feels pressed against his. He likes the moans and the high voice at his ear, the tongue on his neck and the hand slipping beneath his tennis shorts. Sometimes their skin touches and Fuji's cock slides on his, hard and blunt; and they come, spilling onto each other's bodies.
And sometimes he drops to his knees, and sometimes Fuji does, wrapping lips, tongue and teeth around hard flesh, sucking deep until warm spurts flow down respective throats. Sometimes Fuji calls his name and other times he doesn't. Oshitari keeps track; it's a fifty-fifty split.
No matter the percentage, Fuji is definitely better with his tongue - at licking and finding the spots that make Oshitari's hands clench, his whole body expectant. He's better at making Oshitari weak.
It doesn't matter. There are always going to be things other people do better than him, Oshitari knows. But as long as it works to his advantage...
He doesn't really care.