PoT Fic: Point C, Fuji/Kaidoh
Good job, Garland.
Point C by Halrloprillalar / prillalar
Prince of Tennis, Fuji/Kaidoh, R, 800 words.
Fuji didn't mean for it to happen.
Fuji didn't mean for it to happen. Afterward he tried to trace the path of the events, but there wasn't really much to trace. Point A to point B to point C, plain as day and straight as any number of straight things. Like a ruler. Or Momoshiro.
Fuji didn't mean to be sitting next to Kaidoh on the bus, on the way to the post-Nationals pre-Good Will Games training camp. But there was a jostle in the aisle and Eiji's bag of snacks hit him in the head and he ducked down and found himself next to Kaidoh, who nodded to him while looking at the floor, and stared out the window for the rest of the trip, jaw clenching slightly and hair falling over the collar of his school uniform. The skin of his cheek looked so smooth, Fuji wanted to touch it.
Fuji didn't mean to be staring at Kaidoh as he ran around the court, hitting his buggy whip shot and hardly sweating under the hot sun. But there was something that drew Fuji's eye, Kaidoh's determination or skill or the movement of the muscles in his legs. Whatever it was, it made Fuji light-headed and weak-kneed and so far from his usual Point A that he could only stare longer and harder and wonder if this was what happened to everyone at fourteen.
Fuji didn't mean to corner Kaidoh in his room, backing him against the wall, but that was a lie. He completely meant to. "Senpai," Kaidoh said, his face flushed and nervous, and that was what Fuji shouldn't have done, but he did. Kaidoh was bigger and stronger, but three months gave Fuji the advantage and he took it, took it all. "Kaidoh," he said, and made his voice as sweet as he knew how, as close and warm as a whole basketful of kittens, and put his hand just where his fingers could slip under the edge of Kaidoh's tank top. "You don't mind, do you?"
Fuji didn't know exactly what to do, but he did it anyhow, leaned up onto his toes, pressed his mouth against Kaidoh's mouth, let his fingers slide further under Kaidoh's shirt. The kiss was damp and soft and something was falling through Fuji, heavy and hot, coming to rest deep in his belly and giving him one hell of a hard-on. "Okay?" he said, pressing closer, because that was what he wanted, his body stretched tight to Kaidoh's, because it made him feel so good. "Okay?"
Kaidoh knew what to do. His whole body tensed, still and frozen, while he breathed against Fuji's mouth. And then he kissed Fuji, sucking at Fuji's lower lip, opening his mouth, putting his arms around Fuji's waist. And Fuji felt it all: the determination and the skill and all the muscles in Kaidoh's body, moving against Fuji, wrapping around him.
Fuji didn't know there were things he didn't know, things someone else could teach him. He watched Kaidoh's closed eyelids, opened his mouth around Kaidoh's tongue, tried to work out where to put his hands. But his hands wouldn't stay in one place, so that was moot anyhow.
There was something almost frightening in Kaidoh, which Fuji should have known from watching him play tennis, but he didn't plan this far ahead and now this thing that was both of them kissing in Kaidoh's room was out of control, like a shopping cart rolling downhill, picking up speed, and how could Fuji stop it? Why would he want to stop it?
Kaidoh pulled them both down onto the bed and Fuji fell underneath, pressing back up against the moving weight of Kaidoh's body, still watching Kaidoh's face, but seeing less as he felt more. Kaidoh rolled sideways and fumbled at the front of Fuji's warm up pants. Then he stopped, fingers inside the elastic and mouth still against Fuji's neck.
Fuji could see, with maybe 14% of his brain, a line dividing his life in two: before and after. After was probably better. "Yes," he said, in Kaidoh's ear, "go on," and tried to smile but his mouth wouldn't go that way anymore.
Kaidoh's hand slipped down the front of Fuji's pants and his fingers wrapped around Fuji's dick and Fuji thought he would choke on the sensation that curled up through him, and it wasn't long until he did, choke and die and come back to life. It was the slippery jizz that made him believe that this was real. "Sorry," Kaidoh said, and wiped his fingers on the sheet.
Fuji took three deep breaths and reached for Kaidoh, turn about was fair play and he always was a quick study. But Kaidoh rolled over, back to Fuji, pulling up his knees, and pressing his face into the quilt. "Kaidoh," Fuji said, and put his hand on Kaidoh's cheek. The skin was very smooth. Kaidoh's shoulders began to tremble.
Fuji sat up in the bed, stroked Kaidoh's hair, and wondered what he was going to say to Inui.
-fin-
Point C by Halrloprillalar / prillalar
Prince of Tennis, Fuji/Kaidoh, R, 800 words.
Fuji didn't mean for it to happen.
Fuji didn't mean for it to happen. Afterward he tried to trace the path of the events, but there wasn't really much to trace. Point A to point B to point C, plain as day and straight as any number of straight things. Like a ruler. Or Momoshiro.
Fuji didn't mean to be sitting next to Kaidoh on the bus, on the way to the post-Nationals pre-Good Will Games training camp. But there was a jostle in the aisle and Eiji's bag of snacks hit him in the head and he ducked down and found himself next to Kaidoh, who nodded to him while looking at the floor, and stared out the window for the rest of the trip, jaw clenching slightly and hair falling over the collar of his school uniform. The skin of his cheek looked so smooth, Fuji wanted to touch it.
Fuji didn't mean to be staring at Kaidoh as he ran around the court, hitting his buggy whip shot and hardly sweating under the hot sun. But there was something that drew Fuji's eye, Kaidoh's determination or skill or the movement of the muscles in his legs. Whatever it was, it made Fuji light-headed and weak-kneed and so far from his usual Point A that he could only stare longer and harder and wonder if this was what happened to everyone at fourteen.
Fuji didn't mean to corner Kaidoh in his room, backing him against the wall, but that was a lie. He completely meant to. "Senpai," Kaidoh said, his face flushed and nervous, and that was what Fuji shouldn't have done, but he did. Kaidoh was bigger and stronger, but three months gave Fuji the advantage and he took it, took it all. "Kaidoh," he said, and made his voice as sweet as he knew how, as close and warm as a whole basketful of kittens, and put his hand just where his fingers could slip under the edge of Kaidoh's tank top. "You don't mind, do you?"
Fuji didn't know exactly what to do, but he did it anyhow, leaned up onto his toes, pressed his mouth against Kaidoh's mouth, let his fingers slide further under Kaidoh's shirt. The kiss was damp and soft and something was falling through Fuji, heavy and hot, coming to rest deep in his belly and giving him one hell of a hard-on. "Okay?" he said, pressing closer, because that was what he wanted, his body stretched tight to Kaidoh's, because it made him feel so good. "Okay?"
Kaidoh knew what to do. His whole body tensed, still and frozen, while he breathed against Fuji's mouth. And then he kissed Fuji, sucking at Fuji's lower lip, opening his mouth, putting his arms around Fuji's waist. And Fuji felt it all: the determination and the skill and all the muscles in Kaidoh's body, moving against Fuji, wrapping around him.
Fuji didn't know there were things he didn't know, things someone else could teach him. He watched Kaidoh's closed eyelids, opened his mouth around Kaidoh's tongue, tried to work out where to put his hands. But his hands wouldn't stay in one place, so that was moot anyhow.
There was something almost frightening in Kaidoh, which Fuji should have known from watching him play tennis, but he didn't plan this far ahead and now this thing that was both of them kissing in Kaidoh's room was out of control, like a shopping cart rolling downhill, picking up speed, and how could Fuji stop it? Why would he want to stop it?
Kaidoh pulled them both down onto the bed and Fuji fell underneath, pressing back up against the moving weight of Kaidoh's body, still watching Kaidoh's face, but seeing less as he felt more. Kaidoh rolled sideways and fumbled at the front of Fuji's warm up pants. Then he stopped, fingers inside the elastic and mouth still against Fuji's neck.
Fuji could see, with maybe 14% of his brain, a line dividing his life in two: before and after. After was probably better. "Yes," he said, in Kaidoh's ear, "go on," and tried to smile but his mouth wouldn't go that way anymore.
Kaidoh's hand slipped down the front of Fuji's pants and his fingers wrapped around Fuji's dick and Fuji thought he would choke on the sensation that curled up through him, and it wasn't long until he did, choke and die and come back to life. It was the slippery jizz that made him believe that this was real. "Sorry," Kaidoh said, and wiped his fingers on the sheet.
Fuji took three deep breaths and reached for Kaidoh, turn about was fair play and he always was a quick study. But Kaidoh rolled over, back to Fuji, pulling up his knees, and pressing his face into the quilt. "Kaidoh," Fuji said, and put his hand on Kaidoh's cheek. The skin was very smooth. Kaidoh's shoulders began to tremble.
Fuji sat up in the bed, stroked Kaidoh's hair, and wondered what he was going to say to Inui.
-fin-