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For All the Wrong Reasons

Chapter Text

Fuji whimpered, struggling meekly against the rope that bound his wrists to the bedpost. He dared not speak, however, even as he twisted his legs to try to hide the shameful excitation of his nether region.

They were playing a game, and if he made the wrong noises or movements, he'd be punished.

Thin, cold fingers stroked down his thigh, tantalizing and threatening as sharp nails grew close to his sensitive skin. Glowing fuchsia eyes took in his every breath, every small shift of his body. He felt vulnerable, exposed... fear drove him to play against the deceptively calm beauty poised above him, and play to win.

But the sly grin on the beau's face made it clear that Yukimura was also playing to win.

The day Yukimura learned that Sanada Genichirou was dating Tezuka Kunimitsu was the same day he learned that you could indeed snap a pen in half with only one hand.

That day at practice, Rikkaidai's captain was gentle and firm in his leadership as always, and he made sure to flash his normal count of sweet smiles at each of his teammates, including, of course, his vice captain. He had the regulars run an extra set of laps - after all, they had a tournament approaching, and the pace of training called for an increase. Sanada, of course, being one of their star players, was ordered to take part in an extra series of practice matches after running.

The smile stayed on Yukimura's face even as Sanada made a formal request to leave practice on time, rather then stay with the other regulars. Of course, Sanada had not expected the schedule changes and had already made plans, and it was fine, yes, to come to practice early the next morning as compensation. Yukimura was a perfectly reasonable leader, and sent him off with the same smile.

It was a very particular smile, that to most people seemed sweet, gentle, almost to the point of naivety, and matched with the lithe youth's frail, effeminate composure. But to those who knew him well, especially his black haired teammate, it was the most dangerous smile in his archive - venomous, angry, and daring to be challenged.

Sanada ignored it and left as planned.

He was not missing his long awaited date, just because his ex was having a surge of leftover jealousy. Yukimura no longer had any say over what Sanada did outside of tennis, no matter how dark or threatening those sweet expressions of his were.

A little ways past the school gate, a messy-haired brunette, wearing a traditional black uniform, sat reading on a waiting bench. The expressionless student turned to face Sanada once he grew close, and those serious lips gave a small smile of greeting. Tezuka stood to give his boyfriend a tiny kiss on the cheek, then the two sat to wait together for the bus.

It was late enough in the day that they were the only ones there. Their hands drew close to each other, touching and then overlapping. Sanada gave the warm hand below his a small squeeze, burying his fingers into the sport calloused palm.

When the bus appeared, they were standing in a single file line, a stiff distance apart.

Yanagi had the gull to suggest that, if Sanada had moved on with a new lover, Yukimura do so as well. The data player's legs suffered long and hard the next time they had practice. That, and one of his notebooks was ripped in two.

For the umpteenth time that day, Yukimura went over potential boyfriends in his mind. He hated how Yanagi's suggestions always echoed in his brain and bothered him until he tried them. The close-eyed brunette probably did it on purpose, Yukimura sighed. How annoying.

Tapping his pencil on his desk, he leaned his head against his hand in a gesture of boredom. The math problems on the sheet before him were easy but tedious. He glanced up at the silvery clock over his dresser, willing the hands to move forward so that he'd have an excuse to switch subjects. Actually, the clock was sheathed with platinum, and was an absurdly expensive gift from Tiffany's.

It gave him an idea.

Pulling out his cell phone, he counted to three as it rang then smiled at the punctual click from the other end.

"Hello," Yanagi's irritating voice came clear through the speaker. "Yukimura, I thought you would be calling me soon."

"... Tell me, Yanagi, is Atobe Keigo currently dating?"

"Oh, Atobe..." He heard the shuffling of paper, before Yanagi responded, "good choice, but it seems he finally settled on a new fling after breaking up with Fuji Syuusuke. He lasted a surprisingly long time on one-night stands-"

"Wait..." Yukimura frowned, then switched his cell phone to his other ear. "Fuji Syuusuke... tell me about him. Who is he currently dating? Or... no, start from the beginning, tell me all the boyfriends he's had starting from the first."

There was another pause on the line, some opening of files and much more shuffling of paper, but at least Yanagi didn't ask any questions. Finally the data collector began, "Fuji Syuusuke, junior at Seigaku High, first known relationship during his sophomore year of Seigaku Middle School..."

Perfect, Yukimura smiled as he hung up the phone. So, he had remembered correctly ... after all, Tezuka and Fuji had been one of the hottest gossip topics in the junior high tennis circuit at the time. They were the perfect couple, according to rumors, but obviously not perfect enough. Though Yanagi's data was not clear, they'd broken up some time before entering high school, though no one knew why.

From there, Fuji had a silver line of top-notch lovers, each that he went through in a matter of months. Tachibana Kippei had slipped in shortly after Tezuka, but then apparently dumped the tensai to re-unite with his first and one true love, Chitose Senri, that monster from southern Japan that Yukimura had once had the pleasure to defeat. Then Fuji had some how ended up courted by the one and only Atobe Keigo, which had been a longer and messier affair - there were all sorts of ridiculous rumors from when those two were dating, some of which Yukimura vaguely recalled but had ignored at the time. Niou seemed to think it was his duty to keep the Rikkaidai regulars updated on other team's baggage, and since Yukimura ignored it, Sanada's glares couldn't do much to quell the platinum blond's buckets of evil fun.

The tensai's tango with the monkey king ended a little less than one jerky year after it began, and between then and the present, he'd somehow managed to slip in Shitenhouji's Shiraishi Kuranosuke. That relationship had also ended in failure, when again Fuji lost his boyfriend to another man, this time Shiraishi's long time teammate and friend with benefits, Oshitari Kenya, who'd realized after his waves of jealousy that benefits were less than what he really wanted.

Yukimura almost laughed as he heard of the tensai's rather pathetic luck. Atobe aside, since all things involving the diva were trashy by nature, Fuji seemed to try for all the guys who he'd inevitably lose to others. But there must have been more to the mysterious tensai for him to rope in such high catches time after time.

Actually, Yukimura had never really met the tensai. They'd seen each other, of course, at matches, and knew each other through reputation - and Fuji was as ripe as they come when it came to amassed reputation. But other than the fact he played flawless tennis, Yukimura knew very little about the light-haired brunette.

Everything was perfect. Yukimura wanted a challenge, and he wanted someone who would match his rather unique version of a relationship. Sanada couldn't do it, but Yukimura had a feeling that his new found target could.

Indeed, if Fuji was as enigmatic as the rumors made him seem, then Yukimura would surely not be disappointed.

Wooing Fuji was exactly like taking in an abandoned kitten.

When Yukimura sent the brunette an email, Fuji had replied tentatively, but curiosity drove him to accept the captain's request for a meeting. Yukimura had been purposely vague, and simply given a time and place for their meeting. Oh, and he'd specified a dress code. Casual, he said, but able to blend in anywhere, from the daytime streets to the evening clubs.

For Fuji, that was being offered a hand to sniff with a small colorful treat in it. Even if he didn't like the smell, he just had to know what it was. When his head came forward, Yukimura cupped his hand and gently stroked the kitten's head, in a reassuring act of kindness.

He took Fuji to a small cafe. The tensai showed little surprise other than a murmured 'Hmmm,' and for almost the entire date, had the same simple, close-mouthed smile on his face. The quaint atmosphere and delightful pastries of the shop were effectively charming, which Fuji made sure to mention.

Most of the time they discussed plants. It was a wonderful discovery for both of them that they both dabbled in botany. Fuji was convinced that cactus, despite their prickly outsides, were soft and companionable beneath all those needles. Smiling, Yukimura described his rose garden, the variety of types and colors that not many knew about, and how amused he was whenever visitors wanted to touch the pretty flowers and ended up with bleeding fingers.

He invited Fuji over to see it, and the tensai accepted.

It was his offer of milk.

The kitten entered the house, curious but still a little cautious. Yukimura offered him tea, and they sat outside round an elegant white table in the middle of the rose garden, sipping from British teacups. Fuji asked if it was based off a fairy tale.

No, Yukimura said, but he did like the original Brothers Grimm.

They engaged on the topic of dark lore disguised as children's stories, and Yukimura made the point that throwing the frog against a wall was just as sexual as kissing it.

It wasn't long before Yukimura attached the collar. He used a pretty blue one with a charming little bell, and the kitten purred in delight when it found it was wanted. He fed it, bathed it, and cuddled with it on the bed.

The major difference between a kitten and Fuji Syuusuke was that the tensai lacked a tail. Yukimura took care of that by buying an attachable one, along with a leash and a few other cat toys.

A soft wind blew through the park, gently lifting already messy brown hair and cooling the stoic face of the youth settled on the grass. Tezuka watched the water, enjoying the serene drift of leaves across the pond's surface, while Sanada watched him.

The black haired teenager slowly traced his hand against Tezuka's arm, watching for any change in expression, and saw none as approval to go on. His hand rose until he cupped the other's cheek, and the two leaned into a sweet kiss. They enjoyed the quiet, the soft touches here and there, the moisture and heat between their lips. Sanada tentatively added his tongue, and when the teasing muscle was accepted, their kisses grew long and deep.

There was no toying, no teasing, no attempt to control. Both shared in the cautious exploring, testing the other's willingness, careful not to move too fast or too far.

Sanada sensed his boyfriend's hesitation, and pulled back to examine their surroundings. They'd picked a quiet, empty spot, hidden slightly by trees and some bushes. The cold left the park mostly empty of visitors, but there were still locals passing through or walking their dogs.

"Would you..." Nervously adjusting his cap, Sanada wondered how far he should try his luck. They hadn't gone beyond kissing, and as far as the vice-captain knew, Tezuka had never been with anyone other than Fuji; and that relationship had ended two years ago.

"Yes?" Tezuka turned to him with inquiring eyes, though as always, his expression gave away nothing.

"... Are you hungry? We could go eat..." Sanada inwardly cursed his cowardice. He wondered if relationships were usually this hard... well, he had a little experience from dating Yukimura, but that was a rather...special case. Everything with Yukimura was special.

"Ah." Tezuka stood and brushed himself off, then gave Sanada a hand up. The bespectacled brunette always moved with full confidence. In a way, Sanada envied him for it, but that was what he liked most about his stoic boyfriend.

They went to a sandwich cafe on a busy street corner. Niou or Yagyuu or someone had shown it to him before, and Sanada liked the bread they used. Tezuka never said what he liked. He simply ordered and ate, almost mechanically.

Sanada didn't realize he was staring until Tezuka reached up and brushed a finger against his cheek. Blushing, he looked away, feeling caught.

"Bread crumb," said Tezuka, as if that explained everything. A tender light glimmered in the hazel orbs hidden behind his glasses.

Sanada started chewing down his sandwich, deciding that once he was done, he would definitely ask Tezuka over to his house.

"Oh hey look, it's Sanada!"

Swiftly turning towards the source of the irkingly familiar high pitched call, Sanada groaned at the sight of his team's redhead waving cheerfully at them while popping a gum bubble, and the rest of the regulars crammed in behind him.

Marui bounded over, weaving easily around the crowded tables, followed by Yanagi, while the others went to line up at the counter. Niou looked like he wanted to come over too, but Yagyuu had the platinum blond by the collar, thank god, holding him in check.

"Whoa..." The redhead's eyes widened when he noticed Tezuka.

"I knew it!" Sanada heard Niou exclaim from the other end of the room, "Ten bucks each, guys." There was groaning and shuffling and a very broad smile on the trickster's face. Sanada sighed and glanced at Tezuka in apology, but the other simply shrugged and continued eating his sandwich.

Marui, on the other hand, wouldn't stop blabbering. "I can't believe you skipped out early again-"

"This is only the second time," chimed in Yanagi. To Sanada's chagrin, he seemed to be observing.

"-Buchou's pretty mad. You are SO running laps tomorrow," the redhead finished gleefully.

Frowning, Sanada scanned the line and did a quick count in his head. "... Yukimura's not with you?" He was relieved, to say the least. Just because Yukimura now knew he was dating Tezuka didn't mean he wanted the two to meet. Not any time soon, anyways.

"Nah, he's on a date." Marui started blowing another bubble, oblivious to Sanada's questioning look.

Yanagi checked his watch, then motioned for the redhead to join the others in line. "We should go order-"

"With who?" Sanada couldn't keep the question in, even though he could feel Tezuka's gaze bore into him. Still, the stoic brunette said nothing.

Pop. "You mean you don't know? Niou's been blabbering about it all day! Yukimura totally scored, he's out with..."

Sanada paced around the coffee table, before sitting on the couch. He buried his forehead in his hands, hiding his face from view.

"He's doing this on purpose." Sanada managed to keep bitterness from poisoning his tone, but he was obviously upset.

Tezuka didn't say anything. He just stood by the couch, watching him.

"It's not a coincidence. He's never even talked to Fuji before. He knows you two were together. This is just like him-"

A hand on his shoulder silenced him, and when Sanada looked up, Tezuka was there, gazing at him with un-judging eyes.

"Calm down."

Sighing, Sanada forced himself to take deep breaths. Tezuka kept a supporting hand on his back, rubbing gently in circles.

"I - ... I'm sorry." Sanada looked away, unable to face the boyfriend he knew he didn't deserve. "You said Fuji and you are still friends..."

" . . . Who Fuji dates is none of my business." Tezuka's eyes disappeared behind his glasses, but his tone was soft.

"A... ah," biting his inner cheek, Sanada felt a wave of guilt. Tezuka probably thought he was being a jerk, ranting about his ex, while the calm brunette let his own past love life slide. "It's, it's just..."

He knew he shouldn't continue, but he couldn't stop himself. Flashes of his past lover, lording over him as he breathed heavily against his bindings, brought an anguished gleam in his eyes.

"Yukimura is a great friend, teammate, leader... but as a lover, he's... demanding. I'm worried-"

A warm palm fit softly against his cheek, caressing his face and putting a light pressure on his jaw. "Stop."

Sanada gulped, realizing the concern in Tezuka's eyes was especially for him. Tezuka leaned forward and planted a sweet, slow kiss on his lips, and again Sanada wondered what good deed he could have possibly done to deserve this.

"You're right..." Sanada whispered, once they pulled away. "It's none of our business. I'm sorry, Tezuka, for making a big deal about this."

They settled on the couch, licking each other's lips, and Sanada had just managed to get Tezuka to sit on his lap, when he heard the familiar click of the door being unlocked.

They were both frantically studying for an English exam when his mother walked in and asked for help carrying groceries.

"Hmm, this one is interesting." Yukimura pulled another package from the box, and cut off the hard plastic cover. "I suppose you insert this part, and twist it with your fingers here." He spoke with a polite, thoughtful tone as if going over plans for business.

Fuji whimpered from the bed, his voice muffled by a white cloth gag. This time, the ropes went down the headrest to his wrists, then split and wound about his arms and chest, decorating his upper body.

"But I don't know, it's a little annoying that it's manual. The motor is so much more convenient... how do you like it so far?" Smiling amiably, Yukimura examined his captive on the bed, who squirmed in response. Judging by the twitching peak of manflesh bound by a cock ring, the humming dildo was a success.

He turned up the revs on the vibrator and nudged it in a little further. The muffled whimpers intensified into moans. Fuji's legs twisted and kicked, driven wild by his need.

"Now now, settle down. This has to be done in a very meticulous manner," Yukimura cooed, stroking the tensai's stomach. He traced his pinky around Fuji's navel, playing childishly with the inward dip. "That way we can find out what you like, and well," he chuckled, "what I like."

Yukimura looked over the various things from his mail order, trying to decide what they should test today and what should be saved for later.

"So many choices... what do you think about this one?" He pulled out a strip of leather, maybe a foot long and twisted into a chord. The handle fit nicely in his hand, and he tested it on Fuji's stomach with a snap. The brunette yelped beneath the gag as the strip lashed his soft, unguarded skin.

Before Yukimura could test his little whip again, the tensai grew still, trembling only very slightly. Curious, Yukimura leaned over the naked youth, but Fuji rolled on his side and buried his face in the sheets.

Climbing over the tensai and lying on the bed, the genial captain stroked back light brown locks to try and get a better look. "Are you crying?" His tone was curious, friendly, the same as when he asked if Fuji wanted one cube of sugar or two.

Fuji shook his head, but kept his face hidden. Yukimura stroked his hand down the tensai's back, digging in pointed nails when he reached the buttocks. Still, Fuji made no sound, and hardly moved, even when Yukimura started toggling the vibrator.

He crept in closer, nuzzling Fuji's ear with a tiny kiss. Just when he thought he was going to be ignored, Fuji suddenly turned, sliding off the gag, and matched their lips together, drawing them into an instant battle of tongues.

He somehow shifted forward, closing the space between them, and despite his restrains, managed to wrap one of his legs around Yukimura's waist and bring their erections together. The blue haired youth purred in pleasure at the feeling of hardness through his thin pajama pants, a genuine smile growing on his lips as his own length started to ache.

"Okay, okay, you win." He laughed, and sucked on Fuji's neck.

Taking hold of both his and Fuji's cocks in one hand, he rubbed them together until he felt ready to come. Then he swiftly removed the cock ring with his free hand.

Raucous moans tore from the brunette's throat as he came, shuddering and pulsing. Yukimura came along with him, cum splattering on Fuji's stomach and chest and soiling the captain's pajamas.

For a while, they lay panting and wordless, flushed and feeling sleepy. Yukimura petted the back of Fuji's neck, then fondled his hair and cupped around his ears, before giving the brunette a kiss on the forehead.

"Good kitty."

Chapter Text

It started simply enough.

Fuji had more experience, and he didn't mind starting fast. Yukimura said he'd like to get to know the tensai better, but what better way than in bed?

Fuji said that every lover he'd had was slightly different, but, he laughed, he'd never used the kind of things Yukimura was asking about. Sometimes Atobe would play with a silk robe sash, which Fuji always thought was fun.

Yukimura liked to experiment, and he was playful, especially with his hands. He didn't use them to hold or massage, really, so much as pinch and scratch.

Compared to everything else, their first time together was practically vanilla, except for the rope. Yukimura apologized for not having anything softer, but Fuji said that was alright, he had fun.

They say there's nothing like the first time.

That couldn't have been more true.

"You are dismissed."

Fuji packed his things, nodding to the teacher before heading out. He just slid the door closed, when a grunt drew his attention.

"Oh... Tezuka," Fuji gave a friendly smile to his captain, the same one he always wore. "I apologize for missing practice, the teacher kept me behind."

" . . . Because you came in late." Tezuka focused intently on his close-eyed friend, but since the break up, Fuji had stayed shut off from him. Now he only saw those beautiful azure orbs when the tensai played his triple counters, otherwise, the other's face stayed hidden behind his smiling mask.

"Ah... I overslept and missed class," Fuji shrugged. "Shall I run laps? Nee-san's not expecting me home-"

"Not now." Tezuka paused, adjusting his glasses as an excuse. "We need to talk."

"What about?" Fuji replied, his tone light and amiable. He followed Tezuka into an empty classroom, tilting his head in question.

" . . . " Tezuka wasn't sure what to say. How long had it been since he'd last talked to Fuji? He hadn't, he realized, outside of practice, not since they entered high school. And they really didn't see each other much, and rarely were paired up at practice.

Fuji seemed smaller than he remembered, but the smile was the same. Well, the same as it had been before they started dating.

"Well?" Fuji sounded airy, unconcerned, but inside he was trembling. Yukimura had finished going through the box yesterday. Fuji was exhausted, bruised, and had purposely slept in and missed practice, since he knew he couldn't handle it today. He really wanted to go home; but when he saw Tezuka waiting for him, a jolt in his heart told him to wait.

"How are you?"

Fuji blinking in surprise at the colloquial phrase. "I'm . . . fine, is something the matter?"

" . . . I heard you're dating Yukimura."

Silence followed his statement with an oppressive heat. For a moment, Tezuka thought Fuji wasn't going to respond.

The tensai drew away from him, then finally turned towards him before speaking. "He's the fourth boyfriend I've had since we broke up, Tezuka, and you've never brought it up before."

He was no longer smiling. His eyes, though, were still closed.

"I . . . " Tezuka couldn't just say that Sanada's talk the other day bothered him. "Sorry."

A while ago, one of his braver classmates told him he had poor communication skills. Tezuka believed his speech was merely concise; but now, his lack of words was crushing. Why couldn't he simply say, 'I heard some rumors and was worried?'

Fuji turned away again. That meant he was either nervous or upset, and didn't want to show it. When they were together, though, Fuji would move towards him, and they would embrace...

" . . . I heard you're dating Sanada."

Great, just great. Now they were playing a game. One of the main reasons Tezuka had avoided Fuji for two years was because he didn't want any drama. They hadn't done this since before they started dating, and that was more due to sexual tension.

"Fuji, please. I just-"

"It certainly took you long enough." Fuji went on as if he hadn't heard him. "I wondered when you'd get another boyfriend, it's not like you don't have guys lined up out the door-"

"Stop." The same lines he'd said to Sanada. Like a broken record, he only knew how to avoid the issue by using the same excuses.

"If you don't want to talk about your love life, then you have no right to ask about mine," Fuji snapped. He swung away, but just before he did, Tezuka saw a flash of blue...

He grabbed Fuji's wrist, forcing the tensai to face him. Sanada's words echoed is his mind...

It's not a coincidence.

"Fuji. Why Yukimura?" He had to know.

Fuji was quiet, but he didn't pull his hand away. "Nee, Tezuka... do you know the saying, curiosity killed the cat?"

Tezuka nodded.

"I'm the cat."

". . . " Aah. Another one of Fuji's riddles. There used to be a lot of those, too, before they dated.

"Is that all? I'll go, then. See you tomorrow, Tezuka." Fuji dislodged his hand, rubbing past his jacket sleeve at his arm.

Instinctively, Tezuka grabbed his hand again and shoved back the sleeve.

"What's this?" He growled. A deep, red line circled around the tensai's wrist, artfully contrasted by smooth, pale skin. The bespectacled captain had barely seen it peak below the jacket's cuff.

Cerulean eyes widening at the sight of it, as if Fuji himself hadn't realized it was there. The tensai hastily pulled his hand away. "It's none of your business." His eyes dashed towards the wall, and his voice didn't have the sharpness that usually accompanied such biting phrases. If anything, he sounded nervous.

"Fuji, who-"

Sharp, blue eyes glared at him. Tezuka returned the gaze with narrowed eyebrows, but the sky colored orbs he looked into weren't filled with the defensiveness he expected. Fear... vulnerability, and some other unreadable emotion shimmered inside those azure crystals.

As if realizing his mistake, Fuji's eyes slammed shut and he jerked his hand away. "Just leave me alone," he whispered.

He was gone before Tezuka could reply.

"I ... I can't. I have homework." It was an obvious lie. But after seeing Tezuka earlier, Fuji couldn't stop the ache in his heart, or in his back. His wrist burned where Tezuka had seen the mark.

"I'm not coming to you, Fuji." Yukimura's amusement carried through the phone. He was probably checking his nails as they talked, maybe filing. He did that a lot.

"Yukimura, I-"

"Fuji." The firm, commanding tone send shivers down the brunette's spine. "Unzip your pants."

There was a pause.

Then he held the phone next to his crotch, so that Yukimura could hear the clinks of the zipper being undone as he complied.

"Pull your pants down to your thighs."

He did so.

"Are you wearing boxers?"

No. Yukimura had ordered him not to, since he was supposed to go over today. But he didn't need to say that.

"Are you hard?"

"Not really," he breathed, his voice faint.

"Touch your throat. Pet it, like I did the other day."

Fuji tentatively grazed his nape with his fingertips, touching his Adam's apple then stroking around his neck.

"Now, are you hard?"

" . . . Yes," he whimpered.

"Now pump your dick with your hand."

Minutes passed. The tick of his alarm clock matched the frustrated pace of his hand as he obediently stroked himself.

"You haven't come." Yukimura sounded like he wanted to laugh.

"... No." A choked sob accompanied Fuji's shudder. He twisted around, unable to bring himself fully but desperately continuing to pump. He heard the tapping of nails and cried into the phone.

"I plan to sleep at 11:30," Yukimura said, and hung up.

Fuji arrived at his house within fifty minutes.

"You're brooding."

Sanada was watching him curiously, which only made Tezuka's frown deepen. He'd gotten lost in thought while watching the dvd.

"It's cute." There was a feral gleam in the capped youth's eyes that made the faintest blush appear on Tezuka's face.

"... Don't say that."

He turned back to the screen. The hero, an absurdly muscular man with masculinity scarred all over, was easily beating some nasty faced villains. Berserk was not that type of thing Tezuka usually watched (not that he watched much television at all), but Sanada had a giant poster of the main character in his room along with the dvds for all twenty-five episodes. It only seemed appropriate that he learned more about his boyfriend's likes... he just hadn't expected an old anime series to be one of them.

He could still feel Sanada watching him. He knew he should probably talk to his boyfriend, tell him about what he'd seen earlier, but ... words escaped him. He was making the same mistakes, he knew, as he had with Fuji, by avoiding his problems rather than working them out.

If only he could train for relationships, the way he did with tennis.

How had Fuji so easily slipped from boyfriend to boyfriend? He was truly a prodigy in everything... he knew how to read people, how to toy with them...

But when he thought about it, Fuji had not done so well either... he knew the tensai was not the type to get together with someone on a whim, and he doubted his ex-lover wanted such early breakups. From what he had heard, mostly from Inui, all of Fuji's breakups were initiated by his partner. Including the one with him...

Fuji lay unconscious on the ground, naked, bruised, blood sliding down his thigh...

He shook the memory away, only to have it replaced with the image of Fuji's red marked wrist. He recognized that type of imprint, from when he went mountain climbing... a print from ropes.

"But as a lover, he's demanding. I'm worried..."

Sanada's concerns about Yukimura waved through him; a sinking feeling overtook his chest. He'd told Sanada not to interfere, then gone and talked to Fuji anyways, behind his boyfriend's back.

A warm touch on his forehead brought him out of his thoughts. Sanada had paused the dvd and was looking at him in concern.

"You have wrinkles... here." Sanada massage away the thick worry lines above and around his eyes. It felt reminiscent of something Fuji had done. "What's bothering you?"

Sanada had the most innocent, unknowing tone. At least Tezuka could count on his expression not to give him away - he could hardly twitch his mouth into a smile when he wanted.

" . . . Long day. I'll finish this-" He waved towards a pile of half-filled formwork on the table, "at home."

Nodding, Sanada put a complete stop to the dvd. He put away the snacks they had, most of which only he had eaten, while Tezuka gathered his papers into a folder.

He gave his stoic boyfriend a goodbye kiss on the cheek, which was returned with something deeper and more heated. Sanada couldn't stop his hand from snaking around the other's waist as they sucked on each others' tongues, then reluctantly pulled away.

Nodding, Tezuka left the house and headed for the train station. Rikkaidai was a long commute across the city, but he and Sanada took turns visiting one another.

Now that he thought about it, he realized that, Fuji must be making the same commutes too. He pushed the tensai from his mind, and endured standing on the packed train while it shuffled its many passengers across the city.

Once he reached home, he pulled out the paperwork to dutifully read through it and sign, when he saw a paper with Rikkaidai's logo instead of Seigaku's. He must have picked up by accident, he realized, and hoped it was nothing important.

He pulled it out, thinking he could scan it in if Sanada really needed it, and saw that it was a roster of Rikkaidai's tennis club.

The numbers and addresses of all the regulars were there.

Fuji gave a little cry, each time the whip lashed onto his skin. The ropes dug into his forearms, forming marks that would take more than long sleeves to cover up.

He'd managed to slip that he had practice tomorrow, before getting thrown onto the bed. Yukimura must have heard him, though, since nothing he did went deeper than the skin.

Patterns of red covered his body, stinging on the surface, and from Yukimura's pleased hum, it must have been very prettily designed.

Yukimura repeatedly whipped his buttocks at different angles, playfully aiming at his crack. Fuji cried and moaned, overwhelmed by the painful pleasure his body could not understand.

Finally the captain grew tired of the repetitive flicks of his wrist. He pulled a few of the ropes, which soon fell undone onto the sheets. Fuji collapsed with them, looking up at his dominator in confusion. Only his hands remained tied.

Returning the look with a friendly smile, Yukimura sat at the head of the bed, using pillows to cushion his back, then motioned for Fuji to kneel before him.

Following the other's indications, Fuji bent low as if performing a muslim prayer, his hands bound behind his back. His mouth watered as he faced Yukimura's crotch, eying the large appendage pert before him. He had an idea of what was coming.

Yukimura looked down at him, humming thoughtfully. His lips formed a small, curious smile, and he looked rather pleased with himself.

"You may use your hand," he announced, and undid the ropes around Fuji's wrists.

Confused, Fuji reached for the thick length pulsing before him, but Yukimura pinched his ear. "No, that's for your tongue," he hissed, now sounding annoyed.

The lithe captain grabbed Fuji's light brown locks and forced his head down between his legs. He pried Fuji's mouth open and shoved in two of his fingers, teasing his gag reflex for a bit then finger fucking his throat.

Somehow Fuji managed to understand, and reached down to grasp his own cock. Yukimura rewarded him by removing his fingers, then shoved Fuji's lips onto his manhood, pulling open the tensai's jaw with a vice-like grip on his chin.

Fuji accepted the long cock into his mouth, relaxing his throat as Atobe had once shown him so that his lips drew down to the hilt. Yukimura moaned above him, pulling the brunette's hair, sharpened nails digging into his scalp.

Fuji simultaneously sucked and pumped, waves of pleasure passing from his length to his tongue. It was hard to focus on the blowjob while stroking himself, but he was careful not to let his teeth scrape. Soon Yukimura set the pace, pushing and pulling the tensai's head even as he started thrusting.

Sensing that the captain was about to come, Fuji tried to pull back, but Yukimura forced his head down and he did his best to swallow as viscous liquid poured down his throat.

Once the other fell back in blissful lethargy, Fuji pulled away and choked into the sheets. He continued stroking himself, crazy with need. Yukimura came to his senses and stuck a dry finger into Fuji's hole, immediately causing the brunette to buck and come.

After he finished pulsing, Fuji fell limp on the bed, cum dripping from his mouth and into the comforter. He gasped for air, but was too tired to really breathe.

Yukimura pet his head, humming some gentle melody, until the tensai fell asleep.

"No really, seriously?" Marui exclaimed, eager to suck up the latest gossip. "After only three weeks?"

"Yeah, Atobe's already back to one-nighters," Niou smirked with glee. Probably he'd get paid by someone soon.

Sanada wanted to bust the trickster for gambling illegally, but they were not, Yukimura pointed out, teachers or government officials. Besides, the lithe captain pointed out, they were harmless little side bets, and good for team morale, an argument which made Sanada want to shake his fist. But like always, he kept to the side and let Yukimura make all the decisions.

When it came to the team, anyway.

Yagyuu started, "The only one who Atobe managed to date for over six months was Fuji Syuusuke-"

"-who kept getting back together with him even though Atobe kept cheating," Niou finished with a grin. Their partnership extended way beyond tennis nowadays. Yanagi suspected all the way to the bed.

"That's how it ends with all of Atobe's lovers," Kirihara snidely remarked. Usually he ignored the chatter with a sneer, but he had his own bits to throw in, especially when the rumors involved certain people. "Have you ever heard him? He says that they break up with him, as if he didn't do anything wrong."

Sighing, Sanada wondered when his team turned into a bunch of gossiping old ladies. From what Tezuka told him, at Seigaku it wasn't allowed - talking about topics unrelated to tennis earned laps.

But Yukimura had been humming to himself all day and took no notice, except to bark out criticisms when he saw poor form and need for extra training.

It seemed they were not speaking to each other today, either.

Tezuka barked out laps, but the giggles and whispers of all the latest gossip kept snowballing around the club anyways. It was always like this, even though he told them to focus on practice; the moment he turned his back, rumors went flying faster than tennis balls.

He didn't know what they were talking about this time and he didn't care. It must have not been very important though, since Echizen rolled his eyes and went back to tying his shoelaces with Momoshiro tried to blab to the freshman everything he knew.

More laps were ordered, along with a specific training course for regulars. His eyes caught hold of a certain tensai, who was running slightly ahead of the others, but still letting Echizen lead.

It was a chilly day, but what Fuji had on was overkill. He wore blue arm guards that looked like elongated wristbands in addition to his sweats and jersey, but somehow they looked comfortable instead of silly.

Tezuka wanted to talk to him, but he'd been hesitant all day. Before he knew it, practice was over, and everyone was going home.

Fuji said he'd run the laps he owed for missing practice, and stayed late. Tezuka clenched his fist, realizing he'd been given an extra opportunity.

He showered and changed, then waited in the locker room. After what felt like a while, Fuji came in and hurriedly started pulling off his jersey, not noticing Tezuka was still there. The tensai seemed rushed and didn't bother turning on the clubroom lights, his expression dull and empty since he believed he was alone.

Tezuka opened his mouth to announce his presence, but stopped when Fuji pulled off his shirt.

Even in the dim light, angry red lines shone clearly on the tensai's body. Stern brown eyes took in ligature marks, the pattern across his arms showing clearly how ropes had been attached. Long strips he couldn't identify covered Fuji's back, with a few on his chest - they looked like they'd been made by a snapped chord... or maybe a whip.

Frozen, Tezuka realized he shouldn't say anything now. Fuji would be way more upset than the last time, if he knew what the captain saw...

The tensai hummed some song he didn't recognize as he finished fixing on his casual clothes. He wore a familiar tan coat, and heavy black gloves. He didn't seem nervous, but his face completely closed into its usual smile just before he stepped out the door; that infuriating mask he wore whenever hiding any sort of internal struggle.

"Why Yukimura?"

Tezuka stayed where he was, hardly breathing until he was sure the tensai was gone, past the gates and away from school.

"Do you know the saying, curiosity killed the cat?"

Then he was frantically digging in his bag, pulling out the neatly written copy of Yukimura's address in his notebook, which he had made before returning the roster to Sanada.

"I'm the cat."

Chapter Text

Fuji noticed that after every session with Yukimura, he grew more and more tired. The tools were increasing, or rather, the creative use of what the captain called his toy box was growing. Each time they met, Yukimura used something new, or used something old in a new way.

At least Fuji no longer had to cover his arms. Warm, moist ropes now bound his body, looser than before but positioned so as to hold him more securely. The marks they left were faint or faded quickly, usually by the time he awoke the next day.

He'd fainted after coming, since Yukimura had left the cock ring on for over an hour while playing with different shaped dildos. When he awoke, he found a rope in his hand; a simple tug and the binding came undone.

He felt comfortable, and did a swift check of his body for wounds, though Yukimura always treated anywhere that bled immediately after. He was always sore.

At first, he thought Yukimura was trying to wade him into it, as his body became more adjusted and more needy of the explicit type of pleasure the lithe captain provided. But he was starting to suspect otherwise...

He snuck over to the desk and flipped through the papers in the upper drawer. He seen Yukimura looking through them earlier, when he arrived. Printouts from websites, or photocopies from books, were paper clipped in bundles - information, techniques, tricks that all focused around bondage and sadomasochism. Some were crossed off; all ones he knew had been used recently, and some were circled, some that made him shudder...

When he thought about it, Fuji only knew of one boyfriend Rikkadai's captain had in the past, and he didn't take Sanada as the type to let himself be tied and whipped on the bed. It made sense, really, when he thought about how the fuchsia eyed youth liked to play and test things.

Yukimura was using him to experiment on.

"You shouldn't look through other people's things."

A dangerous smile shown on Yukimura's face, from where he stood in the doorway. Fuji didn't answer, fear constricting his throat as he shuffled back against the desk.

The elegant captain swept into the room, a predator's gleam flashing through his eyes. In an instant, Fuji found himself pressed hard against the wall, long fingers pressuring his neck as he squirmed instinctively. With his free hand, Yukimura grabbed his ass and gave it a firm squeeze.

Fuji had still not recovered from their playtime earlier, but his cock betrayed him and grew stiff. Whimpers of pleasure fell from his lips as Yukimura slipped his hand between his butt cheeks and traced his finger over Fuji's hole, tickling the rim without invading.

"Tell me," he hummed, reminiscent of a teacher quizzing his students, "what's bothering you."

Knowing he must answer or suffer another painfully bound erection, Fuji forced out the question stabbing at his heart. "Am I just your doll?"

Yukimura looked surprised, then he started to laugh, lightly at first then harder. "I wasn't aware you cared," he managed between chuckles.

His laughter diminished when he saw the hurt look of Fuji's face, and he cupped one of the round cheeks that puffed moodily. Strong fingers curled around the tensai's chin, then a sudden push against Fuji's chest shoved him against the wall.

Warm lips pressed against his, and Fuji opened his mouth to allow a probing tongue access. They shared a long, sweet kiss, until Fuji winced as teeth broke into the skin, his lip bleeding as Yukimura pulled away.

"Yes... " He stroked the brunette's hair soothingly. "You are ... my doll, my toy, my pet," he purred, tracing the lines in Fuji's ear then pulling on it.

He wrapped his hand around Fuji's neck, squeezing gently and enjoying the fearful moan the tensai gave. While increasing the pressure on and off, his other hand reached down to play with the hard length peaking from the brunette's crotch.

"I own you." He continued, smiling as he elicited lustful moans with a twist of his fingers. "I'm actually very happy that I found you, one who wants to be owned-"

"I don't want-" Fuji meekly choked, but Yukimura silenced him by pushing his thumb onto the brunette's tongue.

"You don't know what you want. But your body does," he emphasized, his fingers stroking skillfully around Fuji's tip. Fuji's eyes rolled back as he instinctively humped Yukimura's hand, desperately trying to increase the friction against his erection.

Smiling into a searing kiss, Yukimura pulled his hand back long enough to pull down his waist band, freeing his own hardness. For a moment, Fuji feared the captain would take him, right then and there without any preparation. But the tennis champion settled for digging his nails painfully into Fuji's shoulders, slamming the other against the wall as they ground together.

Tracing down from the shoulder to a pert nipple, Yukimura gave the nub a twist, eliciting a moan from the trapped brunette. He continued to pinch and poke at the sensitive places he'd found before.

When Fuji tried to return the affection, however, Yukimura slapped his cheek. "Hands at your side," he ordered. The tensai lowered his arms obediently, his hands trembling as he forced them still.

Yukimura set the pace, pressing forward and interlocking their legs till they were as close as physically possible. Their moans mixed and echoed in the small bedroom, with the occasional cry from Fuji when Yukimura bit or pinched.

Warmth flushed all across his body, pearls of sweat sliding from his forehead, and then Fuji came with a moan, gasping as Yukimura pushed at his throat. He slid back against the wall, enervated, his heart rate slowing to a gentle thrum.

Distantly, he heard Yukimura whisper as he came, "Your win..."

Tezuka stared at his cell phone all day, as if it might suddenly grow horns. He must have looked irritable, because students were avoiding him more than usual. The teachers nervously scribbled on the black boards, as if worried he'd bark out corrections at any moment.

At practice, everyone was on their best behavior. His eyes stayed trained on Fuji, who won all his practice matches and ran laps with ease.

He still hadn't called Yukimura. He had various reasons he had stalled... paperwork he had to fill out, homework, an essay to write, his mother wanted help with the housework, Sanada was over... And of course, he didn't want to call early in the morning, when the other captain might be sleeping or busy training. Then by the end of the day, he had a new round of the same work to do, and the cycle continued.

But he finally admitted to himself this morning, he was being a coward. That was unforgivable.

He would call that afternoon, when he was sure Rikkaidai's practice had ended.

Fuji left practice right when it ended, quickly as if he'd been waiting for his escape. Tezuka overlooked the rest of the team as they cleaned up and sauntered home. The freshmen seemed so slow today, sweeping the courts, Tezuka almost ordered them laps but that would have been counterproductive. Finally he filed in last into the clubroom. After showering and changing, he pulled out his phone - to see one missed call.

'Sanada, 3:30 pm, Today'.

He felt far too guilty calling Yukimura of all people before his boyfriend

Pressing the return button, he waited for the phone to ring, but all he got was a busy signal. He then checked his voice messages, and found out that Rikkaidai's practice had been let out early, but Sanada had several errands to run for the team so he would be busy all afternoon.

There were no more excuses.

Fuji moaned in frustration as the ministrations to his nape ceased at the buzzing of a cell phone. Yukimura shoved a cloth in his mouth and tied a gag around his head to keep it in place, before answering the call.

Desperate to satisfy his aching hardness, but unable to because of the ropes that attached each of his limbs to a different bed post, Fuji rubbed his hips into the mattress. Yukimura watched with glowing eyes, even as he listened to the caller speak on the other end.

"Ah, it's you," the captain said. "I thought you might be calling." From his light tone, he must have been talking to a friend of his.

Whimpering, Fuji hoped that whoever it was, they wouldn't take long.

"Sure, I'd love to. How about this Saturday? . . . . . . Yes, I'm free then." He looked over at Fuji, who practically humped the air in need. The delight in his voice didn't match the feral twist of his lips.

"My house is fine. . . . Oh, so you have the address? Perfect." His foot started rubbing Fuji's length as he talked, speeding up and pressing harder in response to the muffled wails coming from the tensai.

"That's a good time. . . " His toes curled around the base as his heal lay into the tensai's balls, increasing the pressure until Fuji's groin jerked in pain and moisture collected on his lower lashes. "I'll see you then. . ." A malevolent smile curled on Yukimura's lips as the brunette bit back tears. "Goodbye."

Clicking the cell phone shut, the captain removed his foot and kneeled between Fuji's legs. He slid his palms on the underside of nicely toned thighs, massaging the firm muscle before digging in his nails.

"An old friend," he cooed, as if Fuji had just asked. "Now where were we... well, I suppose it doesn't matter."

He slid from the bed, and Fuji could hear him rummaging through the toy box. They were playing the game again. This time, Fuji made the first move by showing up at Rikkaidai before their practice had ended. It was cheeky, and deserved punishment.

How long had it been since this started? It felt like years, but it couldn't have been more than a few weeks. Now, no matter where he was, his body ached, burned for everything he'd experience in the last few weeks. Every time they played, Yukimura made it harder for him to win, with more ropes, more binds, more toys... He found himself thinking seriously of strategies, during class, when he ate, especially while he was tied up.

He heard the whip crack, and something hum with electricity. His body shook with fearful anticipation, while his cock grew harder and started to leak. Closing his eyes, he took advantage of the slack Yukimura left in the ropes and shifted his body down as far as he could, while pulling up his knees. Soon the ropes were taught, constricting around his wrists and ankles and probably cutting off his circulation, but this was what he need to do.

His knees tucked almost against his chest, showing a clear view of the scratches on his thighs and then his ass. He split his legs to widen the crack until the hole showed, red and twitching.

A rich laugh tinged with lust erupted from the captain. "You really want to win today," he purred, setting down the whip in favor of a large, oddly shaped dildo.

Three games to two, in his favor. It was a good score, Fuji knew, though sometimes he won without even knowing why. Really, once he got into it, it was very much like playing a tennis match.

It was thrilling.

Chapter Text

Homework seemed to be their number one excuse to get together. They may have not had the same classes, being at different schools, but many of the concepts overlapped. Really, though, they struggled to find other things to do, sometimes ... Sanada wasn't exactly a fan of fishing or hiking, and they didn't want to only play tennis.

Neither claimed to like movies or cafes, yet both had been on dates with their previous boyfriends to such places. Tezuka wasn't sure why, but he didn't feel comfortable going on traditional dates with Sanada. Whenever he saw other couples, the two serious men seemed... out of place.

He remembered that coincidental meeting, waiting in the lobby after watching a professional tennis match for the rain to stop. He wasn't surprised that a high level player such as Sanada had also come to see the match, and greeted the other with a firm nod.

They stood side by side for awhile, and he had the feeling he was being watched. When he turned to meet Sanada's gaze, the other asked if he'd seen the new fountain at the central park. Somehow, Tezuka knew he was being asked out on a date.

In truth, he didn't know what compelled him to accept Sanada's invitation. It was more like he couldn't say no, than that he wanted to say yes.

He went, they met, and then they agreed to meet again. The pattern continued, until rumors spread that they were dating; and then officially they were. The kisses started after that. Tezuka relished the feeling of warm lips on his own, the touch of a lover that he hadn't felt in a long while.

That he had rejected since his last break up.

He just had this feeling, that this was right, that this was what he should be doing. He wasn't afraid that he would make the same mistakes with Sanada as he had with Fuji. Tezuka had confidence in both of them, that they could make this work.

What bothered him was the reasoning. He'd been raised by his parents to admire union through love, commitment through trust. But those feelings he simply shoved aside, as he always had.

Really, he liked Sanada, a lot, every time they were together he grew to like Sanada more and more. He liked him about as much as he'd liked Fuji when they'd started dating. . .

"I'll see you at 4." A brief wave of parting accompanied Yukimura's friendly smile. Fuji hesitated at the door.

"Are you sure your friend will have left by then?" The tensai asked in concern. Their relationship may have been known, but the details...

"Don't worry about it," the bluenette purred. "Just don't be late."

Fuji bowed his head in acceptance of the lightly spoken command, knowing there would be heavy punishment were it not followed.

His walk through the garden to the exit was lingering and uncertain, but once he passed the gate, Fuji strode quickly towards his destination with confidence and control. Occasionally he took a cab, but today he opted for the train.

At this hour, the speedy transport was nearly empty, but he stood anyways, trying to accommodate the painful ache in his lower back. He was aware of the wide red bruises on his arms and upper body, but they didn't hurt or sting so long as they weren't pressed.

He stepped into his house without bothering to quietly shut the door. No one was home to notice him coming back during the late hours of the night.

Fuji collapsed on the couch, stomach down since that was the most comfortable right now. He had a strange flash, a memory of Tezuka holding him gently from behind, here on top of these same beige cushions. They were tired from doing something, what he didn't remember, maybe sex, maybe tennis, everything from those times blurred together. Tezuka's rough fingers drifted along Fuji's cheek, then stroked his hair, so softly, almost as if the tensai would shatter if he pressed too hard.

And then the feeling changed, and Yukimura stroked his cheek in the same way, softly and gently, but when Rikkaidai's captain reached his bangs he yanked hard on the light brown strands. Fuji flinched but the real pain came from below, where Yukimura pushed something crooked inside of him, and then he was back with Tezuka, who entered him unusually hard, and then he was slammed against the wall. . .

He woke up with a gasp. He realized he'd fallen asleep in his clothes. Darkness still claimed the sky but the clock told him it was 6 am and he had a hard-on.

He had time before morning practice. His hands slid down and undid his pants, one slipping inside to free his aching length. The other reached for the lube he kept by the bed, though he realized he hadn't needed it for awhile. He didn't masturbate much anymore.

His fingers drifted around his tip, as one of his more skillful lovers had done, teasing the edge. Squeezing out some lubricant added to his comfort, especially since he was still sore from earlier. Yukimura had allowed him to come once, at the end, and though that had been heavy he knew he still had more. Discarding the tube, he pinched and rubbed his nipples, amused by the hard little nubs. He started to daydream, vague sexual impressions at first, then vivid recollections.

He imagined Tezuka lifting his legs and taking him, while Yukimura whipped his back, and his hand stroked harder and faster. The time lines had been different, but his mind somehow fit them naturally together. He moved his hand from his chest to his butt cheeks, caressing and enjoying the soft muscles, then slipping into the crack. He fingered his hole, testing the lubricant, then slowly pressed a digit inside.

It never felt the same as when someone else touched him. Knowing what was coming made it boring, since his body knew what to expect. He teased the area inside himself, but the pleasure wasn't that great, and his lips stayed taught and voiceless. Still, he pictured Tezuka taking him in the school showers, the thrill of that forbidden encounter, though for some reason Yukimura was there too. The bluenette wanted to be included, and so he took his current boyfriend's length deep into his mouth, while somehow Tezuka continued to pump into him, and all the images jumbled together insensibly in his brain and then the pressure increased till finally, white flashed before his eyes and he came.

He called out a name, and knew it was the wrong one.

Fuji wouldn't meet his eyes all throughout practice.

Tezuka sighed, and ordered the freshman to start sweeping the courts. Other than the fact he was ignoring him, the tensai seemed rather invigorated today, like he was after a good round of sex... Tezuka mentally shook himself, reminding himself it was no longer any of his business.

Though, maybe it didn't matter, since he was about to break that rule anyway. Maybe Fuji was avoiding him because somehow, he knew, even if it was only instinctive. He didn't think Yukimura would tell, but the brunette was called tensai for a reason. He had a scary way of knowing things it shouldn't have been possible for him to know.

Fuji aside, Tezuka felt additionally guilty about having told Sanada he couldn't arrange a date for today, and that they'd have to meet on Sunday instead. He knew Rikkaidai did most of its focus drills on Sunday mornings and that Sanada would be too tired to do much. Maybe they'd just spend a day on the couch, watching dvds.

They always felt comfortable, sitting side-by-side on the couch, silent but with mutual understanding that neither like to talk much. Sanada could talk, and sometimes he would, which was how Tezuka learned what he had about Rikkaidai. Not that Seigaku's captain never spoke of his own team and methods. Occasionally, they compared notes, but Rikkaidai had a higher budget and a very different system, so it wasn't all that useful. And Rikkaidai's true emperor was Yukimura... Tezuka's eyebrow twitched just at the thought.

He headed back into the school building to speak to Ryuuzaki about the upcoming tournament. He wondered if they would play Rikkaidai. He wondered if he would play against Yukimura, or against Sanada. It didn't matter who he played, though: he would play with all his strength.

The meeting went quickly, then he headed back down to find most of the team packed and gone. Oishi was waiting for him, and they walked home, the mother hen of Seigaku talking about this or that as they went. Tezuka let the words fade in and out. Just before the other left, Oishi patted him on the shoulder, and said something like, 'hope everything goes well.'

Seigaku's vice captain had always been a good friend, but at the moment, all Tezuka could note was that his black eyes were very different from Sanada's. The shape was different; the pupils were a less glossy and more like a black sheet than the night sky. He could imagine him with his boyfriend, facing each other on the couch, looking seriously at each other for mutual approval before leaning in for a kiss.

Sanada always looked at him with pure, dark eyes full of trust, as if he revered Tezuka for his responsibilities in tennis and school. Tezuka knew his boyfriend couldn't read him, not the way Fuji had... but that was for the better. The bespectacled captain always felt uncomfortable being read like an open book, especially when he easily blocked out everyone else. Fuji had easily side-stepped past all of his walls, and it was the most wonderful and terrible feeling, to be known that well...

Tezuka didn't want to make the same mistakes. He knew that with Sanada he wouldn't.

That was what mattered.

The rest of the afternoon passed like a blur. Tezuka was never one to be late. He had always arrived before Fuji, who he swore enjoyed making him wait. Sanada usually met him on time, though occasionally was held up by team affairs, as he called them. The stoic brunette always responded with an understanding nod, not wanting to give away the twinge of jealousy he felt knowing what control his boyfriend's ex still had.

And now said ex was after Fuji. The image of red stripes and angry bruising still lingered in Tezuka's mind. Maybe he felt guilty, or maybe responsible, after Sanada suggested the bluenette purposely chose Tezuka's former lover. Or maybe the feelings he thought he'd buried, squelched like a flame, were starting to reemerge... but whatever the reason, Tezuka was now standing outside of Yukimura's house. 5 o'clock, prompt, as always.

He rang the doorbell.

Chapter Text

A faint chiming rang through the door, which opened only a second later.

"Why, hello," the bluenette spoke cheerfully, as if Tezuka's appearance was a pleasant surprise rather than a planned visit. The midnight blue gown that seemed like a cross between evening wear and pajamas made the championship captain look nice. Like one of those sweet cakes Tezuka's fangirls squealed about, that he was sure sent them all crying to the dentist. Were Fuji wearing the same outfit, he'd get cat calls from even the straightest of men; but somehow Tezuka didn't think the same mistake in gender would be made with Yukimura. Something about those hawk-like eyes struck away the gentle effeminance of the rest of his image.

Tezuka gave no more than a nod for a return greeting, and stepped inside. Settling on the couch as directed, he ignored the offered cup of tea and crossed his arms in a show of firmness. But his determination went deeper than show.

"Well, you contacted me." Yukimura flashed a sugary smile. "What would you like to talk about?"


"Ah," Yukimura chuckled, though at what, Tezuka wasn't sure. "My, you really are straight forward. No wonder Genichirou finds you so... refreshing."

Unfortunately the twitch above his eye gave away Tezuka's discomfort at hearing Sanada's ex using his boyfriend's first name, when even the stoic captain hadn't used it yet. Though, were he dealing with Fuji, he would have assumed the other used it on purpose, to rile him and throw him off-guard.

"Why are you dating him?"

"Hm, yes, straight as an arrow." Yukimura calmly sipped his tea, a rather satiated smile drawn across his lips, suddenly making Tezuka wonder where Fuji was. "For what reasons does anyone start to date?"

"Do you care about him?

"Why would we date if I didn't?" Ah, yes, he was just like Fuji, answering questions with a question. Probably this tactic worked wonders on his allies and enemies alike; but Tezuka was used to dealing with someone who liked playing games. The key was simple. Be blunt, and rather than expecting answers, make assertions and check if they're right or not. Fuji had taught him part of that.

"You hurt him."

Lids falling half over his eyes, Yukimura carefully set down his tea. "You shouldn't take such interest in your past sex life, Tezuka. It's not very becoming."

"You don't even bother to deny it."

Fuchsia eyes widened for a fraction of a second as the lithe captain realized his mistake, then narrowed in anger.

"That depends on what you mean by hurt," Yukimura snarled. "I'm not the one who dumped him for no reason."

"He told you that?"

"I asked."

Sparks could have flown about the room with less intensity than the glares exchanged by the two captains. Frustration clawed through Yukimura's veins, but the bespectacled youth before him remained unreadable.

"Let me make this clear. I've never once gone to Fuji's house. He always comes here.''

Tezuka opened his mouth, then closed it.

"On his own volition," Yukimura added with a hiss, wanting to strangle the brunette to find out what he'd been about to say. That stern, unwavering visage did nothing to calm the racing pulse beneath Yukimura's chest.

"You want to play the hero, but you're an angel lit villain. You think I'm the one inflicting pain?"

He laughed, loudly and bitterly.

"I'm only a distraction. Mental pain covered by physical pain. Beautiful, superficial agony over inner misery. What right have you to judge? Especially you, Tezuka Kunimitsu! Asking me why I date my boyfriend, asking me if I care, you hypocrite, you're the last one who has any right-!"

The loud thump of Tezuka's foot slamming onto the floor as he stood ripped the words from Yukimura's tongue. It was the first sign that the stoic youth was just as angry as his rival captain.

Seigaku's captain breathed heavily, then tightened his lips. The seconds that passed seemed to move in slow motion as the brunette let himself out, leaving a stunned Yukimura gaping at the door.

Ticks from the grandfather clock pounded inside the bluenette's ear. The nails digging into his palm as he tightened his fist left marks when he uncurled it.

He grabbed his tea cup and threw it against the door for the cabinet under the stairs. The shattered pieces fell lifelessly to the carpet, glinting prettily in contrast to the yellow tea now staining the wall. He marched over to where the mess was, leaning down as if to pick up the pieces, but yanking the cabinet open instead.

Crammed inside, his lover lay bound and gagged, blue eyes staring at the stairway's underside. His naked body trembled in the cold area, though a light sheen of sweat glimmered off his pale skin. One rope attached to a built-in coat rack, pulling firmly at the binds on Fuji's wrist. The ropes on his ankles attached to a bolt protruding from underneath the stairs.

Dark eyes narrowing, Yukimura placed his hand on the tensai's bared stomach, digging his nails into the soft skin around his navel. He poured his irritation into his grip, scratching deeply enough to draw blood. That had not gone as planned. Unable to see if his words were having any effect on the expressionless captain drove him over the edge. He didn't know how Sanada - or Fuji, for that matter - could stand it.

Somehow, the accepting droop of Fui's eyes and the fact the tensai was no longer erect as he'd been earlier brought serenity to the sadistic teenager. He undid the bindings, pulling the gag off last, but not without a stern warning look. There were certain things the captain refused to listen to right then.

To his surprise, Fuji gave him the softest, gentlest smile he had ever seen.

He stood there dumbfounded as the tensai wrapped his arms around his shoulders and embraced him.

"Thank you, Seiichi."

The clock's ticking changed from pounding to melodic. The tensai tilted up his chin and drew their lips together.

The kiss was so sweet, Yukimura didn't realize until later that Fuji used his first name.


He didn't need a mirror telling who was the fairest one of all, since he already knew. But without a mirror he wouldn't be able to see that gorgeous body of his, so he was thankful to mirrors nonetheless.

Luckily, he had three of them, all carefully positioned so as to show every angle of his nicely toned chest, his lean, tight thighs, his admirably sized length and of course his gorgeous, perfect face.

Starting at his beauty mark, he drew his finger along the curve of his face, admiring its ideal angle, caressed his pinkish lips which were neither too thick nor too thin, then pushed back his hair in suave fashion. He was gorgeous, but that was his greatest problem: he just couldn't find lovers as gorgeous as him.

Well, that wasn't exactly true. Once in a while, someone would come along, like Fuji, who he found aesthetically satisfying, but, like Fuji, it was just so much trouble keeping them. The last one he had had a cute face, a nice tight stomach and ass, but was lacking in subtle ways. No matter, though -

Atobe always had himself.

Dropping lavender scented oil onto his hands, he briefly rubbed them together before wrapping one around his length and using the other to explore the tones along his body. His fingers knew how best to stroke, better than any of his lovers, though he did regret that he'd never get to use his oh-so-praised tongue on himself. Not that he didn't enjoy using it on others, but right now, he was having that reoccurring problem, in which there were no others.

Sighing, he turned so that he could view his ass from the side. It was nice and flat, of course, and he decided to wear the silver pants tomorrow. He had that necklace from Tiffanie's one of those one-nighter girls had given him, that he happened to like but hadn't gotten to wear yet. Not that he didn't have his own vast selection of fine jewelry, but some lover once told him that gifts have a certain sentimental charm that made his eyes glimmer. Despite what his teammates might assume, he took such advice to heart. Ah well, he didn't expect anyone to understand the greatness of his mind, except perhaps Fuji, but that was one exception he didn't like to count. He pushed aside such thoughts for now; his personal stylist would have the last say anyways.

His hand increased its pace, though sometimes it slowed, allowing his fingers to tease the tip and ridge. Really, it wasn't that he didn't have both guys and girls lined up willing to have sex with him; but anyone who wanted to had to go through an extensive six month testing period, and a lot of them didn't even pass. Disgusting, really. But there were always exceptions. There were no real rules because Atobe was the rule.

What Atobe wanted, Atobe got.

He sighed. And yet he didn't have a lover. Shame. They were all missing out on those excellent, strokable calves.

His rhythm increased again, comfortably, desirably, as his free hand caressed his sensitive spots. His overflowing beauty was just too much for them, all of them, and he settled onto his comforter with a sigh as his hand moved up and down. Dabbing his fingers in the oil, he traced the outside of his hole, exhaling deeply as the ring of tissue softened in pleasure. If only he could fuck himself. There were just limits to being by yourself, and for some reason, all of Atobe's wealth and connections couldn't seem to overcome them.

Increasing warmth told him he was getting closer. He smoothly lifted and lowered his hips, increasing the friction with perfect vertical humps, and he could feel something within him start to rise -

And then his cell phone went off.

Glaring daggers at the new iPhone his mom had forced on him, he tried to keep stroking, but the popular theme song that idiot Mukahi had set as his ring tone was killing his libido. Snorting in annoyance, he planned to hang up if he heard the voice of the brat he'd fucked earlier at school. He'd only taken the kid cause he played tennis and was obviously a virgin, though the diva thought he'd made it clear afterward that he didn't want to be followed around. It had happened before, though he always had others take care of it. How could such prowess not draw a few stalkers?

The ringing continued, and he decided to sue Utada Hikaru or Paris Hilton or whatever stupid bitch sang such an irritatingly catchy tune. The caller must have hung up and redialed, before even hitting his voice mail. He grabbed the square device with impudence.

"Hello," he hissed, hoping the guy would get the hint.

Instead, a light, almost effeminate voice cooed, "Am I interrupting something?" The voice was pleasant, but his insight told him it still belonged to a male. The tone reminded him of Fuji. All the more reason to put up his guard.

"You-" he paused as his brain clicked through its audio memory. ". . . Yukimura."

The image of midnight blue eyes, wavy, dark hair and an acceptably beautiful face came to mind, along with some of the fiercest tennis plays he'd ever faced. He wouldn't say they had the best relationship; he had not enjoyed losing to the Rikkaidai's captain during last year's Kantou finals, but he did admit the lithe youth had unfathomable strength. Tezuka, though, was decidedly better.

A chuckle on the other end came as confirmation. "It's been a while since we've talked, Atobe." The other must have been smiling. Snorting, Atobe imagined him twirling the phone chord in his hand like a woman.

"Ahn..." The irritation had vanished from Atobe's tone and been replaced by interest. His deep, sexy voice reaped of pheromones when he was hard. "... Actually, I don't believe we ever have talked."

"Maybe not," the reply came as if saying 'no matter'. "I ... have a proposal for you. Won't you hear me out?"

A smirk pulled against the diva's lips as he pressed his fingers against his forehead. Maybe this would be a break in his frustrating sex life, or at least his boredom. Leaning back into his silken pillow, he resumed stroking himself, thumbing back and forth over his tip.

"I'm listening."

Chapter Text

Yukimura liked to take things in steps.

That didn't mean he was particularly devious or planning. He just had his own way of dealing with things. He was not cold and calculating like Renji, nor did he move entirely on instinct the way he noticed Fuji did. His was a cross between the two, and often dealt with things as they came. Lately, though, he felt rather inspired.

Maybe it had something to do with the pale, squirming body pressed face down on his bed. Tracing his fingers down Fuji's back, he admired the curve of the brunette's spine, the well toned muscles of his shoulders, the subtle dip above his hips that often caused the tensai to be mistaken for a woman from behind. When he reached the crack, he spread back one of the cheeks so he could get a better view. The tensai reddened at being examined so intensely, but tried to hold very still. Ironically, this resulted in a series of nervous tremors running beneath his creamy skin, always fearful when Yukimura had unclear intentions.

He jammed his index into the puckering hole, enjoying the pained squeak and the tight squeeze of muscle around his finger. He went as far as he could, twisting a bit in a curious manner, but not bothering to search for that roughened spot - he had no specific intention to give pleasure. In his game, pleasure came only through pain.

The bounds keeping the tensai down hung slightly loose, purposely giving some leeway. He wanted Fuji to move, to thrash and struggle, perhaps even moan and beg. Though whether he begged for more or for mercy, Yukimura would be satisfied. Still, they had not yet reached that point.

Removing his finger, he turned his attention to the water heater, which was nicely simmering, and filled two of his small tea cups. To one, he added some crushed rose petals, giving them time to permeate the water with their scent. The other he took in hand, raising it high above the tensai's back.

Fuji screamed as the hot liquid steamed onto his skin, filling the crevices of his spine and rolling down onto the sheets. No matter, it was just water. It wasn't hot enough to burn, but his skin still flushed a beautiful red, matching the rose petals.

The lithe captain followed with his own form of mercy, dropping pieces of ice on the reddened spots. Now Fuji's scream was silent as his whole body convulsed in its attempt to adjust. His legs curled and squirmed, bringing a smile to Yukimura's face as he saw how hard his captive was.

His own length started to ache with need, which he easily freed by untying the string on his sweatpants. He pulled the offending clothing off his legs, then straddled the tensai, lowering his midsection until his tip pressed against Fuji's hole. A moan of anticipation came like a song into his ears, drawing him down a little more.

"Well?" He breathed, rubbing his tip along the crack, but not penetrating. The one below him responded with little more than a whimper.

Sighing, Yukimura pulled himself up and rolled Fuji on his side, then lay down on the bed so that they were face to face. Two panting, effeminate youths but with very different positions at the moment. He drew back soft brown bangs, framing the flushed face the looked back at him with unfocused cerulean orbs.

Upon seeing those sweet, pinkish lips, Yukimura suddenly felt tired of playing. He didn't mind losing their game today.

Fuji came with a load moan, only moments after Yukimura. He couldn't quite grasp the whims of the bluenette. One moment he was being tortured, and the next, they were simply rubbing together like school boys learning how to masturbate. Though coming while being hugged by Yukimura of all people was really satisfying.

Sometimes the captain was in this mood, where he just wanted to cuddle. This was Fuji's favorite part of any relationship, and the only real act all his lovers had in common. For now, the sadist was content stroking aside his hair, always fascinated with curves and shapes and textures. Fuji could understand part of it from a photographer's point of view, but other times he wondered. Yukimura was an enigma in many ways.

"Nee, Fuji," the bluenette cooed. "Why did you stay with Atobe for so long?"

"Hm? Saa..." Lethargically sinking into his boyfriend's touch, Fuji let his tired brain process the question. He wondered if this sudden interest in his past love life was triggered by Tezuka's visit.

"I heard he cheats." Yukimura tugged a bit on his hair, as if tugging out answers.

"Maa... Keigo saw sex at school as something like an appetizer," Fuji sighed, too sleepy to notice his slip. "I was... hurt, yes, but he was honest about it. And the make-up sex," his cheeks glowed slightly red as he remembered. "It was hard to say no to him, even when I was angry. Atobe doesn't understand 'no'." He wasn't sure why, but he felt comfortable talking to Yukimura about his past affairs. He wasn't afraid of the other being jealous or hurt; if Yukimura didn't like something he heard, he would happily dole out punishment. It was a little strange, though, telling the one who was supposed to be his boyfriend.

"Was that all?" Yukimura sounded disappointed, and the dangerous stroking around Fuji's throat was proof.

"Well... I guess it was really..." Leaning closer, the brunette whispered into his lover's ear.

A smirk stretched across Yukimura's lips. The answer intrigued him.

Sanada felt groggy that morning, though he'd gotten plenty of sleep. Maybe that was the problem... Tezuka had been quiet yesterday, more so than usual, right when the vice captain had finally decided to take their relationship a step further. He'd bought everything they needed the day before, and strategically placed tubes of lube in his drawers and under his pillow. But Tezuka didn't even seem up to kissing him.

Most of his frustration he released in the dojo, training before sunrise by cutting through straw bundles. Then he jogged to school, not surprised to find Yanagi still managed to be the first one there. Since the break-up, the close-eyed brunette had kept his eye on both team leaders, probably trying to play peacemaker, or maybe use the cold feud to his advantage.

Annoyed, Sanada slammed shut his locker and began making arrangements for the day's training menu. Yukimura's arrival ten minutes later didn't help his mood any. The bluenette spent the entire practice smirking daintily at him, as the captain knew something he didn't. Mostly though, things ran as usual, with Sanada barking out orders, and Yukimura making quiet, subtle corrections here and there.

Sure enough, the lithe youth waited until after school to make his move. Sanada had just sent Yanagi off to turn in some paperwork, when he heard a soft humming drift through the locker room. Turning towards the noise, he found his captain in the midst of changing into his street clothes. Sucking in sharply, he took in the lightly toned chest, bearing small pearls of moisture left from the shower, the pale nipples and small crease that dipped towards the navel, the bare skin he still remembered rippling beneath his hands.

His line of vision rose to meet fuchsia eyes, which grew slightly as Yukimura realized he was being watched. A coy smile spread on the bluenette's face, as he ran his fingers along the waist band of his boxers almost suggestively.

Tearing his eyes away, Sanada grunted, "You seem happy." He bit the inside of his lip, willing the heat to stop growing in his cheeks. All he had to do was remember everything else about his ex, and the anger burned his small desires away.

"I have a rather exciting event planned for tonight," Yukimura purred. He pulled on a pair of smooth black pants, practically making a show of it as he did. "What's wrong? Tezuka too busy to play with you?"

"Seichi," Sanada growled in warning.

"Or just not playing enough-"

"Mind your own business," he barked, his hand tightening into a fist. He wasn't in the mood for games.

"Hmph," Yukimura rolled his eyes. "You should tell that to your boyfriend."

Eyes narrowing, Sanada icily inquired, "What do you mean."

"Tell him he's no longer welcome at my house." The lithe captain slipped on a dress shirt, buttoning it half way up and adjusting it before finally noticing his adjunct's silence.

"He didn't tell you." Yukimura's smirk of triumph lanced through Sanada's chest, which tightened along with his fist. Unnoticing, the bluenette laughed, "Maybe you should keep a leash on him. I can tell you from experience, it works quite well-"

"Just what are you up to?"

The harsh echo of Yukimura's lean body slamming into the metal lockers reverberated in the cool air. The captain's wince of pain doused Sanada's anger with guilt, and he turned away from his teammate, releasing his arms.

It was so easy to forget how... frail the blunette was, because of his attitude. Yukimura always acted strong, but physically, he had never quite recovered from his surgery. He had power, yes, but that was because he used every bit of muscle he had, completely and without hesitation. Relatively, though, Sanada was much stronger... especially when he was angry.

For a moment, neither spoke, but Yukimura's shocked, trembling breaths sounded loud against the silence.

"I -"

"Don't treat me like that," Yukimura cut him off. "I'm not- I don't- ... just... I hate this."

"Sorry," Sanada grumbled, though he wasn't sure what for. A part of him was still angry, wanting an explanation, but the guilt, and the ghost of his desire to protect the one he'd watched over in the past held him back.

Yukimura pushed away from him, turning his back to the black eyed youth as he collected his things.

"If you'll excuse me," he spoke as he walked towards the door, his voice trembling at first but quickly growing firm. "I have an after dinner date."

He didn't say with who, but Sanada took no notice. The vice captain was already busy dialing on his cell phone.

Chapter Text

"Honestly, I don't know why I'm over here talking to you." Cool blue eyes stayed pinned to the wall, talking more to it than the stylish heir nearby. It was true, though: Fuji never thought he'd find himself in the Atobe manor again, unless for some sort of mass social event.

"It's simply that you can't possible resist viewing an original Rousseau," the diva chimed, "just as you can't resist ore-sama's prowess."

"You never change," Fuji sighed. Finally turning away from the exquisite jewel of the art world, he gave his former lover a weary glance. It was true he'd excitedly accepted the invitation to view the Atobe family's most recent spectacular purchase, but he knew the diva must have more in mind than just showing off. "Don't you have practice?"

"Ore-sama excused himself early." An imperious wave of his well-manicured hand dismissed the subject. "I see Seigaku is growing lax."

"Our members find strength in places without thousands of dollars in equipment," the brunette shrugged, his interest taken up by an oddly shaped vase that must have appeared during the last year and a half. He hadn't realized how much time had passed since their roller coaster relationship came to its end.

Though he hadn't visited, they still chatted often. Their conversations were always like this; sort of snappy, but not exactly hostile. They were more like old friends who'd spent too much time together then ex-boyfriends. Then again, they'd had that kind of relationship before and during the time they an item. Why this never changed was a mystery even to the tensai, but he felt comfortable with the diva, like Atobe was the sibling he didn't get along with. They were comrades in the battle against high expectations, and that mutual understanding fueled a kind of sympathy that replaced the need for deep, infatuated love.

"You seem to like it," Atobe's drawled, though he no longer seemed to be talking about the portrait. His long fingers drifted towards Fuji's nicely curved hip, slipping onto the space between his shirt and pant line to caress the warm skin beneath.

"I didn't come here for this," Fuji hissed unsurprised, letting the fingers linger a bit before pushing the hand away. "You know I'm dating someone-"

"You always go for the captains," Atobe interrupted. He gently nudged Fuji's shoulder, so that they were face to face. "You haven't changed, either."

Twinging with anger, the brunette let out an exasperated sigh before giving in to the provocation. "You act like you know everything, king of rich fools."

"I do," the deep voice slurred, even as its owner grew within inches of the tensai's face. "Or rather, I know everything about you, Fuji, about your intentions, about your body-"

"Wait, Keigo-" His protests were muffled by the hot tongue pressed into his mouth, teasing and tormenting the nerves within his cheeks as Atobe pressed him into the wall. Familiar hands caressed his stomach, and it took him a moment to notice the fabric of his shirt being lifted, but the diva already had a firm grip on both his wrists when he tried to struggle. Fearful breaths puffed quickly from his chest as he felt his bare skin being examined, all the marks from nails and whips and toys exposed.

A red flush of shame burned his cheeks, even as he felt the diva pulled away. Strength momentarily drained from his arms and legs, leaving him limp against the wall. Only the calculating look from the elitist pressing his fingers against his forehead snapped him at out of it. He hated that motion Atobe made whenever he read someone.

"Say something," Fuji hissed, even as he fixed his clothes. The diva's uncharacteristic silence scared him more than the upcoming rebuke.

"I demand an explanation." Atobe's fingers stayed against his face, though a dangerous calm glinted across his silvery orbs.

Fuji didn't have to think long to answer. "I finally found what I need." He looked away as he spoke.

A snort of disgust let him know that Atobe was done analyzing. "This wasn't what I meant."

"That's what you said I should seek that last time we slept together."

Atobe looked like he wanted to hit him, and Fuji wished he would. Instead, the diva collected himself, and that disgustingly soft look crept into his eyes, the one that terrified Fuji for its kindness.

"Fuji, I meant what I said that time. That even if we're only friends, I still lo-"

"The only one you love is yourself!"

"And the only one you love is Tezuka."

Frozen, Fuji tried to melt back into the wall. This was why he hated meeting the diva face-to-face.


Two fingers lifted up his chin, silver meeting blue as they both tried to read each other.

"Are you happy now? You found someone to torture you on the outside, to match how you torture yourself on the inside."

Fuji's lips tightened into a straight, thin line, as fear and anger conflicted inside him.

"Do you really like it?" Atobe pressed further, though it seemed he already knew the answer. Fuji squirmed in response.

"Want to find out?"

Both teenagers froze at the sound of the calm, effeminate voice echoing from the doorway. Blue eyes widened at the sight of his dominant lover stepping towards them, a deceptively soft smile graced upon the captain's face. Fuji shot the diva a glare of incredulity as understanding rapidly dawned on him.

Atobe merely shrugged. "I couldn't resist."

"I have a proposal for you. Won't you hear me out?"

"Ahn..." Atobe's affirmative came more as a moan, as he finally found a satisfying pace to stroke his weeping length. If the other noticed, though, he didn't say anything - the conversation carried on with a friendly, almost business-like tone.

"I recently came into ownership of a very peculiar toy... perhaps you have heard? ... I believe you like to play with it too-"

"Get to the point." His hand moved in swirls around his tip. He was close now... and shouldn't he be bothered that Fuji'd been referred to as an object? Had he not been seconds from white pleasureful flashes, he would have been weary. Oh well.

"I was thinking of sharing. It's more fun with friends-"

"You have got to be kidding me." He pressed the receiver into a pillow as he came, not that he made any extreme sort of noise. Just a satisfied moan, quiet as a purr.

A chuckle on the other line brought him back from his blank state of mind. "I've already thought of a fun game for the three of us to play..."

Oh, that's right... the reason Fuji always had so much fun on dates with Atobe was because they were both cats - curious to a fault. Though Fuji was more of a normal house cat, well, kitten, while Atobe was... a pure bred feline with perfectly combed fur and aristocratic features.

Still, Fuji couldn't believe the two captains worked together to set him up. He recognized the genial expression on Yukimura's face as predatory, and Atobe seemed to sense it as well, though the diva seemed merely curious as to what it meant.

"Hm... ah yes. I have to punish you for cheating on me." Yukimura hadn't look the least bit unhappy catching his boyfriend making out with his ex, though.

Fuji's breath hitched in anticipation. His chest rose and fell in rapid gulps as fear overtook his ability to breathe. That familiar thrill was rising inside of him, pulsing as he stepped back at a slower pace than the bluenette's advances. A shameful flush crossed his cheeks as he realized how exciting this strange new game was, and from the lustful gleam in Atobe's eyes, the diva was also looking forward to whatever would come.

Yukimura's smile promised pain.

They arranged to meet late that evening, since Tezuka had student council duties to attend to. It was probably for the better; Sanada had some time to cool off. He was still angry though.

The dying sky streaked red as darkness drove away the sun. The speed of the train blurred the lights together, creating a strange echo in Sanada's thoughts as he unsuccessfully tried to sort things out in his head. Feeling betrayed and confused, he stormed towards the Tezuka residence, not bothering to knock as he swung open the door.

Glancing up from his place at the low table, Tezuka showed no surprise as he stood. Across from him, his grandfather calmly sipped his tea, barely sparing the intruder a glance, before breaking his kneeling position.

"Tezuka," Sanada growled, receiving a calm nod in response. The elder Tezuka stood and cleared his throat.

"Then, Kunimitsu," the venerable man said, "as we are out of cranberries, I shall go to obtain more. Shameful be the morning that we have none."

"Ah." Tezuka carefully removed the tea cups as his grandfather helped himself out, changing his shoes and exiting as if Sanada wasn't even there.

"We should speak upstairs." Seigaku's captain motioned towards his room. Sanada got the hint and went before to allow Tezuka time to clean up the ceremony he must have interrupted. He was too angry to feel guilty, though. That would come later. He had a lot to feel guilty over, today.

He stood by the window, arms cross and lips taught in a deep frown. Hearing the door close, he turned to see Tezuka, looking calm and regal in his traditional yukata, setting down a tray with small tea cups.

Sanada hadn't said what he wanted to talk about, only that they had to meet. But looking at the brunette's face, he knew it didn't matter.

"You know why I'm here." His harsh, unforgiving voice seemed to flash along the sky as the sun completed its drop below the horizon.



"I should have told you before he did."

"You should have told me before you went!"


Whether sadness or regret rolled in those glass-hidden eyes, Sanada couldn't tell. It only made him angrier.

"Why are you-!"

Sanada stopped midsentence as he felt a hard pressure strike his wrist. His black eyes widened as he realized that Tezuka had just blocked the hard slap he'd been about to make.

Shocked by his second loss of control for the day, he backed away, hiding his face behind his hand. He didn't want to see those hazel, piercing orbs, shocked and accusing.

He was the worst: worse than Tezuka, worse than Yukimura. He flashed back to the end of his last relationship, wondering why things always went wrong. In his temper, he'd attacked the people most important to him. He couldn't stand the feeling of betrayal, and suddenly he understood the feelings of his former lover, some time before their break up. Everything Yukimura had done to Sanada, he was now doing to Tezuka.


Hearing his first name caught his attention, and Sanada slowly pulled his hand away to face his boyfriend. Those incredible brown eyes were indeed full of emotion, but it wasn't the hurt accusation he was expecting. It was something else, something he couldn't identify.

"I'm not good with words, or dealing with people," Tezuka sighed, his tone traced with regret. "I apologize."

Shaking his head, Sanada noticed his anger had finally subsided. "Neither am I..."

Yukimura's words, just before they broke up, came rushing back to him.

"It seems we're too alike."

At the time, he had been upset by the comparison. But now he understood. Whatever was wrong with Yukimura, the violent tendencies that had emerged before it ended, was wrong with him as well, or perhaps always had been. His parents struck him as a form of discipline, which he carried over to his team mates as his way to lead the club. He never questioned the corporal punishment; but he had not been taught to strike in anger. That part of him came later, the more he felt he lost control over all that happened in his life. Yukimura's illness, their breakup, this...

What had Yukimura said? Oh yeah, opposites attract. They were no longer opposite, so their relationship was failing. Sanada hadn't understood at all. He didn't want to believe that there was some sort of requirement for being compatible as lovers... the one he wanted to be with, the one he wanted to make love to, why could they not simply be together?

"I don't want to break up." I care for you, he wanted to say, but the words stayed off his tongue. His eyes stayed on Tezuka, giving the other time to collect his thoughts.

The captain, though his expression never changed, seemed to have such depth in his eyes. He placed his hand on Sanada's shoulder, his face serious yet kind.

"I didn't mean for this to go so far. I'm sorry."

"I'm the one who should apologize," Sanada snorted. He touched the tea to his lips, but placed it down once he tasted that it was cold.

Nodding, Tezuka decided it was best to be upfront. Games and subtlety would only lead to more heart ache and more drama, he knew all too well from experience.

He told Sanada about the concern he had felt after their conversation about Yukimura dating Fuji, and about how he noticed the team's tensai becoming more sluggish and lethargic at practice, often playing hooky to both the club and his classes. Though speaking with his normal monotone, he went over his confrontation with his rival captain and about the marks he'd seen covering Fuji's body. Sanada's grimace deepened at this point, but he focused on listening and didn't speak. Tezuka rarely said this much, so he encouraged the brunette to go on with a nod of his head.

Feeling weary, Tezuka went over his conversation with Yukimura, the accusation of abuse, how the rival captain claimed it was consensual. He did not recap word for word, but he did explain that when the bluenette started yelling at him, he wasn't sure what to do and left.

Tezuka felt out of breath from speaking more than he was used to, and they took a small break to collect their thoughts. The messy-haired brunette wondered when it was he started running away from problems, instead of dealing with them as he always had. Maybe it had more to do with who those problems centered around...

"We'll go speak to him again. Together."

Blinking, Tezuka noticed the stern look of determination his boyfriend wore, not sure what to say.

"I've known Yukimura for a long time. I can help you deal with him, get some real answers. At least, I can be there to support you, this time..."

"Why are you..." Tezuka locked eyes with the other youth, searching for understanding. "Fuji's not your friend, you don't have any reason to help him-"

"But he's yours. And... I feel responsible." The grimace returned, as Sanada looked out the window towards the blackened sky. "Yukimura wasn't always like this. ... It was supposed to be me, not Fuji... but that's not the kind of relationship I wanted..." His voice faded as he drifted off, hardly noticing as Tezuka took his hand and led him to the bed.

"We'll deal with this tomorrow," said Tezuka with confidence, determined now that so many people were involved to make whatever was wrong go right again. He let Sanada, who'd exhausted himself with anger, take over his bed, and headed towards the guest room to sleep for the night, briefly wondering what Fuji thought of all of this...

The two-inch straps wrapped around his arms, binding them together, before pulling back into the headboard where Yukimura had clipped them. Giving his captive a calculating look, the captain decided to deal with potential protests first, forcing the brunette's jaw open and shoving a handkerchief into his mouth. So that Fuji couldn't push it out, the bluenette tied a second handkerchief around his head and mouth, enjoying how those soft lips reddened at being unnaturally stretched.

Atobe watched with detached interest as Yukimura added two more of the blue-grey strips around the tensai's shoulders and chest, forcing him to stay sitting upwards. A blue collar made a nice ornament around Fuji's neck, but the leash Yukimura connected to it was pulled upwards towards a wall fixture. Fuji had to stay up on his knees to avoid being choked, while at the same time stretching the bindings on his arms. The resulting erotic position made all three youths instantly hard.

As if that wasn't enough, Yukimura added straps around each of Fuji's thighs, though he didn't attach them to anything. Maybe they'd be fun to play with later. He didn't bother with a cock ring, though, since today Fuji would not receive enough stimulation to need one.

Purring from his view on the side lines, Atobe took all this in with stride. He could see why his rival captain would be addicted to this sort of perversion, now that he saw how amazing his ex-lover's body truly was when on display. Fuji hadn't screamed or struggled, even when he looked pained, so the diva hadn't interfered. Actually, the tensai hadn't said anything since Yukimura had appeared. Atobe would ponder all this later.

For now, he prioritized attention to his manhood. The poor thing was leaking beneath his briefs, and Yukimura was practically licking his lips while looking at its hefty bulge. Atobe decided to let the bluenette have control for a bit, and see where he would take things.

Yukimura motioned him towards the bed, an extra large masterpiece that could fit a few people comfortably lying in any direction.

"Well now, shall we begin?"

Atobe felt his mouth run dry as Rikkaida's captain slowly began stripping off his clothing, in the most sensual manner possible. The bluenette also had a lithe, effeminate body like Fuji's, but he was taller and his movements were more assured and confident, not the delicate, submissive motions that the brunette made.

Once he finished, he sat back on the bed, but only before taking hold of Atobe's tie and drawing them together. Midnight blue eyes pierced into the diva's, daring him to strip as well. Snorting, Atobe decided to grace them all with the presence of his bare chest, and removed his tie and jacket before unbuttoning his shirt. He didn't mind taking off his pants and briefs, sighing in relief as his cock was freed from its confinement, but the dress shirt stayed on, a clear sign of his control.

Soft laughter came from his naked companion, as Yukimura grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down. Fuji struggled only inches away from them, as the tensai realized he was being ignored, and his muscles were probably exhausted from their unnatural position. It all drove into the two captains' libidos, making the temperature rise and breathing harder.

There was nothing Atobe was not confident about, but sex held a special place. He had rivals in tennis, rivals in school, rivals in business and amongst his capitalist associates: but when it came to sex, no one was more godly than he. He could tell what Yukimura wanted by the other's body language, and lowered his head towards the bluenette's chest.

Yukimura stayed sitting, but he backed up towards the center of the bed and spread his legs, so that Atobe would have a better position between them. The diva experimented by licking at his nipples, savoring each of the tiny nubs until they hardened, then kissed a path down his chest to his navel, tracing the drop-shaped pit with his tongue.

Above him, Yukimura gasped and moaned, totally absorbed by the attention. He'd wondered what Fuji had meant when he said he stayed together with Atobe because 'of his tongue' - how could a tongue make up for cheating time after time? But yes, the way Atobe moved his mouth was beyond incredible.

The diva kept his head low, smirking against pale skin as he felt hands grasp his hair in an attempt to stop their trembling. He searched for all of Yukimura's spots, all the places that made him purr and whimper. Whenever he found one, he marked it with a hickey, as if they'd be doing this again tomorrow, and he wanted to make things easier when the time came. His hands, his tongue, his prowess were as he had always bragged. Atobe was, without a doubt, a genius at sex.

Chest, stomach, thighs - Yukimura didn't seem to want them to shift from their current positions, so Atobe was limited to the areas he could explore. He kissed at the other's balls before giving the smallest lick to the tip of his cock. Yukimura hissed in anticipation, his hands fisting at the diva's hair.

Suddenly he threw his head back in a silent moan as Atobe's hot mouth enveloped his member, drawing it in and sucking as he went. The diva went all the way down to his base, expertly deep throating the lengthy tube, before he started pulling up and down. Yukimura twisted and moaned, sweat pouring down his face and neck as he lost control. He moaned in complaint when Atobe pulled away completely, not wanting to make the other come.

Fuji, abandoned on the back edge of the bed, whimpered helplessly behind the gag. His length throbbed, demanding to be touched, and his bonds strained as he struggled instinctively. Watching Atobe's mouth covering all the spots on Yukimura's pale skin turned him on unbearably. He knew how good Atobe's tongue and lips were, the amazing flexibility and strength in those simple muscles the diva must have been born with.

Yukimura, in contrast, almost always used his hands in sex, whether to give pleasure or pain. The bluenette rarely kissed, really just giving little possessive pecks now and then. Atobe's kisses were long and deep, and took your breath away.

Fuji's need intensified exponentially as he saw one of those kisses given to his current boyfriend, before Yukimura shifted up and lay back against a stack of pillows. He seemed intent on staying elevated, even as he lifted a slender foot over Atobe's shoulder as the diva pushed up his thighs.

Hyotei's captain licked his lips as he hungrily eyed his target, before slowly lowering himself beneath Yukimura's legs, somehow moving smoothly despite the awkward position.

A scream pierced through the large bedroom as Yukimura reaped the incredible sensation from being rimmed, his legs trembling as he forced them not to kick at the one pleasuring him. He couldn't stand it, but at the same time he didn't want it to end. The graceful tongue traced his entrance, caressing the sensitive tissue with long, twirling strokes.

Amused at the reaction, Atobe moved his tongue in further, pushing open the tight entrance that he could tell hadn't been touched for some time. Maybe Yukimura's last time was with Sanada. Atobe stored that juicy bit of speculation away as he focused on the preparation, slipping lube onto his fingers even as his mouth continue to do its work.

The hole twitched wildly as Atobe pulled away, replacing lips with oiled fingers that began slow, invading strokes. Yukimura kept his hand on the diva's head, pushing it down in a peculiar act of dominance even as he was on the verge of being taken. Feeling satisfied after three fingers moved smoothly in and out, Atobe pulled himself completely onto the bed.

Yukimura wrapped his legs around the diva's chest and arms across his shoulders, letting himself be pushed up against the wall as the diva positioned himself into something manageable. He let the blue haired captain slide slowly down, his length's head fitting nicely into the widened entrance. Yukimura's nails dug into his shirt as the two merged, a deep moan escaping when the diva hit the sweet spot.

They finished fitting together, Atobe all the way inside the other, both lustfully aware of the squirming, whimpering body watching them within his binds. The position was indeed awkward, but each moved in an opposite direction, and then they were just animals, Yukimura rising and falling, Atobe pumping back and forth. Both competitively held back their moans, but the less experienced bluenette quickly became caught up in the flashes of pleasure, becoming more and more vocal each time his prostrate was hit.

Feeling heat boil inside of him, he cried out and came, his nails digging deep enough to scratch beneath the fabric. Atobe added his own moan of pleasure as he allowed himself release, pumping and riding their consecutive orgasms.

The diva recovered quickly, but Yukimura took his usual moment of shuddering breaths before coming to his senses. After helping the exhausted bluenette settle onto a stack of propped pillows, Atobe turned his attention the flushed creature jerking at his bonds. A heavy blush coated Fuji's skin, placing an intoxicating glow around the already beautiful tensai, a glimmering sheen of sweat testimony to his muffled need. Pre-cum dripped down his cock and thighs, the hardened rod twitching anxiously but too lacking in physical stimulation to reach its zenith.

Atobe vaguely wondered if it was really alright to leave the poor brunette alone so long, but what was done was done, and he was certainly enjoying the scene before him. He didn't feel guilty - such an emotion was foreign to him, and he could more or less understand how Yukimura had come about his unique preferences, though some of the scratches and bruises were in places that were questionably pleasurable. Atobe could appreciate the sexual aesthetics of it, but not the need to inflict pain.

Still, there was something powerful about seeing the sharp-tongued, strong willed tensai so helpless and ultimately vulnerable. Ghosting his fingers down the brunette's back, Atobe smirked in amusement as he felt the skin ripple at his touch. Fuji would not need much.

A mischievous chuckle rose from the other side of the bed, as Yukimura drew himself up to join the party. The lithe captain knew exactly what he wanted, pulling himself against Fuji's front, and Atobe close against Fuji's back, pinning the captive between them. Then he pushed the tensai's head down enough that he could lean over, his tongue battling with the diva's.

Even in the passion of their post coital kiss, his nimble fingers easily undid the knots on the handkerchiefs, the gags falling awkwardly from the brunette's mouth. Tossing aside the drool covered cloth, Yukimura switched to kissing Fuji, loving the feel of puffed, sore lips.

Purring as he watched, Atobe was pleasantly surprised when Fuji's body suddenly jerked hard, his hips flaying back and forth against his captors so that his sensitive parts rubbed against them as he came. The diva hadn't seen Yukimura squeeze the tensai's balls, the painful stimulus being what drove him over the edge.

Fuji collapsed the moment his bonds were removed. He was barely conscious as they moved him to the center of the bed, laying him between them. Humming, Yukimura stroked the sandy brown locks until his small lover fell asleep. Finally he turned to his companion, speaking quietly though he doubted Fuji would wake up at this point.

"That was nice," he purred, his half-lidded eyes glistening in the dim lamp light. "But next time, I'm seme."

"Alright," Atobe easily agreed, sounding amused. He clicked off the lights with a snap of his fingers.

So there would be a next time.

Chapter Text

Fuji snuggled into the mattress, ignoring the sharp rays of morning light pouring down on him and the rustling of clothes and drawers as two other tennis playing youths prepared for the day. Atobe settled down to read the morning paper his butler had brought, still in his bath robe, while Yukimura finally took his turn in the bathroom after the diva's ridiculously long shower. Of course, he could have used any of the dozen or so guest room baths, but there was an unspoken agreement that the bedroom was a separate entity from the mansion, and leaving it was the same as leaving for the day.

The butler brought anything they needed - bath utensils, amenities, breakfast. Both captains had woken up dutifully to start their routines, but the brunette stayed blissfully sleeping. Fuji wasn't a morning person, though for some reason all of his lovers considered eleven thirty the middle of the day, rather than a good time to pull off the sheets. When there wasn't school or practice, anyways, which was just about every day.

So Fuji slept in when he could. He didn't want to get up at all this time. Shifting slightly, a small whimper escaped his lips when he felt how sore his thighs were from their forced position the night before. Pausing from drying his hair, Yukimura drifted over to pet his lover's head, softly ordering, "Get out of bed."

Feeling warm and comfortable, Fuji whined, "My legs hurt," snuggling deeper into the purple silk pillows.

A dangerous look flashed through Yukimura's midnight blue eyes, his smile tightening like a tiger's. The petting turned to more like pulling, but stopped at the rustling sound of papers as Atobe set the newspaper down to sip his coffee.

"It's fine, he can stay here for a while," the diva drawled with an air of nonchalance. Yukimura seemed unhappy, but after exchanging glances with his rival, decided to let it go.

"I expect to see you later," he warned, changing his clothes and then heading out. Atobe stopped him by the door, giving him a small farewell kiss on the cheek. Yukimura gave the diva a strange look before briskly letting himself out.

Fuji stayed hidden beneath the sheets, a fearful shiver running through him as he knew he wouldn't easily be forgiven. He knew better than to hide here with Atobe, but at the moment, his instinct to sleep and rest his overworn body took over. He'd have to go to Yukimura later...

They talked a lot during the train ride over. Neither was a great talker, but that actually made it easier - they both understood the difficulties in expression through words, and neither was offended at the other's straight forwardness. It was so relaxing, and in a strange way, the closest they'd ever been.

If only they weren't talking about their exes. Sanada told Tezuka about what had happened earlier at school, when Yukimura had taunted him, and how he had shamefully lost control. He was relieved when the brunette did not look at him disapprovingly, but instead gave an unjudging nod.

"Yukimura is not necessarily strict, but he has high expectations," Sanada explained. "He's used to everyone doing what he wants them to. Defiance... well, the club members follow him out of respect, so it's never been an issue. It was the same for me, too, until we got involved sexually."

Tezuka listened calmly, the tunnel lights flickering across his face as they zoomed onward. They had never talked explicitly about their previous relationships, but now was the time to put that aside. They were boyfriends, but at the moment, they were comrades, working together to protect those whom they felt responsible towards.

"While we dated, he made all the decisions, but I never minded. I'm not good at deciding what to do anyways, so it worked out well for both of us. Looking back, I can only say our time together was sweet...

Then there came the day he collapsed. ... And after that, his illness, and eventual hospitalization. I ... couldn't do very much for him, at the time. I knew he was depressed, but he always smiled when we came to visit. I was afraid to... be with him at the time, afraid that I'd hurt him since his body was so weak.

Something changed around that time. I think it was because of my loss during Kanto. I lost to your freshman... because I was cocky, and didn't even try to play him seriously. My loss was unforgivable.

Nationals came and went, but this time I won so he didn't have any problems with my tennis. He had fully recovered by the time we graduated... no, physically, he's never regained what he had. But his ability in tennis was more based on his sense and skills, so that doesn't matter. After that ... I don't know. I don't know why we broke up. I don't know why he started... when he started showing signs of violence, when he needed to prove his control by any means. He asked to... "

Sanada's voice and eyes grew dim, prompting Tezuka to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You don't have to say everything now," the bespectacled youth assured him.

Rikkaidai's vice captain shook his head, trying to shake away the memories as well. "Sorry."

Nodding, Tezuka decided to give his boyfriend a rest by discussing some issues of his own.

"Sanada," he began, thinking of how to word what he wanted to say. "Let me make clear to you that I was the one to initiate the break up with Fuji. But he is my teammate, and I still care for him. I cannot stand by while he is being hurt."

Assured by a gentle squeeze to his hand, Tezuka continued, for once not caring about the small display of public affection. "Fuji doesn't take care of himself. Even if he is in pain, he'll hide it and stay silent. Yukimura may believe it to be consensual, but," he paused to listen the latest train announcement, before going on. "I must find out."

They stepped off at the stop, neither letting go of the other's hand.

Sanada knocked, but they stood side by side. They waited for a bit, and Tezuka was about to suggest that no one was home, when Sanada turned the knob and opened the door.

"Your mother left it unlocked again," he announced, leading Tezuka inside and taking off his shoes. His casual manner as he entering as if he were free to come in anytime was observed by Yukimura, who glared at them from the couch. A moody grimace marred his usually soft features, and he didn't bother to correct his posture, feet up on the cushions and resting his chin on his hand. No words came from his direction.

"We came to talk," Sanada continued, as if the other had responded. "I know its something we haven't done for a very long time, but there are other people involved now."

"... You came together," Yukimura hissed. There was no sense of mock hospitality, the cunning smiles or word games this time. A slight air of hurt muddled his features, but it stayed hidden beneath the venom pooling in his dark blue orbs.

"Ah." Tezuka stood calmly next to his boyfriend. He felt a strange sense of confidence, that he knew what he had to say this time. From what Sanada had told him, Yukimura was not the vile, abusive ex he had imagined, but that the maternal aura surrounding the blue haired captain was a genuine part of his nature. He wasn't a bad person, at least. Tezuka wasn't sure what talking would do exactly, but he knew what he wanted to explain, what he needed Yukimura to understand.

"I told you not to come here."

Neither flinched at his scornful tone. "Things can't stay like this," Sanada firmly spoke, feeling comfortable in this home he'd been in so often. "It's too uncomfortable at practice, for all of us. And I can't stand by while you're hurting both Fuji and yourself-"

"Why should you care?" Yukimura had the look of a tiger cornered by poachers, the gleam in his eyes sharp and angry. "If you two are so in love with each other, why should you care about us? About him? We don't have any place in your lives."

"I know," Tezuka interrupted, glad that Sanada's fingers still brushed against his. "But I can't stop caring." I've tried, he added in his head.

"What do you want me to do? Break up with him? What gives you the right?" Each question spat out like a flying dagger. He evacuated from his seat on the couch, moving away physically as if to escape, pacing toward the end of the room.

"You can't keep doing this to Fuji." Tezuka's determined brown orbs locked onto the bluenette, imposing his presence onto the smaller captain, who drew back towards the wall. "I've seen the marks, I've watched him struggle since your relationship with him began-"

"Then why are you talking to me? Go ask him, ask him to leave me, take him away from me, so I'll end up all alone-"

"Seichii," Sanada pleaded with his eyes and voice, wishing the other would at least look at him. It hurt to see his ex-lover like this, distress marring his cheeks and eyes, the glimmer of moisture rounding his lower lashes.

"You gang up on me and ambush me-"

"Yukimura, please listen." Even Tezuka's stiff countenance was breaking slightly, his eyes softening with traces of pity. "Fuji was hurt as a child-"

The door slammed open, its bang stunning them all into silence. In the doorway stood a wide eyed brunette, shock covering his face as he noticed the visitors.

"What are you doing?" Fuji cried, surveying the three who had frozen at his entrance. All he could see was Tezuka and Sanada cornering his lover, dark traumatized eyes shakily meeting his open blue ones.

Tezuka and Sanada hardly had time to react when Fuji somehow grabbed both of them and dragged them back, acting so quickly they couldn't stop themselves from being pulled by the surprisingly strong youth.

"Both of you, out! OUT!" Fuji pushed them through the entry way, adding, "And take a good look at your own relationship, before you start judging others."

He slammed the door shut.

In an instant, Sanada and Tezuka found themselves standing dumbfounded in Yukimura's front yard. Neither had a chance to speak when they heard an imperious 'Ahem' followed by the sound of a throat being cleared.

Atobe stood at the gate way, a curious look in his eyes as he analyzed the scene. He seemed way too bemused as he gazed at the both of them, taking a moment to press his fingers to his face.

"Well then, if you two have a moment, I am willing to converse with you in Yukimura's stead."

He waved towards the limousine behind him, a smirk spread wide across his face.

Yukimura had been upset when Fuji disobeyed his orders, and more so when Atobe had harbored him. He had not wanted to lose his control over the brunette when inviting the diva to join them, even though it had been in his plans for a long time. When he returned alone to the house, his mother flitted about, irritating him to no end as she chattered on about the show she was going to go see with her friends, not bothering to ask why her son was returning at nine a.m. in the morning. She left with a high pitched goodbye, unnoticing of his grumpy expression as he settled on the couch. He did not expect her to.

He watched some TV for a while, news covering some political conflict regarding the Indian ocean, then some random dramas that probably starred popular actors he didn't know. Bored, he clicked off the power and rested on the cushions, thinking in his head that he should go out and train but too irked to care.

His plans were progressing smoothly, and yet he felt totally unhappy about it. He was hurt, way more than he was supposed to have been, when he knew that Fuji no longer belonged solely to him. He'd fought the urge to grab the tensai and shove him against something hard, to bite into the brunette's shoulder until he whimpered for mercy. Maybe he'd become more attached than he expected.

He'd felt amazing last night, but now the after wash was hitting him in sickening floods. He hadn't been taken in a long time, and he shuddering remembering how Atobe had dominated his nervous system and tormented his sexual desire. He'd lost control to the diva, though at least he'd managed to keep some things private, the most important things in control. It should have been a triumph, but now he wanted to puke just thinking about it.

Stiffening at the sound of footsteps at the entry way, he stayed motionless when the door bell rang. He recognized Sanada's heavy, assured steps, and knew who the one accompanying him must be. He didn't have the energy right then to face them, especially both of them, at the same time.

But his idiot mother left the door unlocked, and Sanada paraded in like he still had an open invitation to come over any time. Nerves frayed and stinging, Yukimura had not dealt very well with their accusations. Anger closed his ears and his mind, and he barely knew what they said to him. He was overly grateful when Fuji appeared and somehow forced them away.

The tensai was now pulling him up the stairs towards the bedroom, making comforting noises that were foreign to the bluenette. He knew he should be thankful to Fuji for driving them off, but at the moment, what he saw before him was a pale, lithe victim that would willingly accept all the torment he was feeling right now. Yes, he'd give all the pain to someone else, scar the other's body in place of his own heart.

Fuji must have seen the look in his eyes, for a fearful shudder coursed through the brunette as he realized what dangerous grounds he'd tread onto. Yukimura offered a sweet, reassuring smile, caressing the brunette's cheek, enjoying the terror etching its way into cerulean pupils.

He pulled back his hand, only to swing it back with a slap.

Chapter Text

"You must hate me."

They cradled each other at the bottom of the stairs, both too hurt and exhausted to move. Their lithe, effeminate bodies curled against each other made them look children waking from a nap, maybe because they still were.

"How's your arm?" Fuji eyed the wall through slotted eyes, contemplating whether or not to smash it to pieces. Though he supposed there was no point in being angry with inanimate objects.

"Your wrist-"

"I already cut it off," Fuji cooed. "The pain, I mean. I can do that, sometimes, if I focus."


"It doesn't matter to me. Though all the guys I've ever dated worship it," Fuji added with a bitter laugh. He lay his head on Yukimura's shoulder, resting his hand against his boyfriend's chest. He decided to make a dangerous inquiry. "What happened?"

Yukimura was quiet, his anger drained by lethargy. "They won't leave me alone," he whispered, too tired to raise his naturally soft voice any higher. "They want things to change even though they don't know how to change them. They're such fools..."

Fuji whispered in return, "And yet it's men like that we love."

He knew immediately it was the wrong thing to say, and felt a flash of terror at the thought of another beating. But his lover had lost all his energy, his fingers wrapping loosely around Fuji's throat in an enervated attempt to at least bruise.

"I would tighten my grip, if I had the strength," the bluenette sighed, giving up and letting his hand fall limply to his side.

"I know." It doesn't matter to me. I accept everything. All of your pain...

He ditched morning practice. There was no point in going when he couldn't even play, and that was also the best way to avoid questions. He'd skipped so many times, it was a wonder they hadn't dropped him from the regulars. But his skills were too formidable for the coach to let him slip away. There were a dozen other schools scouting him, and he'd be an easy pick up if he were dropped.

Sighing, he made his way into the men's bathroom, glad to find it empty. Glancing at himself in the mirror, he touched the slightly puffy area under his eye. The bruising was faint, and would clear up by the next day, but he still made sure to put some make up on to dab out the faint bluish tint. He couldn't do much about the scratch mark along his jaw, where Yukimura's pinky nail had caught during one of the series of slaps. It was unusual for the bluenette to aim for his face, but the fact that he had showed how vicious he had felt at the time. Ironically, it was lucky that they fell, otherwise it might have gotten worse . . .


Sharply turning towards the doorway, Fuji winced when his back hit the stall door, feeling half the bruises on his body scream at him. He gave Tezuka an annoyed look, as if his clumsiness was the stoic youth's fault. In a way it was.

"Did you follow me?" The tensai spoke coldly, still remembering how his old boyfriend had, at least from his perspective, bullied his new one.

"Kikumaru told me you were in here." Tezuka stayed near the hallway, blocking any chance of escape. Fuji didn't feel like going back to class then anyways. He knew Eiji was worried, but the redhead had been very good not to pry. The cat-like tennis player had learned long ago not to ask too many questions about Fuji's love life, or else his taste buds might suffer the next time they ate lunch together.

"If it's about practice, I'll make it up later by running laps like I always do. If that's not enough, you can drop me from the regulars."

Fuji reached for the faucet head, planning to wash his hands so it seemed like he was ready to leave, but a large hand grabbed his wrist. Biting his lip to stifle a squeak, Fuji held as still as he could, trying not to react to the pain that shot through his arm.

"Put the bandages back on."

Glaring at the authoritative brunette, Fuji indicated through his expression that he didn't know what the other was talking about.

"Kikumaru also told me you wrote with your left hand during class."

Everyone else would think Tezuka was calm, but Fuji could tell he was upset. Seeing the tensai wasn't going to comply, Tezuka pulled up the sports-based first aid kit he'd brought with him and balanced it on the sink. He pulled back Fuji's sleeve, eyes narrowing at sight of the swollen wrist hidden below. Tenderly he wrapped the reddened appendage with self-adhesive bandages, then expertly fit a wrist brace on over them.

"This is overkill," Fuji chuckled softly. "It's only a light sprain, it'll heal in a week or so..." Penetrating hazel eyes cut short his laughter as they traced the cut on his face.

A serious grimace replaced the usual frown, and Fuji realized he must have noticed the bruising as well, and guessed as to what else the tensai hid behind his long sleeved turtle neck, worn despite the day's warm weather.

"Fuji, tell me honestly. Why do you let him do this to you?"

Tezuka's deep, solid voice always had a way to pound against Fuji's heart. His soft reply contrasted against it like water to a wall of stone.

"Because it's what Seichii needs."

Their eyes met, each searching the other for answers, for the understanding they'd had back in middle school. Back then they could communicated without words, somehow always knowing what the other thought or felt. Behind those thin rimmed glasses, Fuji could see his captain thinking, accusing him: What he needs, or what you need?

"It doesn't matter, Tezuka," he whispered, his blue eyes filing with wanton need as for the first time in a while, he truly looked at his former lover's face. "I don't matter."

The stoic brunette gave him a contemplative stare, his lips twitching slightly as if deciding what to say, but in the end he remained silent. He closed the first aid kit, expression never changing as he turned back towards the door. Fuji had seen, though, within those hazel orbs, a glimmer of the tacit question he prayed the other would ask, or maybe it was only an illusion that his hopeful brain had cast.

"Tezuka!" Desperation poured from his voice as he grabbed his captain's sleeve to stop him from leaving. "Tell me to break up with him, tell me you want me back, and I will."

Turning back towards Fuji, Tezuka looked down at the shorter youth, those shimmering cerulean eyes begging him to respond. He searched the other with his eyes, taking in the bandages on his wrist, the bruises on his face that were barely distinguishable but that he knew were there, along with all those hidden beneath his clothes. That memory flashed back to him again, Fuji's limp form spread across the carpet, the red bruises on his pale skin darkening to bluish black, the blood on his legs and the white thickness of cum...

"No..." His chest ached, and he indulged himself, just this once, drawing Fuji into his arms. "I didn't give you up so you'd be hurt by someone else. Please Fuji, don't let him hurt you, please..."

Gasping as Tezuka hugged him, Fuji leaned instinctively into the warm chest he missed so much, wondering if this was just another one of his dreams he still had about the captain even after all this time.

"If you feel this way, then won't you-"

"No. I can't." Knowing he'd already passed the boundaries, Tezuka pushed the tensai away before quickly striding into the hallway. There was no more he could say. He had to put as much distance between them as possible.

Left alone in the men's bathroom, Fuji slid to the ground. The cold tiles felt good against his hands, the unorganized patterns of small black and white squares blurring as moisture clouded his vision.

The harsh ringing of the hourly bell brought a shock to his senses as he quickly pulled himself up. He still had enough pride not to be caught crying in the school restroom.

He sneaked out of the building, not caring about the rest of school. There were still a few hours before Rikkaidai's practice would be over, but he headed for the train station anyways.

He hoped this time Yukimura would kill him.

"I thought we made it clear we didn't want to talk to you."

Short of allowing Atobe to have his limo drive them to their respective homes, Sanada had been extremely cold to the diva, and Tezuka didn't say anything, as usual. Why on earth Hyotei's captain had shown up at Yukimura's house, other than supposedly to escort Fuji, Sanada did not want to know. They'd had a silent ride, though it seemed Atobe had spoken to Tezuka after they dropped the Rikkaidai vice captain off. Which was how he ended up here, staring at some gaudy painting that was supposed to be worth millions or something like that, talking to Atobe anyways.

"You didn't want to talk to me with Tezuka around," Atobe drawled, admiring the curl of his hair in one of the room's many gold rimmed mirrors.

"I'm not staying in the same room as you without my boyfriend," Sanada growled, arms crossed like a bouncer, though it was only himself he was protecting. "I came because you said Tezuka agreed to meet with you."

"I told him to come half an hour later," Atobe shrugged, his attention focused on some errant strands that refused flick in the same direction as the others. He'd have to have a lengthy talk with his hair stylist about that. Though, the small contrast of imperfection only served to make the rest of his perfect self shine, so maybe he should leave it that way. Well, all in all, any strand of hair on his head was perfect by association.

"I'm not letting you ruin another one of my relationships." Sanada's harsh tone radiated loudly like that of a samurai.

"Your break-up with Yukimura had nothing to do to with me," was the nonchalant reply. The raven haired youth kept a firm ten feet between Atobe and himself, which amused the diva to no end.

"It didn't help," Sanada hissed.

A knock on the large wooden doors of the viewing chamber broke through the tension. The butler appeared and announced the entrance of Tezuka Kunimitsu, who strolled in after the old man. The messy haired brunette looked as unreadable as ever, except for the twitch of his temple as he took in the disturbing extravagance of the mansion.

Sanada immediately took to the side of his boyfriend, staying very close to Tezuka, and very far from Atobe. It was a much more comfortable arrangement.

"Atobe," said Tezuka, and this single word seemed to be a greeting, statement, and question all in one.

Smirking, the diva lounged onto one of the heavily padded chairs, motioning for his guests to do the same, though they both stayed standing. "I thought," he began with an amused sigh, "I would take the place of Yukimura in listening to your relationship woes."

"Atobe." This time, it was spoken harshly. It was funny how Tezuka could say so much using only a name.

"I'm being serious." Pressing his fingers against his face, the diva continued, "Ore-sama is gracing you with his services as both an adviser and as a negotiator. It is far more likely that Yukimura will listen to me than to you. I'm involved whether you like it or not."

"What are you getting out of all this?" Sanada demanded, already tired of the capitalist's games.

"Relief from boredom," Atobe yawned. "And finally some satisfying sex partners."

"You- !" Outraged by the diva's suggestion, Sanada's fists clenched as he declared, "I'm leaving!"

"Wait." A firm hand on his shoulder caught his attention, as his boyfriend stood firm and unmoving, eyes never leaving the diva. "Atobe, are you trying to help us?"

"Obviously," was the annoyed-sounding reply. Rolling his eyes, the diva again motioned for them to sit; this time Tezuka consented and Sanada begrudgingly followed suite. "Well?"

"You first," said Tezuka.

"Explain why you were with Fuji," Sanada elaborated.

Sighing, Atobe wondering how he should begin. These two were so straight to the point. It would have been boring if it weren't so totally uncommon in the present day and age. Well, as they say in business, speak to people in their own language.

"We made love. All three of us. It was fabulous." He could barely hold back his laughter at the expression on their faces. Even Tezuka's jaw had dropped a bit, rather than holding his usually tight frown. "Your Yukimura suggested it," he added smugly, looking pointedly towards Sanada. "Now, you understand my reasons. Ore-sama has finally found something worth settling on."

"All you care about is sex," Sanada charged, but Tezuka interrupted.

"And if you get bored later?" Despite his monotone, Tezuka's words were clearly a test. He seemed almost curious, but Tezuka wasn't the type to take interest in something for no reason.

"I never got bored of Fuji," Atobe scoffed. "He tends to unconsciously sabotage his relationships. I am as serious about this as anything, and that includes tennis."

The two captains met eyes, glaring each other down as Tezuka searched those dark purple orbs for truthfulness. Minutes may have passed before Tezuka slowly nodded, his judgment past. He must have approved of something, for he said, "What do you want to know?"

"Details." Smirking a bit as he relaxed back into his chair, Atobe lifted his hand to his chin in contemplation. "I want to know why you broke up with Yukimura. And why you -" he nodded to the brunette, "- broke up with Fuji."

"I don't know why that's any of your business," Sanada grumbled. He wanted to leave, but not without Tezuka. There was no way he'd let Atobe get his grubby little paws - or tongue, anywhere near his boyfriend. Not that he didn't trust Tezuka - but he knew first hand just how persuasive, or well, forward the diva could be.

"Please, I want to know too." Tezuka's gentle request, and his unusually polite language made Sanada's heart beat a little faster.

". . . Alright." He bit the inside of his lip, a nervous habit he rarely fell into but that was luckily hidden from sight. "It started a little after his surgery. The day he was released, I went to pick him up. Neither of his parents were there. I never saw them visit during his entire hospitalization. . . . He smiled cheerfully, glad the operation was successful, but I thought he seemed a little sad. He didn't speak, but took my hand and we walked together to his house."

"I knew what he wanted. We hadn't really touched in almost a month, since I'd been afraid of hurting him during his illness. But he was still recovering - they hadn't even removed the stitches yet, and I knew he was on heavy painkillers. I insisted we wait, and he got upset. There was no one in his home, and I didn't want to leave him by himself, so I waited until his father came home from work. He wouldn't talk to me, so we sat in silence and worked on homework the entire time.

"He pushed himself far too much during the recovery. Nationals was almost upon us, and he wanted to be completely fit by the time of his first match. He was in singles one, so he didn't actually have to play until the final matches, but by then, he'd already regained all of his skills and more. The week before finals, I went over to his house, having noted his progress during training.

"He was thrilled with his condition, and told me he understood why I had stayed away, that it was for his sake, and thanked me for being at his side the entire time. We waited till his parents left, and started to make love... it had been nearly two months since we last were together, and, I don't know, I did something he didn't like and he pushed me away. He became more and more upset... when I tried to calm him down, he..."

Struggling to go on, Sanada paused to look at the faces of his audience. He was surprised to see acceptance and understanding, from both Tezuka and Atobe, as they listened intently, simply taking in what he had to say before making any judgments. Even Atobe looked serious for once... Sanada trusted Tezuka, at least, and for Tezuka's sake, he could continue.

"He attacked me. But I'm strong, and he was still lacking physically, so the first strike wasn't much, and I grabbed his hands after that.

"... I can't describe how angry he was. He screamed at me to let him go, and I was so shocked that I did. After that, he lay face down on the bed and refused to move. I knew he was crying... I didn't know what to do, so I left.

"At school, he was back to his cheerful self. He was sweet, and apologized to me and said he didn't know what came over him. He said he was stressed from nationals and the recovery. So we decided to put it off until the end of the matches.

"Despite the outcome, he was still in a good mood. All of us felt a mutual sense of pride in the matches, win or lose. We met up after that, and finally had sex... for the first time, he was top and I was bottom. I can't say it worked out too well. ... But that was his request. Back then I could never turn him down...

"He seemed to think it was alright, but I refused to do it again. The next time we were together, he asked... " Pausing to swallow, Sanada unconsciously touched his wrist and spoke distantly as he continued. "He asked to tie my hands. He had a rope, and everything prepared. I refused without even thinking about it. I didn't think he was serious.

"He made sure I knew he was. He tricked me, telling me we would just test it out, and seeing the need in his eyes, I agreed. But once I was unable to move, he wouldn't undo the bindings. He hushed my protests, assuring me it would be alright, that this way we could both enjoy ourselves.

"I asked - begged him to stop, that I didn't like it, but he ... prepared himself and... and rode me. It felt good, yes, but I hated not being able to move, not being able to touch him. It felt like a long time, and he grew tired but eventually managed to come. I came too, but not as much as usual. I immediately demanded to be untied.

"Once I was out of the ropes, I slapped him. I was so angry I couldn't stop myself. He was quiet after that... he sat on the bed and wouldn't look at me. I felt ashamed for hitting him and apologized from the floor. When I didn't move, he told me I should go. ...

"The next day at school, I asked him if we were still together. He repeated my question back to me. I said that I didn't think we were.

"He said, 'Then that is the answer.' ... and we broke up."

Deeply sighing, Sanada felt every word tumble out like a heavy block. It was strange. At first he hadn't wanted to tell them, but once he started talking, everything had just flooded out. Though he felt depressed about reviewing the past, he felt so much lighter now. He hadn't realized how much he'd needed to tell someone what happened.

Tezuka lay a supportive hand on his shoulder, rubbing his back in firm circles. Across from them, a deep frown crossed Atobe's lips, his brows knotted together as he thought it over.

"You two were together for a long time before that, ahn?" The diva had his insightful pose in place, though he seemed to be reading something distant rather than those in the room.

"Two and a half years," Sanada mourned. "Though it was purely platonic at first. We discovered puberty together." His lips twitched upwards as he recalled their early days of fumbling as they began to discover there was more to a relationship than just emotional support.

"...Hm..." Atobe didn't get a chance to voice his thoughts, because Utada Hikaru's latest release blasted through the viewing room. Grumbling about killing a certain acrobatic tennis player, the diva swiftly flipped open his phone, giving a motion of apology to the two.

"Ore-sama speaking- ... ... You." Brows knotting, Atobe glanced at the others before replying, "I have guests. ... ... How did you know - ... never mind." His expression changed drastically with whatever the speaker said next. "What? Why? Where are you?"

Sanada was surprised by the shaken look of concern the gripped the diva. He had not thought the multibillion dollar heir could make such an expression. Exchanging looks with his boyfriend, he wondered if there was some sort of emergency.

"There's nothing ore-sama cannot handle. ... ... ... I know what you want," Atobe scowled, and his eyes seemed to drift over Tezuka as he slammed shut the phone. "Manipulative bastard," he muttered to himself, before turning to his visitors. "Excuse me for a moment, I have something to deal with."

Pausing, he fingered his chin thoughtfully before adding, "Actually, if you could accompany me..."

Atobe was already in the bedroom when his newest guest let himself in as he'd done last time. The lithe, shell-shocked figure looked far too pale in the door way, pupils dilated as he spotted the diva waiting for him.

"Atobe..." His soft voice was still smooth but held a desolate undertone. "Would you mind if I stayed here for a few hours?"

"You're always welcome to my bed," the diva smirked, earning a sharp glare for his comment, though his offer was still accepted. "Why are you here?" He asked with feigned curiosity.

It was a pointless question. They both knew exactly why he was there. Atobe was safe, neutral territory. At the same time, he was connected to each of them in such a way they could rely on him.

"He's at my house." His eyes were wide and unfocused, as if he were looking into his memories rather than at Atobe. "He was there when I got home. He wouldn't leave, so I left instead. . . I'm scared of myself."

"... Yukimura..." Atobe said comfortingly, wrapping his arms the effeminate captain who he could feel was faintly shivering.

"I'm losing control." The bluenette's voice fell to a whisper. His arms hung loosely at his side and his body limped against the diva's, but he did not return or acknowledge the gesture. "I wanted this to transition much slower, I wanted to control the pace, but the more you three become involved, the more I lose control of myself. . . ."

"It would have happened eventually anyway," Atobe drawled. "That's why you came to me, isn't it?"

"I hurt him, more than allowed, and I didn't even realize it until I saw him again . . ." His voice cracked, and his shivering grew worse as he choked, "I can't do this. I can't-"

A warm, large hand pressed gently against his back, causing him to freeze at its familiarity.


He gasped in horror as his eyes turned to meet Sanada's.

Chapter Text

Tezuka knew he should have felt jealous when Sanada placed a comforting hand on Yukimura's back, but he was unsurprised when he did not. What did surprise him was his urge to do the same thing.

When Yukimura did not look like a tiger ready to pounce, his natural beauty shimmered through and brought out the reflexive function from within Tezuka to take care of those who were in need. It was the same feeling he had for Fuji... oh yeah, Fuji. Recalling the wounds he'd seen earlier that day, the tender wisp of emotion instantly dissipated in the face of his hardening anger.

"You sprained his wrist." His cold, authoritative voice cut through the sympathetic atmosphere of the two comforting the bluenette, as they suddenly realized what Yukimura had admitted to.

I hurt him, more than allowed.

There were a basically two unforgivable things amongst tennis players. One was simply that you did not use tennis to hurt others. The road to victory could be vicious and underhanded, but playing to win was different than using a tennis racket or ball with malicious intent. The sempai who used a racket to smash Tezuka's arm had done more than attack his underclassman - he had violated a sacred rule, used one of the few vital elements of the game for something malevolent that had nothing to do with tennis.

The other was that you did not strip a sportsman of his ability to play, not outside of the game. What Atobe had done during Kantou tread a fine line of sportsmanship, but the fact was Tezuka could have chosen to end the match at any time.

For those serious about tennis, which was all of those present, there was no greater injury than one that stopped you from playing. Which meant Yukimura had gone too far, even by his own standards.

Rikkaida's captain looked even more broken at the accusation, but Sanada recognized the expression on his face as the calm before the storm. Sensing his captain was about to snap, he grabbed Yukimura's arms once he'd pushed away from Atobe and started to rise.

"Don't touch me!" he screamed, grabbing the offending hands and trying to pry them off. But Sanada forced him to stay seated on the bed.

"Calm down," Sanada asked, surprised at how easy it was to keep hold of the other. He noted the dark circles under his captain's eyes and wondered if he'd been properly sleeping.

Yukimura panted hard, loud breaths, forcing himself to calm down out of pride. It was bad enough he'd shown weakness to Atobe, and now he realized Sanada and Tezuka must have been listening from another room. His body shook with anger, but he knew in his head that the diva was only trying to accomplish what they'd discussed before.

"What happened to your arm?" said Atobe out of the blue, as if totally oblivious to the angry sparks flying around the room.

Biting his lip, Yukimura concentrated on holding still, shutting his eyes and ignoring the diva's question. Confused by everything everyone was saying, Sanada gave up on sorting out his emotions and removed Yukimura's jersey. A long purple bruise ran from his elbow up into the short sleeve of his regulars shirt, the cause of his wince when Sanada had grabbed him.

"I hit the wall," he finally said, sick of the others staring at him.

"Hard enough to bruise?"

"... We were going up the stairs when I ... Fuji lost his balance and we fell-"

"Fuji's too graceful to lose his balance," Tezuka growled. "You hit him."

"...Yes..." Yukimura's voice was hollow, as were his eyes. "When he started to fall, I reached out and grabbed his hand, but his body swung back and twisted hard... for a second, his wrist was bent at a funny angle. I reached with my other hand to get a better hold but then there was nothing left to support us, and we fell together. ... I think he tried to grab me and take the brunt of it, but I grabbed him at the same time so we hit the wall sideways." The tension left his body as he spoke, feeling tired from telling the truth, especially to those he did not want to talk to. He simply lost the willpower to ignore their inquisitive glares.

Relaxing now that he knew it was partially an accident, Tezuka took a deep breath before settling on the armchair next to the bed. Atobe looked satisfied, though it was hard to tell what for, and Sanada's brow knotted together as the vice captain tried to piece things together. They were all relieved that Yukimura was at least talking to them.

"Seiichi," Atobe took the bluenette's hand, rubbing his fingers over it comfortingly. Now that they'd started to get somewhere, he wanted to keep the other talking. "What happened today when he came to your house? Why did you want him to leave?"

Feeling warm with Sanada still beside him, Yukimura sighed, "Because I was going to do it again. I can't... I can't stop." He jerked his hand out of Atobe's, opting to hug himself instead. His head bent low, his long bangs falling across his face and hiding it in shadows. "I need help," he whispered hoarsely.

The two men on either side of him looked pained, wanting to comfort him but afraid to breach the subtle wall Yukimura had placed around himself by rejecting their touch. There was something heartbreaking about the way he held himself, and Tezuka understood that just because the lithe captain consciously admitted to needing help did not mean he subconsciously wanted it. He was the total opposite of Fuji, who craved touch even while he talked his way out of it.

Tezuka recalled a time when he was walking Fuji home after a festival, and they'd come across a injured mutt who'd been bullied and burned by fireworks. It snarled and snapped at them when they moved towards it, but Fuji insisted they help it. Tezuka reached out his hand to grab it, but after almost being bitten, shook his head and told his boyfriend it didn't want their help.

The tensai disagreed. It had come to them, he said, because it knew they could help it, but now it was too afraid to let them get any closer. The key was, he insisted, to work around its instinctive self-defense. He knelt onto the blacktop, dirtying his light blue yukata, and made soft whistling noises with his arm stretched out. As if drawn forward by the mysterious allure of Fuji, the dog sniffed the offered hand suspiciously before allowing Fuji to pat its head.

"See? You just have to be in it's comfort zone." The tensai softly spoke as he gently stroked the creature, rubbing its ears and chin. "They don't like it if you tower over them. It's intimidating."

The puppy turned out to be quite sweet once it was no longer scared, and Fuji said it must have been domesticated at one point then abandoned. They'd taken it to his house and tended to it, and after a few days Fuji managed to find a home.

He knew his rival captain would be insulted to be compared to a wounded puppy, as would he, but somehow he felt the story had relevance. Kneeling before the blue haired youth, Tezuka lightly placed his hand on Yukimura's knee and looked up into dark oceanic eyes. A strange glimmer of trust, and the fact he wasn't being pushed away, confirming that he had made his way into the other's comfort zone.

"You should hate me too." Yukimura's voice was so quiet they had to strain to hear. "You've seen how badly I hurt him, you should be angry since you-"

"Fuji doesn't let others get close to him," Tezuka interrupted. "Not easily. He is friendly on the surface because he is detached. He does not get close to others nor does he let them close."

Seeing the bluenette's incredulous look, he added, "Yes, I am angry. But that is not important right now." He glanced at the other two, continuing once he confirmed they were waiting for him to speak. "When Fuji comes to honestly care for someone, he becomes extremely overprotective. ... such as when he defended you."

"That was before I hurt him-"

"You'd already hurt him," Tezuka growled a reminder. "Despite that, you have become important to him."

"That's because Syuusuke has a tendency to get emotionally attached, even to the things he meant to take advantage of," Atobe snorted, speaking mostly to himself.

Yukimura looked both pained and thoughtful, a confused mixture of swirling within his eyes. "He encourages me."

"Only in that he does not defend himself," Tezuka retorted. He recognized that he was being tested, that Yukimura had switched from a violent resistance to a psychological one. He wanted Tezuka to blame him, to be angry at him and push him away, so that he'd have an excuse to back out of the plea for help he himself had just made.

When they reached Fuji's gate, the puppy became frightened again. It pulled away with vicious barks, and Tezuka had to hold it down with both of his arms. Once it realized it was trapped, it began trembling and whimpering, backing as far away from the unfamiliar place as it physically could. Tezuka pitied it, but Fuji said they had to force it inside. It was only scared, he explained, because it knew that once inside the gates it would be completely trapped.

Yukimura was not a dog. He could not be forced to open up to them; he had a human will, and an extraordinarily strong one at that. They would have to convince him to trust them, and because Fuji had protected him, Tezuka felt he was worth convincing. Especially since he himself seemed to yearn for it, was sitting with them trying to listen, even though in reality he could stand up and walk away at any time. They would stop him from being violent but not from leaving.

Tezuka must have passed the test, for Yukimura broke eye contact long enough to nod. He seemed to understand what Tezuka was saying, that they were connected to Fuji, and that ultimately this was for Fuji's sake.

The bluenette's soft voice cut into the stoic brunette's musings, more firm and controlled than it had been the rest of the time.

"I ... have something that I want." He exchanging serious looks with each of them. "I thought about it for a long time, the way for all of us to be happy. If the three of you are willing... but I didn't mean to go this far with Fuji." I didn't mean to fall in love with him, he added only in his thoughts.

Curious about his words but believing his captain would explain more once he felt like it, Sanada asked, "Does Fuji know you're here?"

"No... I left him at my house. I should go back. He must be lonely..." His empathetic tone drifted off as Sanada helped him stand and replaced his jacket.

"Let's go," said Tezuka.

Thankfully, Yukimura's parents were still at work and his sister was stuck at prep school like always. His house was often empty lately, though this was advantageous for the kind of relationship he had with Fuji.

The bluenette silently led them up the stairs, peaking into his bedroom, and was not surprised to see his boyfriend sleeping. After allowing the others to look inside, he softly closed the door so they could talk in the hallway.

"You handcuffed him?" Sanada harshly whispered, shock and horror on both his and Tezuka's faces. Atobe, on the other hand, looked far too smug, his lips twisted up like a purring cat. Sanada felt like slapping him.

"I didn't want him following me," Yukimura mused, feeling pleased after seeing his lover securely fastened to the head of his bed. "And I was worried, because he was so upset. I did give him his cell phone, in case of emergencies."

"Where's the key," Tezuka growled, tightening his fist. He couldn't believe that earlier he'd felt sorry for this imp. Yukimura was a devil with a pretty face.

Sighing, but in a way that was suspiciously playful, Yukimura dug into his sweat pants pocket and led them into the room. The four boys crowded into the small space once he undid the lock.

Turning sleepily as the movement disturbed him, Fuji moaned as he felt the shift in pressure on his good wrist, sore from being cuffed for so long. Slivers of blue squinted up at them, then widened in surprise as he took in who was around him.

"Tez- ... unn, nee, why are you all here?" He draped his arms around Yukimura as if checking for damage, shifting his legs so they could both sit on the bed.

Atobe opened his mouth, but Yukimura spoke first. "We came to see you," he smiled warmly, as if he hadn't forced Fuji to wait there by cuffing him to the post and taking the key. Stroking the brunette's cheek in a motherly fashion, he moved forward in a not-so-motherly way and pressed their lips together in a sweet kiss. It quickly degraded to a battle of tongues, though the whole thing seemed very much for show.

Yukimura hummed into the kiss, pleasantly aware that all eyes were on the two effeminate boys making out. Fuji was not used to his sadistic lover showing this sort of affection, so he reaped it for all its worth.

Sanada thought his heart was going to beat out of his chest; it raced so fast it was almost painful. He couldn't even begin to figure out what he was feeling while watching them, a blush spreading from his ears to his ankles. Tezuka amazingly still looked the same, except for a pulsing in his temple, and Atobe licked his lips looking like he wanted to join in.

The diva was probably about to, when a door downstairs slammed open, followed by a shrill voice calling, "I'm home!"

Turning sharply towards the noise with a glare that could cut steel, Yukimura pulled away from his disappointed lover, his lips in a thin, tight line as he stood from the bed. Before he could go anywhere, Fuji took his hand in both of his.

"We can go to my house," the tensai whispered conspiratorially. The bluenette nodded, asking the others with a glance if they were coming.

Tezuka nodded, unreadable as always, and Sanada was just plain relieved that the disturbingly erotic scene had been interrupted. Atobe on the other hand looked annoyed.

"We better continue this there," he drawled, sounding rather turned on.

Yukimura was the first down the stairs, not even bothering to see if the others were following. His mother was busy piling shopping bags on the couch.

"Oh Seiichi, you should have told me you'd be home," she piped once she noticed him. "Will you take these bags up to my room? Soustroms was having their bi-annual sale, and I just had to take advantage of it. I met up with my girlfriends from the office and we took half the day off - What happened to your lips?"

She blinked with a naivety that looked stupid for her age, staring at the swollen buds with incredulity. Yukimura rolled his eyes and ignored her, sweeping out the door.

"Difficult boy," she huffed, then turned to glare at the others as if just noticing them. "Well? He already left so why are you still here?"

Lifting one perfectly shaped eyebrow, Atobe stared back at the woman, questioning how such gaudy fashion sense could exist. Disregarding the outfit, the lady was actually quite pretty, age hidden by thick layers of make-up, a golden haired version of Yukimura, though obviously she used dye. So the bluenette took after his mother, at least in terms of looks.

Dislike marred Sanada's face, but Fuji smiled in his usual way and bowed politely before exiting. Tezuka also gave a formal bow before following after them, his hand on Atobe's back to make sure the other didn't start making quips about plebeian attitudes.

The air between them was slightly awkward as they rode the train, each lost in his own thoughts. What they were doing, what they were so aiming for... they hoped they'd soon find out.

Chapter Text

Yukimura came home to find a lost kitten meowing on his porch.

"I told you not to come today." His calm tone held only a slight reproach, but his eyes glowed with ferocity. Fuji shuddered in both fear and delight as Yukimura grabbed his left wrist and dragged him inside.

Within minutes he was pushed onto the bed, hitting his knee against the edge of the foot board. A light chuckled rang out behind him as he clung to it, gritting his teeth and waiting for the pain to subside. Yukimura gave him a moment before grabbing each of his forearms and pushing him flat onto his back, his smile broadening as the brunette squirmed fearfully beneath him. It was like the tensai was asking for it.

Bending over his captive, he stretched aside the shirt's collar and bit into the juncture between the neck and shoulder. Throwing his head back, Fuji gasped as teeth pressed hard into the tender muscle, threatening to puncture the skin. The bluenette stopped short of drawing blood; he didn't feeling like tasting it today.

He slipped his hand underneath the blue and white shirt, feeling the rough texture of scabs from where he'd scratched. His other hand graced down Fuji's arm, stopping when a hard plastic blocked it. Frowning, he looked down to see a tan colored brace over the bandages on Fuji's wrist.

He stared at it, blinking twice as the emotion fell from his face. He thought it was only a bad bruise. The memory flashed through his mind, of it twisting when he grabbed Fuji's hand.

It doesn't matter to me.

He pulled away, torn between paddling the brunette for lying about it or sending him home to rest. Fuji looked so beautiful, so vulnerable trembling on the bed, waiting for the abusive reprimand that would surely come, that Yukimura's heart skipped a beat.


He wasn't supposed to feel like this. He wasn't supposed to feel guilty over what he'd done. He enjoyed it too much to regret it now.

His naturally maternal instinct towards tenderness was awakening, though, as it did when any member of his team was hurt or needed help. He had this strange image of sitting with Fuji in the club room, scolding him for pushing himself as he smoothed ointment over scratches, as he often did with Akaya.

"These aren't my bandages," he murmured. Fuji stiffened, his eyes flickering evasively to the side.

"I had to take them off to shower-"

Yukimura slapped him before he could say anymore. "I do not permit lying," the captain hissed, shaking him by the shoulders and pressing him into the mattress.

Instead of going rigid, Fuji's body twisted in response to the familiar stinging against his already bruised cheek. "More..." he moaned, feeling light headed, probably because his head had banged into the wall as he was shaken.

Midnight blue eyes widened in shock. Fuji was too out of it to notice the grip on his arms slacken.

"Break me."

A chill swept through Yukimura, as if he'd taken off his coat in the middle of a snow field and been struck by arctic winds. He pulled away, pale as a ghost.

"This isn't what I want."

Fuji stayed dazed on the bed, his eyes glossing over, limbs wavering in anticipation. Yukimura tore his eyes away, adding quietly, "And this isn't what you really want."

He slipped on his regular's jersey, rubbing his hands to bring some warmth back to his ice cold skin. "Go home," he ordered, keeping his face towards the window.

"No." Fuji's soft, defiant tone made the captain's blood start to boil.

"Fine then, stay here." He threw Fuji's cell phone at him; it bounced off his chest and fell onto the mattress. "Call me when you've left."


Desperate hands grabbed for his sleeve, but Yukimura turned more swiftly to catch him by the shoulders. He did not push him away but forced him back onto the bed. In truth he wanted to slam the brunette into the desk and pound him senseless, but that was exactly what the tensai wanted. Instead he grabbed a pair of handcuffs out of the top drawer and linked one end to the headboard, tucking the key into his pocket before sweeping from the room.

"I decide when these things happen!" He yelled, slamming the door shut before Fuji could reply.

Once outside, energy sapped from his knees and he collapsed against the door, sinking down onto the floor. Minutes, hours maybe passed as he sat there breathing as quietly as he could. He left after he no longer heard the metal rattling.

Sanada had thought his feelings were gone, that they had faded away in light of his attraction to Tezuka. He had known, of course, that he would always be fond of his first love, but the unfamiliar, violent aspects at the end of his relationship had sunk a sour, bitter perspective into his lingering relation with his captain. Only now, as he began to see the frail, needy Yukimura he remembered and fell in love with, did he feel a re-kindling of what had once been and perhaps had never died.

Sanada was the type who needed to be needed. Tezuka and Atobe were the same way, but the need was much stronger for him. He led but he was not a leader; he commanded the team with confidence only because Yukimura was behind him, making all the decisions and whispering orders.

Used to staying in the background, he hardly spoke, allowing Tezuka and Atobe to take the lead. He was too confused to know what to do anyways. He glanced at his companions, noticing Yukimura tightly gripping Fuji's arm, and wondered if he should feel disconcerted. He barely knew the tensai, but he felt obligated to get along with his boyfriend's friends ... and the fact he found the lithe brunette sensually alluring had nothing to do with it.

He turned towards his boyfriend, but Seigaku's captain was staring blankly at the passing lights, his stony exterior perfectly held. He was surprised at how well Tezuka was dealing with all of this - he always assumed the stoic brunette was like him, struggling to express himself and handle relationships.

Fuji lived in a two story house very similar to Yukimura's, in a typical suburban neighborhood that mixed Japanese and Western architecture. He led them into the entry way, pulling out enough slippers for all of them.

At first Sanada wondered if he was the only one who'd never been there, but noticed Yukimura and Atobe looking around as well. There were pictures every where, though not many with Fuji in them. An ancestral shelf with half-burned incense and a vase with flowers sat off to the side next to the fireplace.

He stared at the collection of pinned up photos on a board above the shoe rack, noticing many of them featured a small boy with a hatched scar on his forehead or random pictures of nature like the one of a butterfly landing on a bench. In one, a teenage girl hugged two little boys with each arm. She looked strikingly like Fuji, with the same hair but darker eyes, making a V at the camera. The boy with the scar scowled and looked like he was trying to squirm away, but the other boy smiled cheerfully and held his hand.

"I took most of those when I was young, and my mother put them up here."

He turned to see Fuji smiling at him, having noticed his interest. He realized he knew very little about the tensai's family, and was about to ask when a female voice called cheerfully,

"Syuusuke, are these your friends?" A gorgeous woman in her twenties came down the stairs, her business suite accented by reddish curls that flowed around her shoulders.

"Un, Nee-san," Fuji smiled, his eyes crinkling upwards like the little boy in the picture, who Sanada identified now as him. She must have been the older girl in the pictures, meaning her hair was currently dyed.

She smiled brightly at them, "Hm, are you all from different schools? I'm Yumiko, Syuusuke's big sister - ah, Tezuka!" she exclaimed as she noticed him behind the other tennis players. "I haven't seen you in years! ... hm, you haven't changed..." She frowned contemplatively for a moment. Fuji bit back a chuckle, knowing that she was probably trying to convince herself that Tezuka really was the same age as her brother - not a businessman as she'd assumed when she first met him.

"Nee-san, would you mind if I borrowed the house?"

She arched an eyebrow, looking over the five of them inquisitively before shrugging. "I was going to visit my friend Himiko anyway. . . ah!" she suddenly exclaimed, clapping her hands as if suddenly realizing something. "Hm, well, have fun. Just remember that mother's flight gets in tomorrow." She gave them a cheerful wink and Fuji a goodbye kiss on the cheek before heading out.

The sound of her car pulling out of the driveway grew distant as Fuji led them up the stairs.

"We can use the master bedroom, since my parents are abroad," he said, his smile never changing. "It's more spacious and comfortable."

Frowning, Sanada asked, "What about the living room?"

Fuji giggle in reply and pushed open the door, flopping onto the king sized mattress then invitingly patting the space around him. Atobe settled on the pillows and stretched like a cat, and Yukimura sat calmly next to Fuji, stroking the brunette's head in a way reminiscent of a mother about to tell her child a bedtime story.

Tezuka seemed hesitant before sitting on the very edge of the bed's corner, which unfortunately placed him on Fuji's other side. Sanada didn't want to be left out, though he felt he already was in some way, so he stood near the bed head, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall.

"So where were we?" Atobe drawled, checking his nails for defects.

"Don't even start," Tezuka snapped, crossing his arms.

"You were watching too," Yukimura smirked, reaching across Fuji and running his fingers along Tezuka's cheek. Sanada was sure he should be angry the contact, but there was just something about seeing the two people he felt for the most touch...

"Stop that," Tezuka growled, but made no move to match his words.

Laughing, Yukimura shifted his head until his lips met Fuji's, as if picking up where he left off, while simultaneously caressing Tezuka's cheek. The tensai stayed perfectly silent and still, other than responding to the kisses, completely letting the effeminate captain lead.

They were back to the same incredibly hot image that Sanada couldn't drag his eyes away from, though some logical part of his mind pointed out that this had nothing to do with them working out their problems. Unfortunately, at the moment, his mind wasn't working as well as some other parts of his body.

The vice captain a perfect view from the side as tongues connected and clashed. His jaw falling open like a cartoon; he hardly noticed Yukimura's fingers digging into the fabric of Tezuka's collar, till the bluenette jerked the stoic youth forward, bringing his face barely an inch from theirs.

Eyes widening behind his glasses, Tezuka quickly pulled back, but Yukimura kept hold of the top of his shirt, keeping him on the bed.

"What are you trying to do?" Slight traces of panic laced his voice, which for Tezuka meant he was freaked.

"Share," Yukimura chuckled in reply, amused by his rival's horrified look. "What are you afraid of, Tezuka Kunimitsu?"

"It's just sex," Atobe drawled.

"I'm not like you," Tezuka scowled, glaring at the diva who sucked carelessly on his pinky.

"You don't have to be," Yukimura cooed. "You just have to give it a try."

Tezuka looked at Sanada for help, but he was too frozen to even blink. Sighing, the stern youth turned to Fuji, who said nothing but whose crystalline eyes trembled with hope and fear.

Adam's apple dropping as he swallowed, Tezuka slowly craned his neck forward, till his lips met Yukimura's in a sweet, drawn out kiss.

It was too much. Sanada was torn between staring, grabbing at his warming crotch, or lunging at them. The room started to spin and blur, and then he couldn't see them at all, only the floral carpeting and then darkness.

A moan slipped from his throat even before his eyes cracked open to stare up dimly at the plastered ceiling. He felt something good and warm between his legs, and something inside him rising pleasantly then pooling towards his groin.

"What happened?" he groaned, confused by the ache of his forehead mixed with the pleasant feeling near his thighs.

"You fainted," he heard Tezuka pant. ... Wait, pant? Tilting his head towards the voice, he found his face inches away from his boyfriend's, whose flushed skin shone with sweat. His eyes trailed downwards until they caught a pair of hands pressed against the brunette's chest, then the full view his ex sweating heavily as he pushed himself up and down on Tezuka's cock. Yukimura's head flew back as his mouth hung open in a silent moan, his eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy. Grabbing the bluenette's thighs in his hands, Tezuka helped push up and down, thrusting up as best he could.

Oh. Ooh. Sanada's hips jerked in response to the overly erotic scene, and he heard a muffled whimper. The warm feeling spiked and he lifted his head only to lower it again with a moan. He pulled himself up a bit, completely enraptured by the sight of his cock half buried in Fuji's mouth.

The tensai's lips drew up and down along his length, and then he noticed Atobe's fingers curled in the brunette's hair, using them to press and pull his head. The diva's other hand slipped beneath the tensai's stomach, fondling his balls and cock in encouragement.

He heard a wild grunt from his boyfriend beside him, and turned in time to see Tezuka's hips jerk as he filled Yukimura with seed. The plentiful liquid spurted and dripped down the bluenette's thighs as he pulled himself off, giving the exhausted captain below him a passionate kiss before patting his cheek and shifting away.

Tapping Atobe's shoulder, Yukimura swung him around, making sure Sanada had a clear view of the butt plug protruding from the diva's hole. The silver haired elitist purred like a tiger as Yukimura had him bend over the edge of the mattress, removing the plug and swiftly replacing it with his manhood. Atobe moaned as the blue haired beau slowly started to move in and out, the noise gradually increasing along with the rhythm.

Yukimura's dark blue eyes looked straight into Sanada's, the close-lipped smile assuring him he had not been forgotten. The bluenette nudged Atobe's shoulder with his chin, and the diva responded by placing his hand on the back of Fuji's head and pushing down.

A pleasured shout flew from the vice captain as the hot mouth engulfed his length, Fuji's stifled whimpers twisting his lips and causing the most erotic sensations. The tensai's throat vibrated unevenly around his cock, sending shocks of pleasure up his spine.

He could barely see the top of Fuji's head bobbing up and down, his vision blurring as he lost control, pumping into the tensai's mouth as the need built within him. Flashes of white sparked within his brain and then he screamed, his whole body shuddering as he jerked out his release.

His eyes could barely focus, but when he tiredly lifted his head he could see his cum dribbling from the tensai's mouth. Fuji was turned around and repositioned so his butt pressed against the bed, allowing Atobe to wildly grind their leaking cocks together as Yukimura continued to pump, and that was the last thing Sanada saw before the world once again faded to black...

Chapter Text

Something shifted next to him, prompting Sanada to open his eyes. His pupils rolled to the right, where Tezuka slept perfectly still on his back. That's funny, he thought, since he couldn't remember having gotten far enough with the stoic brunette that they'd sleep in the same bed.

He felt the shifting next to him again, and rolled his eyes to the left, to discover the something was Fuji Syuusuke snuggling up against him. An arm draped around the tensai's waist, which Sanada discovered upon lifting his head belonged to none other than Atobe Keigo.

Oh. Oh yeah. The memories of the previous night flooded back to him, stirring his nether parts with a warm tingling sensation. The image of Yukimura riding his long desired boyfriend burned before his eyes, and now his parts were getting very warm, and Fuji cuddling his stomach was not helping. Yukimura...

Detaching the lithe brunette he slowly sat up, relieved to see his captain standing by the window, looking out towards the rising sun. Yukimura turned and smiled at him, his gentle face always a pleasant sight to wake up to. But those days had ended long ago... what the hell was he doing...

He carefully pulled himself out from between the two Seigakuans, trying not to disturb them more than he already had. Fuji made an annoyed little noise that he could only describe as cute and snuggled against the sheets. The brunette's eyes squeezed shut as if he were determined to stay asleep.

"Good morning," Yukimura smiled and reached towards his teammate when he approached, but Sanada placed his hand on the back of his captain's and pushed it away.

"Yukimura, this-"

"You enjoyed it." The bluenette looked back towards the window, away from him. "You can't deny that."

Snorting, Sanada crossed his arms in symbolic defiance, unable to quench the bitter feelings that stirred whenever his captain was around.

"Don't think about it too much right now," Yukimura whispered, sounding a little sad.

"I don't..." The vice captain ran his fingers through his hair, scratching his head. "Fine," he sighed. It was true, after all, that he'd felt very good despite being only half conscious, and the discomfort between his legs was proof that his body'd be willing to do it again. The problem was, he didn't understand what 'it' was.

He looked over the three sleepers on the bed, drawing in a shaky breath at the beauty and incredible sensuality each one of them head. Tezuka was, in his opinion, by far the most handsome, but there was something about Fuji that he couldn't quite place his finger on, though his length jerked as if it knew. Atobe... he scowled, thinking his rival would always annoy him, even if he admitted that the diva was, at least a little, as good looking as he often bragged.

"Why is only Fuji naked?" He blurted, wondering why he hadn't noticed sooner.

Eyes twinkling, Yukimura chuckled, "Because that's the way I wanted it. Don't complain - I made them leave your shirt on, and put your boxers back on when we were finished."

"Shame," Atobe yawned, woken by their talking. He was not used to being disturbed while sleeping - his servants were well trained. Well, what could you expect from these plebeians? "The cloth on these night clothes is despicable. Ore-sama will have them re-made in cashmere. Though the design is-"

"Tezuka," Yukimura interrupted, rolling his eyes. "You can stop pretending to sleep now."

The stoic brunette's eyes opened in response, though if he was annoyed at being caught, it didn't show. Without saying a word, he slipped from the bed and headed towards the bathroom.

Bored by the ensuing silence, Atobe nonchalantly pulled Fuji onto his lap, molding the sleepy boy like a doll into a comfortable position before picking up his cell phone next to the bed. The lavished heir chatted with some servant of his for a while, ordering what sounded like breakfast to be delivered, though Sanada barely recognized half of the dish names.

The black haired youth pulled his pants back on while Yukimura combed his hair. The sun quietly drew upwards, spreading light across the sky. Fuji stayed sleeping on Atobe's chest, purring as the diva stroked his back and neck. Tezuka returned in a bathrobe that fit just right for his size, giving the two a sour look before he grabbed his clothes and went to another room to change.

Atobe quickly got bored and forced Fuji to wake and get dressed, which was good timing since a few minutes after he finished, they heard a car arrive downstairs.

"Unusually fast," said Atobe, following the tensai downstairs. Tezuka was on the living room couch reading a book and stood properly on their approach. Fuji didn't have a chance to open the door, however, when the knob rattled and the entrance opened on its own.

"Mother!" Fuji exclaimed, looking wide-eyed at the smiling, middle aged woman pulling her luggage through the door. He immediately moved to help her with the cases, joined by Tezuka who took the large blue one on wheels. Atobe looked like he wanted to help, but just wasn't sure how luggage could be carried without servants.

"Thank you Syuusuke." After changing her shoes, the woman drew her middle child in a hug before greeting him with two cheek kisses. "I didn't know you'd have friends over! Ah, thank you Tezuka-kun," she smiled and gave the same greeting, hugging the stoic youth who went rigid but endured it, and the kisses too. "Ah, and you are ... mmm, Atobe Keigo-kun -"

"Je vous suis étonné que connaissez-moi Madame," the diva suavely interjected, kissing the back of her hand.

"Mon fils m'écrit des lettres," she replied, laughing and lightly blushing. "Plaisir de vous rencontrer finalement. And you two..." She turned to Yukimura and Sanada, who had come down the stairs upon hearing the commotion. "You must be Seiichi-kun," she gave the surprised bluenette a peck on the cheek, "and you are ... " her brow furrowed as she looked over Sanada.

"Sanada Genichirou," Fuji filled in. "He's a new friend, same school as Seiichi."

"I'm glad to meet both of you," she finished, taking their hands in a friendly hold.

Sanada finally stopped hiding behind his hat brim long enough to meet her eyes. She had the exactly same face as Fuji, plus a few wrinkles - round and light colored, with the same close eyed smile. Had she been twenty years younger, they would have been twins. She had the air of a woman who liked to challenge herself, with the way she tried to name each of them.

"How did you recognize us?" Yukimura asked quietly, eyes dim and posture giving away his discomfort.

"Syuusuke sends me pictures," she winked, about to pull her bag up the stairs when Sanada took hold of it. He took the bag Fuji had too, easily lifting the heavy cases as if they were full of air.

They followed after her, Yukimura glancing at Fuji who seemed to have turned his smile into a wall. The bluenette had not really seen how closed off the tensai was under normal circumstances, so the countenance was unfamiliar for him. It reminded him of a theater mask, always smiling and unreadable. He wanted to grab those half-stretched lips and twist them till they bled.

If he thought about it further, then Tezuka's stoic visage was like the other mask, the one that always frowned. He supposed he'd have to learn much more about those two and the relationship they had if he was going to make this work... he just wasn't looking forward to it. He felt sick to his stomach, even though in his head he knew better. Even though he knew...

The sound of Fuji's mother dropping her purse to the floor broke his thoughts.

"What happened to the bedroom?"


Sanada stuttered an apology, and looked two seconds away from getting on his knees and bowing to the floor. Atobe offered to pay the cleaning bills, Tezuka's eyebrow twitched, Yukimura covered his mouth with his hand, and Fuji's smile seemed to widen a little.

Pillows and blankets were strewn everywhere, and they'd had to improvise to fit onto the bed. Since Fuji donned a fresh set of clothes, the ones he'd worn before were left on the floor. Yukimura had enough sense to have cleaned up any liquids, at least marginally, but overall it looked like they'd had a sumo contest and used the entire room for the ring. At least nothing was broken. Yet.

Seeing the looks on the five boys' faces, Fuji Yoshiko burst out laughing. "Oh Syuusuke, I thought you were too old for slumber parties," she chuckled, holding her chest as she ran out of breath. "Did you have a pillow fight? I remember you used to do that a lot, when Eiji-kun was over. My, boys these days..."

The four team leaders sweatdropped, while Fuji seemed rather pleased with himself. "We'll clean up," he assured her, directing Sanada and Tezuka to leave the luggage by the door.

"Mes domestiques livrent le petit déjeuner, si vous voudriez nous joindre," smoothed Atobe, clearly living up the fact that only he and the two Fujis knew French. Yukimura wanted to smack the smug grin off his face, or maybe give Fuji a spanking, which would at least make him feel better.

"Oh no no, you dears enjoy your breakfast," Yoshiko waved her hand for emphasis. "I promised my daughter Yumiko that I'd join her for breakfast. She's been telling me about this cafe in Ikebukuro-"

"Don't mind us, Mother," Fuji smiled, guiding her to the door and handing her her purse. "We'll be fine. I'll see you tonight, then?"

She seemed to take the hint, a suspicious twinkle in her eye as she gave her son a farewell kiss then waved them all goodbye. The four non-Fuji boys gave varied sighs of relief as she drove away in her sedan.

Breakfast came soon after, and they made light, mundane conversation, mostly about tennis, since that was safe. Each had their own opinions about the pro circuit and the upcoming year - the captains were all sure their teams would take nationals in their senior year, bragging about the progress of their players. The opposing speculations and challenges grew louder and it might have turned into another showdown between Sanada and Atobe, when suddenly there was the clang of glass and sloshing of water...

Somehow, Fuji's glass of water had managed to splash all over Tezuka's face, drops of water falling from his glasses. His expression was still the same of course but somehow he looked more miserable, as he removed the poor spectacles and wiped them off with his napkin. The heated men were too busy staring at his unveiled face to remember what they were fighting about. God, Seigaku's captain was hot without his glasses.

Smiling innocently, Fuji started clearing away the table, and Yukimura quickly stood to help him, being the only other one not entranced by the hazel brown eyes whose glare was not so sharp when fuzzily pointed in the wrong direction. The tensai had insisted Atobe's servants leave after delivering the food and that they could clean up after themselves, much to the diva's horror.

"I'm surprised," Yukimura said as he rinsed off plates. "I imagined your parents would be..." more like mine... the last words went unspoken but everyone heard them.

"She seems less stressed," said Tezuka, breaking the awkward pause.

Fuji put the last of the glasses in the dishwasher. "She was in France visiting her parents," he explained. "And Yuuta writes her letters too, now."

They went back to the master bedroom to clean up. Shocked that his offer to call in a professional cleaning team was rejected, Atobe more or less moped on the bed until he was kicked off so they could make it, then grumbled to himself as he reigned from a chair in the corner.

They finished pulling up the comforter, and Tezuka leaned down to collect Fuji's clothes, but the tensai tried to do the same at the same time, his hand falling upon Tezuka's. The stoic captain pulled away with a grimace, but Fuji didn't have time to feel hurt because Yukimura chose that moment to push him, hard. He slammed into Tezuka's chest, caught awkwardly by the shoulder. Wincing as pain shot from his bruises, he gave the sexiest little squeak, arms folded against his chest as if expecting more.

"Just what are you trying to do?" Tezuka growled with an angry glare.

Yukimura returned it with a friendly smile and narrowed eyes. "Share. I thought I made this clear to you last night."

Sanada thought he should intervene, but that was hard with Atobe's hot breath falling down his neck. The diva hugged him from behind, pulling him back, lips tickling his nape in a way that was more than suggestive.

Tezuka gently placed Fuji an arms length away, though his eyes stayed narrowly fixed on Yukimura as if he feared the bluenette would try harming his teammate again.

Yukimura took a step towards them, and Tezuka pulled Fuji closer. The tensai trembled slightly but passively allowed himself to be moved as the pattern repeated itself until he was practically pinned between the two captains. They stared sharply at each other, unspoken words flaring between them.

'You don't have the right to keep him from me, and you know it.'

Placing his hand on the back of Fuji's neck, Yukimura nudged the tensai towards him and whispered in his ear. The bluenette took hold of Tezuka's arm, allowing Fuji to slip away, smirking devilishly at the bespectacled captain who miserably let his ex-lover go. So long as the imp was busy with him and not Fuji, it shouldn't matter.

While his boyfriend kept his ex at bay, Fuji slid over to Sanada, who Atobe had more or less cornered. The vice captain flushed brightly from the diva's talented necking, and Fuji's hands slipping beneath his shirt didn't help stall his rising temperature. The lithe brunette stood tip-toe and kissed the corner of his mouth, probably carrying out orders.

"Yukimura..." Sanada pleaded, voice welled with uncertainty as he failed to ward off Fuji's advance.

"Yukimura," Tezuka echoed far more harshly, moving towards them and pulling the lithe captain with him.

"Make it clear," drawled Atobe, leaving Sanada in Fuji's more than capable hands. "What you want."

Sighing, Yukimura released Tezuka's arms, though the other could have gotten away easily had he really tried. Settling on the bed, the elfin beauty leaned back and parting his knees suggestively before speaking.

"I want to share, the way we did last night." He looked Tezuka straight in the eye, then carefully looked at each of them, making sure they understood what he was saying. "I want to do it again tonight, and again the next night, and again for a very long time..."

"Seiichi that's ..." Fuji stopped with his ministrations and turned towards his boyfriend, his voice filled with questioning.

For the first time Tezuka realized that Fuji didn't know about this either, that whatever Yukimura and Atobe were planning he wasn't involved - just a doll dragged along for the ride. The Seigakuan leader had known Fuji long enough to see nervousness touching his light blue orbs, fear of the unknown bringing out his old habit of biting his lower lip.

"Wait..." Sanada's brow furrowed as he tried to sort things out in his head. "Are you saying you want the five of us to be in a relationship?"

Atobe looked like he wanted to smack himself in the forehead, Yukimura beamed smugly and even Fuji responded with a sweatdrop.

Hugging himself nervously as he imagined the consequences, Fuji started, "That's-"

"Not going to happen," Tezuka coldly interrupted. His face grew dark, making him even more unreadable than before, but his anger was obvious.

"Well, it's not like I won't be happy having Fuji all to myself," the bluenette taunted, motioning Fuji over to him. The tensai obeyed like a well-trained pet, curling at his feet and laying his head on Yukimura's lap. Victory dancing in the captain's eyes as he saw Tezuka jerk, obviously holding himself back from reaching for Fuji.

"I also thought it was ridiculous, when Seiichi suggested it," Atobe drawled, silver eyes swirling with both amusement and lust as he observed them with his insight. "A five-way relationship? Even ore-sama has not attempted such a feat. But imagine the sex..."

Sanada looked like he was suffering from another information overload, but Tezuka's stony expression still did not break.

"I'll give you some time to think about it," Yukimura purred, stroking Fuji's hair in a way that almost looked like pulling.

"I'll consider it after we talk," Tezuka growled, but inside he felt seared by helplessness as he watched the proud, brilliant tensai from his team submit fearfully to the effeminate imp. But he couldn't give in, not to his anger or his desires, both leading in directions he refused to take.

"Oh?" Feeling curious, Yukimura raised an eyebrow, looking somewhat amused. "About what?"

"About you. About what you did, and what you still want to do."

Yukimura's smile faltered then broadened. "I didn't know you liked to talk in riddles, Tezuka," he smirked, drawing Fuji up onto the bed. "I'm afraid I just can't follow what you're saying." He pulled the brunette's head forward so that it was smothered against his chest, his arms gripping tightly around Fuji's shoulders. It only looked comfortable for one of them.

"Fuji," Tezuka called, somewhere between commanding and begging the tensai to stop, stop playing this game, stop letting Yukimura do this to him. He knew how much power his former lover had, that he could draw away if only he wanted to.

'You're the one hurting most,' a little voice in Tezuka's head laughed nastily at him. 'You deserve it. He's doing it to punish you.'

"Fuji," he repeated. This time the tensai shifted his head so that one shaky blue eye peered out, wearily meeting Tezuka's gaze. "Fuji, tell him. About you, and about your father."

". . . What would you know about it," Fuji murmured coldly, his eyes strangely sharp and threatening.

Yukimura looked taken aback by this sudden change in tone, by the defiance Fuji showed Tezuka but had never shown him. But now he was too curious to act against it, and shifted Fuji so that he was in a better position to talk.

"Yumiko told me," Tezuka replied, seemingly unfazed. He kept his eyes on Fuji's, hard and challenging, daring him to speak for once and stop playing the passive doll.

"...It won't change anything," Fuji whispered. He knew what Tezuka was asking. 'Explain to Yukimura, so that he won't hurt you anymore.' It wouldn't work that way, Fuji knew, and as interesting as he found other people, he hated talking about himself. He would rather be sexually exposed, beaten, tied and forced to orgasm in the most shameful ways than give away his past, the crimes of his natural abilities that had only brought him jealous hatred...

"I'll tell them." All eyes were on Tezuka, and he took Fuji's silence as permission. "About how your father used to beat you when you were little, that you protected your mother and siblings, until he left to work abroad."

A gentle silence settled over the five as as Tezuka's monotone sunk in. In a moment of tenderness, Yukimura drew Fuji up into a hug, reminiscent of a mother cradling a sick child. For once, the tensai wasn't smiling.

It seemed as if he wasn't going to say anything, but then Fuji spoke softly, resting his head on Yukimura's shoulder.

"It wasn't... as black and white as you make it sound. I... my family was fine, until I... destroyed it."

Chapter Text

"My family was fine, until I destroyed it."

Fuji looked towards the window as he spoke, and for once, he wasn't smiling.

"If I hadn't been born, they would still all be together now."

He motioned towards the empty house, as if this were an explanation.

"Just start from the beginning," cooed Yukimura, rubbing his back soothingly.

"I ... " Fuji sighed, knowing he would have to say everything if he wanted them to understand. But even then, they probably wouldn't...

"It was apparent early on that I was ... special. By the time I was one, I knew over twenty words, and before I reached two I was speaking in full sentences. Yumiko started teaching me how to read and write when I was three, and by the time I was five I was able to read children's books on my own.

"My parents were ecstatic; they would brag about me at work and to the neighbors. I learned piano and chess, and excelled at both of them. I even beat my father when we played... And I learned tennis. But tennis was different, because I was so much smaller than the other boys my age and had to develop special moves in order to keep up. It was the only thing I lost at, though eventually, it too became a breeze. I don't know why I tried so hard, my parents rarely praised me... they came to expect I would be good at whatever they gave me, and I was.

"Yuuta was born a year after me, and it was obvious early on that he was... normal. Even my sister, though she's not a genius, had some talents she excelled at as a young child, but Yuuta learned at an ordinary pace. He sees the world the same way that everyone else does, and because of that he gets along so much better with people and makes true friendships based on understanding-"

"Fuji," Tezuka warned, keeping him on track. The tensai could ramble on for hours about his brother if allowed.

After a second, Fuji continued, "I've speculated in hind sight why I did what I did, but I don't really remember what I was thinking at the time. Maybe I was sad that Yuuta was getting yelled at for not keeping up with me, and wanted to give him a chance... or maybe I was jealous because Yuuta got more attention than me, by always getting in trouble...

"I stopped trying. Actually, I purposely manipulated my answers to drop my grades. I made a game out of choosing the wrong answers... maybe I was just bored." He paused, as if considering what to say. He grew lost in his own thoughts, face blank and voice fading... Tezuka gently squeezed his hand, as if to bring him back.

"My father was always scary when he came home drunk, but this was different...When I first brought home a B, he punched me, and the first time I got a C..." his eyes grew unfocused as he spoke. "... I couldn't play tennis for a while. ... Maybe he was abusive before, but I don't remember him being so. I don't remember being shocked at the time... everyone, my teachers and classmates, had made such a big deal about my falling grades that I felt I deserved it.

"But I didn't stop. I failed my classes, lost in the first few rounds of chess tournaments, played no more than chopsticks on the piano. My father yelled at me for fooling around, told me I was a bastard for wasting the talents he wished he'd had, and used his fists to back his words. I didn't fight back, but I didn't change, either. I dropped out of everything but tennis, was dropped to lower level classes, and when I came home...

"After awhile, it became like a habit. He got used to hitting me, and then it wasn't about punishment anymore... when he was drunk, when he had a hard day at work, he'd take it out at home. He started hating his job, and became more and more rough...

"I think that at first, my mother tried to protect me, but then he hit her too... Yumiko made it sound like I protected her, but all I did was be the first to get in my father's way when he got home. I remember my mother crying, but staying with Yuuta and Yumiko in another room. I was never her favorite child..."

He drifted off again, but Yukimura pecked his cheek to bring him back. "Even now?" It seemed strange to the bluenette, hearing this other side of the warm, friendly woman he'd met moments before.

"... I doubt it, but now she treats me like a friend. More like a very close penpal than a son. She's abroad three-fourths of the year, mostly with my father, sometimes with her parents."

"But she loves you," Tezuka stated with no doubt in his voice.

"Yes." A small, gentle smile appeared on the Fuji's lips, and Sanada thought it was the first real smile he'd seen the brunette make. "Don't misunderstand, I love my parents very much, my father as well. He used to play with us... back when we lived in Chiba, we'd go to the beach and he taught us how to fly a kite. We went on family vacations abroad, and he taught me English and French. He's the one who introduced me to tennis, taught me how to serve, and rallied with me even when I was too small to get the ball over the net. ...

"Those times ended because of me. ... Because I was defiant. Part of the reason I didn't fight back was because if I tried, it would only get worse... he would yell at me to stop looking at him, 'with those eyes' ..."

Settled in a nicely sized arm chair, Atobe listened contemplatively to the story, feeling slightly disturbed as he realized how little he knew of his former boyfriend. He'd discussed everything and anything with Fuji, back when they were dating, but his personal life... the tensai never talked about that. Not that the diva had either.

It sounded to him like Fuji thought his father saw rebellion in his eyes, that he wasn't aware of how very haunting his pale blue orbs gleamed in darkness...

"Just because you took it, doesn't mean you deserved it," Tezuka growled harshly, but Fuji didn't seem to hear him. His half-lidded eyes of blue glazed over, as if he just wasn't there.

"... I'm not strong, and I never have been. But as long as he didn't hit Yuuta, it was alright. Around that time, I was getting a lot of pressure from many places, and it was only Yuuta who looked at the real me, so pure and innocent until ... until I failed to protect him... "

His words came out slowly, but his voice was eerily smooth, as if he'd thought of what to say a million times before, though never before shared.

"That night was a mistake. Father got angry at Yuuta for breaking a plate at dinner, and for the first time, punched him instead of me... he hit him so hard in the head, and Yuuta was so tiny... he flew against the wall, and father was going to hit him again... ...had a concussion and went the hospital... Yuuta has a scar now, like a cross, over his temple...

"My mother was so angry. My father requested a transfer, and has been abroad ever since ... he doesn't talk to me, and I haven't seen him in years."

Fuji's voice faded in and out, barely audible at times, as if he forgot to breath. It was the kind of story that took a while to sink in. Sanada could barely imagine the tiny smiling boy from the pictures being beaten by a shadowy figure. The tensai was really a stranger to him, but still, it made him feel angry.

Picturing the rest of the family cowering in another room, letting the oldest son who accepted everything be hurt, made Tezuka's usually calm visage twist in anger and disgust. It was guilt, he knew, that made Fuji's mother the way she was now. Sweet, friendly, caring, because she couldn't stop it then, and this was the best she could do.

But what was it about Yuuta that they all adored? Atobe was an only child so he couldn't grasp the view siblings had of each other. Of course he'd heard the notion of 'the baby of the family'. But as far as he could tell, the youngest Fuji was so... average, compared to the rest of his family. From the way Syuusuke would go on and on about him, it was like they idolized his normalcy. It was too much of a paradox for the diva to understand. At least, from what he knew, he admired the younger Fuji for his perseverance; Yuuta had to work for his skills, and though Atobe had been given everything material since birth, there was still so much he had to work hard to attain. He emphasized with the struggle to shine from the shadows of an overachieving family.

Yukimura thought that if he ever met Fuji's father, he'd twist his head off. Fuji belonged to him, and the only one who could hurt Fuji was him - and he didn't really hurt Fuji, not like that. He understood the tensai's feelings in a way the others couldn't; the need for attention in any form, the silent scream to be noticed, seen not as the perfect son but as himself, by the ones that mattered most. The bluenette fulfilled Fuji's need for affection, while Fuji allowed him to feel powerful and always in control. This was simply the method they used to accomplish that.

Fuji did not speak again for awhile. They made arrangements to meet again at Atobe's house after school. The students of Rikkaidai and Seigaku had quite a bit to gossip about when a slick limousine dropped off the top tennis players in pairs. Atobe seemed far too relaxed about the fact he'd be late to Hyotei by riding with the others, and Fuji broke his silence to whisper that the school probably started classes only after the diva appeared.

They stopped at Seigaku first, and Tezuka and Fuji vanished into the school grounds. The tensai trailed quietly after the regal brunette, and they split up quickly to head towards their respective classes. The next stop was Rikkaidai, and Atobe sent off the two national level players by blowing them a few kisses. Sanada marched away so quickly he left his school bag on the seat, but by the time he realized it the limousine had already roared away.

A small ahem drew his attention, and he turned to find his cool-eyed captain handing him his bag.

"You've been careless lately." Yukimura wore that tiny knowing smile of his, the one he used to love but now felt the same irritation that their rivals did when faced with it on the courts.

Scowling, Sanada grabbed the bag and stomped towards the building.

"You're only careless when you worry."

Damn it. He clenched his first, willing every nerve in his body not to warm, not to take the bait.

The smile grew sharp along with dark blue eyes.

"You'll come to the mansion this evening, won't you?" The lofty inquiry carried sweetly in the morning breeze. Yukimura was clearly not going to leave him alone.

"Why would I go to that narcissist's ... ridiculous...this whole thing..." Growling, Sanada yanked the door open. He felt irritated enough that they were late for class, and worst of all, they had almost every class together that day.

"It's the only way you'll stay with Tezuka."

"What?" Annoyance turned to flat out anger, and Sanada gripped the handle so hard his knuckles turned white. Glaring lightening at his captain only made the bluenette's smirk broaden.

"Tezuka won't leave Fuji alone with me, not when given a chance to interfere."

"That's because you - !"

You hurt him. You beat him. Who would not want to protect him? How could you?

But the accusations never left his mouth. Sanada could feel Yukimura's calm, sorrowful gaze, the soft melancholy that drifted through dark blue locks. The mournful expression that replied to his unspoken words, to all he charged and questioned.

Yukimura knew. He knew what he was doing was wrong, that he had to stop. Surely, the depth of those eyes, so filled with sadness, was a sign that he knew...

"Why do you become such a different person..." Sanada's whisper blew into the hallway and away from his captain's ears. The bluenette turned away from him, but there was no sign of dismissal.

"I'll take Fuji, and through him, Tezuka..." Yukimura's voice fell a little near the end of his statement, but his intentions were clear. This game was his to win.


Blinking, the captain held his tongue as ordered, but only out of curiosity. Sanada stared back at him, memorizing all over again the lines of his face, the gentle curve of his chin, the angle of his cheeks and the way his wavy bangs fell over his eyes.

"Stop it," Sanada repeated, unable to take his own advice.

Yukimura opened his mouth, then closed it, unsure of what to say.

"Stop using everything against me." The words tumbled from his mouth, his dam of control broken. "Stop confusing me. Stop making me feel guilty. Stop, stop -"

"I can't stop," Yukimura interjected coolly, his eyes exasperatingly calm.

"Why not?" Sanada yelled, fists tightening as he fought the urge to grab the lithe being before him and shake him till he listened, till he agreed to stop with all his goddamn games.

"Because I'm still in love with you."


Yukimura smiled dimly, feeling both bitter and amused at how far his adjunct's jaw dropped in that instant. He thought his feelings had been obvious, but he must have underestimated Sanada's extreme naivety. That was one of the things he loved most, though...

"I'm going to leave practice early," he spoke lightly, as if they were just friends exchanging their day's plans, "And take the bus instead of the train. We'll arrive at Atobe's around the same time."

Switching his shoes for his slippers, Yukimura emptied his box of the usual letters before turning to head to class. He didn't look back, but figured Sanada would stand in the doorway for a while, a cute, dumbfounded look plastered onto his face.


The bluenette froze in surprise when he felt a firm hand grab onto his wrist.

"Don't be ridiculous. We'll ride the subway together."

Yukimura did not turn back to face him. But before pulling away, he offered a reply:

"If that's alright with you."

Chapter Text

In the beginning, Yukimura frightened him.

He had read about this kind of relationship, in psychology and sociology books about human interaction, but he never expected to fall into one. It was intense, passionate, physically turbulent, but strangely, he felt that this was the most emotionally stable that he had been in the past three years.

It was simply, he realized. All Yukimura wanted from him was total, physical submission. All he had to do was give that, and then the bluenette would control everything else. He didn't have to do anything. He could give up, and that was okay. For once, it was okay for him not to put in any effort, not to show his talents, not to be a tensai. Anyone could submit, even him. It made him feel normal.

The fear never quite went away, though. In his mind, he trusted Yukimura not to push more than he could handle - but he was certainly pushed to his limits. His body knew that and feared going beyond, feared by instinct being broken. But a dark hidden piece of Fuji wanted to be broken, so that was okay too.

The more he took, the more he realized he could take. He could handle all the pain, all the binding and sadistic toys he reflexively struggled against, even while they brought him such pleasure. He decided to accept it all.

Yukimura was worth it.

He'd seen something, felt something, about the bluenette that told him this was right, that he was actually needed and not for some talent he'd been born with, but for the choices he could make. He chose to go to the captain's house, he chose to give into the pain and humiliating pleasure, and it was his choices that were being appreciated. And he had a feeling that if he followed this man, the one called the child of god, then surely, he'd find what he was looking for...

And he was right. Yukimura was accomplishing in barely a week what he'd been trying to do for over two years. They were so close. They were so close to having what they wanted, and they wouldn't have to lose anything, either. He was afraid, of course, of the change, of the chance that it would fail or fall apart. But the bluenette had found a solution that Fuji hadn't dared to dream of.

He'd been just as shocked as Tezuka and the others when Yukimura suggested it, but ... but, if it worked, if they could all love each other without guilt, then maybe...

Maybe he could be happy.

Fuji appeared in his classroom at the end of lunch time and asked if he was going.

Sighing, the bespectacled captain rubbed his temple and stated, "You're going." And therefore so am I, and you know it, was the unspoken part of his reply.

He thought he saw the usual crescent smile widen, just a little, which couldn't be good.

"Well then, I'll see you there." Fuji waved to a few of his other classmates, before vanishing.

When the tensai didn't show up at practice, Tezuka found out he'd skipped the last half of his classes. Scowling, the Spartan captain vowed to make his smiling teammate run laps till he fainted, once his wrist was healed.

He checked his watch, calculating for the tenth time how many minutes were left till he had to march back to that gaudy, oversized palace. Atobe had more or less decided the time and place for all of them, and since Yukimura and Fuji obviously planned on attending, there was no way Tezuka could leave them alone. And no, it had nothing to do with that incredible, intoxicating experience they'd had at Fuji's house, definitely not...

Tezuka was just worried.

The very back of his mind told him he was forgetting something, forgetting someone he was supposed to give consideration too, but the rest of him was so focused on Fuji and giant mansions and counting down the minutes, it never came to mind...

He double checked the directions Fuji had scribbled onto a piece of paper for him, before getting onto the bus. Before he'd taken the train, but it'd been farther out of the way than he expected. It was still fairly crowded at this hour, but he noticed one squished, open seat on the side.

Settling down, he planned on closing his eyes for a bit, when he felt a light, tickling touch along his arm. His sharp eyes snapped a fiery glare at the offender, only to find a far too familiar face smiling innocently at him, as if to say 'what a coincidence.'

"You ditched practice," he scowled, noticing the tensai'd already changed into street clothes.

"My wrist is sprained," Fuji smiled cheerfully, holding up his braced hand for emphasis.

"You ditched class, too."

Smile twitching, Fuji turned towards his inquisitor with a quirked brow. "... Are you stalking me?"


"You know, there are other ways to punish me than at practice." The honey brunette's smile warped into a suggestive smirk.

"Stop it," Tezuka hissed, his patience wearing thin. The games always annoyed him but right now he loathed them with a passion.

"I already did," Fuji chimed, motioning towards the alight 'Stop' indicator at the front of the bus. He took Tezuka's hand too quickly for protest and led them off.

Scowling, Tezuka realized Fuji must have known exactly when to pull the stop chord. He felt a pang of nauseating jealousy, but quickly pushed it aside.

They had to walk quite a few blocks, since the area they were in wasn't one where the home owners used buses. Tezuka refused to speak or even look at Fuji, but he could feel the tensai still smiling brightly. His ex's unusually high level of happiness perturbed him.

"You know, Atobe would send a limo if we called," the smaller youth suggested.

Frowning, Tezuka's brow furrowed in thought. "... I never saw you being picked up by a limo."

Blue eyes dimmed and looked towards the ground. "You're right, it's no fun that way."

They'd walked over a block, when Tezuka realized they were still holding hands. He instantly broke his away, glaring at the tensai whose eyes widened in surprised.

"Fuji, this doesn't mean that we're - ... we're..." You're still off limits, he thought, but said out loud, "I'm not going because of Yukimura's ridiculous idea. I won't accept it."

Hurt flashed across the tensai's faced, but that mask of a smile slipped tightly back on. They walked in silence, each lost in his own thoughts. The air used to be so comfortable when they spent moments like this, but now it was laced with tension.

"Nee..." Fuji spoke softly with downcast eyes. "You were watching me?"


"Back when I was dating Atobe. You said you never saw me being picked up by a limo."

Tezuka stared at him coldly, but inside he admitted only to himself, Always.

Sipping a light red wine from his study on the forth floor, Atobe watched his visitors approach from one of the large windows. This small amount of alcohol would not affect him, but he was tempted to go a little further before they arrived. It'd been a long time since he'd had a serious relationship, and he felt an unfamiliar trace of pressure to handle this one in particular with grace. After all, he was stepping in not as a third wheel but as a fifth.

Wrinkling his nose, he decided he did not like this bottle and set it out in the hallway for removal. The servants could finish it off. He didn't care.

They stopped outside the mansion, feeling strangely awkward to have all arrived at the same time. Sanada with Yukimura, Tezuka with Fuji ... the way things could have been, had they started years ago, but should not have been as of now. They were not in ... the absurd, proposed five-way relationship, not yet anyways, and they should have obligations to their respective boyfriends.

Tezuka then remembered what he had forgotten. His boyfriend.

However, Sanada did not seem to recognize the significance in their pattern of arrival, and Fuji and Yukimura merely smiled in their respectively secretive way. Though Fuji's smile made him seem plain at first glance, then curiously still on second.. while Yukimura's came off as graceful and calm, unless the tiger inside him flashed out through his eyes.

Sighing internally, Tezuka decided it did not matter, and turned to ring the doorbell. ... Only to remember they had to go by that ridiculous speaker, and then check in with security, then be led by one butler through the front house, then a maid up to whatever room Atobe was probably up watching them from, a bemused smile spread across the annoying diva's face.

Had he any less will power, Tezuka would have turned on his heel and walked straight back to the bus stop. He glanced down at Fuji's bandaged wrist, reminding himself why he was here.

Sighing externally, having given up with appearances, he followed Fuji who had already punched in some gate code and was leading them through what must have been some side path through the garden. If you could call the two acre stretch of bushes and trees and artfully arranged flowers merely a garden.

Atobe cared, and he did not care.

He wanted sex, love, passion, companionship, just like anyone else, and at the same time, all he wanted was one good night of sleep.

He knew his responsibilities. He knew his life was not merely his own, but also belonged to the hundreds of thousands of workers connected to the Atobe corporate groups. Nor was he as ignorant about plebeian life as he pretended.

When he was little, he once ran away to another nearby estate and lived with their servants for a few weeks. Naturally, his parents knew exactly where he was the entire time, but decided to let him stay - they thought it was just a phase. It was. He had fun with all the menial tasks for a while, in the way young girls make-believe to be Cinderella and enjoy sweeping, except he was an adventuring accountant who pulled weeds and helped wash vegetables. Once he grew tired of his little game of make-believe, he went home.

But during his time, he'd watched how the servants worked and lived - they had always been around him, but then they were always smiling and made everything look elegant and effortless. When he was older, and compared the life style of himself and his classmates to theirs, he realized that all the social etiquette he'd had drilled into him from the time he was young was just that - etiquette. It was not a published series of laws; it was not some universal truth about human nature that all well-born children had to turn up their noses and eat hamburgers with a fork. He learned that rules were only rules, and that they could easily change depending on who you were and where you lived.

Rules were not fundamental; they were important, yes, and he played by them when they benefited him. But when they didn't, he made up his own. Thus, he lived two lives.

In one life, he had everything that everyone thought they wanted. He had riches, prestige, beauty, talents - the ideal heir, a prince of the Japanese elite. His manners were exquisite, his presentation pristine; he impressed and ruled over all of his allies, whether they be classmates or future business partners, and even charmed rivals into friendly competition, and occasionally even submission by merger. Soon the whole of Hyoutei followed him, worshiped him, and in return, he presented himself as a king worthy of his place.

In another life, he had everything that everyone didn't know they wanted. Passion for a sport he relished, friends who were loyal to him and not his father's company, and whom he supported in return - lovers, yes, countless lovers, all the pleasure in the world, though on paper he had but one fiancée, as any ideal heir should. The relationships, his bisexuality, the forbidden affairs with not only other students but older married women, swam around the tennis circles as gossip but stayed out of the papers, thanks to money placed in the right hands. His family.. well, he rarely saw his parents, but they did love him, and showed their love by expecting only the best from him, and spoiling him rotten. Love...perhaps that was why he did not understand love, at least the way the poets and movies described it. He didn't see the point in the useless, fantastical thing, and marriage was not about love but about money and corporate stability.

He did, however, enjoy the bond of intense, sexual companionship, and he often wondered if the impulsive tenderness he felt during his more serious relationships was a kind of love. Or perhaps his inclination to forgive Fuji for using him as a replacement for Tezuka for so long was part of his emotional yearning for something more.

He was not looking for love in a relationship with five people, but he would be loyal, if only to end the drama and maybe even the loneliness of always having sex but no lovers. But such a relationship could only be about sex. Yet Fuji and Yukimura were both using it to have the one they loved.

He didn't get it.

But he wanted to.

Atobe looked drunk, but Fuji knew he was the only one who could tell. Though slightly flushed, the diva held himself with the usual confident stance that said he was perfectly in control.

The tensai had noticed a servant carrying a half-drunk bottle with excitement, and one of Atobe's bad habits was that whenever he cast aside one bottle, he'd end up picking another one and finish it off. He had a fairly high tolerance, but sometimes he would start to mutter out his thoughts, which were strangely deep and abundant. Not that Fuji thought Atobe wasn't intelligent... but usually the diva was so confident about his actions and decisions, he didn't need so much consideration. Ironically, the more thought Atobe put into a choice, the worse it seemed to be.

At least, he always had the most complicated explanations for the worst of choices. There must have been something very complicated for this choice in decor... but Fuji had been in this room before, and was not shocked. Yukimura's smile was far too broad, and seemed to say, 'I want to burn all of it.' Tezuka's eyebrow twitched and even Sanada could tell there was something rather disturbing about red-purple walls covered in various portraits of Atobe Keigo, chandeliers in what was obviously meant to be a bed room, albeit an oversized one, and the oversized heart-shaped bed in the middle, not to mention the odd yet carefully positioned couches that loitered on either side.

Smirking, Atobe settled cross legged on the 'bottom' end of the bed, waving aside the shear white drapes sliding down around it. He patted either side, and the two effeminate boys exchanged glances before sitting on either side of him. Wrapping each arm around a lithe waist, the diva felt the three of them formed a nice little uke buffet, for the two more dominating males to eye. Sighing, Yukimura pried the exploring hand away from his stomach but stayed seated, resigned to endure for the sake of cementing his plan, while Fuji was still feeling his special version of sadistic pleasure at how irked the others were with the room.

Atobe definitely put quite a lot of thought into choosing this place to be their first official rendezvous.

"I realized," Atobe began, and Fuji had a sinking feeling he was more drunk than he appeared, "that having a five-way relationship is a rather daunting task for most ordinary people, but, just as god has blessed ore-sama with perfection, he has made each of you rather exceptional, and I'm sure that given the right sort of nutrients, we can engage in the most marvelous activities."

"I didn't come here to talk about sex, Atobe," Tezuka coldly stated, though his monotone was out of place in a room full of purple and Atobe's face. "You aren't even involved in... all of this." It was bad enough that he had to fend off Yukimura and balance his relationship with Sanada with his need to protect Fuji. Having the diva involved as well was a disaster.

"All of this -" Atobe indicated the four of them with a sweep of his hand, now free since Yukimura flipped it away, "is happening, you must realized, because of Fuji. And, I know you are aware that Fuji is, in all circumstances, a walking sex machine-" he gave the tensai a little squeeze, who looked more than a little annoyed- "And anything that involves sex, involves ore-sama."

"You're the 'walking sex machine,' Atobe," the bespectacled captain growled, hoping he would soon get his chance to convince Fuji to get out of all of this. He stayed only because he knew he was at fault for letting Fuji get wrapped up with such people, by breaking up with him.

"Oh please," the elitist drawled, "you were begging for it last night. God you were sexy when-"

"Atobe," Yukimura cut him off. They'd discussed this earlier. Both of them recognized that what they really needed to convince the two rock faced boyfriends was excitation in the right places - but that while that would probably be enough for Sanada (who'd get roped in without ever knowing what was really going on), Tezuka would require a more serious conversation.

"Fuji is sex on legs," the diva insisted, hugging the lithe brunette like a doll while massaging his thigh. "And by the sake of our youthful nature, and clearly from the events of the other night, what we need is walking sex." He gave the tensai a placating kiss on the cheek, before adding, "Which means, Syuusuke, that in order to make this work, everyone will have to have sex with you."

Chapter Text

Atobe never understood why on earth Fuji insisted on cooking for him when they had world class chefs at their beck and call, but he did enjoy what the brunette made despite the commoner's ingredients. Besides, he did occasionally crave plebeian food, and his smiling boyfriend had a rather artful touch when it came to desserts. So he ordered a small kitchen unit to be installed near the back part of the mansion that Fuji could have all to himself. The tensai laughed like crazy when he saw it, but quite often when the diva came home, that was where he'd find his effeminate lover waiting for him.

Today was one of those days. Even before entering the tiny room, Atobe caught a whiff of something pleasant, a smile drawing across his face as he guessed what treat his boyfriend was preparing this time around.

When he opened the door, however, he found that the treat would not be for his stomach but his libido - standing at the stove, stirring a small steaming pot, was his pale skinned lover, wearing his yellow apron - and nothing but the apron.

A growl stuck in his throat as he wrapped his arms around the brunette from behind, his hands enjoying the feeling of Fuji's bared sides as the tensai whined that it was dangerous to pounce while he was stirring hot liquid. Laughing, the diva nibbled on his captive's ear while his fingers slipped downwards to massage those creamy, toned thighs that he loved to push on.

The click of the stove shutting off along with the pot being moved back on the counter made him pause. Fuji's skin felt colder than usual, and Atobe could sense the frown on his boyfriend's face as he deadpanned,

"You smell like pineapple."

Quirking an eyebrow, Atobe loosened his grip in silent inquiry.

"Let me rephrase," Fuji held very still, his voice trembling. "You smell like pineapple perfume."

Oh. So that's what this was about.

Resuming his caress, Atobe shrugged, "We had an event. Next year's student council members have been chosen, and the new secretary needed... to be initiated."

Fuji stayed silent, his face dark and unreadable. He dumped the broth down the sink, and started cleaning up.

Sighing, Atobe took hold of his arms and forced him to leave the utensils for the servants to take care of. "She was a virgin, and could have easily been taken advantage of. It's custom for the class president to take care of the new ones, in order to-"

"I'm sure it was very hard on you." Fuji's hands shook along with his voice, and he pulled away from his year long lover, reaching for his neatly folded clothes on a chair. But the diva would not let go, and grabbed him with a firm hold, his hardened length pressing into the tensai's asscheeks.

"You think you can leave me like this?" Atobe growled, fingers playing with the edge of the rough apron cloth. It was not like Fuji was really going to leave him, anyways. This was the seventh time since they'd gotten together that Atobe'd cheated; three times he'd used sex for an instant make-up, and the other three times they'd broken up for a few days then he'd used sex again to bring Fuji back. Atobe did not declare himself the king without having the skills to back it up - he was irresistible, and the tensai would always come crawling back, if only for one more blow job.

But this time was different, because after seeing that bared back and ass with only a string for the apron crossing it, Atobe wanted it, and he wanted it now. He wasn't going to wait two or three days for the brunette to cool down.

Fuji tried to pull away but not very hard; his bare skin wiggled deliciously against Atobe's excited body and the diva wished he wasn't wearing any clothes, either.

"You say you want me, but then you always..." The tensai whispered, his voice broken. Atobe could sense the trace of tears forming on his lover's lower lashes. Fuji was always so emotionally dramatic.

"Why not? It's not like you love me," the diva scoffed. It was supposed to come out coolly, but instead bitterness and a sliver of anguish marked his tone. He covered it up by pressing Fuji hard against the door, effectively trapping him in the tiny room.

"Keigo..." whimpered Fuji, as the silver haired king started to grind his cock against his captive's ass. "Please... I don't want this..."

"You did when you put that apron on," Atobe hissed, taking hold of the brunette's thin wrists with one hand so his other one could play with limp nipples.

"Not... in the mood...ah..." Fuji whispered, but moaned softly when the end of Atobe's manhood rubbed directly against his entrance, expertly teasing the sensitive rim. While tickling his balls with deft fingers, the diva pushed in his body and knees so that Fuji lay flush against the oak wood. Nothing turned the tensai on more than sex against a wall, the elitist had been surprised to discover, and it was effective now as well. A few teasing taps against the brunette's tip and he was hard and ready.

Atobe kept a small bottle of emergency lube in his tennis bag, but he didn't have a hand free to pull it out. Well, the tensai would manage, they'd fooled around without it before and god did Fuji enjoy it, even more than gentle sex. Coating his fingers as best he could with saliva, Atobe traced the edge of the hole with his middle finger before dipping it in, pleased by the heated whimper that came in response. He moved the single digit in and out several times, enjoying how Fuji relaxed and opened, too experienced to stop his body's reactions. Soon there were two, then three fingers worming their way back and forth, drawing near but never touching the tensai's star spot.

The teenage king liked saving the best for last.

Body now trembling not with anguish but with need, Fuji went limp in his weak attempts to pull away, as he gave in to moaning. Now Atobe had both hands free, and twisted both nipples at the same time, loving the tensai's squeak and how they hardened. Fuji reflexively humped the wall, unable to control himself, lost in a surge of sensations.

Grinning smugly, Atobe nibbled on the tensai's neck, then focused all his might into pressing his member deep inside the widened hole. God, it felt so tight today, and Fuji's moans turned to the most luscious cries, turning him on even more. Unable to hold back, he plunged all the way in, his balls slapping against the tensai's ass as he started to pump. His angle was perfect as always, and Fuji screamed in a mix of pain and pleasure as his spot was struck again and again. He was too dry but it felt so good, and Atobe moved at just the right pace, in and out, in and out, faster and faster until neither one could hold back.

Atobe came first, pumping viciously to ride it out as long as he could, and then Fuji came, his semen streaming into the oak along with his cry, "Kunimitsu!"

They both felt dizzy in the aftermath, a wave of exhaustion sweeping through them after the intense session. Atobe's grip tightened more than painfully as he allowed Fuji to slip to the ground on his knees, too weak to hold himself up. They breathed hard on the ground out of sync, before coming back to their senses.

Fuji swallowed a sob as he realized his mistake, no longer able to hold back the tears he'd been fighting earlier. They slipped down his flushed cheeks, hidden from sight as Atobe pushed down on his shoulders, forcing him to kneel in the form of the deepest bow.

Perhaps, in the perfection that was Atobe Keigo's life, he had never felt jealousy. Perhaps, though his gift of insight allowed him to identify it in others, he could not recognized the sickening feeling of coiling snakes when they gripped his veins and forced his blood to pulse. In that moment, he knew no compassion, only cold, angry heat.

He waited till he could no longer hear the tensai sobbing, then stood and covered him with his jersey, leaving the rest of his clothes on the floor by his knees.

"Go home. It's over."

"Fuji is sex on legs," the diva insisted, hugging the lithe brunette like a doll while massaging his thigh. "And by the sake of our youthful nature, and clearly from the events of the other night, what we need is walking sex." He gave the tensai a placating kiss on the cheek, before adding, "Which means, Syuusuke, that in order to make this work, everyone will have to have sex with you."

Fuji was sure he would die if that happened. Though from the look on Tezuka's face, Atobe would die first.

"Hm..." Purring, Rikkaidai's captain slipped across the bed like a cat and slid down on Fuji's open side, pinning him in. "It's not a bad idea. No, darling, not all at once," he stroked the brunette's hair in a way that seemed to warn 'but there will be something intense and painful in the near future,' causing the brunette to shudder. "I believe what our darling prima donna-" (he received a rather nasty glare from across the bed) "-is trying to say is that we should become better acquainted with each other... especially those of us who have never dated."

Tezuka felt his heart sinking, right then and there, into the depths of hell.

"So... the three of us-" Yukimura indicated the captains, "will have to get to know each other."

Tezuka's sharp hazel eyes searched the room for a nearby mallet or other large blunt object he could smash himself on the head with. He saw no other escape.

Fuji looked uncomfortable as he worked out what that meant for him, but he was too afraid of the polished nails running under his shirt to say anything. A smug grin beamed off Atobe, as the diva looked very much like a cat presented with perfectly prepared tora-fugu.

Slowly realizing he was going to be separated from his boyfriend and only anchor to sanity, Sanada blurted, "But I haven't dated Atobe."

As if on cue, the sun dipped behind the horizon, leaving a spray of dim orange light shadowing the room. Yukimura's face darkened in the loss of light, and even Atobe didn't have the nerve to put on airs.

"You don't seriously think I don't know about what happened during Senbatsu." The bluenette's voice was cold, cold, colder than Fuji had ever heard it, and despite the protection offered by the presence of three others, he held his breath in fear.

Blinking in wonder, Sanada stuttered, "Wha-"

"I hate it when you play stupid!" Yukimura shouted, abruptly standing and half dragging Fuji with him.

"Seichii, I ..." His eyes looked lost as his trademark cap failed to hide his face, a stunned glimmer in the charcoal orbs as he caught on to what his captain referred to. "I didn't mean... that time... I wasn't..."

"Oh, that?" Atobe cut in, rolling his eyes as he relaxed. "I just gave him a blow job," he scoffed, obviously not seeing the problem.

"You knew?!" The vice captain yelped, as he failed to break eye contact with his exlover.

"Everyone knew about that," Fuji said, a little too matter-of-factly.

Sanada glanced at Tezuka in horror.

"Even the coaches knew," the stoic brunette added, monotonic as ever.

"And then you just waltzed back to Rikkaidai!" Yukimura screeched, "like nothing ever happened. You-"

He was cut off by desperate, forceful lips as Fuji gripped him by the shoulders and deeply kissed him. The tensai used all of his energy to massage his lover's tongue with his own, keeping the other occupied till they were both out of breath. Before the bluenette could recover, Fuji whispered into his ear, "Mou... it's in the past." Light and dark blue eyes met in challenge, Fuji's begging the other to let it go, and in the mean time, tacitly accepting the bluenette's plan.

"Come," Yukimura hissed, grabbing the tensai's pail arm and dragging him into the next room. The other three seemed too surprised to react.

The Atobe mansion was full of large rooms connected to tiny rooms like this one, where a servant could wait without standing all night in the hallway. Yukimura pulled the smaller youth behind him, slamming the door and clicked the lock. Capturing the lithe brunette in his arms, he squeezed the other so tightly Fuji could barely breath. "Seii- ... Se-.."

"That bastard." The bluenette growled, but it came out more like an angry sob. "Acting like it didn't happen. Like it didn't mean anything." His nails dug into Fuji's back, and the tensai was grateful he still wore his uniform. The arms loosened, enervated by distress, letting the brunette gasp for breath.

"Seiichi," Fuji whispered, fearful yet emphatic to his boyfriend's pain. "But... Isn't this why you included Atobe?"

Realization dawned on him only a moment before, of the dark eyed captain's true intent. Sanada had the same problem as Fuji - he was infatuated with the captains who were better than him, at tennis and in terms of authority. Or at least, Yukimura seemed to think so - and was planning to trap his beloved by surrounding him with lovers of the highest quality, and overwhelming him with power and sex.

The captain stayed silent, hugging needily around Fuji's shoulders and burying his face in the brunette's soft, light hair. Fuji gently returned the hug, wrapping what he could of his arms around his boyfriend's narrow waist. They fit together like two lilies vying for sunlight, a beautiful wrap of petals and long emerald leaves hidden in the small space.

"Nee..." Fuji softly cooed, resting serenely in his lover's embrace. He felt so calm, so needed. "This isn't going to be easy for any of us... and yet... you're still trying... that's what I love most about you... Seiichi..."

Cautiously as he could, he raised his head at just the right angle to bring together their lips. Thankfully, the bluenette responded and allowed him entrance, their tongues greeting each other in need and a light touch of passion. He could feel within his lover's kiss, the internal struggle between Yukimura's intentions and his emotions... the captain knew what he needed to do, but his heart still felt a shadow of hurt from being carelessly cheated on.

The kiss became more passionate as the thrill of dominance took hold of Yukimura. He gained emotional control through physical control, and a moment later he had Fuji pinned against the door, no longer in a sensitive hug but pinning the tensai's wrists against his chest. Fuji smiled in relief, which the captain returned with an amiable smile of his own, before turning feral. The tensai's smile faltered as he remembered his predicament - he was glad his lover was back to normal, except that normal for them meant...

Massaging his captive's neck with his free hand, Yukimura smirked before licking the tensai's earlobe, then started nibbling sensually on his ear. Fuji had a dark feeling he was pretending to bite it off. Instead the bluenette bit into his nape, eliciting a sharp gasp, and he felt the captain's knee pushing open his legs. The knee lifted swiftly and pressed into his balls, just hard enough to cross the border of pain, his jaw falling open in a silent whimper. Strength vanished from his legs, and he would have collapsed if not for Yukimura pressing him hard against the door. The sadist pressed his thumb against Fuji's throat, maliciously enjoying the mixture of terror and flush of pleasure along the brunette's cheeks as his throat was methodically squeezed.

"You are going to seduce Genichirou," he ordered, his tone dark and hard. "You are going to make him want you, want to fuck you, want to hurt you, and enjoy every second of it."

Sanada stood stiffly in place, Atobe spread himself out on the bed and shifted comfortably, while Tezuka started banging on the door. The diva considered giving him the key, but it was just too amusing watching the stoic captain twitch in internal debate for ten minutes before finally marching over to the small room their two effeminate companions had disappeared into.

The response was fairly immediate - the door clicked slowly open, and the two lovely boys exited with amiable smiles as if they'd just come from an afternoon tea party. Fuji looked slightly flushed, but other than that he had the usual trademark smile plastered on, and sauntered back towards the others with Yukimura behind him. The twitch took over Tezuka's brow when he noticed them cheerfully holding hands.

"Fuji and Sanada are going into a separate room," Tezuka growled, hazel orbs piercing into Yukimura's dark ones. "You are staying here." He wanted it to be clear, now, exactly what they were doing - and he'd concede, if only to keep those two apart. Besides, he trusted Sanada... and this way he could keep his eye on Atobe, as well.

Smirking, Yukimura lightly replied, "Those were my intentions." Bait and hook... now all they had to do was the reeling. Tezuka was a rather strong fish... but it was two against one.

Placing his hands on Fuji's shoulders from behind, Yukimura faced him towards Sanada. "Take care of him," he murmured, then dropped down his hands. Swiftly he pulled down Fuji's shorts and boxers, just past his ass, so that the tensai's buttcheeks shone in the air, much to his dismay. Extracting a half-sized sharpie from his shorts, the bluenette scribbled across Fuji's behind.

Fuji's cheeks burned bright red, feeling absurdly shy over the act of molestation in front of an audience - even though they had already seen and done everything else. The action was quick. Yukimura pulled his shorts back up, patted him lightly on the butt so that he tripped in Sanada's direction, and waved them off.

Knowing he'd be punished if he delayed, Fuji grabbed Sanada's arm and pulled the totally confused teenager out into the hallway.

He led him to one of the rooms Atobe liked to use, leaving the three team captains behind...

Chapter Text

Everything was moving too fast.

What made it worse was knowing that this was all apart of Yukimura and Atobe's plan. But Tezuka had no intention of giving in.

He breathed an internal sigh of relief when Fuji managed to escape from the bluenette's harassment. It was only when arms wrapped around him from behind and long, sharp nails drew across his shirt that he remembered he was the new target.

"How do you play tennis with those," Tezuka sighed, unwrapping the hands and lightly shoving the offender towards the bed. The blue-haired captain half fell onto the mattress, looking far too pleased as he sank into the sheets.

"I trim them before practice." Yukimura's friendly smile did not match the rest of his body language.

"Loosen up, Tezuka," Atobe drawled. "We're just going to talk." Chuckling, the diva added, "A date on a bed."

Tezuka rolled his eyes but conceded to sitting on the mattress with the other two. Ironically, it looked less suspicious than the couches. Atobe and Yukimura settled on either side of him, each with their own characteristic smirk. Keeping his arms crossed, he thanked god for sharp elbows. He thought they would try more... mischief, but both kept a respectful distance of at least two inches. Still, Tezuka felt very much like a cornered rat.

Fuji pulled Sanada behind him, knowing if he didn't get started, he'd be in a literal world of pain later. And as much as his libido twitched in curiosity, when he considered how much punishment he was given over trivial things, he shivered in terror over the likely consequence of outright defiance.

He stopped at a room down the hall, one with a simple white door instead of maple wood. All the rooms in this section were for guests, though servants often used them for naps or their own stints of pleasure - it wasn't as if Atobe cared, and they were the ones who truly tutored the diva in bedside manner. None of them used this room, though.

Fuji liked this room the most, because it was the most normal. Slightly bigger than his bed at home, inside was a comfortable queen-sized bed with plain white sheets and the kind of tables and dressers anyone would have in his room. He didn't know which of Atobe's many lovers had wanted a room like this, but he was grateful.

He was half-way to the bed, when he realized he was pulling dead weight. He turned towards the man whose hand he held, silent but with inquiring eyes. However, Sanada's gaze stayed hidden beneath the rim of his cap.

"Fuji," the stern voice rumbled, "Whatever Yukimura told you to do, you don't have to. I know he has a way of... forcing people."

Drawing in a quick breath, Fuji turned to face the one he was supposed to seduce. Dark eyes pierced into his widening ones, holding a seriousness that reminded him of Tezuka but an additional harshness that sent tremors down his spine. Sanada was not like his stoic ex-lover. He was a man of confined rage rather than emotionlessness, the type who used force to fulfill his duties, when deemed necessary. Unlike with Tezuka, Fuji did not need to read through his eyes because this man's emotions burned through them, full of the absolute confidence that brought him the title of Emperor. And yet the blue-haired man whom Fuji'd been dating toyed so easily with this lion...

Frown deepening in concern, Sanada found himself gazing down upon the tensai, locked in the eye contact he'd been trying to avoid. Wide cerulean orbs trembled slightly, and he wondered if just beyond the blue lay the prodigy's soul. The brunette was more than a full head shorter than him, and he felt the strangest urge to pat the youth on the head and tell him to run along home.

Reminding himself they were the same age, he placed his hand on the tensai's shoulder instead, feeling calm, perhaps because the small brunette seemed so nervous. The shoulder beneath his hand twitched and stiffened, giving the brunette away.

"I'll take you home, then come back for Tezuka. I'll deal with Yukimura - you'll never have to see him again."

Feeling oddly serene, the wavy-haired youth relaxed against the covers, leaning his head on Tezuka's shoulder. The stoic brunette refused to speak, but he wasn't leaving either. After what felt like hours of sitting, though no more than thirty minutes had passed, all three managed to end up lying on the bed. Well, Atobe had been down for awhile, but Tezuka remained stiff as a rock while Yukimura nuzzled his shoulder and gently rubbed his chest till he relaxed. Or, well, gave up. At least the stoic brunette trusted them not to pounce him the moment he settled. Or perhaps he believed he could somehow deal with them if they tried something. He did feel strong... the blue-haired captain could feel the tensed, firm muscles beneath the fabric.

"Nee, Tezuka..."

"Hn?" the addressed brunette grunted, in response to Yukimura's question. He was stiff as a log, his guard strong even in his seemingly disarmed state.

"Who are you trying to avoid? Us, or Fuji?"

Hazel eyes narrowed but those thin, sunburned lips remained tight. Feeling content, Yukimura graced his fingers along a well-defined collar bone, his expression as soft as his voice. At least the brunette was listening.

"In a five way relationship, you could go a long time without touching him. You could watch him, protect him, be near him."

"Bah!" On the other side of the bed, Atobe burst out laughing. "As if he could! Nee Tezuka," he drawled, his voice smooth and deep, "You want to watch, don't you? Your new boyfriend and your old boyfriend fuck."

"Atobe, your breath reeks of alcohol."

"Really, Tezuka, I did not think you could recognize the smell of alcohol. And this is Chateauneuf-du-Pape."

"My grandfather drinks sake, in moderate amounts. And all alcohols are naturally repugnant, no matter the price tag."

Tezuka's face remained perfectly straight, but he had no tolerance for drunks. If - and that was a very big if, and he was horrified at himself for even considering it - this so-called relationship ever happened, the diva would have to modify his life style. The room, this... entire place was too ridiculously lavish. Tezuka held firm to the age-old values of take no more than needed.

He expected a snide comeback from the elitist, but heard heavy breathing instead. Blinking in surprise, he glared down at the sleeping form of the primadonna beside him. Atobe looked so different in sleep, without the haughty expression of egotism that he seemed obligated to sport.

"We'll have to teach him to stay away from alcohol," Yukimura sighed.

Tezuka studied the bluenette carefully, before saying, "He's underage. His family should not be allowing him to drink."

"It just means he's also scared. ... of this relationship." The wavy-haired captain held a calm, distant smile, even as Tezuka snorted in disbelief. "Nee... are you afraid?"

". . ."

"Fuji's not here for you to protect."

"I trust Sanada," growled the brunette. He didn't like where this was going.

"Do you trust Fuji?"

" . . . "

"Are you jealous?"


"But you do want to watch," Yukimura smugly replied. Amused, he wondered if the stoic captain realized he just admitted to not feeling jealous of his current boyfriend being stolen, either.

"Don't confuse my will for yours," Tezuka grunted, but he didn't sound very convincing.

The bluenette laid his head on the other's broad shoulder, resting his hand on the bespectacled man's firm, warm chest. He enjoyed the moment of lapsed silence, suddenly appreciating the brunette's sparse use of words. "You know, Fuji loves you so much, I think I could fall in love with you too."

He spoke so softy, so quietly, that Tezuka found himself believing it. At least, he could admire the honesty and willingness of the bluenette to share his feelings. The impression from the previous day returned, of a lost and injured puppy...

"I need help."

It occurred to him that Yukimura had lumped himself in as one of the fearful. Impulsively, the brunette tenderly cupped his arm around the lithe figure, only to feel the other stiffen beneath his touch. Why, he wondered, would the strong-willed bluenette force himself to endure something he felt uncomfortable with?

"I can't do this."

He could sense the bluenette trying to endure it, and couldn't resist drawing in his arm a little as a test. A short gasp confirmed his suspicion but also made him feel a pang of guilt; the smaller youth went completely rigid, almost to the point of trembling.

"I'm sorry."

"About what?" Dark blue eyes narrowed in annoyance, growing sharp to match the bluenette's tone.

"You're uncomfortable." The bespectacled captain was unintimidated.

Humming in question, Yukimura leaned his head against the chest he could no longer resist. "You're not the one who gets to decide that."

"You cannot decide on a feeling."

"I'm the one who wants this," the effeminate captain replied with a frown. He chuckled bitterly, "Besides, you're the last person who can say something like that."

"I do not chose my feelings," Tezuka stated. "I chose my reactions."

Smile reappearing, Yukimura replied with a twinkle in his eye, "I can see why your team likes you."

The stoic brunette looked away. "My team doesn't like me. They fear me."

"They respect you."

"Your team respects you, and likes you."

"That's because I smile for them," the bluenette softly chuckled. "You should try it, it works wonders."

Tezuka grunted in reply. He stared at the ceiling, eyebrow twitching when he realized it held ornate patterns of swirls and curves that made him think of sex. It wasn't appealing, he thought, and the Atobe family should find better ways to spend their money than on not-so-subtle phallic images.

The room was quiet, except for the sound of breathing, and Tezuka realized the effeminate captain had fallen asleep as well. Lithe hands fell weakly to the side, and the brunette felt awkward pinned between two of his greatest rivals both asleep.

Yukimura truly had the beautiful face he was known for, but in his sleep, Tezuka noticed how pale and thin it seemed. The teenager was entirely too thin, he realized, and though they were close in height, the other felt much smaller than him. Dark circles hid beneath the beau's long lashes, signs that the captain hadn't been getting enough sleep. He fell asleep far too easily, Tezuka mused, and seemed in poor health for an athlete. Then again, Yukimura was not know for having monstrous physical strength. What made him strong was something else.

A slight pained expression marred his cheeks, and Tezuka wondered if he was dreaming.

"I hurt him more than allowed..."

Glancing over at Atobe, who breathed heavily into a silken pillow, Tezuka wondered if the diva was always this deep of a sleeper or if the alcohol had something to do with it. It didn't suite the heir's personality to let others see him sleeping. Tezuka suddenly wondered if Fuji had seen him sleep, and if the tensai liked to watch him, the way he said he liked to watch Tezuka. Then again, those times had been rare - the blue-eyed brunette always fell into a heavy sleep after coming a few times.

Swallowing a lump of jealousy, Tezuka wondered if Atobe or Yukimura knew that Fuji woke bright and early if he wasn't touched. How the tensai liked to cook and sing and garden, sometimes even before practice. He wondered if either of them had ever spent one night with Fuji without having sex.

Yukimura whimpered in his sleep, and the hand on Tezuka's shirt suddenly tightened, gripping the fabric so hard his knuckles turned white.

"I'm losing control."

Concerned, Tezuka touched the pressure points along the bluenette's arm and wrist, until the hand slackened back into sleep. He pressed the major points on the sleeping boy's neck and chest, smiling slightly as the lithe captain finally relaxed. Yukimura was far more beautiful when serene. He did not look like he could possibly be the monster that abused Fuji for last month or so...

"I'm scared of myself."

"You are going to seduce Genichirou." Yukimura's eyes swirled with darkness. "You are going to make him want you, want to fuck you, want to hurt you, and enjoy every second of it."

"But I don't love him," Fuji whimpered, trapped hard against the wall. His eyes darted left and right, instinctively looking for an escape. "I hardly even know him!"

"Ara," smiled the captain, graciously though his eyes flashed like a tiger's. "I wasn't aware that mattered to you."

The unspoken implication, 'You've slept with plenty of people you didn't love,' sent a shock of heat across the tensai, his cheeks flushing pink.

"I did love them, to an extent," he whispered, the image of a nearby diva flashing through his mind, but didn't dare meet the midnight blue eyes sharply gazing upon him.

"Oh please," the bluenette laughed. "You're the one who sleeps around with all the captains. At least, that's how gossip at my school goes."

Cerulean blue orbs widened as the captain continued, "This'll be easy for you. You'll seduce him the way you did each of us. As Atobe said... sex on legs. A dirty little slut..."

Up until that point in their relationship, Yukimura had only subjected him to physical shame, not verbal. Fuji honestly did not think he'd be so deeply affected. He'd always been vaguely aware that he'd had a few more relationships than most, but he'd never thought of himself as a whore...

His cheeks burned in shame as all the guys he'd been with, all the sexual things he'd done and been subjected to flashed through his mind. His time with Tezuka'd been sweet, but Yukimura was not the only one who liked toys.

And Fuji never complained. He never initiated a relationship but he never ended one, either. He let his lovers do what they wanted, and he loved - or at least, his body loved every second of it. Even the pain, even the intense humiliation that came out of his current relationship, he found thrilling, like a heart-pounding roller coaster or standing at the very edge of a cliff. He loved the fear, the adrenaline. He was addicted.

He was worse than a whore. He did it for free.

"There there, don't cry," Yukimura cooed, licking away the budding tears Fuji hadn't even realized were forming. "If you cry, they'll be able to tell." Satisfied with the flushed and trembling body trapped before him, he whispered, "My dirty, masochistic rose."

He whispered into Fuji's ear all the tactics, all the actions that he was to take, all of Sanada's fantasies and the type of porn both of Rikkaidai's top players enjoyed. Tricks and tips, he called it, but he said he trusted Fuji's legs and ass to do most of the work.

The bluenette was so worked up that Fuji honestly thought he'd be fucked against the wall, right then and there, with the three men waiting ignorantly on the other side.

Someone banged on the door.

"I'll deal with Yukimura - you'll never have to see him again."

The emperor's words echoed in his head, as his heart sank sickeningly into his chest. For a moment, Fuji forgot to breathe, his bangs casting a dark shadow over his eyes and face.

"You'll never have to see him again."

Turning away from the taller youth, Fuji's face remained hidden and his arms hung loosely at his sides, his rapid heartbeat slowing to a dull thud.

"Fuji..." Sanada reached out for the tensai, but then a small hand took firm hold of his wrist.

Suddenly facing him, the brunette smirked almost leeringly, his eyes sharp and dauntless.

"... Deal with him?" Slyly quirking an eyebrow, Fuji's eyes twinkled before narrowing provocatively into a half-lidded visage. "You?"

Fuji pulled away and fell onto the bed, laughing. It was not a kind laugh, but airy, luscious, mocking and also strangely voluptuous.

Startled ebony eyes stared at the tensai, who's body twisted to accentuate curves and limbs. Shimmering blue eyes leered in return through thick, flirtatious lashes. The prodigy felt his body warm, a soft, inviting flush crossing his cheeks.

He was awake. He was breathing. His heart was eerily calm.

Fine. If this was what Yukimura wanted, then he'd become a world class actor. He'd seduce, and fuck, and be fucked, and ask for pain, and enjoy pain, over and over again, all for Yukimura's sake.

Chapter Text


He'd finally made his decision.

If this was what Yukimura wanted, then he'd become a world class actor. He'd seduce, and fuck, and be fucked, and ask for pain, and enjoy pain, over and over again, all for Yukimura's sake.

He stopped laughing, but his smile remained devious. He partially sat up, crossing his arms and fingering the bottom edge of his shirt.

"Nee... you're right," Fuji spoke softly but not quietly, his voice tinged with sensation. "Seiichi asked me to do something for him." He slid his knees along the bed and turned part way, so that Sanada could only see his back as he slowly peeled away his shirt. His half-lidded eyes watched the one who watched him, ensuring that he had the other's attention, a smirk tugging lightly at his lips. "He told me to have sex with you."

The shirt came over his head and was discarded off to the side. Then he started on his shorts, tracing beneath the elastic with his thumbs before he tugged them down. But the position was awkward, and he'd have to turn and reveal his bared front in order to pull them past his knees, which he didn't want to do yet. Sighing, he tried pulling one leg out first, cringing as he overstretched his muscles.

"Stop..." Sanada was suddenly in front of him, placing a hand on his shoulder, oblivious to the line he'd just crossed. The emperor's frown deepened the wrinkles on his chin, his eyes trembling with concern.

Softly chuckling, Fuji asked, "Are you going to help me?" His eyes glimmered with child-like hope, his lips spreading open with mock innocence. His blush deepened as he sensed their overly awkward position.


"Here," Fuji put his hand over Sanada's and guided it to his thigh. The larger hand trembled in his as he helped the other pull off his shorts, no longer minding revealing himself as he knew he'd scored a point. Sanada staggered backwards with the shorts in his hands, as if suddenly realizing what he was doing.

Twisting his body, Fuji kept his knees together and his feet apart, hiding the view of his privates though his white briefs easily showed. He sat back on his elbows, enjoying the stunned, roaming eyes that looked over him.

Sanada couldn't help but stare. He'd seen plenty of pictures of men and women, both artistic and pornographic, and hell, he'd spent plenty of time memorizing every curve and shade of Yukimura, who turned him on like no other. But this... was something else. The lithe brunette had a body beyond that, or perhaps it was a trick of light and hormones and the goddamn pheromones that still lingered from whiffs of Atobe's cologne. His body held ethereal effeminism, lacking the flamboyant curves of a woman yet evading the stiff lumps of a man. He had a perfect combination between soft and toned, smooth and sleek, pale yet even color, small red marks like finger prints marring his otherwise flawless skin. God, he felt a jolt as he realized how much the small tell-tale imperfections turned him on.

It was not supposed to be this way.

Cerulean eyes glimmered daringly, dazed with lust, yet begging and slightly trembling, as if he wasn't sure he wanted it, but was sure he wanted something. But then a pink, cat-like tongue slid across those thin, lightly stretched lips, and Sanada felt his heart drop into his stomach.

"I thought you wear boxers," the vice captain stuttered unintelligently. It was one of those horribly awkward times where he knew he was doing everything wrong, but just couldn't stop it.

Chuckling, Fuji played with the elastic, snapping one edge so it slipped past his hip, suggestive without revelation. "This is what Keigo prefers." He swung his body 180, swiftly but slow enough to accentuate the slenderness of his limbs, and sat up on his hands and knees, tilting up his chin like a cat. "Nee... so you prefer boxers? Something more boyish?"

He had to know he was beautiful, he just had to. His eyes glimmered like a moonlit pond, beaconing the dark haired youth, piercing with a warm, seductive light.

"Stop looking at me..." like that, but Sanada's tongue became too twisted to finish his sentence. He was a failure, he was weak, and he knew it. After all, Yukimura captivated him in the same way.

"Saa..." The tensai turned around again, but stayed in his animal like pose, meaning his face and chest were replaced with an oversized view of his white cloaked ass. " this better?"

His audience gulped dry, and he responded by wiggling, forming the image of a wagging tail, daring his bedeviled prey to see what the briefs were hiding. He peaked back, blue meeting coal, unable to wipe off the tiny smirk dancing on his lips.

A porno he'd seen flashed through Sanada's mind, of two guys doing it doggy style, one he'd watched together with Yukimura ...

"Nee...I'll resist, but that's only cause I want it."

Flushed angrily, Sanada slammed his hand against the wall, startling the brunette and in some ways himself. He realized he was still holding onto the shorts and tossed them angrily to the floor, as if that would vent some of his frustration.

"Just what do you think you're doing?!"

"Waiting for you to fuck me."

"You're infuriating."

"You're still clothed."

"What do you want from me?!"

"Isn't it obvious?!"

Now both of them were angry, Fuji chuckled lightly to himself as he felt the sexual tension wrap thickly around him.

"I just want to help you," Sanada heavily sighed, taking off his cap and running his fingers through his hair.

"Then help me."

Fuji slipped onto his side, letting his left leg slide down enough to reveal the distinct bulge trapped beneath his underwear. He fingered it timidly, then drew his hand slowly up his stomach, stopping at one of his nipples and playing with the tiny nub until it hardened. He gave the other nipple similar attention, arching his back so that both tips poked into the air, then collapsed on the sheets with a sigh. It just wasn't the same doing it to himself.

Hesitation and confusion radiated from his dark eyed spectator, but the tensai had already pushed such feelings aside, and focused on his performance. Slipping one of the thick white pillows between his legs, he started rubbing against it. He shifted his hips in a natural rhythm that grew into all-out humping, his body futilely aching for more friction. He wanted to remove the cotton briefs so badly, but both of them knew that duty belonged to the vice captain.

Meeting the coal colored eyes with his own, Fuji tried to convey his message. He needed to, had to have help. He couldn't do this on his own. He was not allowed.

He licked the tips of his fingers, swirling his tongue around the first two, slowly sucking them into his mouth. His lips massaged the skin as they ached for something else, something longer and more thick. The fingers slid in and out of his mouth, matching the rhythm of his torso which still moved against the pillow. Soon the appendages ran with saliva, which drizzled down the edge of his mouth and across his reddened skin.

His eyes never broke contact with the other's, but he was tired, needy. He hoped this would end soon. He'd been spoiled up till now, his lovers doing all the work while he was bound. His self ministrations were hardly enough, and having someone so close, someone who could give him what he wanted, was driving him insane. He needed more, now.

"You shouldn't be doing this, Fuji," Sanada answered, but his voice was low and edgeless. He was tired, but he was feeling it, too, in his gut, that insane, tantalizing heat that was burning away what little logic he had left. He felt a growing urge, to take this train wreck into his own hands and force the temptress to stop.

As if sensing his oscillation, Fuji's smile widened as he twisted his legs around the pillow. "Oh? Am I being a bad child? Are you going to punish me?" His voice taunted, dared. "What makes you think you even can?"

"I admit that Seiichi has often belayed my judgment," Sanada growled, "but I am not. weak." He cast aside his cap and grabbed the bottom edge of his shirt. If Fuji Syuusuke wanted to play this game, then fine. But Sanada was not going to lose.

He stripped off his shirt in one swift moment, in similar fashion to what the brunette had done earlier. Fuji's breath hitched as he felt his libido truly awaken, and suddenly he understood why Yukimura had insisted they leave Sanada's shirt on that last time.

Dark, well-defined muscles rippled in the dim light, pulsing with flawless masculinity, shapes and shadows reminiscent of ancient Greek statues in nude. His chest, back, neck, shoulders, all were perfectly carved through years of training, thick but balanced, not overbearing like some body builders but ideally fit for an athlete.

Sanada was a god of virility.

His image matched his deep voice and chiseled face, and Fuji had always suspected that the vice captain's prowess lay in physical distinction - but not something this exceptional. Just as the tensai had confidence in his beauty, Sanada was confident in his form. His eyes said so, burning with the impression of Ares, god of war. He had the potential to be merciless to both others and himself.

Pierced by the dark gaze that had quickly freed itself from hesitation, Fuji could not help but back up against the head of the bed as if he was expecting to be pounced at any moment. He breathed harder and faster, as his mind drew blank towards the instinct of fight or flight. He had to calm down and regain control of himself.

Fuji was so hard that it hurt.

The vice captain did pounce, more or less, perhaps egged on by the tensai's taunting gaze and definitely encouraged by the retracting body language. He grew more confident as Fuji grew less, and did not hesitate to grab both of the brunette's wrists and pin him to the sheets.

"Is this what you want?" he growled, his voice low and threatening. "To be dominated, controlled?"

Their faces were barely an inch apart, both breathing hotly on the other, but neither daring to close the gap. Fear and excitement sparked the air between them, but Fuji found himself wavering beneath the emperor's gaze of confidence. After all, his was only an act. He averted his eyes and murmured, "You're still wearing pants."

Infuriated, Sanada flipped him on his stomach and twisted his arms behind his back, holding his wrists with one hand and pushing his elbow with another in a martial arts hold. "You want punishment? Do you really? Because I can give it to you. It's my role at Rikkaidai. We lead through carrot and whip - and I'm the whip."

Fuji struggled, not seriously, but just enough to make the vice captain tighten his grip and put force into his actions. It was ridiculous, really, for him to use force at all - the tensai was half his size and couldn't have fought back even with incentive. It just never occurred to Sanada that at any time, he could simply leave.

And yet nothing about the tensai made him seem trapped. Secrets twinkled in his eyes and laughter danced at the edge of his lips, and his blush did not seem angry but intrigued. It was as if he had chosen to lose, and in doing so, was actually winning, as if at any time he could break out of Sanada's hold and become the true predator. It was infuriating, and the grip on his wrists tightened till he winced. He was captured but he was winning...

Laughing softly, he bucked up his hips rubbing his clothed ass against the bulge between Sanada's thighs.

Bursting with anger, Sanada grabbed hold of those hips and forced them down, using his palm to press down on Fuji's lower back and forced him against the mattress. He immediately tore down those infuriating briefs, wanting to shred them to pieces, but instead stopped when they reached the ankles, and twisted them and formed a loop that he hooked around one of Fuji's feet. The elastic snapped tightly in place, and would be hard for even him to remove.

He shifted his whole body on top of Fuji's, supporting most of his own weight on his limbs but using some to press the tensai down. He held the brunette firmly from behind, each of his hands gripping a wrist and restraining it, the bulge in his pants pressed up against Fuij's bared ass. He buried his head over Fuji's shoulder so that they both breathed hard into the pillows, neither moving nor speaking.

It felt like hours passed, though hardly a few minutes actually had, when Sanada felt calm enough to notice the trembling of the smaller man's body. He relaxed his hold, but Fuji stayed still, face hidden in the sheets. The dark eyed youth drifted his fingers along Fuji's body, starting at his shoulder then drifting down his back and side until he reached his hips, then touched his leg so tenderly the tensai let out a gasp.

"I could really hurt you..."

Taking a deep breath, Fuji reminded himself he was on stage before speaking. He choked down the fear and misery of being taken by someone he hardly knew, using his lust to hold down the uncertainty. "Has it ever occurred to you that I enjoy it?" He did his best to ignore the gentle palm resting on his inner thigh, the strong, warm fingers that could probably please him in a tender, painless way. "That perhaps I am not being forced, but asking for it." He was being forced, in a way, since he never got a chance to say yes or no once bound. But that was an issue for Yukimura - Fuji believed that Sanada would not hurt him, not truly. "That I like it."

He took advantage of Sanada's lapse in restraint and turned on his side, his cerulean gaze piercing the man above him. "Punish me," he taunted. "Show me that you can. Otherwise, I won't believe it."

His eyes said that he wouldn't. Sanada had every advantage and yet Fuji still watched him with a pitiful gaze.

Frown drawing deep, but no longer in a hesitant way, Sanada spoke coldly. "There are times children cannot be taught with words," he growled, recalling the words his father had spoken during training. His father had also spoken of restraint, repose, and direction, but right now such sentiments were thrown to the floor along with Fuji's stripped clothes.

He shifted their positions until he was seated seiza-style on the bed, and pulled Fuji over his lap. His cock bulged from within his pants and pressed into the tensai's stomach, creating discomfort for both of them. He rubbed the tensai's buttocks, admiring their shape and softness, then gave them a small, experimental slap. Fuji gasped as his butt cheeks were slapped again, harder, then mewled as the spanking built up harder and faster. Tiny pearls of sweat appeared on his skin as Sanada's palm struck swiftly again and again, the sound of skin hitting skin mixing with his whimpers, the tiniest tear beads forming in the corners of his eyes.

The emperor continued dealing the flat-handed blows until the skin flushed a soft shade of pink. He did not hit hard enough to bruise but the skin would sting like crazy. He rubbed over the hot cheeks, his pinky nestling in the tantalizing crack between them. He shifted his thigh against Fuji's crotch, snorting as he felt how hard Fuji still was. His pants felt wet where Fuji's cock leaked onto them, and he felt a surge of power course through him for taking control of this boy who teased him.

Fuji whimpered as the cloth brushed his length, half sobbing as Sanada's hand teased his throbbing butt. He had tried to wiggle his legs during the spanking but was restricted by the briefs locking his ankles, digging painfully into the skin. He heard the vice captain's lustful growl in every breath, but the emperor was still restraining himself, content with petting his punished kitten.

"You're too gentle," Fuji panted, though he was hardly able to breath. His ass burned but this was nothing compared to the things Yukimura had done. Still, he felt he was nearing his limit and he wanted to go faster. "Do you think you can satisfy me like this?"

Snorting, Sanada smacked the brunette's thigh and rolled him off his lap and onto his back. He could see why the three men in the other room were so addicted to this form - his defiant gaze, sweat-glazed skin, and god, he was still so hard, so damn responsive to the little bits of torture Sanada put him through. He grabbed the tensai's cock, squeezing it and thumbing the tip, amused by the pre-cum that leaked onto his fingers. Fuji moaned and trembled, his hips arching in need, but Sanada removed his hands and used them to hold the tensai down instead.

He slipped his index and middle finger into the brunette's mouth, satisfied when the temptress massaged them with his tongue, coating them with saliva. Pink lips tried to draw them in further, but Sanada drew them out, not wanting to press too far and hurt him. A trail of saliva stuck to his fingertips and dribbled down Fuji's chin.

The vice captain had always wanted to try this. He shoved his middle finger up the vamp's ass hole, knowing he could take it, and was rewarded by a moaned cry. Then in one swift motion he jerked hard, the appendage digging deep as he used only that one digit to flip Fuji onto his stomach. The tensai yelped and kicked his leg against the sheets, trying to adjust, as pain shot up his spine.

Sanada held his finger steady, giving the brunette time, still in control but too turned on to worry about whether or not he'd gone too far. He was about to add his index finger, but was interrupted.

"Wait," Fuji panted, his voice harsh and quiet. "it'll be tighter if you don't." Bear with it, he willed himself, as you did those other times. Those other times Yukimura hadn't really given him a choice, and in a way, this was the same. But he had his orders, and had already chosen to follow them.

The vice captain contemplated for a moment, taking in the flushed visage and glazed eyes. He couldn't tell what the tensai was thinking. He looked exhausted and overwhelmed, but a defiant twinkle danced in his eyes, daring the teenager to plunge inside.

"Fine," Sanada stated, feeling a mixture of calm and lust boiling up inside of him. He placed the pillow beneath Fuji's stomach to elevate his crotch and ass, enjoying how the skin still glowed the shade of cherry blossoms, and mounted on top of him.

Fuji breathed quickly in anticipation, insides plunging as he heard a zipper being undone, and the rustle of fabric being pulled down. Then he felt it... the thick, burning manhood brushing against his entrance, that he knew from taking it in his mouth was as well-built as its owner's chest and thighs.

Sanada stroked the back of his neck, then bent down to kiss it, wrapping his arms around Fuji's shoulders and holding down his wrists. That firm, ripped chest pulsed against the tensai's back, drawing out a long sigh. Then Sanada started to push.

It'd been a long time since he had sex.

Actually, the time Yukimura rode him was the last. Despite all the kissing and fooling around, he realized he and Tezuka had never even masturbated together. He hadn't known how much he needed it until this moment.

He'd never taken someone dry and unprepared. It hurt him too, the tightness and friction. He would have never done this to Seiichi - when he'd pushed inside he'd always feared his lover would break like glass.

His cock jerked in, forcing the membrane wider. His mind went blank, unable to think with the immense pleasure washing across him in waves. A distant part of him, maybe his subconscious, realized that Fuji had not had intercourse for a long time either. It made sense. Despite his personality, Yukimura preferred to be uke, unless he had something to prove. And Sanada could not remember Fuji being taken during their make-shift orgy. The tightness was akin to how Seiichi felt after they hadn't made love for several months, while the captain was sick.

Unable to bear it, Sanada started pulling out while only half way, but immediately found himself thrusting back in. His body wanted it and he went in and out, in and out, deeper each time until he finally made it all the way inside. He had never, ever, gone this far - his cock was just too big. But the brunette felt too goddamn good and after all that teasing, he could no longer stop himself.

God, Fuji thought he was going to die. His throat was dry and still, but his mouth fell open and he was silently screaming. Sanada had the biggest cock out of any lover he'd ever had, and he thought it was going to tear him in two. It felt incredible. Yukimura spent more time playing with him than taking him, which he realized a little too late. He couldn't bear it, and even without any stimulation to his own manhood he knew he would come any second now.

Realizing he was about to be outdone, Sanada grabbed the base of Fuji's cock, determined not to let the tensai beat him. He squeezed tightly, his fingers acting like a cock ring and the tensai cried in frustration as his body jerked to come but was unable to release.

Fuji started begging, begging for Sanada to let go, to let him come, and the lustful wails were too much for the emperor. The world exploded around him, and he kept thrusting even while orgasming, his hand loosening and freeing the tensai, who came along with him, clenching around his cock and driving Sanada longer and further. The bed creaked loudly as it shook along with its occupants' bodies.

Sanada just barely managed to stop himself from collapsing on top of the tensai and crushing him, rolling off to the side. Fuji was already sound asleep, having passed out in the middle of his orgasm.

He gathered the small brunette in his arms, nestling his face in the soft brown locks, and hugged him tightly as he drifted off as well...

Chapter Text

A veil wrapped heavily around his consciousness, yet throughout the night Sanada was still slightly awake, his eyes closed but his arms gently holding the lithe brunette he'd gathered earlier. His body rested deeply from the swell of endorphins, but his mind tingled with excitement as the power from his conquest buzzed through him like a web of static electricity. He could still feel the tight skin against his palm as he had slapped it, the triumphant rush when he finally took control of the devilish vamp.

This was completely different than his time with Yukimura. He didn't feel that Fuji was fragile, or that he had to hold back. It wasn't that he thought Yukimura was weak, but ...

The past came to him, half as a dream and half as a memory. Since the break-up, he though he had pushed the days of worry and constant concern from his thoughts, but it seemed he'd merely squashed it to the back of his mind.

Yukimura was always breaking, back then. Ever since he was diagnosed, the medications he took made him terrible ill, breaking him down physically more than Sanada believed the disease was. But the doctors said it was necessary. If they weren't careful, Seiichi's lungs might stop working and he would suffocate. The disease would come in spouts. Usually he was fine... but when the attacks came, a limb would drop, sometimes two limbs, sometimes his whole body, till the captain couldn't move. He often fell, and had hit his head more than once, being unable to control what he was doing. But he said that the risk was better than the meds... Sanada and Yanagi would take turns making sure he took them. At home, Yukimura's family was in charge, and Sanada was sure that if it weren't for the elder sister, his lover would never have swallowed his dosage.

Seiichi's body grew weak. The firm muscle tone he'd developed from training disappeared. It didn't turn into fat - it just disappeared, leaving only skin and bone. He didn't eat, because he'd throw up, but he had to take the meds with food. The doctor's assured them that none of this was fatal, but Seiichi was dying. He was dying because his tennis was dying. He was dying because other than Sanada, all he had was scraps of a broken, careless family that pretended to be normal even while no one talked to each other, only at each other - parents who cared for him less the less perfect he became.

And back then, Sanada was dying too, watching Yukimura die.

Yukimura did not know how to live without being completely in control - of his team, his tennis, himself, and his body. Sanada could not help but think that Seiichi's current... attitude had something to do with him trying to prove to himself and everyone else that he had regained that control over everything he had. His captain was supposed to be cured now, but often times when Sanada glanced at the brunette, he'd see a pale, boney figure giving orders from a bench he claimed he was ruling from, but it looked very much like he was resting. Seiichi would not say anything if his symptoms came back - he would keep going, and going, and going, until there was no more of his body left to go on.

And from rumors Sanada had heard, Tezuka Kunimitsu was the same - sacrificing himself, his health and his body, for a fleeting moment of victory. Sighing, he wondered what was wrong with his choice in boyfriends, and suddenly realized that Fuji was probably not any better. The tensai was too familiar with pain, too willing to ignore it for the sake of someone else. Great - Sanada picked all the screwed up people.

Everything was still pitch black when Fuji cracked open his eyes. He usually slept nonstop after sex until late into the day, but something had woken him up. He could see nothing in the darkness, or maybe that was because his face was buried in Sanada's chest - oh.

The vice captain was hugging him gently as he slept, one hand protectively cupping the brunette's hair. The position was... unfamiliar. He liked to cuddle after sex, but this felt weird. Maybe because, despite everything, he still thought of Sanada as a stranger. Hell, when was the first time they'd even talked to each other? Last night? A few hours ago?

Fuji did not trust easily, and used his aloof, smiling mask to stay distant. Though once someone entered his heart he was fiercely loyal, and would do anything for that person. He was not unkind to strangers - but he had a different level of comfort for those he did not understand. And understanding came with time and communication.

Shifting to try to back away and out of the embrace, Fuji cringed as suddenly he realized why he'd awoken. His sore ass had been pinched funny by his position, and it hurt. The night before came flooding back to him... the things he'd done, said, the decision he'd made and the... the way he'd seduced Sanada into fucking him. Rough and painful, just the way Yukimura had ordered it to be.

No, it hadn't been pleasurable, it couldn't have been. There were good parts, yes, but mostly it was exhausting and full of stinging, tearing, slapping, gripping... oh yeah, and being flipped over by one hell of a meaty middle finger. And yet... he'd come. God, god, what was wrong with him? He was in pure pain when he came, the pain alone driven him on and into orgasm. No, he couldn't call what had happened pleasurable - Sanada was too big, he was too unprepared, and he'd never felt so much during sex. But he had this sickening urge to wake the built athlete up and do it all over again.

He was a slut, just as Yukimura had said. He was a whore who enjoyed sex for sex's sake, who mixed up pain and pleasure and could no longer tell the difference.

As a romantic, he'd told his sister that he believed sex was about love, and he believed making love was a beautiful thing that shouldn't be soiled or taken for granted. And yet, he'd gone ahead and had sex for pleasure, with someone he hardly knew and certainly couldn't be in love with - no, it was not just Sanada. Everyone he'd had sex with except for Tezuka had been for the wrong reason.

Yes, he had loved them, but he had sex with them not out of love but to make Tezuka jealous. And then, worst of all, he had enjoyed it, enjoyed the pleasure he gained while using whoever his boyfriend of the moment was. He wondered if a paid-for prostitute was even comparable to him, or if he was indeed the utter most sludge at the bottom of the earth that he felt he was.

The tears gathered in his eyes started to fall, running down his lashes and across his cheeks. He cried softly and miserably, turning his face into the comforter to soak up the moisture and stifle his breathing.

He'd even pulled Sanada, who was like a gentle giant, into his twisted world of sado-masochism. Sanada said he was punishing him but Fuji knew he had not been punished enough. This was his choice, to ensure the vice captain was as messed up as the rest of them so that he had no choice but to enter their absurd orgy of a relationship.

He was ruining the people around him, just as he always had.

The vice captain awoke to the soft, almost nonexistent sound of muffled crying, but he had hardly been asleep anyways. The tensai was still safely tucked in his arms, but his face was hidden in the sheets, his still naked body trembling slightly. The cold night air couldn't have helped, and Sanada cursed himself for not pulling them under the sheets.

Fuji must have noticed he was awake, for the tensai suddenly stiffened then relaxed into the sheets, feigning sleep. The vice captain rolled his eyes, internally admitting that the brunette was actually very good at pretending, and if he hadn't obviously already been awake, Sanada might have been fooled.

He was about to force the tensai to get up so he could move them under the sheets, when the clouds outside shifted, letting starlight pour through the wide framed windows. Nocturnal shadows danced across Fuji's body, illuminating the pale skin with bluish shades that unveiled a web of marks and shimmers.

Charcoal eyes widening, Sanada realized what a mess the tensai was, how marred with bruised and covered in sweat and cum. Checking his watch, he gently shook the effeminate youth's shoulder, calling to him softly until the brunette finally turned to pout at him, looking upset about being woken up. Sanada gulped reflexively although he knew it was just an act.

He took in the red puffy eyes that had been hastily wiped against the sheets and kissed both of them, enjoying the surprised look that followed. Smiling, he whispered, "It's 4 am. I need to wash you off, then you can sleep."

Fuji regarded him for a moment, his blue eyes glowing in the darkness before he nodded, then smiled mischievously. "Fine, but you have to carry me."

Frowning, Sanada reached under his arms to pick him up, but Fuji pulled away.

"Not like that," whined the brunette. He wrapped his arms around Sanada's neck and nuzzled his shoulder expectantly. "Like a baby."

Wrinkles formed on the vice captain's chin as his frown deepened, a feeling of annoyance shifting through him though he wasn't sure why. He swept the small youth up bridal style, surprised at how feather light the tensai was.

Wiggling his feet childishly, Fuji insisted on being held while Sanada struggled to turn on the bath with one half-occupied hand. The water ran loudly from two opposing shower heads, and warmed instantly. Fuji pointed out to him how to change the settings so that the water poured from the faucet instead, filling the tub rather quickly.

The tub was ridiculously large, like everything else in the Atobe household, and Sanada laid Fuji gently in it before stripping off his own clothes and stepping inside. They were young but full grown, yet the bath looked like it could easily hold a third or a fourth. Fuji giggled while staring at him, and Sanada wondered if something about his body were funny. Niou always said he had too many abs, even in places where most men didn't have muscles. Temple twitching at the thought of the trickster, the vice captain forced himself to focus on Fuji.

The tensai seemed more amused looking at him than doing anything in particular, so Sanada sighed and took hold of his arms, pulling him half way up. He started cleaning the smiling youth like a child, cupping the water with his hands and smoothing soap across his moistened skin.

Fuji was enjoying his baby bath, maybe far too much - he was practically purring, and he was warm, and getting warmer by the moment. Sanada hadn't even started cleaning below his belly yet, letting the water drain as he went. When he reached Fuji's torso, he turned on the shower, rinsing them both in the clean water and letting the rest drain away. The parts that really needed cleaning were yet to be touched, and the anticipation seeped through the air, flushed across Fuji's cheeks and warmed him from the inside out.

"Nee...are you going to finish your punishment?" The words slipped out before he could stop them. Hadn't he just realized what a whore he was? What happened to the overwhelming shame he'd been feeling not too long ago? It was still there, fighting with his libido, making him feel sick, but the latter was controlling his movements, the lustful spark in his eyes, and worst of all, his mouth.

"You don't really think last night was enough, do you? We only did it once. Seiichi can make me come three times in an hour, without even taking me." Of course, he passed out cold after the third time, but Sanada didn't have to know that.

Laughing, the part of him that was out of control continued, "See, you want it just as much as me." It was true. Sanada had grown very hard while cleaning him, or maybe he was already hard before. Maybe he'd never softened after last night - Fuji was just that goddamn sexy.

"Look," Sanada growled, his voice streaked with lust and anger. He was sick of playing this game, driven mad by the clashing feelings of wanting to help and wanting to fuck. "If you want to be Seiichi's bitch, get on your knees and act like one."

Letting out a victorious laugh, Fuji pulled out of his arms and carefully lowered himself onto all fours. It seemed his little taunt from the night before had really affected the vice captain. He wagged his ass, and made a whimpering sound like a begging pup.

Allured, Sanada got down on his knees as well, bending over as if to hump the tensai but placing warm hands on his back instead. Strong, steady fingers traced along the brunette's spine, drifting along his hips and then massaging around his thighs. He felt a rough wet cloth suddenly rubbing his skin, and sighed longingly as his paramour cleaned and explored his lower body at the same time.

God, Fuji hated this. It was too light, too teasing... and it gave him too much time to think. Sanada obviously didn't need anymore convincing, it was only the brunette's sense of romanticism and morals that kept him drowning in shame. But it was too late. He'd already chosen - he would do what his body wanted, what Yukimura wanted. He'd given up on himself anyway.

Anger now cooled, Sanada put aside the cloth and gently touched the tensai's inner thighs, slowly massaging inwards and then cupped the tight ball sacks he discovered, playing with them and enjoying the puppy-like whimpers drifting from his pet's front. He ran his fingers up the sides of Fuji's straightened cock, a begging whine echoing off the bathroom walls.

Fuji's leg started to shake, pressed hard against the cold tile and weakened by the unbearable stimulation. He was exhausted from the night before, and was due for several more hours of beauty sleep. He was worn both physically and emotionally, though Sanada remained ignorant of the latter.

The vice captain decided to have mercy on him, he'd been good after all, not speaking a word since being ordered to play dog. Placing his hands on Fuji's ass, he parted the butt cheek, feeling a pang of guilt when he saw dried blood around the edges of the twitching hole. Bending down, he did what he'd sworn he'd never do in his life - and used his tongue to clean it off.

Fuji moaned, loudly, the intense sensation of rimming driving through him, making him thrust at air. Jerking back, Sanada grabbed his hips in surprise, stopping his movement but not his need.

"Take me," Fuji whimpered, breaking his puppy play. "Please."

Grunting, Sanada flicked on the shower heads, unsurprised when the spray hit them just right, falling hard on their hair and skin from both directions. The sudden heat shocked Fuji's cooling skin, and he cried out, turned on even harder.

The vice captain was taking his time, but he was really barely holding back. The shower wall had a smooth, oddly shaped shelf, which Fuji's body fit nicely against when he was pressed into it. Sanada grabbed one of the lotion bottles, figuring everything in this place worked like lube, and jammed two fingers up the tensai's hole. He didn't want the pain from last night but he was out of patience now. He jerked the fingers up and down a few times, then he pulled them out and started preparing himself as well, hoping the shower spray wouldn't wash too much off. Plain water, he learned from experience, did not make great lube.

Fuji moaned so loudly even over the shower noise as Sanada started pressing his thick manhood into his hole. The emperor had started so slowly but now he couldn't seem to fit himself in fast enough. He forced his length all the way up, using gravity to help pull the tensai down onto him, ignoring the pained cry that echoed off the walls when he was fully sheathed.

Fuji was in both heaven and hell. The pumping, again and again, god... yes...yes... this pain... this was what he deserved, what he needed. What wasn't good was the pleasure, each time Sanada hit his prostrate, setting his nerves on fire and whiting out the edge of his vision. It was too much pleasure, actually, the pain was subsiding, and Sanada kept kissing him, all over the back of his neck and shoulders, nurturing him with his lips and hands even as he kept thrusting in and out.

The cock went so damn deep - what was it, 6 inches? 8 inches? It felt like it. His body couldn't handle it but at the same time it needed it, wanted it, drew it in and pushed it out, only to draw it back in. He was melting, heating, melting from the heat, he was exploding, god, he was coming, and maybe Sanada was coming too, he didn't know because at that moment the world shot to white.

It was only an instant, but Fuji was barely conscious enough after his orgasm to think inside of his dreams. Flashes of what he'd just done, flashes of the night before, plagued him and bullied him. He surprised even himself at how far he had taken this. Yukimura had given him orders, yes, but he'd chosen to take them all the way. He was a slut, a whore, and he deserved only punishment. That pain was good, but not the pleasure. Sanada was not supposed to be kind in any way. Fuji had seduced him, tricked him, taunted him until he broke all of his principles and forced him to not only cheat on his boyfriend but give into sadism and domination.

Seiichi, like always, got his way.

Fuji slept through the rest of the bath, and well into the morning.

Tezuka had been raised to never let his guard down - a value he held through all things, tried and true.

He held the value, yes, but as for his guard... while he always chose to remain guarded, his grandfather, the teacher of his mastery of emotional control, had never taught him how to keep up his guard while sleeping.

It was the kind of fatal flaw that he should have been aware of, and yet since all those around him were too afraid of him to do anything to him in his sleep, he'd always been fine.

Unfortunately, the two captains on either side of him, whether by equal status or just plain egotism, were not afraid of him at all.

Unfortunately, they did not respect or value his sleep or anyone's sleep the way they aught to, and they did not appear to have been taught basic rules of conduct.

Unfortunately, they were not like Fuji, who would have slept through the night and morning and through any of his supposed unguarded moments, that only - ONLY - occurred when he was unconscious, as, unfortunately, all human beings must at some point in a twenty-four hour period be.

So, as his ill fortune would dictate, he had let his guard down.

And it looked like Atobe had helped him out, by pulling his pants down as well. And Yukimura was currently tugging off his boxers. And hands - four of them - were sliding up beneath his shirt.

His internal clock told him it was five a.m., and he had gotten four hours of sleep. He had attempted to keep his guard up by not falling asleep at all, but unfortunately his body betrayed him and decided Atobe's ten thousand dollar mattress was more comfortable than his guard.

Warm fingers pinched his nipples, drawing out a sigh, and a soft hand caressed his ass, while another hand, shaped differently and probably belonging to a different owner, coddled his balls. His molesters continued to undress him, pushing his boxers and pants below his knees, and his shirt up above his head, forcing his arms up as well. They pleasured his skin as they went, touching it, rubbing it, kissing it, licking it... oh god, the diva really did have the tongue of rumors, the muscle control that brought the most pure of virgins begging at ore-sama's feet.

In fact, the pink muscle was working its wonders at the moment, having moved down from Tezuka's navel to the tip of his aching shaft, and oh fuck, it started traversing the hot member with the most agonizing strokes. The tongue swirled and pushed and tickled, and then there were lips, too, also smoothing along the shaft, then kissing the tip, oh god, surrounding it, taking it in, fuck, it'd been years since he had a blow job, and Atobe was swallowing his cock whole.

The diva had no trouble deep throating it, and the blue-haired captain at his back was not helping - Yukimura's hands kept squeezing his ass, and his fingers where tickling his crack, teasing his hole, tracing the sensitive rim with his finger. Atobe took the bespectacled brunette in and out, his lips, tongue and throat vibrating with unbelievable sensuality.

Tezuka did not make any noise, he rarely did, but he started bucking his hips with encouragement from Yukimura. The diva had no trouble taking it, and what the hell, was Yukimura biting him?! He'd never had a hickey before, at least it'd be hidden by his collar.

He could see the diva's blurry head bobbing up and down, someone'd stolen his glasses, but his eyes soon squeezed closed as he grew lost in the building pleasure. He was so close, god, and now Atobe seemed too slow, he needed more, and even thrusting into the warm chamber was not enough, but then Yukimura, sensing his need, jammed a finger two joints into his ass.

With a small, startled cry, Tezuka jerked hard then came, his semen spurting into the mouth of Hyotei's king. He heard the bluenette behind him laugh, and he grunted in response.

They both pulled away from him, just enough that he could lay on his back and rest, before each draped over one of his shoulders and looked at him expectedly.

Sighing, he grunted, "What?" This was his way of saying, 'You just had your way with me, what more could you possibly expect me to give you?' Unfortunately (as fortune had abandoned him completely today), Fuji was the only one who could read through his one-word statements, which meant the two captains he currently accompanied went ahead with their assumptions.

"Nee," Yukimura pressed a cheek to his shoulder. "Which?"


"Last time, we decided between ourselves," Yukimura calmly explained. "Which one of us do you want to take?" He spoke as if they were deciding a tennis tournament arrangement.

Eyebrow twitching, Tezuka glanced at the silent diva on his right, who was looking at him coyly, almost... shyly?! Tezuka didn't buy it, but his cock did. The damn thing twitched along with his eyebrow. He looked to the left at Yukimura... well he always knew the bluenette was pretty. In a gorgeous, wavy haired model kind of way.

They seriously wanted him to chose. He wondered if he had a third option of hiding beneath the bed. But hiding was not the same as putting up your guard.

His imagination popped up an image of Atobe, pressed hard into the sheets, whimpering and moaning as Tezuka pounded into the arrogant diva from behind. Then a second image of Yukimura, making the most beautiful, song-like noises as he was gently taken, submitting to his long time rival by wrapping his legs around Tezuka's waist while he thrust.

He pushed the images aside a second after they appeared. "No," he declared to himself. He would not do what they wanted. He'd fuck them - well, assuming he said yes to this relationship, he would - but on his own call and time. They would not control him.

He just needed to convince his cock of that, so the damn thing would stop aching.

"No?" Yukimura echoed, his voice laced with amusement.

Atobe was strangely silent, but he had two fingers pressed against his face insightfully. God, was he using that stupid move now? But the diva was waiting, giving him time to think, time to chose. They really, truly wanted him to decide for himself. Pleasure, comfort, companionship... What did these two want from this? What did they want from him? What did he want from them...

"I just want to talk," he sputtered. He knew he was in no position to say this, flushed and panting on the bed. But his instinct was telling him this was not the time. He enjoyed their ministrations greatly, but right now, they had to work this out... before the feelings got lost in the sex. If this... if such a thing could have a chance... if they could... maybe be there to stop him...

He knew he had no right to hope, but...

Maybe if this worked out, he could be with Fuji again.

An exasperated sigh snapped him out of his thoughts. "We pleasure you first thing in the morning, and you think you can get away without giving a return?" Yukimura turned on his side, making sure Tezuka felt a hard bulge against his leg. "We have our own wants-"

"Let's talk, then," Atobe interrupted, leaning across Tezuka and placing his hand on the bluenette's shoulder to silence him. "What do you want to talk about?" He smirked at Tezuka's unreadable gaze. "This relationship? Us? You?" He drawled, words slipping languidly through his lips. "Your current boyfriend? But you seem to have forgotten about him." Smirk widening, he leaned forward, his hand swirling carelessly across the brunette's chest. "Syuusuke?"

Tezuka didn't respond, but his gaze narrowed towards the door. His eyes were not accusing, but one glance at Sanada who stood guiltily in the doorway told the whole story. The ebony haired athlete couldn't meet his boyfriend's eyes.

"Ahn? Where's Fuji?" Atobe purred, despite knowing the answer. Rubbing salt in wounds was his specialty - there was something invigorating about emotional harassment.

"...Still sleeping," the vice captain grumbled, guilt practically rolling down his face in the form of a light sweaty sheen. Though he really shouldn't have been ashamed considering Tezuka wasn't looking too good either, obviously molested between two hot tennis stars on a very wide bed.

"Oh come here Gen," Yukimura laughed and patted the bed, his gracious smile clashing with the leer in his eyes. "Don't be shy."

Sanada hated himself for obeying like a well-trained puppy.

"We're having story time," the bluenette continued, tucking his feet in daintily to make room for his ex to sit. "Tezuka was about to tell us why he broke up with Fuji."

". . ." The stoic youth's lips stayed sealed. Hazel orbs dashed between the occupants of the bed, hidden by thick glass, but not from the scrutiny of the three pairs of eyes that traced his face.

"You want to talk, and right now, we all want to listen."

They were watching him, patiently, expectedly. Waiting. Wondering. Tezuka did not like being the center of attention...not like this, anyway, even though he knew he had to say something, for Fuji's sake if not his own. His team's prodigy... his best friend and former lover was being hurt, by this gentle looking beau on his left, and it was really all his fault for pushing the fragile hearted youth away in the first place. Gulping, he opened his mouth, then closed it. What could he possibly say? He had no right to talk, nor did he know what to talk about. He was not one to express himself, he was used to not being understood, except by Fuji.

"Well? We're waiting," Atobe drawled. "Or is Fuji Syuusuke no longer of any interest to you?"

". . ." It was like he'd forgotten how to speak - how to make his vocal cords vibrate and produce sound. He'd come here to scold them, to set things straight, but instead he felt like the child needing scolding. Perhaps he was far too hopeful...this... experiment, this train wreck waiting to happen, had sparked something inside him he had not felt in a long time - longing.

"Is that it? Does he no longer turn you on?" Yukimura twirled his hair between two fingers, combing it with his eyes as if checking for split ends. "Nee... When you see him in the locker room showers, do you no longer get hard? Genichirou gets hard when he sees me - oh don't you dare deny it, I've noticed," he giggled, his toes nudging the vice captain's thigh. "I get hard, too. Why do you think I always force Yanagi out?" He shifted closer to Tezuka, draping over his shoulder like a wanton tigress. "Nee... do you imagine, ordering all your team members to leave, all but him, do you picture yourself moving behind him, touching, feeling those curves along his sides, that you've started at for so long... can you remember what it feels like, to draw your hand across his spine, what it sounds like, his soft, longing whisper..."

The diva interrupted, "Seiichi, you're being lewd." Though honestly, the silver haired youth had pictured dragging Yukimura into the shower and doing the very things he'd described. "Besides, you'd have to be celibate not to want to fuck that thing."

"...No..." This wasn't... sex wasn't what this was about. Maybe it was, but there was so much more to everything... to Fuji, to them. It wasn't like he didn't want it, of course he'd love to pound into what was still the main object of his fantasies. But that was exactly why... "I still... want to but I... he... and people like you don't help," he spat, grabbing the well manicured hand that was sliding across his hip and pushing it back towards its owner.

Smirking, Atobe withdrew the offending appendage and licked the tips of his fingers. "So that's the problem, ahn? Too many others taking glances, and perhaps Syuusuke was glancing back?"

"Stop it," Tezuka deadpanned. His head started to ache. Memories of those times...back in middle school, when he and Fuji were together, flashed in his mind... and the diva's comment struck too close to home despite being wrong. After all, Atobe was one of those people taking too many glances at the taken brunette. There was something deeper, truer, more critical that he wanted to express, but...

"Or perhaps it went deeper than that," Yukimura purred, catching on to the diva's tactic. "You seam like the gentle type," he goaded. "Too gentle for him? Was he not satisfied?"

"That's not how..." The ache seeped into Tezuka's voice, fringing the edge of his emotionless mask. They were so close, so close to glimpsing beneath it, and Tezuka almost felt he wanted them to, but how could he... how could he possibly tell...explain the guilt wrenching in his gut for so long...

"Fuji ..." is the one who could talk to other people. The one who understood him, and everyone else, even though no one understood Fuji. Tezuka thought he wanted to only talk about Fuji, not himself. " apt with other people," he finished lamely, only to realize how his words would be misinterpreted.

"We're well aware," leered the diva, tossing back his bangs with those suggestive fingers. "He flirts just by walking."

"He's not meant to be hurt," Tezuka lamented, his words failing to connect. He couldn't do this, he was too awkward, and all these guys wanted to talk about was sex...

"What do you mean?" Yukimura's eyes narrowed, his tone suddenly cold. Even his hands were cold. He was listening, Tezuka realized, finally...

But instead of telling the bluenette everything he needed to hear, instead of reprimanding him and trying to reform him... Tezuka mumbled, "Back then..."

He wanted to tell them. He wanted them to at least see his burden, his mistakes. Maybe to stop Yukimura, or perhaps for his own sake... "Those times were... we were already falling apart." Struggling to formulate his thoughts, he went slowly, as he did when writing. He had always excelled with essays. He'd written short stories before. If he could write, then he could speak as well… he had to. "I had recently learned from Yumiko about their father, but Fuji wouldn't talk to me about his childhood... but he would talk to others. He was always talking to others, to our friends, to our rivals, to those who... eyed him. He always talked to them but less and less to me..."

"Is that why you stopped loving him?" Listless eyes of midnight blue pierced into him. They were listening, he realized. Yukimura was listening, and Atobe was too. Their goal... it was not just sex. He could see, through the shimmer of the darkened orbs, that they cared. Maybe not for him... but for Fuji.

"I didn't stop. I had to stop. I had to..."

"Why?" Now Yukimura was glaring at him harshly. "Because he was unpure?"

"It wasn't like that..." Even as he spoke, Tezuka's tone remained flat. His emotions stayed tucked behind his glasses, his expression unchanging as always... and the blue haired captain couldn't stand it.

"But you dumped him for it," he hissed, his empathy for Fuji swelling into anger. He was tired, exhausted both emotionally and physically in his attempt to make this work... but his determination stayed strong within him. "There was an incident, wasn't there? Fuji suspects so but he seems confused as to what."

" I couldn't stop..." Tezuka desperately wanted to explain at his own pace, but Yukimura's hand gripped his arm so tightly the knuckles turned white.

"Did someone threaten him? Hurt him?"

"I couldn't protect him..."

"Did someone rape him?" Yukimura whispered, though his words were crystal clear. His eyes glowed in the unlit room, and for a moment everyone was quiet.


"Who?" Atobe demanded, his eyes narrowing sharply as ice cold anger shot through them.


Chapter Text

"Our relationship may have looked sweet on the outside, and in the beginning, it was. Fuji was my first boyfriend, and I his. Neither of us had ever had sex - Fuji'd messed around with friends before but he said it more like masturbating than love making. We didn't know how to start, and when we finally did, we went too quickly... but we were both very careful. I can't say our first time was a moon light romance but we managed. I wanted it, so badly, and so did he... and after that we were like animals. During the day we stood next to each other calmly, but at night we were hormonal beasts. Every chance we got, we did it. It was an addiction, an obsession... for both of us.

"Before we became a couple, we'd shared many simple moments together, and we continued to do so, but Fuji wanted more from the relationship. He took me on dates, and though we took turns doing activities each of us enjoyed, it wasn't really working. But I loved him, so I endured whatever games and noise he wanted to take part in. I was happy just to be beside him. But I always felt that he was bored whenever doing something on my end... fishing... hiking... he liked taking pictures but after several hours there was nothing new to see.

"Even so, we continued this pattern, quietly together at school, spending time going out together, and having sex, always, even when we had to go to a hotel because our families were home. Rumors spread... probably from the regulars, but perhaps someone saw us... about our relationship. We started being invited places as a couple... and Fuji loved it. He'd always wanted to be more public about our relationship. It was the one... it was the first thing we argued about. I do not like seeing others making out or being... cuddly... and I do not want others to see myself in such a way. But Fuji complained that I was afraid to share our relationship... of the social judgment. For us to go to a place together as boyfriends was his way to declare that he was taken.

"We have mutual friends through tennis, but Fuji also has friends through class and his many hobbies. They all wanted to meet Fuji's boyfriend. We went from party to party, and I hated it. Even when we were with others I knew, Fuji would... he was different with them than with me. There was a side of him he never showed unless he was with those groups. And the way he talked to them... he was vibrant, lively, and chatted madly, while with me he was always subdued and quiet.

"In the beginning, I dismissed it, but after a while it started to irritate me. I thought about leaving but I refused to leave Fuji with them ... I refused to let him go without me. I was jealous, but I didn't realize it back then. All I knew was that I wanted to stop him, every time he talked to others, every time he smiled at them, and make him come home with me.

"We fell into a pattern... we'd go somewhere he wanted to, I'd eventually get us to leave, we'd go somewhere else and have breathtaking sex, then spend the next morning arguing. I can't even remember what most of our fights were over... they all seem like trivial things in retrospect.

"The sex stayed good but the fights grew worse. He tried to go out without me, but I'd always find out about it and follow him. He went back to inviting me. But once we arrived he would break off and go talk with other people. Smile at them, laugh with them... hug them, dance with them... I would pull him aside, and tell him how much I disliked whoever he'd been talking to, I'd make up all sorts of reasons on why they were horrible and that he shouldn't let his guard down around them. During this time, a friend actually pulled me aside and told me I was being possessive, but it didn't sink in. And Fuji would always give in to me, and be taken away by me, and I'd lay claim to his body. He enjoyed it but in the morning he'd complain, saying he'd wanted to spend more time with his friends, or doing whatever he was doing. I got into the habit of silencing him with kisses... which always led to more sex. In the end, he'd have to give in...

"But when I forbade him from going to Chiba to visit his friend Saeki, the fights turned nasty. I hated Saeki, since he was one of the friends who Fuji'd fooled around with before. The thought that someone else had seen Fuji... flushed, moaning, coming... drove me mad. He said it was all in the past, that I was being ridiculous, and that he'd go whether or not he had my permission. I tried to kiss him but he pulled away and said he didn't feel like it... but somehow that night we still ended up covered in each other's cum. But he didn't talk to me until after his trip to Chiba. And I was so angry at that point I stopped talking to him as well for awhile. And yet we'd still have sex... we'd memorized our families' schedules, and one of us would go to the other and the only words we'd exchange were through moans.

"An invitation came to us, actually to several tennis players in the junior high circuit, for a massive get-together at a Hyoutei mansion. Of course we had to attend as a couple... we were back to talking to each other, and doing a little better with our relationship. Our quiet times at school and at practice had never varied. We tried laying off the social dates and went back to just going off on our own, like we had at first, and it was somehow better after having those other disasters to compare it to. But at the party, it was clear that Fuji hadn't changed. He'd dressed rather sassily, in an unzipped jacket and a black tank top, and pants so tight that even the fabric was screaming.

"It was like he'd been going through social withdrawal. He waved at everyone, knew everyone, had to stop and catch up with everyone and would have light conversations with each person, batting his lashes and laughing when they said something to him. Some of them came over to talk to me but I was too upset watching him to give them more than a nod of acknowledgment. My eyes could only see him, and they were narrowing, glaring at those horny bastards who were pawing at my Syuusuke. And yes, Atobe, you were one of them - don't smile smugly, he gave you no more attention than the others. Everyone had some of his attention - everyone but me.

"And then... then that asshole from Fudoumine... had the audacity to kiss him. On the cheek. In front of everyone. In front of me. ... And Syuusuke just laughed...

"I felt so sick, I left. I left without him, and even he seemed surprised.

"The bus ride home was long, but I couldn't calm down. A churning restlessness built within me, and instead of transferring to the bus that would take me home, I wandered around the transit station. It was a bad part of town and an even worse time of night. But I've been in that area before and always had been able to defend myself. Tonight was no different... some teens from the local high school tried to mess with me, and... I beat them. There were two of them, they were older and bigger, but I beat both of them, badly. It wasn't even self-defense. My fists screamed with anger, and I punched and kicked them without thinking. I remember one begging me to stop, and kicking him in the face before I left.

"I walked back. It wasn't far by bus but it took almost an hour on foot. The air was cold and dark but I still felt hot. I finally arrived... and found myself in front of Syuusuke's house. I'd ended up there by instinct. He must have left the party early, because the lights were on, even though both his parents were abroad and his siblings living at other places.

"I stood outside the gate for an eternity, but only a few minutes passed before my feet started dragging towards that familiar door."

After pulling on his night gown, Fuji sighed and trudged downstairs. He didn't know who'd be calling at this time of night, but if it was one of those religious recruiters he was going to scream at them. He'd just finished a quick shower that should have come after a night of mind blowing sex, but instead he felt too unsatisfied to even masturbate. He was too tired, anyway, after seeing so many old friends, and Tezuka's behavior... he'd hoped his boyfriend would handle this better than the other parties. His friends who didn't already knew Tezuka through tennis thought his boyfriend was a bore, stern, far too unemotional and not a good fit for a vibrant spirit like Fuji. But the tensai knew the real man behind the glasses, and surely their former rivals knew so as well, so he'd thought the reunion would be fun, for both of them.

He yanked open the door, prepared to get his vocal chords going, and was shocked to see the object of his desire standing hunched over before him. Maybe he'd be getting that night of endless sex after all. Smiling, he waved his tennis captain inside. "You shouldn't have left," he chided, closing the door behind them. "Rikkaidai showed up and their vice captain wanted to see you. They said something about a summer training camp..."

Sighing, Fuji gave up what he was saying. Tezuka showed no signs of response... none of his usual grunts, nods, or other nonverbal forms of acknowledgment. Hazel eyes burned holes through the air, as intense as ever, but there was something off... Fuji realized that Tezuka was still mad at him.

But he was mad at Tezuka too, for embarrassing them in front of their friends. Everyone kept asking if the two of them had broken up - it was horrible. He'd lied and lightly laughed, telling them how Tezuka had already felt a little ill before they came and that they'd agreed he would leave if he felt any worse. Still, Fuji knew there would be rumors, and he hated it. He was afraid, too, that someone else would go after his captain if they thought Tezuka was single.

Pushing these thoughts aside, Fuji decided to take a little vengeance by chattering on about the night. He talked about what different people had worn, what people had switched schools, who was now paired with who, either in doubles or in bed, or both - "and Atobe invited us to join him on his yacht this weekend. I've never been boating before, not on anything small. I accepted of course. The weather should be wonderful and-"

"He invited you."

The growl caught him off guard, and Fuji blinked in surprise, "What?"

Tezuka didn't respond, his eyes glaring intensely at Fuji's pale face. He had been watching, with the same intensity, when Atobe Keigo had practically molested Fuji's shoulder and back with a 'friendly' rub and how the brunette had only laughed and continued on with his spirited chatter, as though nothing were wrong. Then Tachibana'd appeared, and he recalled that the black haired captain had been calling lately, how Fuji'd been having long conversations with him on his cell, and then that abominable kiss...

Sighing heavily, Fuji decided it was time for some tea, the one thing they'd always shared in common. He hated times like this, when his boyfriend refused to speak to him. He turned towards the kitchen and took a step away when Tezuka grabbed his arm, jerking him back - hard. He yelped in surprise and fell backward, his body slamming into the coffee table.

The motion went too quickly for Tezuka's mind to follow. In one moment he refused to let Fuji walk away from him, then the next the tensai was on his back, mouth dropped open in a moan of pain as he rolled off the short legged table. His body dropped in the wide space between the table and the couch, where the traditional seat pads cushioned the floor.

The tensai was still in shock when suddenly Tezuka was on top of him, both wrists in his hands, and kissing him roughly.

At first Fuji returned the kiss, then his eyes widened as the pain cleared and he pushed the tall youth away, pulling himself out from underneath Tezuka. Fuming red, he stood up and screamed, "Tezuka what the fu-"

But his boyfriend cut him off by grabbing him and throwing him onto the couch, the back of his knees slamming into the armrest before he was dragged all the way up. The leering brunette practically tore off his clothes, the sound of buttons snapping off drowned by the ripping of cloth. Instincts kicking in he struggled to get away but Tezuka started hitting him, slapping his cheeks and shoulders until he stopped. His body remembered the time of his childhood and sunk to the form of a submissive doll.

"Tezuka, I don't want this..." Fuji sobbed as Tezuka draped him over the side of the couch. Tezuka grabbed him by the neck to pull him up, gripping his ankles and thighs to position him the way he wanted.

"You would rather do it with them?!" Tezuka sneered, tearing away the last bit of Fuji's clothing, an offensive pair of black briefs.

"I pinned him, trapped him with all of my weight. I can't remember spreading his legs, but I must have, for I remember the moment of penetration, slamming into him, the intense, incredible feeling of being squeezed by his unprepared hole. I remember thrusting, raggedly but slowly. It was so tight that it hurt."

Fuji screamed again and again, but Tezuka was deaf at that moment. His entire body was on fire, overwhelmed with the sensation on his greatest part of manhood, pumping in and out of the tunnel man had evolved for. He had everything in that moment - pain, pleasure, dominance, control, Fuji - Fuji was his. No one else could have him, not like this.

He came earlier than he wanted, and pulled out with a strange squish. Fuji whimpered as the grip on him loosened, and tried to pull himself up. But Tezuka would have none of it. How dare Fuji still try to leave him! He grabbed the tensai by the neck, dragging him off the couch and slammed him into the wall. He heard a secondary thud as the back of Fuji's head hit the drywall. Shifting his hands, he used one to push the tensai's chest to keep him back, and the other to squeeze the brunette's cock, pumping it hard and relishing in the moans that followed. Fuji's eyes fluttered listlessly as he faded in and out of consciousness.

Tezuka kissed him one more time, molesting bruised lips with his tongue, then turned him around and fucked him fast and hard from behind. He came, waiting a few seconds to enjoy the ecstasy, then went back to thrusting, fucking, until he came again. He didn't know how many times he did it, until he could no longer come. By then they were face down on the ground, Fuji pressed limply beneath him, and he was panting and dripping with sweat.

Fuji's cum was splattered on the wall.

"He came, I don't know why. I don't remember him getting hard. The next thing I knew he was limp in my arms, passed out from the pain. I remember feeling victorious, and then horrified in the next instant. There was blood running down his legs and on the carpet, more than even our first time."

Blood was everywhere. On the couch, on the floor cushions, all over Fuji's legs, along with splotches of white. Tezuka found himself standing, staring at it all, panting and wide-eyed with horror as he took it all in. Bruises and cuts covered his beloved, red and purple marks marred all of that perfect porcelain skin. His small lover lay unmoving on the stained carpet, looking as if he'd been beaten to death. He could have been dead, for all Tezuka knew.

But he couldn't touch him to find out. His hands shook too badly, and all the strength had drained from his legs. He stood there, staring blankly at the body of his abused lover, his glasses skewed and lips slightly parted.

He stood there, unable to comprehend what he had done.

His thoughts twisted together, horrified, vile, empty, and overflowing. Tezuka always knew he was strong. He'd been taught judo before he could walk, and he had always had confidence in his ability to handle fiends. He had never felt fear - not true fear, not like this, before. Right now, Tezuka was terrified, more than he'd ever been in his life. His reasonable, responsible side reminded him that he needed to help Fuji, that the brunette probably had a concussion amongst numerous other things. But a dark, laughing side of him he had never known existed wanted to grab the limp, pale form and slap him till he woke, then do it all over again.

The side of him that loved Syuusuke froze and locked itself away.

When his heart started beating again it raced in time to his breathing, which grew heavier and louder by the second. Fuji's clothes were scattered, but his wallet and cell phone were placed neatly on a small table. Tezuka's hands stopped trembling, their lustful excitement faded, and he took hold of Fuji's cell phone with a bazaar calm. Having used the device before, he knew to press speed dial '2'. Even at this time, with the fear and anxiety and dark, raging emotions inside of him, his expression was firm and stoic. He felt like a monster.

"Moshi moshi?" The woman's voice on the other end sounded busy, like she was in the middle of typing something. Well, as a secretary for one of Tokyo's most prestigious law firms, that was to be expected. "Syuusuke?"

Tezuka placed the phone down next to Fuji, taking one last look at his unconscious lover before turning away. He wanted to at least put his beloved tensai on the bed, but right now, he was afraid to even touch the bruise covered skin.

"Syuusuke? Is something wrong? Syuusuke!" He could hear the woman's voice clearly through the speaker even as he exited the house - she sounded panicked.

Tezuka walked away almost briskly, unable to look back. Some blood had splattered on his jeans, but he didn't notice until later. The air felt neither cold nor warm, only dark and still. He was not afraid of the night time streets, nor the starless sky, nor the shattering of glass as a drunkard across the street finished off his beer.

He could take care of himself. Until today Tezuka had never been afraid of anyone. Maybe it was not too surprising that the first person whom he truly feared was himself.

Chapter Text

Bright sunlight poured beyond his lids, and he slowly pried them open, his eyes narrow slits as they whined to be shut again. He wanted to sleep in, but his body was in a weird position and he felt sore - no wonder, he realized he'd fallen asleep on the couch in the living room.

He dragged himself up, a wave of dizziness passing through him, and somehow he felt like he was floating through the world rather than being a part of it. His stomach was calling to him and he was aching all over.

Half an hour later Yumiko drifted downstairs, following the scent of sizzling bacon to find her brother in the kitchen, dazed but cooking. Yet even beneath the pajamas she'd managed to fit him in last night the bruises were obvious.

"Where's Tezuka?" Syuusuke mumbled, flipping eggs with a yawn. "Did he leave? I thought we could have breakfast..."

Yumiko's face turned white, then red. She marched over almost mechanically and pulled off her brother's apron and top, surprised when he didn't resist at all but reacted as limply as a doll.

"Did Tezuka do this?!" she screamed. The bruises had darkened angrily and covered his skin in black and purple. Mostly they were on his back but finger print like splotches decorated his upper arms and chest, and most terribly around his neck, reminding her of the black pearl necklace she sometimes wore.

"Do what?" replied her little brother blankly. His lids stayed half closed while he sleepily laid out eggs and bacon and toast on two of the plates, though she noted he'd set out three. "I saw your car in the driveway so I knew you were home," he said, as though this explained something.

He seemed completely unaware that he'd been raped or hurt at all, and this frightened her even more than the bruises.

Though Fuji really was worried; usually Tezuka stayed at least until he woke up, to tell him good morning and give him a very nice kiss before leaving. He ate quickly then drifted upstairs to give his lover a call.

Fuji cracked open his eyes, disappointed to find himself alone on the lofty bed. Judging by the sun he'd slept in again, and if the other tennis club leaders were like Tezuka they'd all been up hours ago.

He dragged himself up, deciding to take a quick shower and put on some clothes before wandering the mansion to find the others. God, his ass hurt like hell.

He liked it.

"He called me the next morning, asking if I was okay. He - ... he asked if I was okay, said he was worried about me, said he was sorry for arguing with me and that maybe we should spend the weekend with just the two of us, at an onsen. I quietly told him that it was over, that I wanted to go back to being only friends. He said he didn't understand..."

Swallowing guiltily, Tezuka realized how much talking of those times had affected him. He'd forgotten... frozen away many of the feelings and memories, the good times and the bad times he'd shared with his blue eyed lover.

"I heard the rumor about your face covered in red hand prints," Yukimura quietly interjected as Tezuka paused. The stoic man was having difficulty speaking, and clearly needed a break. But his audience knew not to touch him, to give him time, so he wouldn't stonewall. He was trying - even through his monotone, the despair he felt remembering those times seeped through.

"Yumiko came over to my house at the end of the week and slapped me."

Her palm connected with his cheek, over and over again, though she felt her skin sting and knuckles crack, she didn't stop until she was satisfied. But Tezuka didn't move or try to defend himself in anyway, so she ran out of energy, her eyes glowering with sated anger.

"Continue," deadpanned Tezuka.

"No..." she panted, for some reason unable to meet the eyes of this man whom she came to discipline. "I'm satisfied."

"I'm not," said Tezuka, his face never changing.

Yumiko left without another word.

The next time he saw her, though, with Fuji, she smiled and acted as though nothing had happened. She informed him some time later that Syuusuke didn't know about her confrontation, and that he'd be mad if he found out - at her.

Tezuka never understood, but after that, the woman would occasionally call him, treating him like an old friend. She would mostly fill him in on Fuji's love life, usually through complaints, but said that she wasn't going to interfere. He never understood why she would want him to in her stead.

He remembered Yumiko's words, the one time it came up in one of their conversations. "I only forgave you because you broke up with him," she said, her voice calm and honest through the phone. "I saw the guilt in your eyes, and you took responsibility for what you did." She sighed. "It never even crossed Syuusuke's mind that he should dump you. He should have - you deserved it."

"She's right you know," Atobe drawled, though his tone was less egotistic than usual. "I doubt Syuusuke even realized you hurt him."

"I know," the brunette choked. "But it was... bad. I can't even say it was that pleasurable. I attacked him in a blind rage, barely aware of what I was doing. I could have killed him."

There was a breathless pause, before he added, "I would have, at that moment, if that was the only way to make him mine." The cold severity of his tone made it clear that he was serious. He knew that at that time, in his fury, all he cared about was ensuring no one else could have his tensai, his Syuusuke.

He was a monster of jealousy, a powerful one with the cruel strength to back his anger.

And now everyone knew.

He wanted them to hate him. He hoped that now they understood why he could not be near Fuji, why he did not trust himself, even less than he trusted Yukimura. Why he could not be a part of their relationship, whether or not it was absurd enough to work. At least... if Atobe was involved, and maybe Sanada as well, the four of them might be alright...

He knew he should not be involved. For a long time he had avoided any relationship, terrified that he'd do the same things over again, feel the same terrible jealousy and want to cage and hurt the one he wanted to claim. He'd decided it was okay to date Sanada because he knew how strong the kendo expert was - he might be able to defeat Sanada in a hand-to-hand judo match but he couldn't easily hurt the larger, more muscular frame. He liked Sanada enough, and they seemed to go well together, so he'd brought down his walls just enough to give it a try...

That's right, Sanada was his boyfriend now. He felt comfortable around Sanada.

But he would give the vice captain up if that was what Fuji... what Yukimura said that Fuji needed. At least, the bluenette seemed more than willing to let Sanada into the strange little clique, and Tezuka felt better knowing that the noble minded youth was nearby his beloved.

That was the other problem... he knew he still loved Fuji. Even when he had forgotten, a part of him had always known. And though he knew that Fuji was dating his rivals on purpose, the tactic was working to an extent... every time he heard the stories, the rumors, he felt the sickening, boiling feeling rise within him, so familiar, so horrible...

He knew that as long as he loved Fuji, he had to keep his distance.

He could never touch the tensai again.

Water trailed down his legs and pooled upon the black stone floor. Fuji dried his skin and hair off as best he could before slipping into the bathrobe hanging ready on the door. The thin, smooth material stuck to his dampened skin, and wearing the deep red robe him feel like a pampered mistress. Leave it to Atobe to only have scarlet silk bathrobes.

He'd been looking for his favorite white velous one but it must have been put away after he left. The servants would have saved it somewhere. He'd have to ask them later... if he planned on coming back.

Feeling the ache in his lower back, he wondered if this was really where he should be. This was what Seiichi wanted, so he had come, and more importantly, Tezuka had for some reason come to... and Fuji would give anything to be together with his one true beloved.

But even if that was what he wanted, that didn't mean that was what was best for Tezuka. Or for Yukimura. Or even for Sanada and Atobe. He felt like he corrupted them, dirtied them just by being near them. He was a masochistic whore... no, when he thought about it, he was below even that, but the others didn't know about the other part.

He realized he should just leave.

End things with Yukimura, go back to his tacit, meaningless friendship with Tezuka. Say hi to Atobe at gallery exhibits from time to time, but otherwise avoid him. Not have to deal with Sanada except for at tournaments. Maybe not even that... he'd been meaning to quite tennis for awhile, but his aching desire to stay by Tezuka's side had motivated him to keep playing.

He'd give up on Tezuka, as he should have done years ago, when the stoic captain had stopped loving him. He'd throw away tennis. It was the simplest way to break his connection with them... all of them. Anyone he'd ever dated or had sex with. He'd run away, transfer schools, study abroad, do anything that would help him let go.

He'd leave Tezuka alone because he loved him.

The voice of the one from his thoughts drifted out into the hallway, calling to him like a siren. He knew he shouldn't be selfish, that if he went there now he would be shipwrecked, ruined by his desire to claim Tezuka as his own. He didn't have to go back. He knew where the diva's bedroom was. He could borrow some clothes and have Atobe send him his things later.

If only his feet would pick themselves off the floor and turn away. If he left now, they would understand. If he left now, they would leave him alone. But if he waited, it would be too late... once the five of them were together, now that they had all shared the same thing, the same poison that was his body, Yukimura would start to weave the threads of a relationship that would end up strangling them all.

But that deep, penetrating sound kept him in place. It entranced him and mesmerized him...and broke his heart. It formed words he couldn't believe, said things he knew weren't true. He couldn't hear everything from where he was but he heard enough. He heard Tezuka claiming he had hurt him, that he broke up with him because of one night of rough sex. Fuji'd missed most of the story and he could barely hear his captain's voice, but he heard Atobe mention a 'she', and wondered if they were talking about Yumiko. Tezuka replied too quietly for him to hear, so he drifted towards the open door, wanting to know, needing to, being pulled towards it.

"All the more reason for you to take part in this relationship," Yukimura was saying, and Fuji could picture a gentle smile on the bluenette's face. "It'll be therapy for you too."

"You'll have to get over the fact you're a spoiled rotten only child and learn to share," Atobe interjected, and Fuji thought he heard a snort which he knew must have come from Sanada.

"But even though he says he consented, the consent came afterward, not before," the brunette's deep voice lamented. "How could I-"

"God, Tezuka, you're the only one who'd break up over one bought of bad sex." The diva rolled his eyes, settling back against the prop of pillows.

"It was bad because only I enjoyed it-"

"But that was the best sex I've ever had!"

Fuji stood in the door way, tears streaming down his face. He knew he must have said something stupid, especially from the looks he was getting, but once he realized what time they were talking about he'd just blurted out what he felt. He'd always known something had gone wrong that night, but even after partially eavesdropping he couldn't understand what. He'd thought that Tezuka was just fed up with him, of his tactics, of his lifestyle, of his games. He'd felt that he'd always failed to make Tezuka happy, that he'd dragged the captain through too many things that went against his stoic nature, that the only thing Fuji could really give him was sex.

Of course... if the sex was no good either, then he had nothing. Of course Tezuka had dumped him.

"Just because you can forgive me, doesn't mean I can forgive myself." The mournful captain averted his eyes, so that Fuji would not see the guilt simmering within them.

"I don't...I don't understand..." Unable to stop crying, what little energy the tensai had left him, and he collapsed onto his knees, leaning against the door frame for some last vestige of support. He felt a strange sort of hopelessness, heavy and oppressing, one that he should have felt when he was dumped and that would have saved him the pain of feeling rejected all over again, as he felt now. If only he had walked away...

"That's because you don't take care of yourself. You don't care enough about yourself. No, you don't care about yourself at all. You don't even-" Tezuka stopped short, realizing what he was about to say. You don't even love yourself.

It didn't look like the tensai was listening to him anyway. The honey haired brunette slumped dejectedly to the floor, looking as if all the world had abandoned him. Once Tezuka realized that the other three were not going to go comfort Fuji, he dragged himself out of bed, relieved that the tensai was too busy wiping away tears with his sleeves to notice how disheveled his captain was. Tezuka quickly tugged up his garments, the faintest blush staining his cheeks.

He walked slowly to the doorway, but in a few steps he was already there. He lowered himself and tugged the tensai's hands away from his face, holding them in his own as he gazed into swollen, red-rimmed eyes. Those cerulean orbs shimmered curiously at him, beautiful even as they leaked the ocean down Fuji's puffed up cheeks. A hint of fear danced within them, and Tezuka could almost hear them begging not to be hurt again, not to be rejected.

He brought his small beloved gently into his arms, letting the tearful eyes soak into his shirt. Syuusuke fit so perfectly against him, even as they were crouched on the ground, in the doorway of one of Atobe's many rooms.

Breathing deeply, Tezuka paused for a still moment before letting out a humble murmur.

"I'm sorry."

For everything.

Chapter Text

Calloused fingers caressed the silky, honey brown locks that fell carelessly across the pillow. Intense hazel eyes captured the soft, pale skin and beautiful round curves of the face, the one he'd missed gazing at from time to time. Small puffs of warm air escaped familiar pink lips, relaxed from their normal mask of a smile by the cradle of sleep.

Tezuka had once memorized this face, but subtle changes appeared all around. The locks were longer than he remembered, framing the narrowed chin, and the sharpened nose that had taken on an elegant turn from being a quarter French. Even Syuusuke's lashes seemed longer and more lush.

This was a mistake. Only a few hours ago, Tezuka had sworn away his ex lover, determined to part with him for his own good. Now he was watching the tensai as he slept, touching him with his hands, caressing and protecting him as he had often done back when they were together. He knew he shouldn't be doing this. He should be out running, as he did every morning. He should be out training, or hiking, or fishing, as he liked to do on his day off.

He needed everyday things. His mundane, common routine. He did not need romance. He did not need others. He did not need Fuji. But it seemed some part of him, whatever part was controlling him at the moment, didn't care what he needed. It just wanted to take back the tensai that was his, despite all the warning sirens blaring in his head.

After Fuji had broken down crying, Tezuka had had no choice but to bring the small brunette onto the bed. The other three had rapidly vanished - Tezuka was sated, Fuji was exhausted, but those three still had raging libidos to nurture. Well, it was more like Sanada had been dragged off somewhere, with promises of two very tight asses that were waiting for it. Tezuka hoped his muscular boyfriend's stamina was as good as it looked, for the vice captain's sake.

Before they left, Yukimura had pulled him up and whispered to him, "He loves you, Tezuka. He won't be happy without you."

The rival captain had looked pleased, leaving the two teammates on the bed. Of course he was. In the end, Yukimura had gotten his way. Sanada was his again. Fuji had been deposited without drama back in his old boyfriend's arms.

Sighing, Tezuka shifted onto his side, wishing he could sleep as well to flush away his current train of thoughts. He hated being a puppet. Ultimately, he was only a tool used so that Rikkaidai's top player could snatch back his second. Ironically, Yukimura was lucky that Sanada started dating someone else; it created an opening, a weakness that came through the left over sludge of feelings Tezuka still had for another. And now Tezuka was left with the dilemma.

Whether Fuji stayed with Yukimura, or Tezuka took him back, the tensai was in danger. It wasn't that Fuji was terribly weak. But he wouldn't try to defend himself, especially not if he thought he was pleasing the one he was with. Yukimura seemed perfectly happy using Fuji as a sex toy, and Tezuka wouldn't put it below him to take the petite brunette along with himself and Sanada and use him like a pin cushion for their cocks. And as much as Tezuka believed in Sanada's nobility, he had to admit that the vice captain lacked perceptiveness when it came to relationships and his libido. Though Fuji could make anyone's libido go wild...

Tezuka tucked one of the soft brown strands behind the sleeper's ear. He was really only left with two choices. He could take Fuji back with him, risk repeating what he'd done before - and honestly, at the moment, he felt inclined to do so. He wanted to take Fuji away, bring him somewhere safe, and keep him there... all to himself. And that thought, that notion of keeping Fuji trapped inside a cage of supposed safety was exactly why Tezuka knew he couldn't do this. In the end, he would fall to his own possessiveness, masking it with a lie of protecting his beloved from others.

Which left the other option - join Yukimura in his crazy notion of multiple lovers. It would be nice, Tezuka supposed, to stay with Sanada longer - he did enjoy the time he spent with the broad tennis player. But why the hell was Atobe involved... the diva's flamboyance was too much for the stoic brunette, who'd learned from his grandfather that less was more. The only thing the two of them had in common was tennis, and a natural ability of leadership. And then there was Yukimura...

After shuddering, Tezuka gently wrapped his arms around the tensai's shoulders, drawing the other against him. This may be the last time he ever held his beloved. He knew he shouldn't leave the tensai with these people, but he was more afraid to stay. All in all, the worst one out of all of them was himself. And he knew Sanada and also the diva well enough to know they wouldn't let Fuji be hurt, not seriously anyway, by the predatory bluenette. He held the other close, breathing in his scent, vying not to be captured by the moment.

Fuji wasn't really tired. He'd slept like a log all morning, and had a refreshing shower. But he could feel the sexual tension sparking through the room; lust seeped throughout, thicker than butter. He was too sore to handle any more, but he didn't want Tezuka to know that. Besides, he was upset, and being upset always wore him out, so falling asleep had been easy. This way, he wouldn't have to deal with the four leaders as they jabbed at each other. He thought he'd only pretend to sleep, so as to save himself some embarrassment after crying in front of everyone, but the next thing he knew he was cracking two sleep coated lids open.

"Good morning." Tezuka spoke with his usual quiet seriousness, but Fuji found this endearing. He always had.

"Good morning..." Fuji returned, a small smile growing on his lips. His expression, for once, was honest... a light blush crossed his face, his lids drooped slightly and the twitch of his lips was not a part of some fake emotional mask but rather a true sign of happiness.

It'd been a long time since he'd woken to Tezuka Kunimitu's calm, handsome face.

Neither took the initiative yet somehow their faces drew closer, and their lips met in a light, chaste morning kiss. Then the secondary kiss rapidly devolved into something more animalistic, lips sliding and smashing against each other and tongues meeting and clashing. The third and forth kisses blended into the second one, without any real break or boundary, as they re-mapped each other's mouths, before pulling breathlessly away. Tezuka kept his hand firmly on the back of Fuji's head, one of the perpetrators to their sudden escapade.

They breathed hot air onto each other's lips, before Fuji finally moaned, "You kiss like Rikkaidai."

Taken aback by the broken moment, Tezuka's first thought was to snap, 'same to you.' But somehow he knew that wasn't quite right.

"...You kiss like Hyotei."

Fuji threw back his head and laughed, light and honest. "If you've made out with Atobe even once, you'd kiss like Hyotei too."

"Hmm," said Tezuka, moving in for another test. Yes, Fuji definitely kissed like Hyotei, he decided after they broke apart.

"That's a grunt of satisfaction," Fuji translated, earning himself a glare. Tezuka pulled off his glasses, which had gone askew, though he'd only put them on to have a better view of that angelic face. Fuji took the action as an invitation for another kiss.

They broke apart, warm and panting. They were so, so close, a little closer and they would merge, but Tezuka kept an inch away. His pupils trembled as he silently conveyed his message to the one he knew could read him, even without words. I want to, but I can't. I shouldn't. This has already gone to far. Please understand.

"I missed talking to you," Fuji softly voiced. He could still read his captain, he always could, but that didn't mean he understood.

"You stood next to me-"

"You know what I mean." Sighing, Fuji lay his head against Tezuka's chest, hoping he wasn't breaking any boundaries. The kisses should have been permission enough, but it seemed the fleeting contact of lips and tongues was not enough. "You wouldn't let me read you. You always looked away..."

Because I didn't want you to see how I felt, Tezuka thought, closing his lids exhaustedly. I didn't want you to know how I still felt.

Unable to read the hidden orbs of hazel, Fuji reached out and took hold of the hands he remembered so well. He felt connected through touch, if nothing else. "I know that I..." The feeling of pressure on his hands gave him strength. "I have nothing for you." I have love for you, but that is all. And that is the only thing which I cannot ask you to accept. "Tezuka, I know I have nothing for you. I know I have nothing you want from me." My mind, my body, my love... none of it is pure enough.

Large, hardened hands clasped his, their warmth seeping into his fingers. It was no good... Fuji knew he couldn't let go, despite knowing how useless he was, how poisonous he was, he could not give up what he was feeling. He loved Tezuka. He remembered after being kissed so intensely, just how deeply he truly loved Tezuka. He loved Atobe and Yukimura too, but there was something about the way he felt for Tezuka, something desperate, so strong that it hurt... this was the man he could never forget, never let go of.

Tezuka drew close to him, until their foreheads met, and Fuji shifted his legs a little so that his knee brushed against Tezuka's. Just one more time, the action said, and the stoic brunette could no longer resist drawing their lips together. No matter how Fuji kissed, he still smelled and tasted and felt like the tensai he'd once made love to day and night.

Cheeks nuzzled as Fuji murmured, "I know I'm useless. I know I'm horrible. I know better than anyone just how abused and awful my body is, I know-"



"No, you aren't ... " Tezuka let out a heavy sigh, wondering if his voice could break through the wall of self-depreciation that Fuji had built so sturdily around himself. He had never understood it, and it had been there before, even when they'd started dating, and seemed to have gotten worse after the break-up. He had tried so hard, back then, to be encouraging... "You aren't awful, Syuusuke. Nor are you useless. It's just the opposite. There's nothing you can't do."

Breathing deeply, he focused on what he wanted to say. The small hands tucked within his own were so warm, the two of them were so close. Somehow, it wasn't as hard as he thought it would be...the words rushed out like the rapids of a breaking dam. "You mean everything to me, Syuusuke. You are everything. You can do everything, you can make everything, you can be everything. You are too wonderful, too brilliant, too sexy; I am turned on when I see you in the showers, when you're changing, when you're playing tennis, when you pass me in the hall, when I watch you sleeping like this...god...I can't stand it, I just want-" He grabbed the brunette and pulled them together, holding him tightly, erasing the small gap that had remained between them. I just want to make you mine!

Fuji could feel a heart pounding, and wasn't sure if it was his captain's or his own. He was a prodigy, he had an IQ of over a hundred and seventy, he was completing a degree in psychology, and yet he didn't understand...his blue eyes grew wide with confusion. Their legs wrapped together, chests and torsos connected, skin separated only by thin layers of fabric, and he could feel it as Tezuka had hugged him, a hardness pressed into his thigh, thick and almost painful.

Was it something left from earlier? Had Tezuka not finished fooling around with the other captains, when Fuji had interrupted? But hadn't Tezuka just said that he wanted... him... the tensai thought he had heard wrong.

He had to know. His hand slipped down curiously between them, only to be stopped by Tezuka's... Tezuka... was blushing?! No... the stoic brunette never was embarrassed. It had to be an illusion, Fuji was hearing what he wanted to hear instead of what actually was being said. All of this was in his head... but the hardness was not. What Tezuka wanted was... oh.

"I... see..." So this is what he meant he wanted, Fuji thought. He needs someone to help him relieve this. "Nee... Tezuka. It's okay... you don't have to say those things." You don't have to lie to me. "I really want it too...see?" He pressed his hardening length against his captain's stomach. "I'm getting hard just thinking about you taking me. It's okay... to use me..." if that'll make you happy... "I'll be your doll..." at least I'm warmer than one "...I know that with others, you'd feel responsible if you slept with them, but you don't have to feel that way with me." For me, this is better than nothing. "Please..." say something "...take me..."

Tezuka had grown quiet. He was still holding onto him, hugging him so tightly the tensai could hardly breathe, but the captain's lips were drawn thin and downturned.

"Use me for pleasure...please..." Fuji whispered, desperation seeping the strength from his voice. "Please... can't I at least be worth that much..."

Something inside him cracked, and Tezuka realized it was his heart. His heart was breaking, listening to the one he had eyes on, the one he still cared so much about, begging to be used for sex. He knew Fuji was better than this, and also understood that only he would be given such a special offer, that Fuji was trying once again to use sex to bridge the gap between them. It tore him apart to know his Syuusuke was offering himself up as a whore in a last ditch effort to be close.

But at the same time, his libido, his horribly bloody libido, was throbbing like crazy upon hearing the offer. Just the image of him thrusting into the begging brunette, the lithe tensai whimpering, 'please, please', crying out for more, had his cock out of control. God... he was a fucked up hormonal teenager.

"N-..." he started, but cut himself off. If he said no, as he knew he should, Fuji would just fall further into his pit of belittlement. But to... to listen to his dick instead of his brain... things were already chaotic enough. Tezuka believed he had more self control than that... yet he could no longer stop himself from touching the damn thing. His hand that was holding Fuji's was so close, so close to the pointing member that wanted to spurt its way into a blissful oblivion. This would get no where if he didn't find relief... for both of them.

The tensai watched him anxiously, his eyes shaking with both hope and despair. "Don't speak," Tezuka mouthed to him, and the smaller one nodded, accepting the two words like an order from his sadistic bluenette. Pushing the dreadful analogy from his mind, Tezuka sank his hand down upon his aching manhood, almost gasping at the touch, giving it a promising stroke before tugging down his pants to free the bouncing thing. He heard Fuji's breath hitch as he brought his cock up the other's scarlet robe, parting the silk with his hands. Placing them on the smaller youth's hips, he repositioning their bodies as he pleased, bringing their torsos to the same level.

Simultaneous moans escaped from both of them as their cocks finally met. Tezuka took both members in one hand and pressed them together, roughly coordinating as they instinctively started to hump each other.

Despite how tired Fuji'd felt earlier, he couldn't get enough. He wrapped his arms around Tezuka's chest, hands gripping his captain's back as he tried to put more power and speed into each consecutive thrust. His stoic counterpart moved in a steady yet building rhythm, their hips grinding as they desperately tried to create better and stronger friction. Tezuka started squeezing their cocks as they thrust, creating a tightening sensation, and Fuji started pumping his thighs in shorter but faster thrusts. Pants and moans were swallowed by kisses, deep and wild as they thrust against each other, but their mouths let go for the sake of a series of heated moans when one of Fuji's hands also joined the fray. He'd needed more, and one of his hands had unconsciously joined Tezuka's in keeping their cocks in line.

Tezuka used his free hand to grab Fuji's ass, squeezing it in time with the rhythm he'd built. The tensai invitingly drew his knee up atop both of Tezuka's, his butt cheeks parting naturally as the captain's fingers slid into the crack. God, god, how he wanted this, how they both wanted this, how long they'd both been wanting this...

They were humping each other so fast and so hard that Fuji was almost crying with need and exhaustion. Sweat rolled down his cheeks and neck, his body glimmered with it, his skin smooth and flushed. Tezuka was only fairing a little better - he hadn't had a rough night as the tensai had but his manhood had been wanting release for over an hour, while he'd watched his teammate sleep. God, the smell of sweat and pheromones and Fuji and he could feel it, he was almost at the edge, just a second more and he would be there, but god, Fuji was just a step behind, and he wanted them to come together...

He jabbed two fingers up the tensai's asshole, and the scream that followed sent him over, he was spurting seed all over his Syuusuke and now Syuusuke was spurting all over him. Both of them were panting and moaning and rocking, and the waves felt so good even though they hadn't had sex.

Fuji found himself shot into cloud nine, and he was floating very slowly down from it. He body was still panting, his cock hadn't begun softening yet and he knew he wanted more. God, it hurt so much because his hole was so sore, but god, it felt so good, he wanted Tezuka to do it again, this time with his cock. It'd hurt so much he'd cry, but god he wanted it, right here, right now. Even if it tore him open.

Tezuka took him by the shoulders and lay him on his back, letting Fuji pant out his tension. His leery blues eyes shone out from his blushing skin, his vision fuzzy and drowsy but excitement rippled through his body as he felt his captain gently clean him off. The stoic brunette was meticulously cleaning both of them with tissues, depositing them in a small wastebasket. Then he began straightening his clothes, brushing out the wrinkles and resetting his glasses. Without expression he sat back down on the bed, only to fix the position on Fuji's robe, making them both decent, before he began fixing the pillows and sheets.

Fuji felt his body grow numb as the implications sunk in. For a second he thought he'd cry, but it seemed he had no tears left for the day. Dry eyed and enervated, he lay on the bed, head turned to the side as he stared blankly at the nearest wall. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out, only a small sound that meant nothing.

It got Tezuka's attention, for he deadpanned, "I have no intentions of continuing," as if it weren't already obvious.

"...sou..." Fuji blandly replied. There was no need for any more discussion at this point, anyway.

It hadn't worked.

Whatever they were trying to do, whatever Yukimura had planned for him, it wasn't working. In the end, Fuji was still not good enough. Even to be a sex doll.

It had felt good. It had felt so good, even if they weren't having sex. It was true what his nee-san said, the person really made a difference when it came to sex. Love made a difference. But Fuji realized it had only made a difference for him. Tezuka... even after they'd come so vibrantly together... still did not want him.

It wasn't working. They weren't working. Whatever Tezuka and Fuji had shared before wasn't coming back.

Tezuka kept his eyes focused on the sheets, on the walls, on his clothes, anywhere but where Fuji was. He was relieved when the tensai did not cry or try to argue - his will power was already strained, but he was determined to end this. There was a moment he thought he could not walk away, but now that his hormones were settled, he found that he could. He had to.

Maybe it was for the better that Fuji misunderstood. Tezuka's flighty confession had almost closed his path of escape. It had seemed as if their moment of sexual intimacy would bind them, but by staying one step from intercourse, he'd somehow found an opening. He could do this. He could walk away.

If only he'd left a minute sooner, for at that moment, he turned to find three astonished tennis rivals blocking the doorway.

Yukimura and Atobe took in the situation immediately: a fully dressed Tezuka who already had his bag on his shoulder, Fuji who sat listlessly on the edge of the bed, eyes downcast and face unsmiling. They both half tackled the bespectacled captain, each taking a shoulder and shoving him back onto the bed, upon which he sat with a resistanceless plop.

They tacitly declared he wasn't going anywhere, but he kept his bag in place and ready to go. A few stoic glances told him that indeed the three had been sharing a rigorous playtime; his two rival captains held a satisfied, post coital glow and poor Sanada looked like he'd be tossed around by a hurricane, his cheeks slightly sunken and an air of dizziness circling his head. To say the least, he looked really drained, like he'd just climbed Mount Everest, his hat hair is a complete mess, skin slightly red and hickeys adorning either side of his thick neck.

Tezuka did not try to stand, nor did he respond to the angry and concerned glares from the two holding him back. His lack of expression was irritating the bluenette, and Yukimura was about to say something when Fuji, face concealed in shadows, interrupted. "It's okay..."

The tensai shifted his chin just enough that the bluenette could see the sorrowful, accepting glimmer in his soft, cerulean orbs. "It's okay, now. It doesn't matter anymore." His voice was quiet as a whisper. "We're both just tired." Of everything.

This isn't working.

Yukimura could hear the tensai's thoughts loud and clear. But it couldn't... it had to work. It had to work for all of them, Tezuka and Fuji included, or else Yukimura knew he would never have Genichirou back. Even if he tried to use the sex of the last few hours to his advantage, without Tezuka's involvement, whatever relationship the bluenette tried to scrape together wouldn't last. They'd fall to the same patterns as before, make the same mistakes, and he'd be left... again. And this time, not only by Sanada, but by the other lovers he was trying to take hold of.

He was sick of being alone.

Fists shaking, face ashen white, Yukimura declared, "6 o'clock." He was trembling, his voice was trembling too, and he felt very pathetic but he refused to give up. "6 o'clock, Friday. Here. All five of us are going to meet here this Friday, and we're going to work this out."

He gave Fuji a very pointed warning look, but Fuji's eyes stayed the same - sad, accepting, calm. He would accept whatever punishment Yukimura doled out if all of them don't come. He didn't care anymore. A part of him had already left.

Tezuka was not oblivious to this exchange, but he said anyway, "And if we don't?"

"Then that'll be it," interrupted Atobe. For once, the narcissism was gone from his voice, and he sounded completely serious.

"We'll end this, and go back to how things were," Yukimura agreed, also serious. He was no longer threatening - now he was promising. "But on Friday, all five of us must be here."

A lightning bolt of hope flashed through Tezuka's eyes as he processed the captains' words. He had not expected this sort of resolution, but... "Do you swear?"

Yukimura nodded and crossed his arms seriously. "Yes."

For Tezuka, the word planted a seed of hope. For Yukimura, it was a scythe of desperation.

"If we all don't agree after Friday, then I'll break up with Fuji, and leave Sanada alone."


Chapter Text

Hope grew in Tezuka's heart.

It had been planted that weekend, by a simple yet dynamic promise.

All he had to do was survive one more round with those four, and he'd be able to end it. One more time in that ridiculously oversized house, one last time seeing his rivals outside of tennis. As much as he distrusted his rival captains with his ex-boyfriend's ass, he did trust their word - this was one promise that would not be broken once made.

Then he could finally protect Syuusuke.

Even if it meant being alone.

Panting, Yukimura planted himself on the court bench, a towel over his eyes for their relief. He'd pushed the team hard today; all of them were more or less down - Niou lay on the green and refused to move, Yagyuu'd given up trying to move him and lay next to him, Marui was gobbling down cake and both Yanagi and Sanada lacked the energy to stop him. Kirihara was the only one who'd made it to the lockers, and hopefully hadn't passed out in the showers.

Though they'd all run a mile up hill and played practice matches, the captain had made them complete an additional training menu. He had not spared himself, however, and had played a round with each of the regulars, winning all, but in the end, even his body wore out on him. He was suspicious when Yanagi placed himself last yet still lost. He hated when the data player meddled.

Sanada had also played rounds, not only against the regulars but some of the upcoming members as well, and even he was worn out. This brought relief to the bluenette - he didn't want to have to talk to the raven haired spartan, not yet.

There was too much he couldn't take right now.

He shouldn't have made such a promise, but he knew it was the only way to keep Tezuka in the game. Besides, he'd known for a long time, if he didn't keep Tezuka with them, he would eventually lose everyone. Atobe would help but only for so long. If they really lost to the stoic brunette come Friday, then it would be better to make a clean cut anyway.

No, that wouldn't happen. Yukimura was not going to lose.

This was his last chance. He wanted...needed Sanada more than his vice captain... or anyone, knew. But even so, without Tezuka, without Fuji, hell, even without Atobe, he would not be able to give the spartan what he needed in return. Yukimura's body was no longer capable of it.

Sanada was worried, to say the least. He believed in rigorous training, and had enjoyed the increase in pace of the last few days, but the members were starting to complain, and Yukimura... should not have been pushing himself so hard. The captain was practicing harder than anyone. And he still had his biweekly rehabilitation appointments...

Still, this was not the vice captain's main concern. Like all of them, he was thinking about Friday. He did not know what to expect, nor even what he wanted.

He didn't know anything at all, really.

A part of him felt chilled, recalling what they'd done the weekend before. Having sex with two captains and a tensai in less than twenty-four hours was beyond any fantasy he'd ever had. Just remembering the tight ass of Hyotei's diva, the lust filled eyes of Yukimura as he rode him, the sensuous whimpers of the blue-eyed brunette, made him break out in sweat in the middle of class. He was thankful at the end of each day, when the severity of practice left him too tired to move, and definitely too tired to masturbate. There were some things he wasn't ready to imagine.

But he'd realized, looking back, that he'd gone too far with Fuji. He'd fallen to Seiichi's pace, and gone too far and too fast with his oversized cock, which he'd known could hurt someone if he went all the way in. He never had before, and that he had done so to Fuji so carelessly... on top of that, he'd never taken pleasure from slapping or spanking before... He felt cold, thinking of how often he'd used corporal punishment to direct his teammates, and yet there at the mansion... he'd enjoyed it. Watching Fuji cry, watching him squirm, watching his skin redden and bruise... it was a horrifying self-revelation.

On top of that, he'd been used by the two captains for sex. Sure, he'd enjoyed it, and it wasn't like he'd never fantasized about either of them. It wasn't a lie that he still got hard watching Yukimura in the locker rooms, and he'd certainly had plenty of wet dreams about slamming the arrogant diva into the mattress. But he hadn't really had any control over the escapade, and that was what he hated. A part of him felt like he'd been forced... raped even.

But what horrified him the most was that he wasn't even upset about it. In fact, he kept wishing that it would happen again.

All of it.

He couldn't wait till Friday.

Dragging himself onto the bus, he relaxed on the way home, letting his thoughts roll along with the wheels. He still didn't know what to do about Tezuka. He cared for his boyfriend... he liked him, a lot, and he didn't want to lose him. He wanted to believe that no matter which way things went on Friday, they would still be together, but he had a strange feeling that wouldn't be true.

Watching Tezuka and Fuji on the bed, the way the bespectacled brunette had watched over the sleeping tensai, the way he'd carried the lithe brunette after he collapsed crying... Tezuka felt very far away. Especially at the end, when the expressionless captain sat coolly on the bed, neither intimidated nor goaded by his rival leaders... it was as if Tezuka had escaped even though they'd held him back.

In the end, Sanada had not gotten to talk to Seigaku's ruler before the end of the weekend. He'd only managed a brief conversation with his own blue haired captain, and it only served to remind him of one more problem at hand.

"Are you surprised?" The bluenette smirked knowingly, illuminated by an air of victory despite the debasing promise he'd made the day before.

"...About?" Sanada glared. He had wanted to talk to Yukimura but the captain had struck up conversation first, and he had a feeling he'd just been sidewinded somehow.

"About Tezuka. About what he did."

What was the point in taking swipes at his boyfriend now? Sanada slammed his locker shut, deciding he didn't even want to ask.

"Because I'm not," Yukimura continued smugly. "Someone who keeps it all in is bound to snap eventually."

"You're one to talk," Sanada snorted, shifting his bag onto his shoulder.

"I know because I'm the same way." The effeminate captain donned his pea coat and vanished through the door, his voice carrying behind him, "I'll see you tomorrow."

Only after he left did Sanada realize they hadn't gotten to discuss anything important. He wanted to at least ask the bluenette if he was serious about his promise, and what he meant when he said he'd leave him alone. He'd also wanted to ask about Atobe, to apologize and maybe ask if his oral affair was at fault for his captain's behavior back then. He felt like he was missing something, like everyone knew something he didn't, and if he didn't find out soon... they'd all end up miserable.

Oh well... he'd have to figure this out on his own. What he wanted, and what was best for himself and those he cared about.

They did not face each other during practice. For the first time in five years, they did not stand next to each other observing their teammate's play. Fuji didn't even know why he went, but old habits are hard to break, as was the grip of a redheaded acrobat who was determined to make him attend.

Tezuka did not speak to him, or try to make excuses for him. Eiji was the one who cried out that Fuji was feeling sick, and shouldn't have to run laps with the other regulars. Their stoic captain neither harped on nor waved the exercise, so Fuji sat pointlessly on the bench, not moving until Eiji pulled him up afterward.

No one commented on his lack of a smile, though he could feel them glancing at him. They were all afraid of him, of the wasabi and Inui juice and other pranks he'd pulled in the past. It was funny, now that he thought about it, he'd done all that to get Tezuka's attention. The reputation of sadism he'd built didn't suite him - he couldn't even hurt himself, even though he wanted to, never mind others.

Not that it mattered. Not that he cared. He'd finally given up.

It should have been a relief, but Fuji found he couldn't feel relief. He couldn't feel sad, or happy, or fearful, or even tired. He couldn't feel anything any more. He couldn't even feel the need to die. That was the greatest irony, really, now that he finally did not feel afraid of the last steps, he also didn't care enough to take them.

It was with numb feet, and number hands, and a numb heart that Fuji left for the Atobe manor. It was the strangest thing to hope, but he wanted this to be over with soon.

Then Yukimura would punish him, and maybe he could feel again.

"Well then, I suppose we won't see each other for another year," the lady snorted as she tied the belt around her Burberry Taffeta trench coat. It wasn't cold but her clothing stylist always went with the latest trends.

"Then I suppose we'll see too much of each other," Atobe politely replied. He was neither joking nor taking a jab. He'd stopped caring, really, a long time ago. "The serving men will-"

"No bother," she waved, flapping her hand loftily as her secretary rapidly appeared at her side. The bespectacled man gave the young heir a respectful nod before taking her Lady Dior clutch and guiding her from the conference room.

Calm, blue-silver eyes watched the woman depart. She was seven years older than him, and still treated him like the six year old she'd first met, but he'd stopped caring about that, too. Or maybe he'd never cared to begin with.

She was nothing but a reminder to him of who he was.

Shrugging the encounter aside, he waved over his own secretary and had her call up his driver. He still had plenty of time before he had to return home to meet his guests.

He'd had all week to think, and plan, and decide. The ultimatum had been made for Tezuka, but really, this was a chance for all of them to chose. What they were about to commit to could not end with an easy break-up. Atobe did not want to be slapped by four people in a row, and certainly not by four well trained tennis players with iron wrists.

While the other four were most likely wallowing in emotions of self-pity and confusion, Atobe had sanctity of mind enough to think. Perhaps it was only easier for him since he had no love interest involved. But either way he felt that he had seen through the others with a clear, insightful mind. He knew what his opponents wanted, and also what would be best for them. The hard part was figuring out what would be best for himself.

Despite his reputation, Atobe did not always get what he wanted. In fact, he'd given up wanting anything important, and thus he didn't have to consider this while deciding what to do. Instead he would focus on doing whatever worked the best for him.

Still, he hadn't been certain as to what that was, so he'd called this meeting to find out. Funny, how they labeled their infrequent rendezvous as meetings, and even had them scheduled through their secretaries and in one of their family's offices.

At least he had verified what he'd already thought for the last few days. Stepping into the limo, he gave directions to his driver before settling into the leather cushions.

Now that he'd made up his mind, he was going to make this work in his favor. Atobe did not just take whatever was given to him, despite how much he'd been given by his family's status. He'd worked hard to be number one at school and at tennis; his parents had paid for his tuition but not for his ranks; he could not buy prowess with money. Once he had a goal, he did everything to achieve it, otherwise he couldn't be satisfied.

Sipping from the limo's stash of wine, he watched the houses grow smaller and the shrubs grow more pathetic, until they were in the commoners' area. Once he saw his target, he instructed his driver to follow. There was, after all, no rule that he couldn't intervene.

He knew this was not why Yukimura had involved him, but the bluenette was just lucky to have someone so passionate decide to grace him with his prowess. Besides, Rikkaidai's captain still owed him on the promise he'd made back at Fuji's house - in return for getting to ride Tezuka, Yukimura had to meet Atobe at Hyotei's locker rooms, after practice when other regulars were still drifting out, and the diva would kick out the others and have a very entertaining round of fun. With the rumors as well, of course. That also reminded him that he had yet to sleep with Tezuka himself; and if Atobe had any bit of pride in his conquests, it was dented at having not gotten his tongue on the bespectacled, talented brunette.

Speak of the devil, said brunette was glaring rather viciously at him through the tinted windows. It appeared the stoic captain did not appreciate being tailed by a Ferrari limousine.

Impressed at being discerned through the black coating, Atobe finished off his wine and set aside the glass. A snap of his fingers set the door rising open, an amused smirk crossing his face as he could practically see the vein on Tezuka's forehead madly pulsing.

"Get in."

Tezuka's glare was response enough, but he deadpanned, "We still have a few hours before the meeting." Give me some peace, his eyes shot, but the diva could care less.

"We have to talk," he drawled, motioning to the seat next to him. The stoic man hesitated but finally slid inside, wearily sitting down on the other side of the passenger area. "I don't bite," the diva laughed, but his guest didn't seem to appreciate the joke, his frown deepening into a regretful grimace.

Despite what everyone probably thought, the two of them were friends in a very pure sense. Ignoring all the messy relationships and the lust and the sex, they had come to respect each other as captains and as rivals. And though Tezuka made light of this when it was convenient - well, Atobe did too - it was something they both seemed to remember when it mattered.

They talked, from time to time, over the phone, mostly about tennis and how to train the team but sometimes about simple things like the weekend. It was funny how they never talked about Fuji - the tensai's name was taboo; like a woman who destroys the closest of friendships with no more than her beauty. The two captains knew which parts to keep separate. They'd done many favors for each other and lost track of who owed what over the years. Atobe of course had more assets, but Tezuka was surprisingly resourceful, and he was one of the few people whose advice the diva respected.

"There's something I've decided you should know," Atobe began, his tone calm and without narcissism. He didn't have to show off in front of the brunette... he didn't have to prove anything.

"No matter what you say, it won't change what I've done," Tezuka mourned, as if the weight of the world were on his shoulders. "Now that you know..."

"Wine?" interrupted the diva. He decided he needed another glass after all.

"We're under twenty," the brunette snorted, glaring at the diva as if he were already drunk.

Both sat in silence as the elitist twirled the glass, savoring the fragrance before taking a small sip. "I understand your position, Tezuka, unlike the other three." With a lofty tilt of the glass he enjoyed another taste, savoring the many years of fermentation that'd been stored for this short moment of enjoyance. "There's a price to pay for too much power."

Slowly nodding, Tezuka accepted the statement, believing that perhaps the narcissist might truly understand.

Atobe took another sip and continued, "It was a petty mistake-"

"It was more than a mistake," Tezuka growled, "It was-"

"Still only a mistake. God, Tezuka, you claim you're strong then you say you'll lose control and repeat your mistake. Stop being such a hypocrite." He finished off the glass and set it aside. The wine had a good flavor but he didn't feel like anymore. "A mistaken action, a loss of control - isn't the point of learning such that we don't repeat our idiocies? I do have enough confidence in you that you can learn, Tezuka. Or perhaps I've misjudged you."

Sighing, Tezuka shook his head, wondering if it was too late to leave the car. He did not want to be convinced. He was a sinner, and he had to remind himself of that, or else... "I still want to own him-"

"That's a feeling he inspires in all of us," snorted the diva. "Haven't you noticed? How no matter how close you grow to him, no matter how tightly you try to grasp him, he still feels far away...far above. Even when he thinks he's throwing himself at you, his wings of genius draw him away."

Damn, it was too late, Tezuka realized as unfamiliar scenery rolled by. It probably wouldn't be all that safe for him to jump from the moving vehicle either. "You make it sound like it's his fault."

"It is." Rolling his eyes, Atobe poured himself another glass, having as fickle of taste buds as he did love interests. "But anyway... That's not what I wanted to talk to you about."

The glass went down, undrunken. Rolling the liquid round the wide bottom, Atobe talked slowly and seriously, and it was a strange moment where Tezuka found himself straining to hear the usually boastful kingship speak so quietly. The unfamiliar scenery continued to swirl around the limo as they drove around, mimicked by the untasted wine.

Tezuka didn't know and didn't ask where they were headed, though he assumed the mansion. At the moment, listening to his long time friend and rival share his story, it didn't matter. The sun was still high but there were no more school kids in sight, walking home or training for clubs or otherwise. They passed through beautiful suburbia, hidden pockets of houses with bright, European-style gates and gardens that Tezuka'd only ever seen in magazines, or perhaps these were the very ones featured.

But Atobe's words were more interesting than the houses. There was a very deep irony, driving through a place like this, realizing the sunlit luxury these people enjoyed, and how even the smallest sacrifice was a scar to them.

There were expectations attached to each of them.

"Why are you telling me this?" Tezuka finally interjected, once the diva went quiet. The wine sat still in its glass, its level unchanged from when it was poured, moved only by the slight vibrations that escaped the triple layered suspension.

Sighing, Atobe wondered how his rival captain could always sound the same no matter what he said. Still, the diva was not so petty to feel as though his feelings had been trampled on. He knew he was exposing a part of himself he didn't like others to see, but this was something that needed to happen. "Because in the end, Tezuka - you're the one who gets to chose."

". . ." Tezuka didn't say it but the quirk of an eyebrow seemed to say, 'excuse me?'

"This isn't about you showing up or not, or some feeble promise that queen bee from Rikkaidai made," Atobe tsked. "Do you really understand the implications of what Seiichi's asking for? It's not just some orgy for the youth."

The other captain stayed silent, his lips pressed together in a thin frown.

"This is a choice each of us has to make. A dedication. A vindication. It's not just something we can take lightly... especially me," Atobe added with a bit of a scowl. "Don't give me that look, I know what you're thinking. That's why I'm the most qualified to talk to you - because I'm everything you're not.

"Let's face it - Yukimura wants Sanada, but what he needs is this. And you're the same way. Do you really think giving up what you want is what you need to do? Fool. Coward. I thought better of you."

He suddenly chugged down the glass, finishing it off with a very ungentlemanly gulp. "Seiichi already told you, but Fuji's still in love with you. ... Though I can see you already knew that. You do know why he enjoys pain so much, don't you? That it's because of what you did? What makes you think that once Yukimura's out of the picture, he won't just go off and find someone else to give him what his body wants? Fuji's been choosy so far, because he wanted to make you jealous with his high end boyfriends, but now that he feels he no longer has a chance, he'll probably go for anyone. And you may think Yukimura is bad, but I am certain there's worse."

"But I can't-"

"You don't have to protect him alone."

Tucking the glass into the under-seat cabinet, Atobe glared wearily at the floor. "We all have our own reason for this. There's something each of us needs, that we can't find in just one other. Perhaps we're too great, or too strong, or too independent - don't glare Tezuka, you understand what I mean. There's a price to pay for too much power.

"I know what I am, and I know what you, and everyone else, see me as. I know that no matter what sort of ties we have, a relationship takes dedication-"

"All the more reason why you can't-"

"All the more reason for me to tell you," Atobe spat. "Why do you think I live the way I do? Fuji was the best because even when I dated him, he was still head over heals in love with you. It's not like I don't see why... it's scathing, but Tezuka, I do believe you have something that the rest of us don't, something that we need.

"You aren't truly a fool, Tezuka, and this is the first time I've ever seen you be a coward. You have a choice, and while I said before that we all do... today, you're the one that gets to chose.

"Sanada won't care. He'll agree to it if you say so. He wants this. Inside, he's just like Yukimura - he thinks he has to have a kingdom to have control. Fuji may seem complacent but he's just in shock. He'll get over it and go back to wanting you. He'll repeat his cycle of suffering as many times as it takes before you give in... or until he's dead. And Yukimura - you saw how he is. It's unnatural. Aren't you curious? He wasn't like that back in middle school. Even his tennis has changed.

"Besides," he smirked, despite his eyes cringing in pain, "If you still chose to join us, despite what I've just told you, that makes the connection all the more powerful, no?"

Stone faced and stone voiced, Tezuka deadpanned, "This is not a game."

"It is," the diva shrugged, instantly masking away his rant of emotion. "For me, anyway. But you're right in that for Fuji and Yukimura, this is their final stance. You could end their youth tonight, the way you've already tried to end yours."

"Yours was gone a long time ago," Tezuka snorted, stubbornly crossing his arms.

"That's right."

They were quiet for a while as the limo made a few more turns. Atobe's last confession had dulled both rival's will to argue as they usually would. The diva seemed drearily sober, and Tezuka just wanted to get out. As if sensing his wish, the limo pulled to a stop by a rather lofty weeping willow.

Neither said a word as Tezuka let himself out, annoyed again by the automatic doors that slid sluggishly upwards with a mechanical shift. He would not give Atobe the pleasure of glancing around, but he had barely a clue of where they were.

The diva obviously knew, but for once wasn't smirking as he handed the stoic captain a pamphlet map.

"It's an hour's walk back to the mansion from here." The diva looked up at him from inside the limo, but Tezuka felt looked down upon instead. "The bus doesn't come for another forty five minutes," Atobe continued, "and it's a beautiful day, so I suggest you enjoy the neighborhood." The dark, imperial window drew back up with a hum.

"Tezuka," the prima donna's voice lofted through the remaining crack, yet was somehow crystal clear. "You're one of the lucky ones. You get to chose - what you want to do and who you want to be with."

Chapter Text

Tezuka. was. peeved.

He stormed towards the gates of the Atobe mansion, the rumble of the second bus that passed him still ringing in his ears. Atobe, the king of monkeys and liars, had meant that the house was only an hour away if you ran from where he'd dumped Tezuka off. And even though buses didn't come through the houses, a bus ran every fifteen minutes through the busy main street that sliced across the wealthymen's neighborhood. But by the time Tezuka realized this, he'd already passed the nearest bus stop.

He only had an hour - and Tezuka Kunimitsu is never late. Thus he had half jogged half ran to his destination, feeling the strain of running in his school uniform shoes rather than his broken in tennies, annoyed by the sweat he'd have to rinse out of his black uniform fabric even though he'd just washed and pressed the thing this morning. More importantly, he couldn't risk his tardiness to be used by Yukimura against him.

And so by the time he swung open the gate, he was hot, sticky, his feet ached, his eyebrow twitched, and he was not. at. all. happy.

He had not had time to prepare himself for what he was about to face.

Taking a few deep breaths, he focused on what he'd came there for. It did not take him long to calm down, or to remind himself of what he'd planned before Atobe's little pep talk.

Tezuka could do this.

All he had to do was reject sex with four, very hot men.


Well, he could have sex with them, he just had to deny wanting to stay with them once they were done. No no, if he got that far, they'd be able to convince him. He had to be strong. This would be better for everyone.

It was like Atobe said - he was the only one standing between them and this messed up, polygamous relationship. He was the only one who still had his head on over his libido, who could keep his will harder than his cock.

He was the only one who could save them.

You're one of the lucky ones. You get to chose.

It shouldn't matter to him what Atobe's fate was. The diva said he was trapped in it, but if the spoiled young heir was willing to give up his power and fortune he could have freedom from his supposed cage. Besides, Tezuka shouldn't care what happened to his rival from Hyotei.

He shouldn't care about anyone but Fuji and himself.

He'll just find another person to harm him... and you may think Yukimura is bad, but I am certain there's worse.

He wouldn't let that happen. He would deal with the next sadistic bastard who came along, and the next, and the next... but what if it was never ending?

You're one of the lucky ones.

Tezuka did not believe in luck. He was guided by strength. His determination could conquer any challenge.

You claim you're strong then you say you'll lose control and repeat your mistake. Stop being such a hypocrite.

He wouldn't repeat his mistakes by staying away from Fuji. But he'd stay close enough to protect him. But if he stayed too close... then how would Fuji move on?

It never occurred to him that he himself wouldn't be able to move on, either.

You're one of the lucky ones.

What could he do to protect Fuji... and make him happy at the same time...

You get to chose.

He arrived at the side house doors, only to find someone else had come at the very same time, from the other side of the garden.

What you want to do...

Fuji blinked up at him from over his scarf, eyes wide and innocent, as if surprised that they were meeting at such a time, in such a place.

And who you want to be with.

Neither knocked on the doors.

Tezuka suddenly found himself staring. Just looking at the face he hadn't even spared a glance at throughout the entire week. Their eyes met, but there was no glaring contest involved. They didn't say anything but their hearts were talking. Fuji's eyes grew wide, and as if the whole of Tezuka's emotions had reached out and touched him, he placed a gentle hand on his captain's forearm.

"I won't let them play with you."

Fuji's voice was firm, though Tezuka swore that just a moment ago the tensai was looking terribly depressed. But this was the Fuji he knew and remembered... gentle yet strong...

"I never meant for this to be a bother," Fuji continued with a steady, firm voice. "You should go home. I'll tell them I'm the one who doesn't want this. That I told you not to come."

Tezuka felt his heart lurch in his chest. In that brief instant, Fuji had read his discomfort, his fatigue, his anger... he had seen and understood the situation, understood Tezuka without even knowing the story behind it. Fuji... was the only one who could do this. Syuusuke was the only one who could read him, who knew him.

Fool. Coward.

His Syuusuke would have never said or done what the diva had. He wouldn't have purposefully upset him.

"I shouldn't have let this go so far. I'm sorry, Tezuka, I just got so caught up in the flow of things, I never thought to stop it."

His Syuusuke cared. He was always like this, when Tezuka was really taut, when the events of the day had gone to far, Fuji would suddenly become the strongest support in the world and take care of everything.

"I've made you unhappy, and I apologize. There's a bus that runs every ten minutes a few blocks from here. It's slower than the subway but it's less of a walk. … I could walk you there and then come back. … "

Fuji didn't change.

"I love you."

What... had he just said... he had not just said that, had he?

Tezuka... had meant to tell Fuji of his intentions... to see through his promise... He'd meant to refute the tensai's offer, or tell him that none of this was his fault... He'd meant to ask how Fuji could give such an offer, how he could still care after Tezuka had coldly pushed him away...

He had not meant to say that.

He had meant to ask something like how the tensai could stand being in a relationship with people like Yukimura or Atobe. He had meant to tell Fuji that he was worried about him at practice, but was too hesitant to say anything. He had meant to ask how Fuji had gotten there, if he'd also gotten picked up by Atobe, if the others had already arrived, if it was going to rain tomorrow...anything... anything but that.

He had meant to inquire as to how Fuji could take everything that was done to him. He had wanted to ask if the brunette really liked it, if it was really okay or if their rival players were forcing him into it. He had meant to apologize, no, beg for forgiveness for what he had done. He had meant to ask how, despite how much Fuji still loved Tezuka, because yes even Tezuka knew that, the tensai did not cling to this feeble hope of a five-way relationship, but rather still put Tezuka first... Tezuka's comfort, Tezuka's happiness.

But something, maybe his lack of conversational skills, maybe the situation, maybe his traitorous tongue, had caused everything he'd always wanted to say to compress into that. Even Tezuka knew he would not be able to take such a thing back, that he would have to take responsibility... especially since it was the truth. Albeit one he never wanted to say out loud, and certainly not out loud to the person he held those precious feelings for.

He was doomed.

Meanwhile, the brunette standing next to him was at a loss.

In an instant, before they had even started, before they had even entered the mansion, Tezuka had told him the small sentence he'd been wanting for years to hear. In one awkward moment, the stoic captain had blurted something so precious yet so simple that it could only be a cruel trick of Fuji's ears. If Fuji's jaw had not dropped open, he would have said, "Excuse me?" It was too out of context. It had to have been a mistake. Fuji just couldn't understand.

The doors opened.

"So were you planning to knock?" Flicking away his bangs, Atobe smirked at the two rival players standing stiffly on the grand entry mat. A mischievous smile simmered on the lips of the bluenette standing beside him, and a rather flushed looking Sanada stood behind the two captains. It looked like he'd been thoroughly convinced of the benefits of multiple lovers.

Tezuka's eyes narrowed, flickering across the security camera that hung to the side of the door, silently cursing the electronic spy for giving away their arrival. While Fuji stood shell shocked, his jaw still hanging toward the floor, a notion came across Tezuka's mind.

"Are you coming in?" The diva interjected sourly, impatient for their impending bed time activities.

"No..." Mind whirling, Tezuka held a stiff jaw before answering. "Atobe, I thought about what you said. We're going to decide this here, right now."

Exchanging glances with Rikkaidai's captain, the diva quirked one professionally shaped brow, urging the other to continue.

"Give me one good reason why I should cross this doorstep." Tezuka's challenge glowered through his spectacles, his presence more commandeering than a general organizing a siege.

Yukimura's breath caught. He had not expected Tezuka to battle his ultimatum with another ultimatum.

Gulping, Atobe felt his own words drifting in the air. You're the one that gets to chose.

He'd been wrong. Tezuka had somehow managed to shove the choice back onto them. And the stoic brunette was right, in that none of them had a very good reason for wanting this. Yukimura wanted control, Sanada wanted sex, Tezuka came to protect Fuji, Atobe'd been bored, and Fuji... probably came with the hopes he'd finally get to die. And while having four lovers may be convenient for sex and comfort, the long term would be risky and full of drama. It was bad enough when Atobe warred with one ex; having to deal with four would be the end of him.

Sure, it solved a lot of their problems to break down the boundaries of who could make love to who; no more cheating, no more loving someone who wasn't your boyfriend; there'd be checks on Yukimura's sadism, and hopefully Fuji's masochism and possibly suicidal tendencies too. Still, there was nothing good about this. They'd be able to avoid their problems, but it wasn't like love had drawn them together.

The benefits could not be combined into one, solid statement about why this should work.

Yukimura must have come to the same conclusion, as his lips pressed together into an unhappy grimace. Behind him, Sanada looked struck with a mixture of pity, relief, and disappointment. The Rikkaidai players were slowly making up... neither of them had a truly pure reason for continuing to involve the others.

It was Fuji's soft voice that broke the silence.

"Because this is how it's meant to be, even if we're here for all the wrong reasons."

Chapter Text

It was incredible, yet somehow his heart pounded faster than the cock striking in and out of him again and again.

His head struck back against the mattress, bangs sticking to his sweat slicked skin, his body writhing and crying out little pained moans. His heart twisted within his chest, terrified and exuberant at the same time. Legs flaying to hug around his lover's waist, he willed the fear to go away, losing himself in moments of pleasure even as the dark panic slammed through his gut. It was only his lover's intense movement that kept him in place, his cock straining for release, precum leaking onto his stomach as he neared his peak.

Finally with a shout he let go, splashing onto his lover's well packed abdomen, wanting only to enjoy the moment, enjoy the victory of his plan's success. Finally, finally they were all together, both romantically and sexually, as the cum splattered room could contest. The very air smelled of sex.

Panting and trembling in the waves of his denouement, he flattened his head onto the side. He could see all of them so clearly in the full wall mirror - Tezuka thrusting smoothly into Atobe, who sat doggy style with Fuji pinned beneath him. The tensai was turned though, 180 degrees head to foot, so that he got a mouthful of the diva's cock, while the egotist in turn took Fuji's into his own mouth. Smirking, Yukimura admired his silver haired rival's skill; it looked rather tricky, getting fucked, getting a blow job, and giving a blow job all at the same time. The lithe brunette trapped on the floor seemed to be struggling enough just giving head while getting it. Though Fuji's surprising ineptness at sucking cock only made the whole show better, since the tensai focused so hard on pleasuring his partner he failed to properly relax his throat, and ended up whimpering and tearing. Were the bluenette not caught up in his own devilish copulation, he'd be ready to pounce the luscious, vulnerable tensai.

Turning his vision back to his current partner, a tender smile graced his lips as midnight blue eyes met black coal ones. Sanada had the most adorable, postcoital blush across his cheeks, which helped the bluenette ignore the flutterings of panic caused by the arms on either side of him, making him feel trapped. All he wanted was to enjoy this, to sink into the pleasure and tender love he'd never forgotten and always desired to feel again. Finally, finally, Sanada was back where he belonged, deep inside of him...

Heavy lids cracked open, blinking away the sunlight that dabbed through the violet curtains. Yukimura shifted only slightly, wincing as a sore pain panned through his lower back, a fearful shudder running through him before he calmed himself with thoughts of the previous night. The sex was good, he reminded himself, he wanted this.

Slowly he pulled himself off the bed, careful not to disturb the others passed out around him as he drifted towards the window ledge. Glancing over the room, he couldn't help but smile softly at Tezuka, who loosely snuggled with a half dressed Fuji; Atobe, who managed to look haughty even in his sleep, taking over most of the king sized bed; and his beloved Sanada, who'd amusedly ended up sprawled on a blanket on the floor. The lighthanded bluenette carefully snuck a pillow underneath the tall youth's head, and pulled up the blanket before continuing on his way toward the window.

Soft rays floated across the Atobe manner's gardens, morning glories and yellow roses basking in the dawning sun. Other than the occasional gaudy statue, the articulately designed landscaping was magnificent to behold, with its careful arrangement of walkways, encircling British style flower gardens, and smooth transitions between the grassy expenses and elegant wooded areas. Sighing longingly, Yukimura made a note to himself that his own rose garden was overdue for trimming. He'd neglected it in the wake of the sexual chaos he was trying to orchestrate.

Surprisingly, everything was going... smoothly, more so than he had ever truly hoped, from the moment Tezuka crossed through the doorway. The stoic brunette had ended his questions there, accepting Fuji's statement like the words of an oracle. But they'd all understood it was deeper than that. Fuji had basically said that they were meant for each other. That even if their relationship was in no way traditional, and ran through every taboo shy of incest, it was all okay because they worked as a pairing. That they were right for each other. That this was right, even if it had no real reason to be. That a reason wasn't even really needed.

And somehow, hearing it from Fuji, who spoke so softly, so assuredly, as if he himself were a reincarnated deity, made it sound alright.

Tezuka's sudden consent had been surprising to say the least, and in a way awkward, since Yukimura had prepared himself for a long evening of persuasion. It left him feeling cheated, like he'd won by default because his opponent forfeited, rather than through his strength and skill. It annoyed him, but at least it meant they could go straight to the good part.

And the good part was very, very good.

There were rules, though. Tezuka made it clear that if any one of them did something to compromise the relationship - and he looked rather pointedly at Atobe - then that would be it. It would be over in that instant. If at any moment there was a sign that this was not meant to be, then they would disband. It would not merely be the stoic captain leaving. They would break apart, as though the earth itself were shattering. What was not meant to be would stop being.

Yukimura could live with that. In fact, it was what he wanted as well. This brainchild he'd conjured up would be fragile enough once grade school ended, and they all headed off on their ambitious ways. Like his parents, who'd been high school sweethearts, it'd be fine threads that kept them together, only the bluenette hoped they would be stronger and less suffocating than the strings that bound his parents. Fuji was the key to the web, but Yukimura was the one who needed this. He had to make it work.

A slight creek drew his attention towards the bed. The smaller of the brunettes was awake and wiggling his way out of his captain's arms. Cerulean eyes glanced up and met midnight blue ones, and they exchanged small smiles, though Yukimura's was only polite while Fuji's was warming. A moment later, the honey haired brunette sat invitingly on the edge of the bed, and Yukimura found himself settling next to him, abandoning his place at the window. The sun had already completed its ascent, anyway.

They leaned against each other, shoulders pressed and fingers intertwined. They had spent many moments together over the past several weeks, but often they were moments of polite chatting, or vicious domination followed by complacent submission. It was twisted, in a way, that they rarely sat together in peaceful quiet, even though they often shared such air of serenity with many others in their lives.

"You're always looking out the window," whispered the tensai, tilting his head to watch the other.

Quietly Yukimura chuckled, "Bad habit, I guess," but a flash of pain crossed his eyes. A memory of cold hospital walls and a flowerless hospital garden crossed with it.

Fuji cocked his head to the side, but didn't ask. Instead he turned and rested his head against the bluenette's. His thumb stroked the other's, both comforting and suggestive.

"I also stare out the window, in class... when I feel like I shouldn't be there." Oftentimes it was boring for him. Fuji had completed the available high school material long ago. "...when I feel trapped."

It was a smooth way to ask the forbidden question, but Yukimura had no intention of answering. Instead the captain traced his fingers along the brunette's thigh, slipping his hand beneath the bottom edge of the loose white shirt that Tezuka must have been wearing earlier. Fuji's briefs had been destroyed early in the night, helping Yukimura's grip to easily find what it sought.

Letting the subject slide, Fuji turned to face Yukimura, making his body more accessible. Their lips connected, followed by tongues, and Yukimura's fingers were stroking, gripping, and scratching in proportion to his mood. Both their manhoods were finding life as Fuji rushed to undo the drawstring on the bluenette's pants, sliding off the piece of clothing as Yukimura moved over him. The lithe brunette shifted to lay on his back, legs splitting open to wrap around the captain's body which slid between them. They kept their mouths together as much as possible, sucking at each others tongue as if they couldn't get enough. They were writhing, grinding, needing, no longer caring if they woke up the others.

Sinking two of his fingers inside of the body trapped below him, Yukimura was pleased to find cum and lube still left from the night before. They'd been exhausted after the heavy rounds of sex, cleaning only the minimum off Fuji who'd passed out after cuming for the third time. The bluenette felt little resistance as he slipped in his cock, losing himself in the pleasureful warm hole that clenched around him.

Biting his hand to keep himself from yelping, Fuji struggled to adjust to the invasion. At least he was still loose from last night, and since Atobe took him first and thus prepared him properly, nothing had torn. Even so, pain shot through his back as the bluenette started plunging in and out. It had been so long since Yukimura was last inside of him, and he'd forgotten how large Rikkaidai's captain was downstairs. Fuji whimpered for the pace to slow but was offered no such mercy as the cock struck again and again.

Shuddering with pleasure, Yukimura grinned as his hips pumped, enjoying the twisted look on the brunette's face, full of pain yet hard with lust, slowly morphing as the special spot was touched, then rubbed over and over again. Yukimura wished he had a collar and a pair of nipple clamps to play with, but he'd have to save that for next time. For now, he enjoyed thrusting and the growing moans that came from both of them.

A pair of hazel eyes looking sleepily at them, their owner trying to focus without his spectacles, while beside him a lustful diva perked up to watch the show. On the ground, Sanada pulled himself up, murmuring something about the time while his cock took in what was going on.

Pinning Fuji tightly by the wrists, Yukimura slammed in as hard as he could, impatient to bring this to an end. Back arched and sweating heavily, Fuji let out a moan before he started trembling, harder and harder, then bucking, bucking and cuming and crying out, despite his cock having barely been touched. The membranes twisting and sucking at his cock were enough to bring Yukimura over, his cum exploding into the already dripping ass, his cock still pumping even while he released, no longer able to contain his momentum.

Collapsing on top of the brunette, Yukimura panted into soft, brown locks, hearing the harsh breathing of the one he smothered loudly in his ear. They stayed that way for a few breathless moments, then rolled onto their sides into a more comfortable position for the tensai.

It'd been a sudden impulse, and the captain was relieved that Fuji hadn't resisted to being taken so suddenly, so early in the morning. The brunette cuddled and kissed him, affectionately brushing back locks of wavey blue hair, enjoying the attention of all pairs of eyes on them. Though rushed, this time had been sweet, as sweet as their first time together, and they'd kissed the entire time. Such affection was something Fuji missed during his relationship with the bluenette, so close to making love rather than the rough, painful game of bsdm they called sex that they never seemed to get enough of.

Enamored with cerulean orbs that sparkled with post coital affection, Yukimura relaxed against the hands that massaged his arms, a warm feeling of sated calm flooding his chest. It was a soft, nice moment for both of them, as the tensai stroked his cheek and neck, then softly asked,

"Nee, Seiichi... who was it who hurt you?"

Chapter Text

There is a kind of strength gained from viciousness, and a kind of viciousness that comes from fear, the desperate kind of strength a cornered cat will use to trounce against a dog, or a tiger upon a hunter. Every muscle in the body is on fire, every sense seething and churning, the mind whiting out as it knows the option of flight has been stripped, and now the only choice is fight. It is the most terrifying kind of strength, for it comes from terror itself.

Despite the hospitalization which degraded his muscles, despite the illness which had lessened his disposition dramatically over the years, it still took Sanada, Tezuka, and Atobe together to hold Yukimura back.

"Nee, Seiichi... who was it who hurt you?"

As the words sunk through the air, Yukimura's skin turned more and more pale, a cold white seeping across his face, a blank, stricken look within his eyes. He turned towards Fuji, as if conflicted over what he'd just heard, but his lips drew tight. He didn't question it, he didn't play dumb, perhaps because he'd suspected that the tensai already knew, being what he was. But even so, Syuusuke was never supposed to say it.

Atobe's eyes grew hard; he also had suspected but wasn't as certain - but Sanada and Tezuka looked lost. It was only as Yukimura's expression started to change, started to twist, that they wised up and moved towards the bed.

It was like an instinct, they could sense the danger stabbing through the air, and Yukimura's nails had already drawn claw marks across Fuji's cheeks before Atobe grabbed his arm.

"You-!" Yukimura screamed, even as Tezuka moved between him and Fuji and grabbed him by the shoulders. Sanada had enough mind to grab his other arm, and the three team leaders forced him back towards the mattress.

"Let go of me!" the bluenette cried, his voice cauterized by a sense of betrayal, as his intended victim stood frozen before him. At the moment he wanted nothing more than to tackle the tensai and tear him to shreds and slam him on the ground and fuck the crap out of him, until he shut up and forgot about it.

"Seiichi, please-" Fuji begged, tears forming in his eyes, believing he truly had a chance to make progress.

"Let go of me!" screamed the enraged captain. "Stop it! ... stop it..." His cries turned to pleading, stunning the three youth holding him. They let go and he collapsed onto his knees, sobbing on the floor. Fuji moved to comfort him but the diva wisely held him back.

Confused and horrified, they stared with wide eyes at the fallen captain, whose hands and face had turned white. "I can't..." Yukimura's hand were shaking, his pupils dilated and focused at nothing. "I can't do this... I can't stop..."

"Seiichi..." Sanada choked, his voice catching in his throat. He didn't understand... no, he just didn't want to believe it. What did Fuji mean by 'hurt'?

Feeling that the vice captain might make things worse, Tezuka motioned for him to stay back while he himself moved closer to Yukimura. The effeminate captain didn't seem to see him, to even acknowledge his motions as he knelt down to his level. The bluenette tightly gripped the sheet that Sanada had been sleeping on earlier, knuckles turning white from the strain.

"Yukimura." Clearing his throat, Tezuka spoke in his normal, commanding voice. But there was a hint of gentleness in his tone as he asked, "Tell us what's wrong." He considered his words very carefully, running through his mind everything that had happened over the past few weeks. What they had done, things that were said... "You've had each of us tell you what our problems are. About our pasts. Shouldn't you..." He paused as realization dawned on him. Maybe the reason Fuji had asked such a question was... "This... is what you wanted, wasn't it? To be able to tell us."

Or maybe just Sanada.

"This is why you're doing this, why you brought us together" ... because you knew you'd never be able to tell him by yourself...

Nurturing was more of Fuji's specialty, but Tezuka did his best to adjust the pillows and blankets Sanada had used as a bed to make the bluenette more comfortable on the floor. He was careful not to touch him. Now that Tezuka was starting to read him, he could tell Yukimura was trying to calm himself down. He knew better. He knew how terrible it was, to lose control and lash out... he was very aware of his own problem.

"I just... can't... stop..."

Eyebrows furled, lips trembling, Yukimura's expression was full of pain, but he wasn't crying. He still wasn't looking at them, but focus came back to his eyes, as he slowly regained his composure.

It wasn't that he didn't want to tell. He was terrified, yes. He was ashamed, yes. But he knew better. He knew he would never get over this if he only kept it locked inside. Actually, it had gotten so much worse over the years, festering inside him...

But now that he was given an opportunity to speak, it was hard. Even though it was illogical, he felt like he couldn't, like he just couldn't. Like he was attempting to walk on a cloud, because it looked so soft and fluffy, and found himself falling through. He opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out. He was trapped, in the same horrible chains of medications and hands and weakness of that time so long ago, and the vague memories consumed him in a cloud of fear. If only he could lash out, remind himself he was still in control...

Fuji, trembling in concern, cautiously knelt down next to him, Atobe keeping his hands protectively on the tensai's shoulders.

"How did you..." Yukimura muttered darkly, face hidden by his bangs, which clamped down against his sweat stained skin.

"I just had a feeling..." The brunette whispered, a tiny smile ghosting his face. It seemed as if the bluenette was fighting his urges to attack him, and trying to speak. By this point, Atobe and Tezuka were almost as pale as Yukimura. They never imagined that such a strong, vibrant being could have been hurt in such a way, if it was like the two effeminate lovers seemed to be hinting. "Seiichi, you can trust us. We won't think any less of you. We know how strong you are-"

"What would you know?" Yukimura screamed, burying his face in his hands. It was awful, hearing Tezuka say everything he really wanted, hearing it all said out loud, and at the same time his heart was screaming, screaming to keep it all closed, all locked away. It had been so painful, never confiding in anyone, and lonely, but now that he had his chance he just... couldn't. It hurt too much. He wanted to hurt something else in his place. To make the pain go away.


The strong, familiar voice pierced through his turmoil, and his head shot up, his eyes locking with those beautiful obsidian ones he knew too well. "Ge-... Sanada."

"Yukimura," Sanada kneeled before him, putting his hands on his shoulders, and looked him square in the eye. "I need to know."

It was like they were at practice. Before they were lovers, Sanada had been his teammate, his rival, his support, and his best friend. They had been, perhaps, more comfortable with each other then than when they crossed the line towards the forbidden fruit, tasting the apple of knowledge that would surely bring about their exile from paradise. Back then, they used to really talk, about anything and everything, about their families and friends and classes and teammates and tennis. They were too young and pure to know about dirty things like secrets. They knew, of course, what not to share with their peers, with their parents, or teammates, but with each other they didn't see any boundaries. Before they knew about love and making love they had experimented together, masturbating or watching porn or talking about girls or even other guys. No topic was off limits, and they never had any problems. It wasn't like they always agreed, but there were no ulterior motives, no struggle for power other than beating each other at tennis, and even that was an innocent rivalry.

Breathing in deeply, Yukimura focused on that time. He closed his eyes, imaging he was sitting on the bench, watching his team play on the courts, jacket draped over his shoulder's like a king's cape, calm and strong and in his element.

"Back... then, when I was sick..."

Blowing out softly, he glanced around, and found the others were with him too. Watching, waiting, listening with gentle eyes. He could trust them.

"I wasn't sure how to handle it, and neither was anyone else. It wasn't the flu, I couldn't just go home and rest for a few weeks and come back all better.

"Some days I'd be fine, and other times I... couldn't move. Maybe my arm, maybe my leg, sometimes my whole body... I was lucky, they said, that my lungs never stopped. I think they did, actually, a few times, but not for very long and I somehow got through it on my own. The drugs helped, at least with that, but they weren't good enough that I could play tennis. There were too many times I... fell, during class, walking home, at the train station... in the kitchen... on the court...

"I couldn't stand it. The helplessness, the hopelessness. My own body was betraying me, and there was no one to blame, no way to fight it...I didn't have any control. I finally decided to give in, to wholly trust the doctors, to put my hope in them...

"The only ones who knew were Sanada and my parents, but the surgery was actually very dangerous. And the success rate was low... the doctors told me repeatedly that if I just took medication and watched my condition, the disease would pass naturally... but after many years. I couldn't wait that long. I needed to play... to move... and when it got to the point I had to be hospitalized, we decided together with the doctors to go ahead with the procedure.

"Sanada, you remember... we talked up on the roof? I felt much better after that. I'd been afraid before, but after that, I was sure it would be okay. And everything did go fine...

"It was only later that... that I remembered..."

He bit his lip, and Sanada took his hand and gave it a small squeeze. He might let go, though, once he heard the next part, Yukimura knew.

"I- .. at the time, well, it was a normal procedure I thought. Just before the surgery, after the nurses had completed the preparations, a male nurse, one I didn't know, came in. ... The drugs were already starting to kick in, but I thought I felt it, saw it, him... touching me, all over, but... then I went under. So I really don't know ...

"When I woke up, the team was there. Genichirou was there. Everything was still fuzzy. They told me the surgery was successful, and I was so happy... I didn't remember... until many days later... sometimes when I wake up, I feel the pressure from his hands...

"I vaguely recalled, as he pushed me down, how he had come in before the surgery, how he had touched me... I barely had a chance to start before he pressed my face into the pillow. I couldn't see him. He'd rolled me onto my stomach before I woke up. He pressed me down with his body until I could no longer struggle, and stroked my back with his hands. I can still...feel it...sometimes... even though my nerves were paralyzed from the drugs... I could feel it... this pressure...

"l don't even know if anything happened. I was drugged, delirious... one of the pain killers they gave me was a hallucinogenic. I think he gave me more than my usual dosage... No... I know he did. I remember he did, now... he was laughing at me, he said he was surprised that I could struggle even with all the drugs he'd given me. He said he liked how feisty I was, that it was more fun than usual. That..that I was beautiful...that I was the best he'd ever had-"

A gasp shot from his mouth as he realized he wasn't the only victim. His memories were coming back, clearer than they'd ever been, now that he was actually letting himself remember. Sanada was gripping his hand rather tightly, as if the captain were the one offering comfort, and he could hear the unspoken words from the others, Go on, for now...

"I think I screamed, but he muffled it with the pillow... I remember pain, and numbness, and being so weak I could barely move.

"With all the drugs, I should have been completely numb. And yet I could feel everything. The pain, the tearing... the wet cloth he used to clean up... the...pounding... him going in and out over and over again... his hands shuddering as he came... the pressure... the pressure... so heavy against my back...

"I could feel how warm his hands were on my back. They were sweaty, clammy, burning. I could smell blood mixed with sweat, like when Kirihara injures someone at practice, even over the sterile, acid smell of the hospital. He grunted as he moved and pulled my hair-"

Sanada grabbed his upper arms, suddenly pulling him into a hug without wrapping his arms completely around him. Gasping from his frozen state, Yukimura's eyes grew wide as he realized he'd been crying. He never felt the tears stream down his face but he could feel the cold trail of air from where they'd been.

"I... I didn't remember... this much detail... until now..." he choked, his throat clogged with tears. "It was only... the first time we made love since I'd been in the hospital... in the middle of that, it suddenly hit me... a flood of images... and after that it took me a long time to sort through the memories...

"At first, I was frightened. Of everything I didn't know, of everything I did.

"I don't know who he was. I don't even really know what he did to me. It might have been more than that time. Maybe... he gave me the wrong drugs that time. Maybe there were other times I don't remember. I don't know...but... my body does. It remembers. It reacts to things I shouldn't be afraid of. I... once again, once again, it betrayed me..."

Gasping for air, he found it very hard to breath. He pulled away from Sanada, more afraid of the embrace than comforted by it. But he didn't let go of his best friend's hand.

Focus, focus. Watch the ball, carefully, become aware, of the ball, of yourself, of your opponent. Expand your awareness, focus… that's the key to opening the first door…

He calmed down enough to continue.

"After that ... I started feeling angry. First at him, then, slowly, everyone else... the doctors, my parents..." he paused, averting his eyes away from Sanada, "... for not being able to protect me. And finally, at myself, for being so weak. For needing others, when I never should have relied on them in the first place-"

Sucking in sharply, he gulped and forced himself to continue speaking. "I know... it's not my fault. I just... feel angry, all the time now. I can control it, but I can't stop it, or make it go away. I...

"On the courts, I'm myself, and everything that happened in the hospital was a bad dream. I... can't think anything more than that."

Silence ruled the floor that they were now all seated on, lasting for endless minutes, until Sanada stood up with a stomp. He gave Yukimura's hand to Tezuka, and stormed from the room.

Chapter Text

The moment Sanada stepped from the room, Yukimura felt his heart shattering into pieces. They cut sharply into his chest, making it difficult to breathe, spots of black appearing before his eyes. He could still feel pressure on his hand, but it wasn't the same.

It was Tezuka's hand, but Tezuka was like a stranger to him. A few weeks ago, Tezuka and Atobe had been no more than the rival team's captains. Fuji was the only one he could find sadistic relief through, and Sanada was the only one who could comfort him.

He'd been alone for years.

He had reasoned, a long time ago, that he had only himself to blame. He'd kept the secret inside himself, let his body become more rigid and his habits more twisted, like a decaying piece of wood he watched the ants pick at from his window but never bothered to go rescue or throw away. It was no wonder, he realized, that Sanada had chosen the latter with him. He was a soiled, rotting thing, whether or not his vice captain knew why, and Sanada deserved better than him.

Yet he hadn't been able to let his beloved adjunct go.

He should have quite tennis a long time ago. He'd spent too long, leading his team despite his own losses, playing even when his body was no longer in top form. Worst was constantly watching Sanada play... being on the same team as Sanada... leading the team together with Sanada... they never had any proper distance.

Even so, his vice had been able to move on. But he had swept in and messed all of that up. Now Sanada could not have Tezuka, who would now go back to Fuji, but neither would Sanada want the dirty shriveled being that was him.

Yukimura found himself being carefully led onto the bed, as though he were made of glass, but it was silly to treat him that way since he'd broken a long time ago.

He was tired of grabbing for the pieces of himself, of cutting his hands on the jagged, crystalline shards. He was tired.

They motioned to each other for a bit, deciding with their eyes and hands what to do. Sauntering down the hallway, Fuji had a sudden appreciation for being with the two people who could read him best - Atobe with his insight, and Tezuka, who somehow always knew what he was thinking and vise versa. Those two had stayed with Yukimura, while the tensai was now following after Sanada.

He knew by instinct or whatever strange prodigy sense Eiji claimed he had where the vice captain had disappeared to. A loud bang was confirmation, and the brunette slipped into the calm, plain room that he and Sanada had had sex in before. The raven haired youth was pulling his hand out of the dry wall, which he had succeeded in punching a hole through.

And then he screamed.

It was a loud, growl like scream, like that of an attacking samurai, or a lion's roar, it was a yell of frustration and pain and anger and helplessness, and seemed almost out of place coming from such a large, powerful looking frame.

When the sound finally echoed out, harsh breathes took its place as Sanada's fists pounded against the room's wood cabinet, thankfully not breaking it. Fuji cringed, wondering what the suspiciously simple looking thing cost.

"I'll kill him." Face red and trembling with anger, the kendo trained warrior growled, "I'll found out who the fuck he is, and then I'll kill him."

"Sanada..." Fuji bit his tongue before he added 'san'. He didn't know why he suddenly felt so distant. He could guess very easily how the raven haired seme was feeling, but he couldn't empathize.

He didn't blame Sanada, but he couldn't ask the spartan to not blame himself. He couldn't offer understanding he didn't have. He couldn't offer comfort that wouldn't be accepted. He found, then, a little bit of empathy, for they were both helpless.

With the muscles that rippled underneath his shirt and trunked in this thighs, Sanada seemed like the type that could not be brought down by anything. Yet he failed to protect what mattered to him most.

Then he failed to see his own failure, and crushed that being even further.

The air around them cooled, and with it Sanada's anger, but Fuji sensed despair creep in in its place.

"Why didn't he tell me." Cold charcoal eyes stared at the newly made hole, as if it would draw them in and make mince meat out of them. As if this was what Sanada deserved.

Sighing, Fuji knew it wouldn't help for him to say otherwise. But he knew what it was like to feel guilty.

"It was his way of forgiving you."

Fuji reached out with his voice, hoping to snap the agonized youth out of it. This was the one thing he'd read between the lines of Seiichi's story. The effeminate captain had long accepted that there was only one perpetrator, and that was the one who raped him. Seiichi didn't want anyone else to be hurt by what had happened, so he'd buried his pain deep inside himself, carrying it alone. It was something both Fuji and Sanada had realized, had understood even before they heard the true story. It was no one else's fault.

But to accept that in heart as well as mind...

"Why didn't I know anyway." An echo of dark thoughts rustled behind the vice captain's words. Why didn't I figure it out. Why didn't I try to figure it out. Why did I give up on him. Why did I leave him. How could I do... why couldn't I protect him... even after...

Tentatively, the tensai took Sanada's taught hand into his own, bringing the torn knuckles to his lips, and kissed away the blood. "There's no way you could have known if he didn't tell you," he said quietly, willing the bruises to disappear.

The large hand jerked away, creating a distance between them. Bitter lines creased the raven haired man's forehead as he spat, "But you knew."

Stepping away, Fuji sighed, "I know many things I shouldn't, and it's gotten me into a lot of trouble in the past." Biting his lower lip, Fuji hesitantly sat on the bed, motioning to the spot next to him.

Sanada stared dumbly at him for a moment, before huffing and taking a seat on the comforter. Then he practically collapsed, throwing his face in is hands, elbows on his parted knees. Fuji said nothing but waited.

He waited, waited in the most plain room in the Atobe manor, waited while sitting on a white sheeted bed, waited while a light breeze crept through the open bedroom window and lifted his hair, waited while the man next to him pulled himself together and remembered that the one who needed help right now was not him, but the tormented, yet still fighting bluenette in another room down the hall.

Yukimura hadn't given up yet, not after all these years of fighting by himself, so Fuji wouldn't either.

"What can I do?"

Fuji smiled a little as the deep voice echoed in his ear. "You can hold him," he whispered. "Gently. Just... don't touch his back."

Nodding, the vice captain kept his face hidden, but his broken voice and shaking hands gave him away. Closing his eyes, Fuji leaned against him... and listened.

"After... after what Atobe did... what I did at the training camp... I was too ashamed to touch him. I avoided him... I convinced myself that I was just worried about him. Worried about hurting him after his surgery. I started to really believe it, and then it was the truth. I forgot about... Atobe. Once Yukimura was better, once he was off the drugs, so I assumed he was better... I thought it would be okay. I thought everything would go back to normal... he acted...he said he was okay so..."

The vice captain struggled to speak, forcing himself to remember. "While...while he was being... hurt, I was..." Gleams of regret shimmered wetly near the edges of his hands. "I'm the worst kind of man..."

"No..." Fuji interrupted quietly, his voice eerily distant. "You aren't the worst." He felt strangely serene, sitting calmly with this man who'd just learned something neither of them truly knew how to deal with. Speaking softly, he tried to work out the situation in his mind. "What you did with Atobe was terrible, especially with such timing, but it had nothing to do with what happened to Seiichi. You weren't the one who hurt him, and you couldn't have protected him. You and everyone else had no way of knowing... and he didn't tell you, so your response was natural."

Sighing, he added, "Sanada, I ... I have no right to really say this. I think... if I were in your shoes, I would feel the same way. I would blame myself and...but...there's one thing I know for certain.

"You're not making it up to him by abandoning him again."

His eyes shot open with a start, and Yukimura stiffened as he felt strong rays of sunlight beaming down on him. He was lying on his back, and he felt someone squeeze his hand. Gasping, he turned his head to find Sanada staring back at him, the vice captain also laid out on the bed, on top of the sheets and fully dressed in his regulars uniform.

Sanada's lips twitched into a partial smile. "Are you alright? You slept for a long time."

The bluenette stared at him in disbelief. It was still the middle of the day. Yukimura Seiichi did not sleep. He did not nap, he did not sleep in, even though he often stayed up late. He claimed it was part of his responsibility as a leader, but actually he was an insomniac. It was something that developed around the time Sanada broke up with him.

"... Is that so..." The captain exhaled deeply, wondering what time it was but decided not to look. He closed his eyes, recalling what had happened before his losing consciousness, the things he said, what he'd finally admitted... "I ... Sanada... I...I wish I'd..." He choked on his words, no longer knowing what to say, or why Sanada was still here with him.

"It's in the past," Sanada said simply. He didn't really believe it of course, but for now he would pretend to. For Seiichi's sake.

" Gen..ichiro," Fuji hesitantly corrected. "...When you first heard that Yukimura and I were dating, what did you think?"

Surprised by the question, Sanada let his hands rest on his knees and gave the honey haired tensai a puffy eyed glance. He thought for a moment, feeling a small amount of relief from the subject shift. "I was worried. I knew how Yukimura, how ... how out of control he'd gotten... I was sure that he'd hurt you, the same way he'd tried to hurt me. I didn't know...the reason... at the time, I just wanted to help someone who I knew Tezuka still cared about. I just-"

"Really?" Fuji interrupted, "You really weren't jealous?"

Gaping, the vice captain stared at him with a stunned expression.

"You were, weren't you?" A tiny, amused smile formed on the tensai's lips. "Even if you didn't realize it. You don't... I don't believe you can stop loving someone like Yukimura Seiichi so easily. And no, I'm not talking about his violent side." Chuckling, the brunette smiled to himself. "I never believed that was the real him, not once. You and I both know what he's really like, when he's caring, and gentle, and loving. He reminds me of my mother when she's being sweet..."

Sanada mumbled something, which earned him a questioning look from the brunette, but he shook his head, "It's nothing." To himself he thought of how Yukimura reminded him as well of his mother, which was part of why he'd become attracted to the blue haired beauty in the first place. "Seii- .. Yukimura is strong, but in a different way from me. All I wanted to do was protect him."

"But you can't always be with him, it's impossible." Pausing, the tensai tapped his chin while reflecting on his sentiments. "But if there's five of us, then at least one of us always can be..." He placed his hand on the larger teen's knee, comfortingly. "And right now, what he needs is not protection, but healing."

"I want to apologize."


"Seichi. It may take me a life time, but please, give me a chance to make it up to you."

He brought Yukimura's hand to his lips, his breath ghosting along those elegant fingers as if to say, These are my feelings. This is my heart. Please, accept it...

"Yes." Of course, the bluenette whispered in his mind, his eyes and his heart glowing with a warmth he hadn't felt in a long, long time.

He sat up, his ass reminding him he was still a little sore, causing him to wince. Sanada, as if misreading the small sign, bent over and brushed his lips against his captain's cheek. Feeling a powdery blush cross his skin, Yukimura let out a sigh of serenity, slowly breathing in and out the warm midday air. He didn't remember it being so bright this time of year.

"Mm... where are the others?" He hummed, hoping to mask the embarrassingly youthful reaction to tiny kiss.

"They went out for lunch, or something along those lines..." Sanada sighed, thinking of poor Tezuka, who had more or less been dragged way. He pitied his boyfriend, but he had needed the alone time with Yukimura, so... "Oh, and-" Suddenly he looked a little annoyed, like there was something he didn't want to think about. "Atobe insists we go on a group date next Saturday."

Chapter Text

Actually, Atobe had demanded they miss school and go out on Monday. Of course, Tezuka wouldn't agree to the ditch day, and after a lot of arguing (quiet arguing, as they were trying not to wake Yukimura), the diva was persuaded to make more typical Saturday arrangements.

Sanada had thought he'd be going to the meeting place with Yukimura, but the bluenette disappeared after practice, saying he and Fuji had special plans and he would see him there. Rikkaidai's beloved captain had been on the phone all week during breaks, chatting and laughing with the most mischievous twinkle in his eye.

As the effeminate tennis star grew more and more excited about their upcoming date, the vice captain nearby felt more and more doom growing over his head. All he wanted to do was spend some nice, quality, 'make up the world to you' time with Yukimura.

He arrived at Shibuya station only a few minutes before 2 p.m., briskly exiting so that he wouldn't be late. Even with the crowd of weekend shoppers, he was able to find Tezuka by the Hachiko statue, arms crossed and wearing his typical stoic expression.

"Did you get ditched too, by Fuji?" Sanada asked, quickly glancing around. It was unlike Rikkaidai's captain to be late; the bluenette almost always showed up fifteen minutes early to any meeting or event, except for the time he'd collapsed.

Tezuka shook his head and looked to the right. Following his line of sight, Sanada felt his jaw drop as he made out two familiar faces sitting by the planter.

What he was looking at was not two famous high school tennis players, but what anyone would have thought were two cute teenage girls. Fuji wore a wavy brown skirt that just barely failed to cover his knees, with a simple gray sweater. He wore the kind of sandals that platformed off the ground and had laces to loop around his ankles, along with light make-up and pearl earrings to compliment his oval face.

Yukimura was a complete contrast. He wore a stunning dark blue dress with thin, halter top straps covered by a black trench coat that went past the short skirt in length. With his wavy hair, deep red lipstick, and dainty white heels he looked like a Hollywood movie star, with a white alligator skin patterned wrist purse to match.

Quickly turning 180, Sanada covered his mouth with hand, hoping he wouldn't get a nosebleed. Those short skirts were something else.

An ahem drew his attention, and he turned back to find himself face to face with his now far too effeminate captain.

"Am I that unsightly?" Yukimura's smile was amused but the barest ting of uncertainty hung in his eyes.

Shaking his head rapidly, the vice captain blurted, "You're beautiful," shades of red blushing over his cheeks. To his surprise, the bluenette blushed too and looked shyly at the floor.

"See? It's not silly at all," Fuji smiled, making his way over. "And this way, we can act like couples in public, nee?"

Frowning, Sanada wondered how the brunette could walk about without a hint of shame. While Yukimura looked like a young college lady, Fuji looked like he couldn't be older than a freshman girl in high school. It was a dangerous age for anyone.

"... Wait, if the four of us make two couples, then what about Atobe?" The vice captain asked with a frown.

"Atobe's more than enough by himself," Yukimura rolled his eyes. "Actually, we changed at his estate, but we had to leave without him because Atobe was being Atobe, and, well, you'll see."

A moment later, as if summoned, one of the many Atobe family limos appeared, gleaming silver and pulling through the heavily crowded intersection. It stopped against the curb, blocking the lane of cars backing up behind it, and let out one very bright, very... Atobe... Atobe Keigo. Actually, bright was an understatement - he was practically sparkling in his tight, silver pants, sleek purple dress shirt that was missing a few of the topmost buttons, and were those frills on the cuffs? - along with a heavy silver necklace that sat upon the long sliver of exposed chest. And those boots, safari gloss crocodile leather with thick silver stitching, were so large and pointed they looked like they could kill. A large sapphire ring sat glowing on middle finger, and even his mole seemed to glitter. The crowd of weekend shoppers shifted, parting like the red sea as the bedecked elitist strut past, heading towards the statue.

Suddenly Sanada wanted to be very, very far away. The association alone was making him sweat.

"I thought the purpose of meeting at the train station was so we could all take the train," Fuji greeted, stepping towards the diva nonchalantly while the other three took a good step or two back.

It wasn't that they were afraid, no. They just had something called dignity to uphold.

"Ore-sama has tried that, once, and doesn't see the point," Atobe waved his hand in dismissal, his designer frills waving with it. "This attempt at plebeian life is unnecessary."

". . . It's supposed to fun," Fuji sighed, waving the others over. In truth, the only reason Fuji and Yukimura had gone ahead was because the diva was taking so long to get ready they'd gone on without him. His ability to preen was almost a talent, considering how long the two pseudo ladies had taken to figure out and adjust their make-up.

After a bit more fussing, cajoling, and silently lipped promises of blow jobs, the other three finally agreed to come within reasonable distance of the conspicuous diva, and the five of them set off down the row of skyscrapers.

Walking along side Sanada, Yukimura hesitated for a moment before slipped his hand into the vice captain's. "This is more of a proper date," he explained with a smile, squeezing the larger hand lightly to show he planned on holding it for the entire outing. Skin turning red up to his ears, Sanada murmured but squeezed back. He'd never held hands in public, but after the first few minutes the embarrassment started to fade. Yukimura's hand was warm in his palm and fit there so nicely, as if this were where it belonged.

Fuji stood close to Tezuka, his hands tucked behind him in his typical reserved fashion. The tensai had his usual close lipped smile while the captain had his typical stoic frown. Meanwhile the diva strut between the front and the back, choosing based on which store windows interested him more, or maybe which ones produced a better reflection for him to gaze at his reflected self.

It was all an act, Fuji knew, but it was still amusing to watch. He wondered how long it would be before Atobe discussed his already planned future with the others, but decided to push aside the thought for now. Today, he just wanted to enjoy the outing, this special time the five of them could spend together in the purity of their youth.

They arrived at their first destination, the Parco shopping mall, and since Yukimura and Fuji had the opportunity they went after a womens department store, dragging the three still dressed as men along with them. Laughing, the two effeminate devils explained they were both wearing their older sisters' clothes, and that they wanted some of their own. Before long they were browsing through lingerie, giggling to each other over cup sizes. Sanada's face stung red with embarrassment and Tezuka's eye developed a constant twitch, as Atobe pranced around helping the two pseudo ladies chose.

"Seiichi, this leopard print suits you," the diva's voice projected clearly from the fitting room, which he had fit himself into along with Yukimura and Fuji. "No no, not like that, if you drape it like this - yes, mm, like that."

"Keigo, ano..." Fuji's voice. "I don't know if this faux fur is right for me, I like this white one better."

"I like the white one too, Syuusuke," chimed Yukimura. "By the way, I found this for you, I'll help you put it on -"

"Se-seichi ... it... oh... aah..."

"Ahn, ore-sama approves."

"Sei ... please, I can't, not now-"

"Fine, but you know there will be punishment later."

At this point, Sanada and Tezuka agreed to wait outside by the store's entrance.

Since Fuji and Yukimura had taken too much time getting dressed up to eat lunch, the group stopped by a cafe for a snack. They huddled around two small circular tables pushed together while the bluenette brought over a tray. Atobe's brow raised in interest when he saw the two innocent looking slices of cake next to the triangular sandwiches.

Smirking, the wavy haired captain set one slice in front of himself and the other by Fuji. Digging daintily into the layers with his tiny dessert fork, the bluenette took the first bite with a satisfied murmur, then loaded up the second one... but didn't eat it. Instead, Sanada froze then turned red as Yukimura brought the fork towards his vice captain's mouth, a cream covered slice of strawberry hanging between them.

"Say 'aah'," the bluenette cooed, his smile as innocent as a sunflower but his eyes batting like an imp's. Inside, the vice captain suffered through a mental battle with his masculinity, but he had sworn to himself that he would do whatever he had to to make up for what he had done, and if this was what the beau wanted...


Chuckling, the bluenette gently placed the piece inside Sanada's mouth, which somehow managed to close. The strawberry was alright but the frosting was too sweet, matching his captain's teasing smile. The mock lady took a bite off the same fork, then went back to the torturous baby feeding.

"No," Tezuka sternly answered before being asked, leaving Fuji to pout over his slice of cappuccino cake.

"Keigo, 'aah'," the tensai turned to the smirking elitist to deliver his fork speared cake.

Atobe learned over the table, accepting the piece, then wrapping his tongue around the fork with a bit of a moan. Taking his own fork, he loaded it with a piece from the cake's corner, drawing it through the air and into Fuji's open lips.

"Mmmm Keigo," Fuji moaned, his brow crinkling in ecstasy as he sucked frosting off the fork's silver prongs.

"Syuusuke," the diva purred, taking another tiny piece from Fuji's fork, then offering one of his own. Yukimura chuckled into his hand as other customers' whispers became obvious around them.

"Mmm Keigo, put more in, I want a bigger-"

Tezuka grabbed the fork out of Atobe's hand, finishing the slice in a flurry of seconds, then grabbed Yukimura's piece and forced that down as well. A bit green in the face, he swiftly cleaned up the tray and shuffled the group from their seats and out the door.

"I believe it's my turn," the bespectacled brunette deadpanned once the trio of ukes were able to calm down and stop laughing. He waived towards a nearby BookOff, the multimedia book store towering four stories high. Fuji was the one who picked the girl's clothing store, and Yukimura picked the cafe, so this would be Tezuka's pick.

Relieved by the safe route, Sanada escaped into the languages section, looking for an English dictionary which he had need of anyway for class. The two 'ladies' followed after Tezuka, curious as to whether or not he had an ulterior motive (as they had had when they made their choices), but were disappointed when the stone faced captain picked out a traditional looking book with all kanji characters on the spine. Atobe disappeared into the business books aisle, and Fuji and Yukimura both had different series they were reading, so soon all five of them drifted off to different sections. They spend a peaceful hour, browsing and reading, before making their purchases and meeting at the front.

Sanada wasn't sure what to pick, since for him, shopping meant a trip to the basic shirts and jeans mart or tennis or kendo related stores. He settled for the two story shoe store they'd passed up the street.

It turned out to be a mistake.

"Try on these ones," Yukimura giggled - yes, giggled, he was giggling now - and passed Fuji a pair of pointy, glittery silver heels. He himself was sporting a pair of Dior slippers with leather knots tied into bows wrapped around his ankles. Fuji slipped off the five-inch heels he was wearing to try on the new pair, meanwhile passing a pair of neon green, pleather stilettos to Atobe, who'd somehow joined the two in trying on whatever ridiculous things they could find. They were having too much fun, giggling, giggling, and Sanada wanted to punch every guy who passed by, because he swore they were all looking at his Seiichi. But he was trying to avoid actually entering the woman's section, so he went back to browsing athletic shoes.

A minute later, Atobe was dragging both him and Tezuka, who'd been hiding at the front entrance reading his new book, towards the men's dress shoes. There was probably a whole cow and a few alligators with all the animal skin fashioned along the row. Sanada didn't know who Kenneth Cole was, but he was sure the man must be blind by now by the shine gleaming from the perfectly polished black leather.

Atobe made a few snide comments about deerskin being "so last season," before forcing the two semes through rounds of different pairs practically in competition with the two pseudo ladies on the other side of the shop. By the time they were done, the sales person was ringing up a two thousand dollar order with all purchases to be shipped directly to the Atobe mansion.

Sanada grimaced thinking of the long, triangular toed boots that he'd be forced to take home. Tezuka's at least were a solid brown color but neither men could figure out what material they were made out of that made them gleam like wax. Fuji smiled brightly while showing off his new UGG boots, while Yukimura had a more tiger like grin with his black ankle boot stilettos. Atobe himself didn't buy anything because, apparently, all of his shoes were personally tailored for him - how shoes could be tailored, only Fuji really wanted to know, and the others bribed him into not asking.

Unfortunately Sanada wasn't allowed a second pick, and both he and Tezuka moped for a bit as Atobe took his turn, leading them up to the top floor of one of the highest skyscrapers in Shibuya.

"This shabby place was all I could find," sighed the diva, as the elevator dinged open.

The five youths were greeted by the sight of nighttime Tokyo, spiraling lights sprawling below them in a dazzling array. A wall of glass encircled the small, circular floor of the restaurant, granting patrons a sensational view in any direction. Soft lighting and simple decor further lightened the air, and the black vested waiters added to the elegance with their calm, fluid motions.

As expected of a Saturday night, the restaurant was filled with couples and light chatter. Each table was very well spaced, and though all chairs were full, there were few enough people that a gentle quiet enveloped the atmosphere along with soft, live piano music. They were quickly seated and waited upon, and even Tezuka, who disliked flamboyance, looked impressed.

While the others browsed and fussed over the menu, Yukimura quickly made his selection and settled down to tacitly sip the tea he'd ordered. It'd been a long time since he'd truly rested, simply observed rather than being involved.

Fuji was explaining to Tezuka, who sat next to him, the difference in the types of pasta. The blue haired captain could see why everyone had said they were the perfect couple. It was not so much that they were perfect together, so much as that they looked perfect together. The tensai's gentle countenance, his soft smile together with Tezuka's serious, firm expression, the way they touched each other lightly as if that was all they needed to understand each other - they seemed serene and tranquil, like a perfectly clear pool of water that was too beautiful to disturb.

Perhaps that was the problem - everyone had such high expectations for them that they'd begun to have high expectations of themselves that they couldn't live up to. Tezuka couldn't forgive himself, and Fuji trusted him so deeply that he didn't even recognize that he'd been hurt, and thus couldn't figure out that Tezuka dumped him for his own protection.

Sighing internally, Yukimura wondered if his problems with Sanada were similar, but he had the feeling that they were something else. His raven haired adjunct had been especially good to him the past week, but the captain knew it would take more time then that for them to overcome the rift that had grown between them. They hadn't really stayed friends, as Fuji and Tezuka had. In his desperation to keep his dirty secret, Yukimura had hurt both physically and emotionally the only one who truly loved him. He hadn't been able to trust his vice captain, and the incident with Atobe was only an excuse. Yukimura had been so frightened back then, he'd lashed out at the only person who would never hurt him. Even during the years they barely talked to each other, Sanada was still near him, guarding him in subtle ways.

Because of that, even though they were no longer together, Yukimura had still felt as though the vice captain was his. It was only when Sanada started dating Tezuka that reality had kicked in... the person Yukimura still loved, the one he could not let go of, had drifted away. Instead of letting go, the bluenette had grown an insatiable rage, which he'd let loose on his kitten, on Fuji, and...

The waiter came to take their orders, breaking Yukimura out of his train of thought. It was probably for the better; Atobe was eyeing him with that silly pose he liked to use, where he pressed his fingers against his nose, and Sanada seemed to be brooding.

They must have looked terribly out of place to the other diners. A special table had been arranged for them, slightly larger than the others so that it could perfectly fit five, and the two pseudo girls sat across from each other, pinned in by three males. Sanada was rather imposing with his large stature atypical of the Japanese, and he and Tezuka looked much older than the others with their expressions so serious and firm. Atobe seemed amused by the glances they were getting, no doubt elated by the attention, as if all four lovers belonged to him and his prowess. None of them seemed bothered, though, for which Yukimura was relieved; he had dragged them all into this fivesome for his own twisted reasons, but that meant the creation of something abnormal, something awkward if not outright shameful. Fine evening dining was not meant for them; and in a country with such strong dating culture, it would be hard for them to fit in in many places. But even so... even so...

"Yuki-chan," Fuji's teasing voice called for his attention, and he smiled at his fellow mock female before accepting the piece of farfalle pasta straight off the tensai's fork with an "aah-mph." Yuki-chan was the girl's name they'd decided for him, though so far Sanada and Tezuka had managed to grunt their way out of calling him it.

The tensai had conceived, planned, and orchestrated their temporary conversion to the female guise for the day. At first, Yukimura had been offended by the idea of posing as a girl; he already hated being mistaken for one. But the prospect of being able to act like a couple in public, something he'd never had the privilege of before, was too exciting for him to turn down. As awkward as a five person group could be, today's date would have been unthinkable if they went as five males. Wearing a dress was horribly embarrassing, but Sanada seemed to really like it. It reminded the effeminate captain of the days back at the start of junior high, where he'd grown out his hair in an attempt to appear more attractive to his brawny teammate, who'd been rumored to like girls with long hair.

"Fujiko-chan," Yukimura smiled, returning the favor during the dessert course with a bite of his Monte Bianco. Apparently the tensai already had the nickname from some of his teammates.

Afterward they spent at least twenty minutes in the women's restroom, fixing their lipstick and powder and hair, exchanging amused looks as other women going in and out joined them. Since women only used stalls, they didn't have to worry about seeing anything inappropriate. Exiting, they found three teenaged males in a heated debate over who would win the French Open, and Yukimura was about to join in when Fuji grabbed Tezuka's and Atobe's hands with each of his own, and dragged them towards the elevators. Laughing, 'Yuki-chan' took hold of Sanada's, who smiled back at him, making him blush self-consciously. He should definitely dress like this more often, he thought, if Sanada was going to look at him with eyes like that.

Fuji managed to keep hold of Tezuka's hand as they exited the elevators, gliding through the lobby with a true smile on his face. For many years he'd given up hope of even being able to touch the bespectacled brunette again, never mind openly flirting with him in public. Cold night air struck the moment the lobby doors slid open, and the contact was broken as Tezuka took off his coat to drape it on Fuji. The honey haired brunette pulled it around himself with a chuckle, amused by the characteristic act of chivalry.

The station was still quite a ways away, and it was pretty late, as they'd spent almost two hours in the restaurant. They drifted in and out of the remaining open shops, ogling the displays. Saturday nights in Tokyo were far from quiet, though the crowds had changed from daytime shoppers to evening party seekers and bar hoppers. It was an older crowd but younger at the same time, and Yukimura and Atobe fit right in with their attire. But it'd been a long day for the teenagers, who'd all started training around dawn, and they passed along quietly, enjoying the end of their night.

A whistle pierced Yukimura's ears. His eyes swung to catch a group of guys crouched near the edge of an alleyway, whistling at him with leery grins on their stubbled faces. They were older, bigger all around, decked in street clothes, and he heard one of them call, "Nice legs!" Pulling his lips down in disgust, Yukimura looked away with a humph as he walked passed.

"Fine, bitch," the same man sneered, pawing down his spikey bleached hair. Sanada turned with a growl but the dark haired captain yanked him back, shaking his head. The punks were obviously drunk and not worth the trouble.

"Hey, you'll play with us, won't you cutie?" The blonde grabbed Fuji's arm, holding it up with a smirk. The tensai had been walking in back, and now he just stood there stunned, his eyes wide with surprise as he stared at the man holding his wrist.

It happened so fast: suddenly the guy was not anywhere near Fuji, instead he was crashing into a wall. Tezuka stood in his place, fist clenched and arm curled as he drew back after his heavy punch. His expression hadn't really changed, yet somehow he looked more serious, more angry, and more dangerous than he ever had.

"Fucking - !" One of the guy's friends, a redhead with a gap in his teeth swung at Tezuka, who easily dodged, grabbed the arm as it passed his head, and used the man's own momentum to send him tumbling into the alley. A third man, his black hair greased back to match his black leather jacket, jumped in with a punch of his own, but Tezuka deflected this too, side stepping and then tripping the guy so he slammed onto the floor.

Sanada was about to rush in, but Fuji waved him and the others calmly back. "You'll only get in the way," the brunette smiled, as if discussing some class project. "Kunimitsu is third degree black belt-" As if illustrating the explanation, Tezuka front kicked the last guy out of the way, completely unnerved at facing four guys at once. "in Judo. He was trained by his grandfather-" The redhead charged with an angry yell only to get thrust-punched in the face. "-who is an active instructor for the Tokyo metropolitan police."

The one in the leather jacket tried grabbing Tezuka from behind, only to find himself flying to the ground after a sweeping hip throw. The fourth guy had already run away, and the redhead took one more palm thrust to the head before grabbing at his friend on the floor and pulling him away.

Atobe let out a sigh of relief, but suddenly Fuji tensed, his body stiffening like cooled wax.

Then he was gone, dashing at the blonde, who'd been on the ground for most of the fight but was now slinking towards Tezuka, a glint of metal flashing in his hand... but Fuji got to him first. In a blur the tensai grabbed a plank from the side of the ally way, and kicked the man in the back of his knee, knocking him onto the ground. And suddenly everything went from fast forward to frozen, as Fuji's arm, which had been swinging the wooden plank down, stopped dead in the air by the firm grip Tezuka had on his elbow. The blonde jerked his head slowly, wondering what the hell had just happened, to see two rusty nails protruding from the wood, inches from his eyes.

He dropped the knife with a terrified yell, scrambling up and running off, almost tripping over his own feet in his panic. Fuji stood still with the wood still in his hand, his cold, cold eyes still focused on the spot where the blonde had been. He opened his lips as if to say something, then closed them, pressing them thinly together. There was no smile, no mask. Tezuka took the plank from him and cast it aside, kicking the knife aside as well.

Yukimura let go of the breath he didn't know he was holding, the beeping of Atobe's cell phone echoing in his ears, but it was as if all sound had ceased. There might have been sirens, he thought he'd heard someone shout for the police to be called. Fuji's eyes were still open, ice blue and sharp, but he didn't meet anyone's eyes as Tezuka pulled him out of the alley.

"Tezuka, we're running," said Atobe, his voice eerily serious, and the five of them jogged towards a more major street. The limo pulled up to them a few minutes later, and they scrambled inside, feeling relieved as the police sirens faded.

Unable to control his trembling, Yukimura collapsed inside Sanada's comforting embrace, relieved they were going back to Atobe's where they'd left their clothes. The diva was dialing another number, then chatting rapidly on his phone, his voice distressed but still in controlled as he made arrangements for their return. A warm bath and midnight tea were soothing thoughts for the shaken teenagers.

Fuji, though, said nothing, his cool, crystalline eyes staring distantly out the window.

Chapter Text

Fuji was not smiling. He was not even pretending to smile, as he often did. His lips were curved into a cold, calm frown, mirroring the chilling calm within his eyes.

He was quick to change back into his uniform, and was shoving his dressy clothes without a care into his duffel bag. He hadn't spoken a word for the entire limo ride or since.

"What are you doing?" Yukimura hissed, his voice barely under control as he finished tying his bath robe around him, all thoughts of a warm sauna ripped from his mind.

"I'm going home," the brunette finally spoke, his voice dark and hard. It was not a tone Yukimura had heard before, and certainly not one he could allow.

"Our date's not over yet!" The screeching captain tore the bag away from Fuji and dumped its contents all over the floor. The others must have heard the noise, for they rushed in from the hallway where they'd been arguing about the fight.

"I don't want to be here," Fuji stated coldly. "Tezuka was right, this isn't going to work."

His eyes were hidden behind his bangs, but his intentions were clear. All five teens knew that once Fuji left, he wouldn't come back... and then it would be over. Everything.

A heavy chill settled in the room, and Yukimura felt as though his very bones were freezing. His throat dried out along with his eyes, which suddenly refused to close. "...Why," he forced out, unable to stop his voice from trembling. "... At least tell us why..." He'd worked so hard. He wasn't sure if he could succeed, but once they had Tezuka on board he was sure they could work out the little things.

He'd chosen carefully. From the beginning, he'd crafted a net using everything he could - he carefully pursued the ex lover of Sanada's new boyfriend, marveling at his luck that Fuji was clearly still in love with his bespectacled captain. From there, he'd drawn in Atobe, whose resources in both finances and sex would be essential to handling a five man orgy. The diva had pulled Sanada in once before and would be the perfect bait to hook his raven haired vice captain onto the reel. Destiny threw another sword when Yukimura learned that indeed, as he had desperately hoped, Tezuka still had feelings for Fuji - and he'd been ecstatic to discover how deep those feelings really were.

It felt like heaven itself was aiding him in placing the pieces, starting with hooking Sanada up with one of the few people who Yukimura could use to bring him back. They could be together again... and the other three would make up for Yukimura's trauma-induced inability to be the kind of sweet, uke lover that Sanada needed.

From there, he'd simply lined up the pieces, and knotted them all together. But the one piece he always thought he'd have, the kitten he'd claimed easily at the start, was defying him... no, this was something else. This wasn't a Fuji he knew. This wasn't the Fuji he'd spent the last few months with, laughing and hurting and playing and having sex with. This Fuji he couldn't control... this Fuji would not submit... a strong, distant Fuji was the one walking away, and short of truly forcing him down and raping him, this was not a Fuji he could dominate.

"... Syuusuke..." This was the one piece he never imagined he'd lose. Even if he couldn't have Sanada, he was sure that Fuji would be with him.

But the Fuji before him looked up with hard eyes, taking back his bag as he sharply replied, "You saw how I am. I'm a monster."

" . . . " Yukimura's eyes widened as his memories tore back to the dark alley in Shibuya, to the brunette's ice cold eyes and the two glinting nails protruding from the end of the wooden plank in his hand. "...but... you were only trying to defend yourself-"

"No!" Fuji screamed, slamming his bag down. "I was trying to kill him!"

He kicked aside the lady's sandals blocking his path, and it was clear he planned to leave even if he couldn't take anything. He bent over only for his wallet, but Atobe grabbed his wrist as he stood up.

"You saw me," cold eyes turning sharply to the diva, Fuji sneered, "I tried to kill him! I meant to. I wanted to! My father too-!"

At the strength of his glare, even the king of Hyotei faltered, and Fuji swept towards the doorway, which Sanada stood in to block.

"You can't stand there forever," Fuji warned darkly, and even though Sanada was twice his size, the vice captain felt a shiver run down his spine.

Tezuka moved between them, blocking the way as well. "Syuusuke, you're still angry." Only the stoic brunette appeared unaffected, though Fuji smirked cruelly as though he were winning in their battle of glares. "Calm down and explain."

"You too?" Fuji snapped, once he realized his messy haired captain wasn't going to budge. Yukimura was still seething behind him, but the bluenette was too shocked to make any particular move. They were all staring, staring and silent, at the smallest of them who was showing fangs they'd thought unimaginable, and the coldest, sharpest glare... "Isn't this what you wanted? Me to leave? This to end?"

Tezuka chewed out a stiff reply, his fingers curling slightly into a determined fist. "What I want is what's best for you-"

"Why can't you want what's best for you?!" Fuji was practically screaming, his hair seemed to lift from his shoulders with the force of his anger.

"THIS is what's best for me!" Tezuka shouted back. Unlike the others, he had seen this side of Fuji, this was just like back then, the fights they had before they broke up.

"Nothing to do with me can be good for anybody!"

"Just shut up and tell us what's wrong!" Sanada's roar stunned both of the Seigaku players, his firm gaze piercing down like a samurai going into battle. "Sit down, and talk." His voice was still harshly demanding, but more controlled as he nodded towards the bed.

It took a few more minutes, but Fuji finally caved in and sat with a harsh plot, his fingers fisting into the sheets. His ice colored eyes pierced openly into the ground, as he slowly licked his thin, dry lips. He might as well go ahead and tell them, he decided - they'd be too frightened afterward anyway, or disgusted, or whatever... to bother him after that. He didn't want to imagine what would happen to the four of them after that, but he knew it would be better than if he stayed.

"You saw me. You saw what I'm really like. I'm not sweet, nor frail. I almost killed him."

Tiny lips curled into a tight, malicious smile. "I'm not even sorry about it. If anything, I'm sorry I couldn't-"

"That was self-defense!" Yukimura cried, his voice finally cracking. He was so tired, so anxious and stressed after the fight and Fuji's defiance, and a wash of gratefulness came over him as Sanada's warm, large palm squeezed his shoulder in support.

"Was it?" Fuji lightly chuckled, but it wasn't kind, or amused, or even upset. It was a cold, empty laugh, the kind that clearly said he was laughing at you, not with you... "He was already down. I could have knocked him out easily. Or just waited for Tezuka to come in, since the knife was already pushed aside. But if I did that..." He lifted his chin, his crescent shaped grin facing up towards the ceiling, his eyes eerily hidden. "... then I wouldn't be able to get back at him, for what he almost did to Tezuka. Just stopping him wasn't enough. I had to teach him a lesson..."

"Fuji," Tezuka cut in, his deep voice rumbling against the cold. "You aren't like that, stop pretending-"

"You don't know what I'm like." Fuji's voice was quiet, yet sharper than steel. "You don't know what I'm like. I'm a monster." His eyes widened till they bulged, his pupils shrinking as if he saw into himself. "I'm a monster like my father.

"You don't know what things I've done. What things I can do." His grin widened, his lips parting slightly, an empty, endless darkness held between them. "I can hate as strongly as I can love. And when I hate, oh god, what I can do when I hate..."

Letting out a venomous chuckled, he enjoyed the shocked silence that sat around him. It was just as he thought - so ironic, that they wanted him to talk, and now were regretting it. He had to make it clear, though, who he was, what he was, to make them permanently leave him alone. Otherwise they'd later deceive themselves, once again, into thinking he was some sweet, innocent kitten, the way he always pretended to be, the way he'd even convinced himself he was, but tonight had been a reminder of everything he had shoved to the back of his subconscious, of the part of himself he kept hidden, deep within the darkness...

"It's different from just wanting to hurt someone. I'm not outraged, like Tezuka, or fighting to prove I'm in control, like Yukimura. I don't get some sort of sadistic pleasure out of it, and I'm very good at keeping my head cool, even when... even more so when I'm angry." He laughed, loudly, as if this was the most hilarious thing he'd ever heard. "My head is too cold, too ... calculating. I plot these various scenarios... it's not like planning, the way Inui does with his data, but I get a sense of what I need to do, what I want to do. I'll have several in my head before I even make my move. I think of different ways to tear them apart, to make them suffer, slowly, painfully, before finishing them off in the worst possible way.

"It doesn't mean killing them, oh no, they can suffer much more greatly the longer their alive. So no, you're correct in thinking I have yet to kill anyone, but I have made people suffer. Mizuki... Kirihara... those were just child's games, something fun to do with tennis, since I was bored with them anyway. But that time... him... I really almost killed him.

"My father... I almost killed him."

A rush of air escaped his mouth, as he suddenly felt something crack. He didn't know if it was his mind, or his heart, or his voice, but something... broke. The secret. The story his family had him practice, had practiced over and over with him, about what happened. He hadn't bothered to tell his lovers the lie, but he hadn't told them the truth, either.

The ice that held the secret cracked.

But the silence in the room grew more frozen as it did.

"That night... when Father hit Yuuta...

"My mother was drying a cast iron pan on the stove. I was so little, I could barely reach it, and it was so heavy, I could barely carry it. But it was strange, because that night, I didn't feel the weight at all. I calmly took the pan from the stove, and there my father was, leaning over Yuuta who was barely conscious, and before he could hit Yuuta again...

"I hit him.

"I hit him first, with the pan. Not just once. Once was only enough to stun him. I hit him again. And again. And again. And again. In my mind, in my memory, I hit him so many times, it was endless. He was unconscious long before I was done... before my mother and sister grabbed me and the pan and forced it to stop.

"I wasn't just trying to stop him. I was killing him. I wanted him dead. It wasn't something noble, like I was trying to save us from being hurt by him again. I just hated him. Hated him for hitting Yuuta, even though it was just once."

His eruption of laughter this time was shaky, as if whatever he'd been holding in was spilling out, boiling out like hot lava, all over the air, cracking the ice, the ice... "It's so funny, you wouldn't know. My family made up this story, when we took him to the hospital, about him banging his head on a large gardening shovel. It was so laughable, and so obviously a lie, yet no one questioned it. He had a serious concussion, he couldn't see for almost a week, and he had so much care but Yuuta was kept at home, hidden while his own head injury recovered, which wasn't bad but left that nasty scar from being untreated. So even then I-"

"Syuusuke." Tezuka's hand was on his cheek, cupping it warmly as if he were some sort of cherub, wiping at nonexistent tears as if a demon like him needed comforting-

"I tried to kill him!" Fuji screeched, jumping away hysterically, horrified that his story wasn't getting through. "I tried to murder him, like I did to that man today-"

Two lithe hands grabbed each of his cheeks, and Yukimura kissed him so hard he couldn't breath, let along speak. The sadist's message was loud and clear - Shut up.

Fuji's lips trembled as his blue haired lover pulled away. He was sure he couldn't cry, not when he felt this cold, this dark, but maybe he was. Maybe there were tears running down his cheeks and he just couldn't tell. Maybe they were dry, invisible tears, that everyone but him could feel, could see. His hands shook erratically, and his throat shook too, even though it was so dry. "But I loved him. I loved my father. I still love him. Just as I love each of you. I hated him at that moment but every other moment I loved him, and yet I still -"

"You still didn't kill him." Tezuka's voice was warm, even when it was the same flat tone as always.

"You don't know how cold I am. When I think of it, of different ways, so logically-"

"Yes, I know," his captain calmly replied. "You really are a genius, and I know that. You could have killed him. If you really wanted to - that night, or later at the hospital, any time, really. If you had really wanted him dead, he'd be dead.

"But he isn't. You stopped on your own."

"But I wanted to! I tried to. I imagined him dead-"

"Do you think you're the only one like that?!" Sanada shouted, but at least he wasn't roaring like before. He just wanted to be heard. "Do you think you're the only one who's ever wanted revenge?!"

"Fuji, everyone gets angry when someone they care about is hurt," Atobe interjected. "Most of us don't have the capacity or the brain power to do anything about it, the way you do, but we would if we could. If someone hurt you, I'd want to kill him too."

Sanada added with a growl, "If I ever get my hands on that nurse..."

Shaking his head, Fuji protested, "but there's a difference between wanting to and actually-"

"But you didn't kill anyone," Tezuka repeated firmly. "You stopped. You waited for me. You waited for me to stop you. And with your father - if you really wanted him dead, he would be dead by now. That time... when your mother and sister reached out to stop you..."

Biting his lower lip, Fuji shook his head. "They... were frightened... of me...otherwise... they would have stopped me sooner..."

"No," Yukimura traced his cheek in disagreement. "They were probably hoping you'd succeed. They stopped you not to protect your father, but to protect you... and even then, you could have finished him before they stepped in."

"It wasn't luck that saved your father, Syuusuke," Tezuka's hazel eyes held wide blue ones in a confident match. "It was you."

The tensai didn't know why this was happening. He didn't know why they were acting like this, making excuses for him. He didn't know why they struggled so much to accept him, even as his darkness spilled out before them, blanketing their light.

"I destroyed my family. My father left because of me. He started beating us because I was rebellious. My brother left because I crumpled his dreams. My mother pretends to be my friend, but really she just wants to be with my father. My sister just sees me as a child, otherwise she'd hate me too-"

"Your mother loves you," Yukimura gently smiled, his gracefulness smoothing away the anxiety and uncertainty that'd filled the room before. "She may not know how to express it, and it might be awkward for her to be close to you, after what happened. But she loves you, anyone could tell..."

"Everyone has someone they want to murder." Reaching towards his beloved, the bespectacled captain took Fuji's hand and pressed it to his chest, tacitly asking for his trust. "And the reasons we don't, the reasons we stop are the same reasons as for you."

"But I'm scared," cried Fuji in a tiny voice. "I'm scared of myself."

A small, rare smile crept onto Tezuka's lips, as he drew Fuji's body against his own. "You're not alone."

He's scary.

They were the words of a spectator, who'd seen Fuji's match with Kirihara. Maybe that was why Fuji made you want to control him, wrung out the slightest bit of sadism you never knew you had. Tezuka, and in a way Yukimura, had lost it because of him, had been driven mad with the need to force him to submit, perhaps because somewhere deep within them, they knew he never really did. Fuji was always the one ultimately in control.

The strong sensed the strong - Fuji drew men like Tezuka and the other captains to him like moths to an open flame. The more he feigned weakness, the more they wanted him; they all wanted to test that illusion of delicacy, to challenge that small, lithe body as a way of challenging themselves. The strong grew stronger by finding rivals, and in a way, Fuji was the ultimate rival - he was unbeatable, since he never really played. If you won against someone who wasn't at his full strength, how could you feel satisfied?

But there was no helping it. Fuji simply wasn't motivated to fight, except when others were on the line; he didn't care about his own pain, and so he took all the abuse, willingly, until his body grew to expect it, to enjoy it. The one person Fuji could never understand was himself.

Tezuka carried Fuji over to the bed, the tensai's arms and legs wrapped around him like a koala. He set his smaller teammate down gently, kissing him deeply at the same time. Their tongues danced around each other, one hesitant and pained, the other reassuring and confident. Large hands stroked the lithe one's sides, gingerly slipping off the white shirt that hid pale, smooth skin. A click and a zipper later, and then the black pants were being tugged off as well.

Something very suspiciously smile-like tugged the corners of Tezuka's lips as he bemusedly removed the girl's panties that Fuji had tucked his manhood into, thumbing the little pink bow in the center of the classic whities.

Maybe they could have talked more, but for all his ingenious brain and thoughts and articulation, Fuji responded much better to being shown physically how another person felt. His mind needed love, and so they'd pass it through by loving his body.

The other three stepped patiently out to the balcony, as Tezuka tenderly caressed and kissed and licked every inch of his lover's skin, leaving little hickeys here and there to remind the tensai that he was claimed, once again, by his captain. This was the one right reason to be in a relationship - Tezuka, in every way, loved and was in love with Fuji, and he wanted to show it to him within this moment. The past didn't matter, the future didn't matter, all they needed to worry about was now, as two saliva slicked digits pushed into the tensai's hole.

Fuji mewled and his hips thrust up into the air as he was instantly widened, the invading fingers scissoring apart to allow a third to be added. Tezuka licked across his lover's cheek, enjoying the heavy blush that appeared there, amused that despite all his lost innocence, Fuji could still be shy about quickly initiated sex.

Covering the smaller body with his own, Tezuka simply undid his pants, knowing the others would only be willing to wait so long. Directing Fuji to wrap his legs around his waist, the bespectacled captain continued to deliver deep, slow kisses, as he pressed his rigid flesh inside. The tensai bucked and whimpered into Tezuka's mouth as his body struggled to accept the dry invasion, but after a few pets and some very distracting tongue work, he managed to relax with a heavy sigh.

Tezuka moved with slow, erotic thrusts, working to remember the pace they used to share, working to regain those perfect angles and motions they had had before. It was a heaven he had forgotten, he was so deep inside his beloved, his cock was all the way to the hilt, then he would pull out almost entirely and thrust all the way back in. Below him, Fuji moaned, cried, screamed, laughed... tears spilled down his cheeks which were scrunched up into a smile. Tezuka was sure he had never felt so happy, nor felt so right before, and he was able to slow his pace, enjoy every second as he built up to his climax, wanting the moment to never end.

Syuusuke was calling out his name, calling Kunimitsu, and it sounded like a beautiful bird's song as they both shuddered, cried out, and came.

"Syuusuke," Tezuka whispered between kisses, as they panted down from their elation, "I love you."

Yukimura's lips stretched into a feral grin as he stepped over to the bed, amused by Tezuka's imprints still pressed into the mattress. Shimmering blue eyes looked up at him, and Fuji's body rolled rapidly up and down like waves as he lay panting and flushed after cuming.

Already the tensai shivered from the cold of parting, his reddened skin welcoming Yukimura's warm hands as they lay upon him. They were gentle, even as they rubbed up the brunette's arms and drew his hands towards the head of the bed, directing the smaller youth to grip the metal bar that crossed there.

"Hold," Yukimura ordered, as he disappeared for a moment to return with a few treasures from the trunk he stored here.

"I believe you've been misunderstanding some things about our relationship," the captain spoke calmly as he wove rope around the tensai's upper arms and hands, securing them skillfully to the bar. "That I've always wanted to make clear." He tested the binding, wasn't quite satisfied, and started over. "I'm not here to hurt you. I'm here to control you.

"I decide what you get, not you. If you want pain, I'll give you pleasure." Another tug, and a little smile on his lips showed that he was done. "If you want pleasure, I'll deny it with a cock ring." He showed off his second toy, a black rubber circle hooped around his finger. "Right now, you want me to take you, which is why you're so hard here-" He stroked Fuji's stiff manhood, smirk growing as he rolled the restricting loop on, enjoying the whimpers for mercy that came in response.

"I was thinking that it's been a while since we last played, so I bought this," he held up a large, black painted dildo that had two bumps like teddy bear ears at the tip, "which I believe is the perfect way to deny you."

The second Fuji parted his lips to protest, a white handkerchief was shoved into his mouth, which Yukimura tied into place with a cloth gag and an impish smile.

"It looks about Genichirou's size, don't you think?" The captain chuckled, "Or maybe a little bigger. The nice thing is..." Fitting the cock shaped tube into its intended place, he demonstrated as he spoke, "-it can go in all the way."

The pulsating hole was forced to swallow the tubular piece all the way to the plastic balls at the base, Fuji's back arching reflexively to the onslaught. His only relief was Tezuka having taken him moments before, otherwise he was sure the oversized dildo would have torn him apart.

"And it vibrates so nicely."

The bluenette added a few extra touches - a pair of nipple clips that pinched each nub into a hard little peak, and a black leather collar pulled just a little tight, enough to put a bit of pressure on his captive's windpipe - then sat back and whistled approvingly at his work. Those cerulean eyes were begging, spilling needy tears, reddened skin covering every exposed inch of the tensai's body as he bucked wildly in a impossible attempt for self-satisfaction.

Yukimura amused himself for a bit by rubbing his captive's cock with his hand, thumbing off pre-cum and humming along with the muffled moans of his favorite victim.

"I was going to play with you more, but actually, I'm feeling quite tired. I had a bit of play time myself with the tango pair over there," he signed longingly to himself as he remembered, "and anyway, my turn is just about up." He brushed himself off as he stood, and gave Fuji's jerking leg one last hard pinch to the thigh before stepping away.

"It's your loss, today," he waved, as he disappeared out onto the balcony, leaving the honey haired tensai squirming and gagged.

Seeing the incubus with his hands tied up over his head and wiggling helplessly made Sanada snort. He understood now that Fuji allowed this to happen, and though he would never want it for himself, so long as the tensai enjoyed it, it was good that someone could accept Seiichi's horribly sadistic impulses.

And the burly vice captain would be lying to his libido if he didn't admit that seeing the struggling, pink glowing masochist bound and leaking was making him hard as hell.

The clips were making his own nipples ache just looking at them, so those were the first things Sanada removed, then he carefully loosened the collar and set it aside. He turned off the vibration with the small chord coming out of the dildo, but left the pseudo cock in place while he pulled out the gag. Fuji coughed and sobbed, bucking slowly in need as Sanada drew him close and caressed his hair.

"Ri...ring-" Fuji choked, his arms jerking and pulling at his binds.

Sanada smirked lightly to himself as he gave a simple, "No." The tensai looked like he was ready to pass out the moment he came, and the dark eyed student had no intention of letting things end just yet. He slowly pulled out the dildo, enjoying the relieved gasp from the brunette, whose cock jabbed needily into his abs.

"It's better if it's real and warm, ahn?"

Fuji froze in surprise as Atobe slipped into the bed on his other side, spooning him from behind.

"You couldn't wait, could you?" Sanada snorted, though he sounded suspiciously pleased.

"My prowess will demonstrate the pleasure of flesh over plastic," Atobe drawled. His pants slid off in one smooth motion, and he kicked them off the side of the bed, unveiling his manhood at full mast. He pulled Fuji's ass up against his hips, and didn't hesitate as he pushed his length into the tensai's dripping, cum filled hole.

"There's - there's no way!" Fuji cried in panic as Sanada pulled his legs up and wrapped them around his waist. Already the diva was deep inside, touching the brunette's spot, making his cock ache even worse against the cock ring, and now he could feel Sanada's massive erection poking between his butt cheeks.

"N-no - please...aaaa..." His screams turned voiceless as his hole was forced open to accommodate two dicks, and fuck, Sanada had only shoved the head in but Fuji felt as if the world was being forced into him. The pressure was mind blowing and he was sure if he hadn't already died he would the moment - "AAAAH!" - they moved.

Fuji had never stretched so far, his insides had never been so full, and until that moment he would never have believed he could take so much of someone... two someones... god! Sanada had a completely different pace from Atobe, and they were both moaning louder than elephants as they pulled in and out, rubbing against each other and the tight walls of tissue. They struggled to go in as deeply as usual but a few times they were both in all the way, and it was heaven and hell for all three of them.

Fuji's throat was almost dead from screaming but he still choked out, begged them to remove the cock ring, begged them to let him come. He needed them to stop, needed them to keep going, needed them to both move, faster, slower, something, he needed less but wanted more, and when Atobe finally jerked and came, and Sanada rolled off the rubber, Fuji screamed and came so hard, he blacked out before his orgasm even finished.

His consciousness floated in and out, he felt like he could see himself on the bed, envision the two men he was pinned between, both with their bodies and their cocks, see and feel them caressing him and calling him down with gentle rubs. There were so many hands all over him and he wondered how many nights were going to end up like this, how many times they would make love to him with this extreme intensity, how long it would really last.

He could see himself whispering to Atobe, as though he were outside of his own body, "It can't last, you know that better than any of us." But the diva kissed him, eyes laughing as he asked if, at the moment, any of them really cared.

"We just want it to be this way," Sanada seemed to be saying, though Fuji was sure he was asleep now, yet he could still see and hear everything, not just what was around them, but everything they had been through, all that they had shared with each other and all that they were trying to overcome, the five of them in the future, each with his own path and own desires, still reaching, reaching for each other because they needed, because they needed one another...

Moonlight spilled onto the balcony, hiding the dimmer stars in the sky while casting a revealing glow on those watching it below. Yukimura leaned against the banister, his dark blue orbs reflecting the large token of silvery light. He shivered slightly in the midnight cold, but refused the blanket Tezuka tried to wrap around him as Seigaku's captain joined him on the terrace.

They stood silently for quite some time, enjoying the nighttime quiet slashed by the yells and moans from the room. Once the noise tapered down, they settled serenely into the cool darkness, each lost in meditation.

Ironically, the stoic brunette broke the tacit still, murmuring, "Thank you."

Yukimura turned to him with a raised brow. "For what?"


Tezuka stared towards the moon, his glasses glinting in the light, making him difficult to read. The bluenette sighed internally, remembering the little trick Fuji had taught him, about imagining what the bespectacled spartan wanted to say.

Thank you for this. For whatever this is. I'm not sure if it's right, and I don't trust that it can truly work out all the way to the end. But I know that for now, this... all of us together, can heal him...

Maybe it was right. Yukimura felt that, just a little, he was beginning to understand.

"You knew I still loved with him," Tezuka added quietly.

The bluenette shook his head. "I knew he was still in love with you, and that's all that mattered."

"Ah," nodded the other.

Yukimura had been watching him closely, his controlled exterior that never really broke, not even when he was angry or during sex. Even now, though he had supposedly lost, now that he had accepted this new path of fate, Tezuka stood without hesitation, his eyes stable and looking forward.

"Why are you always so confident?"

"Because the future will come, whether we go to it or not."

No matter the direction, there was commitment. This was the man who was always winning, even when he lost.

"I see..." Yukimura sighed, wishing for some of that ability for renewal to be his. He took the blanket from Tezuka's arms and draped it over his head and shoulders, hiding all but his eyes within the warm fibers.

They would heal him, too. They would all heal together.

Tezuka's fingers brushed his hand, and they returned inside to join the others on the bed.

Chapter Text

0. Sadism

"There's just something that makes you want to hurt him," Yukimura sighed.

They watched as Fuji held Tezuka's glasses tucked carefully behind his back, giving random directions to the captain who groped blindly around the bed to find them.

Comment: During the writing of FATWR, a number of plot bunnies came to me that I just couldn't fit in. I never managed to get Atobe's backstory in... it just didn't fit in with the flow of the plot. There were also a few shorts that appeared in the adult ff posting.

- Written a long time ago but takes place sometime after the story -

1. Rehabilitation

He touched his back, laying each hand just below the shoulder blades. Immediately the bluenette tensed and went rigid, and even though Sanada didn't move further, the effeminate captain started shaking. Concern marring his face, Fuji quietly called, "Seiichi..." and took the trembling boy's hands in his own.

Sanada slowly started moving, rubbing his hands in circles before drawing them down to encircle Yukimura's waist. The bluenette's breathing became louder and more labored every second as he struggled to control his reactions. Sanada gently pulled him back to draw them together...

"Iya!" Yukimura screamed, swinging his arm in a flash that no one could stop, his fingers slashing across Fuji's face. The tensai fell back, caught by Atobe a foot away. Sanada gripped the bluenette's wrist to stop him from striking again. He grabbed his other arm too when it tried to lash out.

"Don't-" cried Fuji, but he was too late. Yukimura screamed and struggled, getting progressively worse as Sanada tried to hold onto him from behind. Tezuka joined in and together they wrestled him onto the bed. The lithe youth was shockingly strong, or rather he was using his full strength as he thrashed beneath them, screaming and crying.

They held him down for what felt like forever, until finally his muscles gave out and he went limp, sobbing and barely conscious.

"What happened," asked Atobe, once the bluenette was totally asleep. The gentle rise and fall of his chest was heartbreaking, and Sanada hid his face against the bed but a tear glinted from the edge of his cheek.

Fuji shook his head. "His body reacted, and then when he was restrained the way his body remembers, he couldn't handle it. The longer he's forced, the worse it gets... he's still fighting, even now. It's really a sign of how strong he is, to keep trying to fight even after... it was done."

"But we're not going to hurt him," stated Tezuka. "He needs to trust us and let go."

"Easier said than done," the tensai sighed. "It's not like he's not trying. He just can't accept what happened, and why should he?"

"You'd let him beat you till he was satisfied," Atobe hissed. Fuji stayed silent at the accusation, closing his eyes.

"There must be a way," said Tezuka. He helped Sanada draw the bluenette to the side of the bed, arranging him on his back the way he liked. It was actually very cute, the way the two most masculine of their group carefully laid his head on a pillow and drew of covers.

"It'll take time," said Fuji simply.

"Don't give up," Sanada told the sleeping beau, still holding his hand. The other three left the Rikkaidai members alone, whispering to each other and slipping away. The vice captain slipped under the covers next to his leader, laying on his side without caring about the discomfort, stroking dark blue locks away from his beloved's face.

Maybe he only dreamed it, but he felt his hand lightly squeezed, and thought he heard a whisper...

"I promise."

- Concepts written long ago (2009), fleshed out recently (2011) -

2. Announcement

The next few months flew by like a sparrow, swift and unnoticed. Fuji knew he had to deal with this, now before the others caught on. He saw all the signs, read Atobe's behavior and knew the diva was growing nervous. The more compatible and comfortable the five of them became with the relationship, the more the elitist became aware of how much a part he was of their five way commitment.

Again, Fuji caught him eyeing the high school freshmen as they played out ranking matches, and with a different type of interest than just selecting regulars. The brunette swept in front of his smirking lover, blocking his view of the window. He was glad for Atobe's private box, for once. He still couldn't believe Hyoutei rented out a professional tennis stadium just for its school's ranking tournament.

"You have to stay loyal," Fuji chided, quietly but firmly. The diva grimaced in annoyance, both at the interruption and the accusation. I know what you're thinking, the tensai tacitly added, determination swirling in his cerulean orbs.

"It's been three months," Atobe drawled, waving his hand dismissively as he draped back in his lounge chair. "A little speck of dirt will be a good test-"

"Stop running away!" Fuji urged, not loudly or angrily, but with anguish. "Please, don't do this. Don't test us; don't push us away."

"Why not?" sneered the captain, his knuckles turning white as his hands clenched the armrests. "You have Tezuka, Yukimura has Sanada - I have no place amongst the four of you."

"Even though there's five of us, this is still a closed relationship." The brunette stood firmly against the wealthy heir's threatening glare.

"Hmph," the diva snorted. "You can't stop me. And then what will you do? Will you inadvertently dump me the way you did Tachibana and Shiraishi, by setting me up with my one true love?"

Sighing, Fuji emitted softly, "Your one true love is sleeping with the candy lover from Rikkaidai."

For a second, Atobe's eyes widened in a sort of horrified surprise - then he started laughing. "You think," he spurted between chuckles, "You think, Jiroh..." He crossed his legs, relaxing as he drowned in his own laughter. "Give me a break. Jiroh is the only one who's slept in my bed but not with me."

Fuji stayed quite, frowning sadly as he waited for Atobe to stop. The executive to-be was almost crying from laughing so hard, his fingers curled and pressed against his lips as he gasped for breath. When the diva finally brought his chortles to rest, his grin fell and the light of his eyes dimmed with his breathing.

"... Jiroh's not like you," the diva murmured darkly. "He has to marry the one he loves - male or female. That's the kind of person he is."

Shaking his head, Fuji shrugged off the quip, breathing slowly to keep himself calm. He was the only one of them that could fight this battle, he knew - and he had to do it now, before Atobe panicked and did something irreversible. "Keigo... you don't have to run away from us. This relationship is different... we can do this. We can make this work. I believe that now..."

"I have a fiancée," Atobe spoke coldly, his gaze turning sharp as he glared at the brunette.

"She doesn't count," Fuji stated, refusing to accept any more excuses. "She knows about you and about all of us, and besides, she has her own lover."

"I should have never introduced you two," Atobe spat bitterly, turning away to stare at the tv screen to his right, showing the game from an eye level view. But his dark sapphire eyes were clearly not focused on the match.

"Her family has as much to gain from this as yours," Fuji reminded him. "In a way, she'll benefit even more than you. She'll put up with it, just as she has so far."

"We'll still have sex," Atobe growled, his glare turned vicious as he grew irate. "There's no point otherwise."

"She won't sleep with you, and you know it," Fuji snapped back. "Your children will be conceived in a test tube. Both families will have an heir and be satisfied."

The diva was trembling, angry the tensai knew not at him but at the responsibilities he'd soon have to face. Fuji stepped forward slowly, gently draping himself on Atobe's lap and soothing away the lines of resentment crinkled around his lover's eyes with small kisses.

"The announcement is next week. The day after our graduation."

Breathing in sharply, Fuji clenched his fist, dug his nails into his palm as he refused to give up.

"Then you'll have to tell them soon, before they hear it from someone else."

From the grimace that crossed Atobe's face, Fuji knew he was imagining their other lovers' reactions.

"They won't accept it."

"Not at first," Fuji agreed, but his voice was unwavering. "They'll be angry, but they'll deal with it, each in his own way. They won't leave you. We won't leave you."

"I'm getting married, Fuji, at eighteen. I'll graduate at twenty-two, and take over as vice president of Atobe Corps. The truth... our relationship will have to be kept secret, covered up."

"Then it's a good thing there's five of us," the brunette smiled, "because a fivesome is so ridiculous, no one will believe it."

Atobe scowled, eyes looking away as his mote of excuses dried up.

"Keigo," Fuji whispered, petting curling strands of silver hair as he drew his face close to the diva's. "There will be times that this will hurt us, but we'd be far more hurt knowing you're all alone, trapped in an arranged marriage. We love you. I love you. I won't let you be unhappy."

Hyoutei's captain remained silent, burying his face in Fuji's shirt as they hugged.

"Who will you pick for your best man?" Fuji joked quietly.

"... You'd make a better bride's maid," the diva snorted, recovering his wit as he finally relaxed.

"I look good in a tux," pouted the brunette, puffing his cheeks indignantly.

"... I wasn't planning on inviting anyone," came the whispered reply.

Lips curling into a smile, Fuji bent down to soothe his lover with a kiss.

"We're here for you."

- Written before Part 1 -

3. Clue

One of the problems with having a boyfriend with no expressions was that he was impossible to read.

That didn't matter for Sanada, though, since he already was terrible at reading people anyway.

All in all, he never knew what Tezuka wanted or was thinking.

"What's wrong?" Tezuka's stern, flat tone didn't match his words.

Jolted out of his thoughts, Sanada turned to face his boyfriend and shook his head. "It's nothing. I was just wondering where we should go today."

The reason Sanada was struggling so much was because he was trying to figure out where to take Tezuka on a date. He wasn't much of a romantic, and neither was Tezuka, but still, he wanted to take the stoic captain somewhere he would enjoy.

"Ah," was the only response he got. Great, that didn't help at all.

"I was considering an amusement park, or perhaps the zoo." Sanada watched Tezuka closely, but the brunette's expression never changed. As he expected.

"... If that's what you'd like."

Hmm. A five word response. Maybe that pause was a clue to something. Sanada mentally checked through the list Yanagi had given him before... amusement parks and zoos he crossed off, then decided to filter out aquariums, shopping, and fairs while he was at it.

"Perhaps we could go to a parlor for ice cream, or coffee, and then go-" Oh great, he was about to suggest they go to his house afterward. Way to look like slime, he thought with a grimace.

Sanada had sworn to himself that he wouldn't push Tezuka too fast. After everything with Yukimura, he was determined to keep his libido under control. He'd been lucky, very lucky, that Tezuka had accepted him at all - their first date, which was a simple walk in the park; their second date, in which they met for tennis and dinner, and now, their third... and he had been good about not forcing a kiss on the conservative youth, but he'd decided that today was time for a step up.

Thus, today's date had to be very, very special.

Except he hadn't even planned what they would do.

"I ..."

Sanada turned quickly towards Tezuka, a small amount of nervousness in his hands, as he waited for whatever the bespectacled brunette had to say.

"I enjoyed walking in the park."

Sanada's eyes widened slightly, as he realized that there would be no more. And yet in a small sentence, Tezuka had said so much.

"Alright... I also liked the park. Though it'll be cold this time of year..." He glanced at Tezuka and was rewarded with a small affirmative nod. So he was right. "There's Million Gardens Park only a few stations from here. It should be quite now, and there's a comfortable cafe nearby."

They started walking towards the station, tacit yet comfortable. A small smile graced Tezuka's lips, which Sanada returned. Perhaps Tezuka was not so difficult to read after all.

-written on a tiny piece of paper in 2009, then typed up and edited in 2011-

4. Vocation

Fuji went with Tezuka to Wimbledon. Unfortunately (in his boyfriends' eyes), he went as his personal photographer, not a rival player. Atobe booked front row tickets, of course, but they all knew he'd be on his phone making business calls anytime Tezuka wasn't playing. Yukimura and Sanada couldn't get enough time off work to make the trip to England worthwhile, but they promised to watch on television. It was envious, in a way, because that meant they'd get to cum while watching Tezuka take points from his opponents.

They didn't know how Fuji had the time. The tensai always seemed to be on a vacation. They'd talked about it once when he wasn't around, and realized they weren't really sure what he did.

Yukimura thought he was a psychologist. The bluenette insisted he saw a diploma from Hitotsubashi University arrive in the mail, though no one knew where or how the brunette had taken classes. But Yukimura checked the system at work and confirmed the tensai was licensed.

Atobe thought Fuji wrote articles for an art magazine, though his magazines always disappeared so he never had proof. But he'd seen Fuji's name on them, he insisted, and as an editor for a few other classy artistic media subscriptions.

Tezuka seemed to think Fuji didn't write the articles but took the accompanying pictures. They had a few photography collection books they thought were his released under an alias, but he neither confirmed nor denied anything when they confronted him about it directly. All he said was that he really liked the one with the giraffe eating the little boy's hair.

Sanada didn't think Fuji had a job at all. Fuji didn't need the money, the black haired seme pointed out - Fuji always slept at one of their places, kept his things at his parents' house, and didn't seem to have his own apartment. He ate like a bird and probably lived just fine off gifts from Keigo, and could have lived off spots of income from articles or photography. But he paid his own travel and health expenses, and though he always cooked or hand made gifts from them, Atobe pointed out that the materials he used were far from cheap.

Finally, before Yukimura pulled the brunette's hair out, they ran to Fuji's sister and asked what he did for work.

"He likes to be a mystery," Yumiko replied, after saying she didn't know herself. Her demeanor was so calm they couldn't tell if she was lying to them. "He finds it amusing hearing people guess."

After all, Fuji was sadistic like Yukimura, but in a very different way.

- Written after Part 12 -

5. Gift

He tested the ribbon when he bought it. It was strong enough that you needed a scissors to cut it, but it was still only ribbon.

The wide red streamer wrapped nicely around the sleeping boy's wrists. Fuji struggled awake, but by the time he was fully conscious it was too late. Using his knees, the sadistic captain pinned down his captive's legs and chest, trying the ribbon to the bed post in a big perfect bow.

"I warned you not to sleep in on Christmas day," Yukimura told him pleasantly. His friendly smile matched his Santa hat.

So this was the reason the bluenette always insisted Fuji sleep naked, so that he could be ambushed before waking. Within minutes, the effeminate brunette was covered in red ribbons, constricting his arms and legs in an erotic spread.

Folding a short strip in half, Yukimura slid on a pink bell, then tied it around the brunette's rising cock. Very amused, the star tennis player wrapped a ribbon over Fuji's mouth, then eyes, then neck. Leaning back, he frowned as he realized he'd over done the amount, the ribbons covering more than half of Fuji's body. Oh well.

He fingered the tip of Fuji's cock for a bit, enjoying the sound of the bell as it twitched, before getting bored and leaving for his morning run. Fuji twisted and whimpered behind his gag when he realized he was being abandoned, the bell ringing along in protest. Yukimura decided to take a nice hot shower after his run.

Tezuka came in a little bit later, having finished his morning jog and shower rituals, only to find a mass of ribbon and Fuji squirming on the bed.

Heart quickening, he swiftly pulled off the makeshift blind fold, revealing pleading blue eyes with a slight trail of moisture on thick lower lashes. The jingle of a bell drew his attention, but once he saw where it was he tried his best to ignore it and focused on removing the ribbons.

He was about to remove the gag when he noticed the choker around Fuji's neck, not tight enough to suffocate but clearly too much for comfort. He pulled on the end of the bow, but instead of releasing, the ribbon jerked against Fuji's throat, eliciting a muffled choking noise. The bow had been tied wrong, Tezuka realized, so that it tightened instead of coming undone.

'No, it was on purpose,' he reminded himself with a grimace. He tested the gag and found it had been mis-tied as well.

"Where's the scissors?" He growled, not meaning to take out his anger on Fuji but unable to stop his fist from forming.

Fuji shook his head, the bell around his manhood jingling with impatience. Tezuka couldn't stand it anymore and pulled it off, a gagged moan erupting as the weeping length was teased.

He glanced around, but saw no sign that Yukimura had left whatever scissors he'd been using in the room. He could always run around looking for one, but that meant leaving Fuji by himself, and all he had with him was the pocket knife he used on trips with his dad.

Realizing that was the best he could do, he pulled his keys out of his pocket, unable to stop his hand from shaking as he opened the tiny blade. It was sharp but barely an inch and a half long, not enough to be seriously threatening, but still...

"...This is all I have," he said, showing the tensai.

Fuji nodded calmly; his eyes clearly saying, 'I trust you.'

'I know you do,' Tezuka thought in respond, 'more than I trust myself.'

"Hold still." His voice was so calm, despite the terror he felt inside. He cut the pseudo-gag away first, nicking the edge and cutting up its width, relieved that it came apart so smoothly.

Once his mouth was freed, Fuji didn't speak but his lips hung open; he seemed to focus on breathing, little gasping noises accompanying each breath, making Tezuka worry about how long he'd been like this.

Gulping, he traced the edge of the choker, coming to the horrifying realization that he'd have to tug it away from the skin to cut it without cutting Fuji. He'd have to just do it.

The ribbon naturally tightened as he swiftly fingered up its edge, and he forced himself not to panic when Fuji's eyes rolled back into his head, possibly a sign of blacking out as his throat was compressed. An audible sigh of relief escaped the stoic brunette as he managed to slice it off quickly but carefully.

Fuji gasped and panted hard to regain breath as the ribbon fell away, and Tezuka cut off the wrist bindings with much less pressure. The moment he recovered, Fuji half-jumped his savior, wrapping his arms and legs around Tezuka and kissing him with a desperate passion. The honey-haired youth ground his aching hardness against Tezuka's already well-awakened one. His body language made it clear that he wanted it, and he wanted it now.

He'd already come to suspect how much the brunette enjoyed the choking sensation, though he couldn't fathom why, but Fuji's hardness and leaking pre-cum was evidence enough. He'd watched but never participated in Yukimura and Atobe's play with whips and ropes, though he stepped in if he felt they went too far. Fuji never complained either way, and Sanada's appetite for voyeurism had only grown since their first fivesome. Not that Tezuka didn't enjoy it himself - he just felt too guilty every time he saw Fuji in pain to fall to the tantalizing sadomasochism the rest of his lovers had.

Fuji was impatiently rocking his hips, urging Tezuka to hurry up before he came without him. The hazel eyed captain barely had time to unzip his pants, pushing down his boxers, knowing he wouldn't manage to get his clothes off any further. Fuji grabbed his hand and started sucking on his fingers, lathering them with as much saliva as he could.

Caressing the underside of his lover's thigh, Tezuka brought each of Fuji's legs over his shoulders, and shoved one of the half-moist fingers into the beautifully twitching hole that presented itself. A mewl of pleasure spurred him on, though he knew Fuji wanted him to go faster, but one of Tezuka's secret addictions was taunting the tensai by going at his own pace. He twisted for a bit then added another finger, moving quickly to scissoring. His own cock was starting to ache, begging him to hurry up.

Despite all his nervousness, the show from before had made him very, very hard.

He decided Fuji would be fine without a third finger, and neither of them could wait any longer anyways. Pulling out the appendages, the stoic captain directed the tip of his length to his target, then plunged all the way in in one firm stroke, eliciting load moans from both of them.

God, Fuji was tight, though that wasn't a surprise considering his lovers spent more time teasing him then taking him. Tezuka held himself still to give the tensai time to adjust, but Fuji mewled needily and started shifting his hips up and down as best he could.

Tezuka grabbed his arms and pressed down against him to force him to stay still, and Fuji moaned at the unusual act of aggression from his orthodox lover. The stoic seme held them in the same position for several seconds; he wanted to be in control of at least this.

Finally he started to move, excruciatingly slow, drifting up and down and then increasing the pace. He struck Fuji's sweet spot, the wanton cry driving him faster until he was full out pumping, angling to hit his lover's prostrate with each thrust.

The tensai was ahead of him and came screaming his name. Feeling the hot chasm pulse widely around his cock drove him into a hard, merciless rhythm until he came as well, groaning in ecstasy.

His lover's seed stained his shirt, a distant thought about laundry and showering again drifting past him before he collapsed onto the bed. He used the last of his strength to pull out of Fuji, who immediately cuddled against him in a koala hold. Fuji snuggled with everyone, but it was only Tezuka whose name he called during sex. That was the captain's one piece of pride.

They had barely drifted off to sleep when an alarm clock went off in the form of Christmas chimes, jerking them both awake. Tezuka shot up to see a note laying on the desk next to the spool of remaining ribbon.

It read, Merry Christmas.