Fic: How to Bring Tezuka to His Knees
Title: How to Bring Tezuka to His Knees
Pairing: Tezuka/Fuji
Rating: R
Word Count: 2,294
Summary: Per the request for Fuji in a schoolgirl uniform trying to make Tezuka, who won’t admit his feelings or something like that, jealous (possessive!Tezuka if possible.)
Warnings: Crossdressing, m/m sexual activities, fluff.
Disclaimer: I neither own nor profit from Prince of Tennis.
Author’s Notes: Set during their second year of college, so all characters are eighteen or older.
***
Fuji Syuusuke knows he is a very lucky young man. His family loves and supports him, his friends like and respect him (even if that respect is laced with a healthy dose of fear at times), and his boyfriend... well, Tezuka is everything he’s ever wanted, and more.
At least, behind closed doors. Closed, locked, double-bolted doors, with the windows shut and the curtains as well. When they are alone in their apartment, Tezuka is passionate, alive, all that intensity focused exclusively on Fuji.
He loves watching Tezuka watch him; every innocent comment seems to have hidden meaning, simple activities like washing dishes become strangely erotic. The tension builds - sometimes slowly over the course of an evening, sometimes taking only a few minutes - before Tezuka pins him down and fucks him senseless.
After that, Fuji loves it even more when Tezuka holds him, absent-mindedly running fingers through Fuji’s hair. Words aren’t spoken, no endearments are given: instead, those softer, lingering kisses followed by a more sensual exploration of each other’s bodies says volumes about their feelings.
That silent communication, that connection - comfortable, yet terribly exciting - has been there for years, since middle school and their drive to a national tennis title. Their bond has grown even stronger over the years, through high school and now into their second year of college. Fuji knows such a relationship is rare, and that he and Tezuka are very lucky to have one another.
But Fuji can’t help but wish that Tezuka could feel comfortable expressing that affection out in public. He doesn’t expect grand gestures from Tezuka, who has always carried himself in a serious and polite manner everywhere he goes. All Fuji wants is a smoldering look sent his way while they are out dining with friends, or a more-than accidental brush of fingers during walks in the park.
Fuji knows Tezuka is a private person. He doesn’t want to embarrass his boyfriend, or make him truly uncomfortable. Yet sometimes that darker, more aggressive part of his personality - the part that comes out when Yuuta is hurt, or a friend is in trouble - insists that it wouldn’t hurt to push the boundaries just a little. Normally Fuji’s common sense overrules those urges, and life goes on as usual.
But today, common sense has taken a vacation, and not just for Fuji. Today is Halloween, and tricks and treats are in store for all.
***
Fuji’s costume is not the most outrageous on campus, and it’s certainly not the most obscene. Tezuka doesn’t even recognize her - him - at first. In fact, he was about to severely scold Eiji Kikumaru for practically molesting the quiet young woman innocently sitting at a cafeteria table before his brain caught up with his eyes.
There was nothing out of the ordinary about the clothes - the tailored white blouse, the conservative blue skirt that fell below the knee, the small matching purse and practical, low-heeled pumps - and the two butterfly-shaped gold barrettes pinned in Fuji’s hair were simple and neat. All in all, the young lady Fuji appeared to be both modest and tasteful, and Tezuka did not just think that.
Fuji’s smile for his friends seems especially wicked, though Tezuka isn’t sure if the soft coral lipstick is to blame for that impression. Matching the outfit, Fuji’s makeup is just as simple: lipstick, a light dusting of powder and a hint of perfume.
Tezuka realized at age thirteen that he was attracted to men, and he really didn’t want to reassess that conclusion now. Then again, Fuji is the only women he wants, judging by the hard-on he’s currently trying very hard to ignore. Tezuka is convinced he is going to have a nervous breakdown.
All he can do is listen to their conversation, Eiji’s high-pitched complaints over his own lack of a costume and Fuji’s more low-key, amused comments in response. Tezuka doesn’t even notice when Oishi arrives, not until the young man holds his hand to Tezuka’s forehead and asks him if he has a fever. He doesn’t feel better when Fuji smiles sweetly, opens his purse, and offers him
some Midol.
It’s not long before other students join them - Inui dressed as Sherlock Holmes, Oshitari wearing a lab coat and holding a ridiculous stuffed bunny, Tachibana blessedly costume-free - and Tezuka calms down as they all enjoy a quick breakfast. He and Fuji don’t share any classes this day, so Tezuka will have all afternoon to recover from his shock.
A few minutes later Tezuka is not so sure about recovering, because when Tachibana rises from the table, chivalrously offering to carry Fuji’s books for ‘her,’ Fuji gracefully accepts.
***
Tezuka attends four classes today: Japanese Literature from the Nineteenth Century, Strength and Conditioning, Dietetics and Sports Psychology. He learns nothing.
***
Fuji attends four classes today: History of Photography, Digital Imaging, Philosophy and Modern Art. He learns at least two of his classmates consider crossdressing to be a turn on, Eiji will leave campus and return before this afternoon’s tennis practice with a costume of his own, much of modern art is absolute rubbish, and how easy it is to ruin a pair of sheer stockings.
***
Tezuka is looking forward to demolishing someone - anyone will do - on the tennis courts.
Formal rankings and training have not yet begun, so he and the other students work on their conditioning and have competitive, but friendly, matches. Their coach is a relaxed, rather eccentric man who today is dressed up as Obi-Wan Kenobi and using his racquet to engage in a light-saber battle with a similarly-dressed Sengoku Kiyosumi.
Tezuka tries to ignore them - hard to do when Sengoku shouts an excited ‘Lucky!’ with each successful blow - and continues with his stretching exercises. It is a good thing he is already on the ground when the other students arrive, because he would have fallen over from the shock.
He’s actually not surprised that Eiji arrives for tennis practice in a costume, after seeing his excitement over Fuji’s clothes this morning. Tezuka can appreciate the thought Eiji put into his outfit: the brightly-colored clown outfit doesn’t interfere with Eiji’s acrobatic skills, so he can still play tennis effectively. The makeup - complete with a bulbous red nose - is expertly applied.
Tezuka expects Oishi to be dressed properly this afternoon, and he isn’t disappointed. Inui is still wearing his detective outfit - though with the coat now removed - and appears to be on his third notebook of the day. Oshitari enters the courts without a costume - though he does remark rather loudly that he would be role-playing ‘emperor and concubine’ with Gakuto Mukahi later that evening, something Tezuka does not want to imagine - as does Tachibana.
It is the shorter figure that walks onto the court behind the former Fudoumine player that Tezuka is staring at. Tezuka had no doubt Fuji would have removed the woman’s clothing from this morning before taking to the courts. What he didn’t plan on, was Fuji showing up dressed all in white... in a ladies tennis outfit.
Laughing would be out of the question, but Tezuka thinks crying is a distinct possibility, unless he faints first.
***
By the end of tennis practice, Tezuka is a wreck. He’s accomplished nothing besides watching Fuji the entire two hours - he even sent an errant backhand to the next court during his match, nearly knocking Eiji’s clown wig off his head.
The tennis outfit Fuji is wearing is rather demure by modern-day standards: the tank top has a modest neckline that just falls beneath Fuji’s collarbone, and the flared skirt falls a good three inches above Fuji’s knees. Even as the wind swirls and Fuji uses one of his newest counters, the cotton material only lifts a few inches, revealing his well-toned upper thighs and nothing more. Tezuka is not disappointed, and only smacks the back of Oshitari’s head because the man’s appreciative wolf whistles are distracting the rest of the team.
When practice finishes, Fuji is the first person to leave the courts. More accurately, Fuji enters the clubhouse first because everyone else is following him. Tezuka wants to believe this is because they all practiced hard today, and not because they are all watching the gentle sway of Fuji’s pleated skirt. But as he catches Tachibana almost walk into a post on the way back, Tezuka knows better. He pushes past the others before they can enter the building after Fuji - if he steps on Tachibana’s foot on the way, it’s a complete accident - and slams the door shut behind him, turning the lock with unnecessary force.
Tezuka ignores the sounds of hands pounding on the door and the angry shouts demanding entry to the room: his entire attention is on the young man standing before him. Fuji is staring at him, eyes wide open, his normally serene expression replaced by a mixture of shock and amusement.
“Tezuka, are you protecting my honor?” Fuji playfully asks, winking at his boyfriend. “I can always change at the ladies locker room, if that would make you feel better.”
Tezuka is quick to act: by the time Fuji finishes speaking, he has been forcefully pulled against Tezuka, then spun around so his back is pushed against the door. Tezuka kisses him, passionate and demanding, before moving lower to Fuji’s neck, biting and sucking at the sweat-slicked skin. Fuji holds on to him, one arm wrapped around Tezuka’s waist, the other resting on his shoulder, Fuji’s long, tapered fingers moving through his boyfriend’s damp, messy hair.
Tezuka shifts further down, his face level with Fuji’s chest. He mutters, “You have no honor, Fuji,” as his hands grasp the bottom of the tank top and lifts the shirt off Fuji’s body. Tezuka pauses, shocked once again by his lover’s audacity.
“A sports bra, Fuji?” Tezuka asks, his voice low and unsteady.
Fuji laughs, and playfully answers, “That’s nothing, wait until you see the rest.”
Tezuka doesn’t respond. Instead, he lowers his mouth to Fuji’s left nipple, tonguing the sensitive nub through the cotton material, then lavishing the same treatment to the other one. Neither man notices that their teammates have stopped yelling for admittance: the silence is only broken by Fuji’s breathless moans of pleasure as Tezuka continues to stroke and kiss every inch of exposed skin he reaches.
Tezuka kneels on the floor, both hands slowly sliding up and down Fuji’s legs, enjoying the feel of toned muscles and the sparse, soft brown hair on soft skin. “You didn’t shave,” Tezuka says, exhaling against one inner thigh. “I’m glad.”
Fuji looks down at Tezuka, usual smile in place, cheeks flushed from arousal. “Do you like the costumes? I think I’m rather pretty as a female.”
Tezuka smiles back, fingers slowly moving the skirt’s material higher up Fuji’s legs. “I like the outfits. At first I only saw what is different, and found the image exotic and exciting. But beneath the costumes is the same inventive, clever mind and desirable male body I fell in love with, and I like that even more, Syuusuke.”
Fuji stares at his boyfriend, a gentler, genuine smile appearing on his face. “Kunimitsu...”
Fuji stops speaking as Tezuka’s hand slips underneath the pleated skirt, gently rubbing at Fuji’s erection and the lacy undergarment he wore. After a few gentle strokes Fuji grabs Tezuka’s hands, and pulls him up to stand before him. Fuji leans forward, giving his lover a brief kiss, then backs away.
“Let’s go home, Kunimitsu,” Fuji says as he turns toward the door. “What I have in mind for us is going to take hours.”
Tezuka stops him before Fuji can open the lock. “You might want to put your shirt back on, Syuusuke. Your bra is showing.”
Fuji turns to stare incredulously at his lover. “I cannot believe you just said that, Tezuka.”
Tezuka tries to hide his embarrassment by removing his glasses and wiping the lenses with his shirt. “Neither can I, Fuji. It’s been quite a day.”
Fuji chuckles as he pulls the tank top over his head. “It’s going to be an even better night.”
Tezuka nods his agreement, and unlocks the door. Waiting for them are six teammates, and they proceed to shout non-stop at the duo:
“What were you doing in there?”
“Fuji, you’re supposed to tell your best friend when you are dating, nya!”
“Tezuka, you shouldn’t be so careless! We could all hear you!”
“Why did you stop? It was just getting interesting...”
“Lucky!”
“Wear a skirt the next time I play Tezuka: I’ll improve my chances of winning by thirty-nine percent. This data is priceless.”
Tezuka glares at them all. “The show is over, gentlemen. Hit the showers.”
Oshitari leers at Fuji. “Ladies first, my dear,” he says in a deep, seductive tone of voice. “I’d be happy to help you with your skirt. Zippers can be so... troublesome.”
Tezuka pins Oshitari with a look that could strip paint from a wall. “That will not be necessary. Fuji is wearing a pull-on skirt. There is no zipper.”
“And you know this how?” Tachibana asks, lips pressed tight in anger.
“I am intimately aquainted with the skirt my boyfriend is wearing,” Tezuka answers. “And I will be removing it tonight.”
Everyone is silent as Fuji moves to Tezuka’s side and the two depart, with Fuji giving one last twirl to his skirt on the way. It certainly has been a memorable day.
That night, behind an unlocked door, with the windows wide open and the curtains as well, Tezuka is passionate, alive, all that intensity focused exclusively on Fuji.
Fuji Syuusuke knows he is a very lucky young man.
Pairing: Tezuka/Fuji
Rating: R
Word Count: 2,294
Summary: Per the request for Fuji in a schoolgirl uniform trying to make Tezuka, who won’t admit his feelings or something like that, jealous (possessive!Tezuka if possible.)
Warnings: Crossdressing, m/m sexual activities, fluff.
Disclaimer: I neither own nor profit from Prince of Tennis.
Author’s Notes: Set during their second year of college, so all characters are eighteen or older.
***
Fuji Syuusuke knows he is a very lucky young man. His family loves and supports him, his friends like and respect him (even if that respect is laced with a healthy dose of fear at times), and his boyfriend... well, Tezuka is everything he’s ever wanted, and more.
At least, behind closed doors. Closed, locked, double-bolted doors, with the windows shut and the curtains as well. When they are alone in their apartment, Tezuka is passionate, alive, all that intensity focused exclusively on Fuji.
He loves watching Tezuka watch him; every innocent comment seems to have hidden meaning, simple activities like washing dishes become strangely erotic. The tension builds - sometimes slowly over the course of an evening, sometimes taking only a few minutes - before Tezuka pins him down and fucks him senseless.
After that, Fuji loves it even more when Tezuka holds him, absent-mindedly running fingers through Fuji’s hair. Words aren’t spoken, no endearments are given: instead, those softer, lingering kisses followed by a more sensual exploration of each other’s bodies says volumes about their feelings.
That silent communication, that connection - comfortable, yet terribly exciting - has been there for years, since middle school and their drive to a national tennis title. Their bond has grown even stronger over the years, through high school and now into their second year of college. Fuji knows such a relationship is rare, and that he and Tezuka are very lucky to have one another.
But Fuji can’t help but wish that Tezuka could feel comfortable expressing that affection out in public. He doesn’t expect grand gestures from Tezuka, who has always carried himself in a serious and polite manner everywhere he goes. All Fuji wants is a smoldering look sent his way while they are out dining with friends, or a more-than accidental brush of fingers during walks in the park.
Fuji knows Tezuka is a private person. He doesn’t want to embarrass his boyfriend, or make him truly uncomfortable. Yet sometimes that darker, more aggressive part of his personality - the part that comes out when Yuuta is hurt, or a friend is in trouble - insists that it wouldn’t hurt to push the boundaries just a little. Normally Fuji’s common sense overrules those urges, and life goes on as usual.
But today, common sense has taken a vacation, and not just for Fuji. Today is Halloween, and tricks and treats are in store for all.
***
Fuji’s costume is not the most outrageous on campus, and it’s certainly not the most obscene. Tezuka doesn’t even recognize her - him - at first. In fact, he was about to severely scold Eiji Kikumaru for practically molesting the quiet young woman innocently sitting at a cafeteria table before his brain caught up with his eyes.
There was nothing out of the ordinary about the clothes - the tailored white blouse, the conservative blue skirt that fell below the knee, the small matching purse and practical, low-heeled pumps - and the two butterfly-shaped gold barrettes pinned in Fuji’s hair were simple and neat. All in all, the young lady Fuji appeared to be both modest and tasteful, and Tezuka did not just think that.
Fuji’s smile for his friends seems especially wicked, though Tezuka isn’t sure if the soft coral lipstick is to blame for that impression. Matching the outfit, Fuji’s makeup is just as simple: lipstick, a light dusting of powder and a hint of perfume.
Tezuka realized at age thirteen that he was attracted to men, and he really didn’t want to reassess that conclusion now. Then again, Fuji is the only women he wants, judging by the hard-on he’s currently trying very hard to ignore. Tezuka is convinced he is going to have a nervous breakdown.
All he can do is listen to their conversation, Eiji’s high-pitched complaints over his own lack of a costume and Fuji’s more low-key, amused comments in response. Tezuka doesn’t even notice when Oishi arrives, not until the young man holds his hand to Tezuka’s forehead and asks him if he has a fever. He doesn’t feel better when Fuji smiles sweetly, opens his purse, and offers him
some Midol.
It’s not long before other students join them - Inui dressed as Sherlock Holmes, Oshitari wearing a lab coat and holding a ridiculous stuffed bunny, Tachibana blessedly costume-free - and Tezuka calms down as they all enjoy a quick breakfast. He and Fuji don’t share any classes this day, so Tezuka will have all afternoon to recover from his shock.
A few minutes later Tezuka is not so sure about recovering, because when Tachibana rises from the table, chivalrously offering to carry Fuji’s books for ‘her,’ Fuji gracefully accepts.
***
Tezuka attends four classes today: Japanese Literature from the Nineteenth Century, Strength and Conditioning, Dietetics and Sports Psychology. He learns nothing.
***
Fuji attends four classes today: History of Photography, Digital Imaging, Philosophy and Modern Art. He learns at least two of his classmates consider crossdressing to be a turn on, Eiji will leave campus and return before this afternoon’s tennis practice with a costume of his own, much of modern art is absolute rubbish, and how easy it is to ruin a pair of sheer stockings.
***
Tezuka is looking forward to demolishing someone - anyone will do - on the tennis courts.
Formal rankings and training have not yet begun, so he and the other students work on their conditioning and have competitive, but friendly, matches. Their coach is a relaxed, rather eccentric man who today is dressed up as Obi-Wan Kenobi and using his racquet to engage in a light-saber battle with a similarly-dressed Sengoku Kiyosumi.
Tezuka tries to ignore them - hard to do when Sengoku shouts an excited ‘Lucky!’ with each successful blow - and continues with his stretching exercises. It is a good thing he is already on the ground when the other students arrive, because he would have fallen over from the shock.
He’s actually not surprised that Eiji arrives for tennis practice in a costume, after seeing his excitement over Fuji’s clothes this morning. Tezuka can appreciate the thought Eiji put into his outfit: the brightly-colored clown outfit doesn’t interfere with Eiji’s acrobatic skills, so he can still play tennis effectively. The makeup - complete with a bulbous red nose - is expertly applied.
Tezuka expects Oishi to be dressed properly this afternoon, and he isn’t disappointed. Inui is still wearing his detective outfit - though with the coat now removed - and appears to be on his third notebook of the day. Oshitari enters the courts without a costume - though he does remark rather loudly that he would be role-playing ‘emperor and concubine’ with Gakuto Mukahi later that evening, something Tezuka does not want to imagine - as does Tachibana.
It is the shorter figure that walks onto the court behind the former Fudoumine player that Tezuka is staring at. Tezuka had no doubt Fuji would have removed the woman’s clothing from this morning before taking to the courts. What he didn’t plan on, was Fuji showing up dressed all in white... in a ladies tennis outfit.
Laughing would be out of the question, but Tezuka thinks crying is a distinct possibility, unless he faints first.
***
By the end of tennis practice, Tezuka is a wreck. He’s accomplished nothing besides watching Fuji the entire two hours - he even sent an errant backhand to the next court during his match, nearly knocking Eiji’s clown wig off his head.
The tennis outfit Fuji is wearing is rather demure by modern-day standards: the tank top has a modest neckline that just falls beneath Fuji’s collarbone, and the flared skirt falls a good three inches above Fuji’s knees. Even as the wind swirls and Fuji uses one of his newest counters, the cotton material only lifts a few inches, revealing his well-toned upper thighs and nothing more. Tezuka is not disappointed, and only smacks the back of Oshitari’s head because the man’s appreciative wolf whistles are distracting the rest of the team.
When practice finishes, Fuji is the first person to leave the courts. More accurately, Fuji enters the clubhouse first because everyone else is following him. Tezuka wants to believe this is because they all practiced hard today, and not because they are all watching the gentle sway of Fuji’s pleated skirt. But as he catches Tachibana almost walk into a post on the way back, Tezuka knows better. He pushes past the others before they can enter the building after Fuji - if he steps on Tachibana’s foot on the way, it’s a complete accident - and slams the door shut behind him, turning the lock with unnecessary force.
Tezuka ignores the sounds of hands pounding on the door and the angry shouts demanding entry to the room: his entire attention is on the young man standing before him. Fuji is staring at him, eyes wide open, his normally serene expression replaced by a mixture of shock and amusement.
“Tezuka, are you protecting my honor?” Fuji playfully asks, winking at his boyfriend. “I can always change at the ladies locker room, if that would make you feel better.”
Tezuka is quick to act: by the time Fuji finishes speaking, he has been forcefully pulled against Tezuka, then spun around so his back is pushed against the door. Tezuka kisses him, passionate and demanding, before moving lower to Fuji’s neck, biting and sucking at the sweat-slicked skin. Fuji holds on to him, one arm wrapped around Tezuka’s waist, the other resting on his shoulder, Fuji’s long, tapered fingers moving through his boyfriend’s damp, messy hair.
Tezuka shifts further down, his face level with Fuji’s chest. He mutters, “You have no honor, Fuji,” as his hands grasp the bottom of the tank top and lifts the shirt off Fuji’s body. Tezuka pauses, shocked once again by his lover’s audacity.
“A sports bra, Fuji?” Tezuka asks, his voice low and unsteady.
Fuji laughs, and playfully answers, “That’s nothing, wait until you see the rest.”
Tezuka doesn’t respond. Instead, he lowers his mouth to Fuji’s left nipple, tonguing the sensitive nub through the cotton material, then lavishing the same treatment to the other one. Neither man notices that their teammates have stopped yelling for admittance: the silence is only broken by Fuji’s breathless moans of pleasure as Tezuka continues to stroke and kiss every inch of exposed skin he reaches.
Tezuka kneels on the floor, both hands slowly sliding up and down Fuji’s legs, enjoying the feel of toned muscles and the sparse, soft brown hair on soft skin. “You didn’t shave,” Tezuka says, exhaling against one inner thigh. “I’m glad.”
Fuji looks down at Tezuka, usual smile in place, cheeks flushed from arousal. “Do you like the costumes? I think I’m rather pretty as a female.”
Tezuka smiles back, fingers slowly moving the skirt’s material higher up Fuji’s legs. “I like the outfits. At first I only saw what is different, and found the image exotic and exciting. But beneath the costumes is the same inventive, clever mind and desirable male body I fell in love with, and I like that even more, Syuusuke.”
Fuji stares at his boyfriend, a gentler, genuine smile appearing on his face. “Kunimitsu...”
Fuji stops speaking as Tezuka’s hand slips underneath the pleated skirt, gently rubbing at Fuji’s erection and the lacy undergarment he wore. After a few gentle strokes Fuji grabs Tezuka’s hands, and pulls him up to stand before him. Fuji leans forward, giving his lover a brief kiss, then backs away.
“Let’s go home, Kunimitsu,” Fuji says as he turns toward the door. “What I have in mind for us is going to take hours.”
Tezuka stops him before Fuji can open the lock. “You might want to put your shirt back on, Syuusuke. Your bra is showing.”
Fuji turns to stare incredulously at his lover. “I cannot believe you just said that, Tezuka.”
Tezuka tries to hide his embarrassment by removing his glasses and wiping the lenses with his shirt. “Neither can I, Fuji. It’s been quite a day.”
Fuji chuckles as he pulls the tank top over his head. “It’s going to be an even better night.”
Tezuka nods his agreement, and unlocks the door. Waiting for them are six teammates, and they proceed to shout non-stop at the duo:
“What were you doing in there?”
“Fuji, you’re supposed to tell your best friend when you are dating, nya!”
“Tezuka, you shouldn’t be so careless! We could all hear you!”
“Why did you stop? It was just getting interesting...”
“Lucky!”
“Wear a skirt the next time I play Tezuka: I’ll improve my chances of winning by thirty-nine percent. This data is priceless.”
Tezuka glares at them all. “The show is over, gentlemen. Hit the showers.”
Oshitari leers at Fuji. “Ladies first, my dear,” he says in a deep, seductive tone of voice. “I’d be happy to help you with your skirt. Zippers can be so... troublesome.”
Tezuka pins Oshitari with a look that could strip paint from a wall. “That will not be necessary. Fuji is wearing a pull-on skirt. There is no zipper.”
“And you know this how?” Tachibana asks, lips pressed tight in anger.
“I am intimately aquainted with the skirt my boyfriend is wearing,” Tezuka answers. “And I will be removing it tonight.”
Everyone is silent as Fuji moves to Tezuka’s side and the two depart, with Fuji giving one last twirl to his skirt on the way. It certainly has been a memorable day.
That night, behind an unlocked door, with the windows wide open and the curtains as well, Tezuka is passionate, alive, all that intensity focused exclusively on Fuji.
Fuji Syuusuke knows he is a very lucky young man.