(no subject)

[kat8cha]

Tezuka does not understand how these things happen. Well, he does, but at the same time, he really doesn’t. One minute Fuji’s standing on the other side of the court, sweat sliding down his face and his chest heaving as he takes deep breaths,

the next Tezuka is by his side, cupping his chin and tipping the other’s face upward so he can descend upon it in a hungry kiss. Fuji never complains, the low groan that slips between his lips is not caused by pain, and the fingers twining in his shirt pull him closer instead of pushing him away. Time slows down and what Tezuka knows, logically, is minutes feels like hours. His fingers slip under Fuji’s t-shirt pulling it roughly above the others head as both broke their kiss to breath.

 

“Te-” Tezuka cut off his name by kissing Fuji again, his fingers gripping the other’s sides as he steadily walked Fuji over to the coaching bench on the side of the court. Fuji’s skin was warm and slick under his fingers, the tennis match having given them both a work out. The back of Fuji’s legs hit the bench and he sat on it leaning back and biting Tezuka’s lip to get the taller teen to pull away. “Don’t forget the lube this time.”

 

Tezuka blinked, shocked that he had almost forgotten. Turning around he headed for his tennis bag. Maybe he should take to keeping the small silver tube in his shorts but that would seem presumptuous. The last thing Tezuka wanted was Fuji thinking that Tezuka thought he was easy. Turning around Tezuka’s hand involuntarily clenched around the tube of slick. Fuji had stripped off his shirts, the lycra fabric pooled on the clay of the court as Fuji bent over the bench, bracing his arms on the blue metal.

 

“Well?” Fuji’s voice was teasing. “What are you waiting for?”

 

Fuji’s peach shaped ass was almost as good as a written invitation, though Tezuka knew he would never mention that. Fuji would probably write him dirty poetry if he did. Striding over Tezuka uncapped the lube, dropping the cap in his hurry to spread the slippery substance over his fingers. Dropping the tube on the bench seat by Fuji’s shorts Tezuka pressed two fingers into Fuji, his digits disappearing with a slick noise.

 

“Ahn….” Fuji moaned, his hands clenching around the bench. Fuji let Tezuka’s fingers stretch him uninterrupted before jerking his hips back to fuck himself on the long, familiar digits.

 

“Fuji.” Tezuka’s voice cracked as he uttered the other’s name, and this incited a husky cut off chuckle from Fuji.

 

“Tezuka. Maybe it’s time you put more then your fingers into me.” Fuji let go of the bench, which he was going to leave finger shaped marks in if he wasn’t careful, to reach back and push Tezuka’s shorts down.

 

“Ah.” Tezuka’s voice was little more then a croak as he removed his fingers from inside Fuji and took a hold of Fuji’s hips. Holding the other still Tezuka slowly pushed his throbbing dick deep inside Fuji. Feeling the others tight ass around him Tezuka gripped Fuji’s hips hard enough to bruise. Pushing until he was all the way in Tezuka stilled to allow Fuji to adjust. Their heavy panting sounded too loud to his ears and seemed to echo in the empty court.

 

“Now.” Fuji groaned, and Tezuka pulled almost entirely out before pushing in. A groan was ripped from Fuji’s throat each time Tezuka thrust into him, his hips pushing back against the other’s cock, his thigh muscles trembling from the tension and pleasure.

 

As orgasm made Tezuka’s world fuzz around the edges and Fuji’s voice gave out from his shout as he came, Tezuka admitted that while he might not know how these illicit affairs happened, he never failed to enjoy them.