Accomodation, by kishmet. From akahannah's request: Oshitari/Gakuto. Wank. I really hope she meant this kind of wank (or at least doesn't mind it ♥). My mind's been in the gutter all weekend.
“Hey, Yuushi. Wanna fuck?” Bouncing a few times on the bed, Gakuto then flopped on his stomach, swinging his legs, and looked at Oshitari expectantly.
“I’m doing homework, and you should be too.” Oshitari pointedly ignored Gakuto’s look, writing the answer to another math problem on his paper.
“That can’t be as fun as fucking,” said Gakuto. He reached out a hand and hooked two fingers in the back of Oshitari’s pants. Oshitari didn’t stop him, but he didn’t react in any satisfying way, either.
“Don’t be crude,” said Oshitari. “You know I don’t like it when you use that word.”
“What, fun?” asked Gakuto, deliberately misunderstanding. “I know. You like homework, not fun.”
“You know what I mean,” said Oshitari.
“What do you want me to say?” Gakuto asked, making a face. “Making love?” His tone conveyed exactly what he thought of that.
“Anything, as long as it’s slightly less crude than ‘fucking’,” Oshitari replied.
“You probably have a fancy way to talk about jerking off, too.” Gakuto draped himself around Oshitari’s shoulders and licked his ear.
“The appropriate term is, I believe, ‘masturbation’,” Oshitari said dryly, turning to catch Gakuto’s lips in one of those quick kisses that, somehow, still made Gakuto’s insides turn to jelly. This time, though, he turned his head away so that Oshitari only kissed his cheek.
“Mm, no, you can do your homework.” Gakuto let go of Oshitari and leaned back on the bed. He unbuttoned his pants and slipped a hand down the front of them. “I’ll just be here…jerking off.”
“Masturbating,” Oshitari corrected. His eyes flickered slightly to the side, toward Gakuto. Gakuto grinned triumphantly.
“Can’t say something so long…” Gakuto said, interspersing the words with overdramatic moans. “Not when I’m busy…”
Oshitari set down his notebook on the bedside table, placing the pencil next to it so that it wouldn’t roll. Then, a split second after Gakuto saw it coming, Oshitari pinned him to the bed, taking his wrist and pulling the hand out of the pants. Gakuto let out an indignant little huff that he didn’t really mean. “Wanking,” said Oshitari.
“Hm?” Gakuto blinked up at him. “What’d you say?”
“Wanking,” Oshitari repeated. “A reasonable alternative to both of our preferred terms, I think.”
“And you like it?” Gakuto asked skeptically, trying and failing to free his hand.
“I like it more than I like jerking off. Now, Gakuto,” Oshitari said, smiling down at him. He replaced Gakuto’s hand with his own, to Gakuto’s delight. “Let’s fuck.”
“No, let’s make love,” Gakuto said, then made a face. “Yuushi, it still sounds stupid.”
Oshitari’s laughter was muffled by Gakuto’s kiss.
The Art of Seduction, by kishmet. TezuRyo, PG(-13). For svz_insanity, for whom I promised to write this fic for a looong time ago. I thought I'd lost this, but I found it on a disk! Yay! :D
“Would you like me to teach you how to seduce someone?”
“What?” Ryoma looked up at Fuji, not really interested.
He knew what seduction meant; he wasn’t stupid. He just wasn’t sure how it applied to him. Usually it happened in stupid romance movies. Ryoma would never want to seduce the girls in there. They all screamed and cried a lot and hated the lead actor until the end, when they fell madly in love with him. He was sure they’d play bad tennis.
“Why would I want you to do that?” Ryoma asked. “I don’t even like girls.”
“Well, obviously,” said Fuji, sounding completely unlike Nanjiroh. “Girls aren’t the only ones who can be seduced, Echizen-kun.”
“I don’t want to seduce you, either, Fuji-senpai.” Ryoma had his doubts as to whether Fuji was male or female, but he was on the boys’ tennis team so Ryoma supposed that would have to be sufficient evidence.
“Goodness, no, not me either,” said Fuji, with what Ryoma was sure was feigned innocence. “You’d never have to seduce me…but I was talking about someone else entirely.”
“Someone else? Why would I care about seducing someone else?”
“Fuji. Echizen.” Tezuka stood behind them. “Your matches are going to start soon.”
“Don’t worry, Tezuka,” said Fuji. “Echizen and I were just having a little chat, weren’t we?”
Ryoma nodded reluctantly, looking up at Tezuka with a slight grimace that meant Fuji’s little “chat” was disturbing, but he could deal with it. Tezuka raised an eyebrow, then said, “That’s fine.” He walked away to where Momo had Kaidoh in a headlock, and Kaidoh was trying to hit him hard enough that Momo would let go. Naturally, Fuji and Ryoma both ignored this commotion.
“I think your question’s been answered by fate,” Fuji mused.
“Not really,” said Ryoma.
The lesson started on an idiotic note, but Ryoma had been expecting as much.
“Brush against him, and pretend as though it was an accident,” said Fuji. “Eiji, would you demonstrate?”
“Sure!” Eiji grinned and sauntered by, letting his hand swing to brush against a place on Fuji that Ryoma didn’t think was appropriate.
“Like that?” Ryoma asked doubtfully.
“Maybe not exactly like that.” Fuji smiled at Eiji, suppressing a laugh. “Probably you should wait until you’re a little further along to try that.”
“Works, though, doesn’t it?” Eiji asked smugly, draping himself over Fuji’s shoulders. “Are you seduced yet?”
“I’m always seduced when it comes to you,” Fuji said, turning his head to give Eiji a peck on the cheek. “You know that.”
“I’m leaving.” Ryoma stood, picking up his tennis bag. He regretted coming over to Fuji’s house to begin with. “This is stupid.”
“Hold on, hold on.” Fuji took hold of Ryoma’s shoulder, and Eiji disengaged himself from Fuji to block the doorway.
Eiji shook a finger at him. “You can’t leave, ochibi! The lesson isn’t finished yet!” He tapped Ryoma’s nose, making Ryoma scowl and twist away from him.
“This isn’t a lesson,” Ryoma grumbled. “I can see you doing this every day.”
“Then we should show you something that you can’t see us doing,” said Fuji, and winked at Eiji. “Isn’t that right?”
“Right,” said Eiji. “Locker room?”
“I think so,” said Fuji.
“Okay!” said Eiji, saluting him smartly. “Now, Ochibi…you have to listen!” He bent down so that he was eye-to-eye with Ryoma, who’d turned his head in disgust. “This is very important,” said Eiji sternly.
“It’s not like I can leave,” Ryoma muttered. Fuji still had a firm hand on his shoulder, making it impossible for him to escape. He’d temporarily forgotten that his senpai outweighed him, or he never would have put himself in their perverted power. He thought to himself that he could have just asked his father for advice, at this rate.
“Firstly, you have to understand that you have an advantage over most people going about the business of seduction,” said Fuji, steering Ryoma to the bed. When they got there, both he and Eiji pushed so that Ryoma sat down with a quiet oof.
Ryoma refused to ask what that advantage might be.
Fuji continued anyway. “This advantage involves the locker room, and the fact that everyone changes in full view of everyone else.” His smile made Ryoma want to lunge off the bed and dash for the door. “You can’t waste that singular opportunity.”
“Opportunity?” Ryoma was warily skeptical. “It’s just getting dressed.”
“It can be,” said Fuji. “But on the other hand…”
“It depends on how you do it,” Eiji finished, hopping from one foot to the other gleefully. “Can I show him, Fuji? Can I, can I?”
“Of course you can,” said Fuji, stepping to the side so that Ryoma could see Eiji better. Ryoma would have tried to make a break for it then, but he was morbidly curious by now, so he stayed.
Eiji struck a pose, and then put his hands on the hem of his t-shirt, arms crossed over each other, and started to slide the shirt up very, very slowly. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, making a sound between a hum and a purr. When the shirt was halfway up, he paused and reached one hand down to run it up his stomach. He shivered slightly, then opened his eyes and started to giggle.
“Eiji,” Fuji said reproachfully, “should I be doing this instead?”
“No, no,” Eiji said, waving a hand and bringing his giggles under control. “I can do it. Just, look at Ochibi!”
Ryoma was thinking that he’d never seen a less efficient way to remove a shirt, and his face probably showed it. “If I take that long, I’ll miss half of practice,” he said irritably.
“No,” said Fuji. “Because…certain other people…will be paying so much attention to what you’re doing that practice won’t start until you’re finished.”
“No one would be that stupid,” said Ryoma.
“All right, so you’ve got the gist of that part? Eiji, start with other part,” Fuji said. Ryoma rolled his eyes.
“Right!” Eiji dropped his shirt on the floor and started to undo his pants instead.
Ryoma let out a yelp and jumped to his feet. “You are both perverts,” he informed Fuji and Eiji, grabbing his bag. “If I wanted to see this, I’d just watch porn.”
“This isn’t pornography, this is art.” Fuji held him back with a hand on his chest. “Haven’t you ever drawn a nude model in art class?”
“Che,” said Ryoma. “I don’t know what kind of art class you go to.”
“Just watch, and then we’ll let you go,” said Fuji. “Then it’s up to you whether to use the lesson or not, though I have a feeling you’ll want to try it.”
“Fine.” Ryoma settled back down on the bed. It seemed like cooperating would be the fastest way out of Fuji’s room.
The front of the jeans undone, Eiji put a thumb in either side of the waistband and started making sinuous movements with his hips, letting the pants work their own way down. Then he shot Ryoma a half-lidded look and ran his tongue along his lower lip.
Ryoma thought it was a lot of work to put in just to get ready for tennis practice.
The lesson with Fuji and Eiji had been dumb and useless. Ryoma decided to experiment with it anyway, because clearly there was something he was missing. He just hoped he wouldn’t miss part of practice and end up running laps because of it.
He usually got dressed by the wall, by himself, or with Horio and Katsuo and Kachiro, or with Momo-senpai or whoever happened to be there to bother him. Today he picked up his tennis uniform and walked right out to the center of the room.
“Oi, Echizen, what are you-!” Horio shut up, wide-eyed, when Ryoma began his act.
Ryoma had to modify some parts of it, of course, but his senpai had given him advice on exactly how to do that. The button-down uniform didn’t work the same way as a t-shirt. Apparently it was just as good, though. He undid the top button, sliding the bottom hem up at the same time even though that wasn’t necessary. Fuji and Eiji had agreed that Ryoma had a nice stomach, and should show it as often as possible.
He undid the row of buttons very slowly (inefficient as it was), tracing his finger down the skin he exposed that way. He let the shirt slide down his shoulders so that his chest and the front of his back were showing. He sent a glance around the locker room.
Eiji was giving him an enthusiastic victory sign, predictably enough. Fuji had a hand over his mouth and was shaking with silent laughter. Both Momoshiro and Kaidoh seemed to have forgotten what they were doing. Momo had dropped his shirt, while Kaidoh had frozen in the middle of reaching for his locker.
Then Ryoma looked at Tezuka, who…
…wasn’t looking at him at all.
Tezuka, in fact, had gotten dressed quickly and was walking out the door.
Mada mada da ne, Ryoma thought disgustedly. He picked up his uniform and stalked over to the wall, where Horio stammered something loudly at him.
“Stop staring at Echizen!”
“You were the one staring at him, you idiot!” Kaidoh snapped back.
Kaidoh and Momo started fighting. Eiji and Fuji were laughing together in a corner, while Oishi looked at them, his expression wavering between bewilderment and suspicion. Inui was scribbling madly in his notebook.
In other words, it was like any other day, and the lesson had been as dumb and useless as Ryoma had thought.
“Buchou.” Ryoma caught up to Tezuka after practice.
“Echizen,” said Tezuka, nodding to him without actually looking his way.
“I’m sorry,” said Ryoma, and then added, “That thing in the locker room was Fuji-senpai’s and Kikumaru-senpai’s idea.”
“I see.” The way Tezuka said I see made Ryoma think he’d suspected as much already.
“They told me it would seduce you, buchou,” Ryoma said bluntly. “It didn’t work.”
“No,” said Tezuka.
“What would work?” Ryoma asked.
“You don’t have to seduce me, Echizen.” Tezuka finally looked at him.
Ryoma grinned and pulled down the brim of his cap. “Che.”
“You walked home with buchou, ochibi!” Eiji accosted Ryoma as soon as he came to practice the next day, hanging all over Ryoma’s shoulders. “What happened? Did it work?”
“No,” said Ryoma.
“What?” Eiji wasn’t satisfied with leaving it at that. “Fuji, ochibi says that it didn’t work!”
“He walked home with Tezuka, didn’t he?” Fuji inquired with a smile.
“Ohhh, then it did work,” said Eiji, a mischievous grin spreading slowly across his face. “Tell us what happened! You have to tell!”
“What does he have to tell?” asked Momo, coming over when he heard the commotion.
“Echizen’s not telling something?” Horio screeched. “Not fair, Echizen!”
“Te-ell,” Eiji said, pinching Ryoma’s cheek.
Tezuka walked in the locker room door. Ryoma glanced at him. Their eyes met. Ryoma smirked and looked down. “Mada mada da ne, senpai.”
He wouldn’t say another word on the subject, and he never performed a strip tease in the locker room again.