Fandom/Pairing: Prince of Tennis: Tezuka/Fuji
Theme: Stages of Physical Intimacy: Blowjobs
Word Count: 428
Disclaimer: The owners of PoT own PoT
Fuji never asked where it came from, but he was always grateful for whatever bravado encompassed him when he finally was able to face Tezuka. Fuji mused that it must be the overpowering scent of Tezuka's skin, his musk, that caused him to reach out and touch. Just a small caress of his fingers across that broad chest in front of him. He saw his Captain shiver, and he hoped it wasn't merely from the cold. He didn't think it was.
His lips always followed because nothing that smelled that good, that delicious, could ever taste anything but. His let his tongue dance across Tezuka's chest, his nipples, painting an invisible picture of want and need along that delectable skin.
Tezuka never moaned, not really, but Fuji could always tell by the slight increase of breath, and the way his muscles would contract and release in a distinct rhythm matching his own.
Fuji loved kissing Tezuka. His lips. His chest. His navel. His cock. He let his mouth trail a path down, lower and lower until all he could see and taste was Tezuka's need. Every brush of Tezuka's cock on his tongue would send shocks throughout his whole body. He could feel everything, the slight throb, the cant of hips, the hitch of breath and he wanted to just come and lay spent on the floor.
But he wouldn't, because he wanted more. They both did. In this, he could be completely honest, bereft of reasons or need to hide. He looked up, eyes trained on his Captain, the Captain on him, and let it slide in further, touching the back of his throat, until his nose was brushing against his Captain's hair, scent making him beyond dizzy.
And then Tezuka came. Fuji swallowed instinctively, never looking away, and stayed there, on his knees, on the floor. He didn't think he could stand, and he felt powerless once more. His Captain's eyes were on his, soft and safe and he never felt more afraid of anything. He bit down on his lip to prevent any words from escaping. Those damned stupid words that seemed to haunt him. Tezuka reached down and let his fingers thread through his hair, letting his fingers brush across his skin slowly, hesitatingly.
Fuji fought against the urge to lean into the touch just as he fought not to look away. He felt breathless and needy and scared. His tongue darted out and licked at the still remaining taste on his lips, and he knew that he truly was on his knees before his Captain, his Master.