title: User
fandom: Prince of Tennis
characters/pairings: Mizuki/Yuuta, implied Tezuka/Fuji, one-sided Yuuta/Fuji implications, one-sided Mizuki/Fuji
rating: Teen
warnings: incestual implications, generally fucked up
summary: Mizuki takes his advantage.
notes: i blame this all on Bryan. it's his fault for talking tennis with me today. ^_~ *hugs my Bryan*

Oil spread out over tight skin, pushed in wet tracks by trailing fingers. The motion was repetitive, lulling, a tinge of excitement chasing after it. Yuuta clutched the edge of the massage table tightly, keeping his eyes closed, not thinking about what was being done to him.

Mizuki had pushed him hard today, pushed and challenged and beat and demanded, and even still Yuuta had fallen short. But as harsh as Mizuki was, he wasn't about to send Yuuta away sore and aching. Others on the team would watch Mizuki with distrust, and try to talk to Yuuta about it, but it was useless. Mizuki alone understood Yuuta's goal, and how far he had to reach to attain it.

Mizuki grinned softly as he ran his hands over Yuuta's skin, searching out all the bonds of heritage that marked Yuuta as a Fuji. He kneeled down in front of Yuuta, and took Yuuta's arm in his hands. He worked the muscles over, gently extending and relaxing his elbow and wrist, and rotating his shoulder, to be sure that everything was ok. It amused him that Yuuta tried to resist the pull of his touch.

"Mm, Yuuta, do you miss living at home at all?" He spoke softly, using his light, sing-song voice, to keep Yuuta relaxed.

Yuuta furrowed his brow for a moment, and then shrugged lightly. "No. I like being on my own, actually."

"But you end up being so cut off from your family," Mizuki whined. "It's a little isolating, don't you think?"

Yuuta shook his head, opening his eyes a little to look at Mizuki. "It doesn't bother me."

"No?" Mizuki began massaging Yuuta's hand, rubbing in more oil to keep Yuuta's grip smooth and loose. "You don't think about your sister, or your parents? ...What about your brother?"

Yuuta started, his eyes blinking wide open. Had Mizuki been less vigilant, he would have lost his grip on Yuuta's hand.

Mizuki grinned, ducking his head down so it wasn't so apparent. "Do you wonder what your brother is doing right now? We're on break... He doesn't have school in the morning... No practice, either.

"Do you suppose Tezuka is making love to him?"

"What?" Yuuta reared up, but Mizuki clamped down on his hand, keeping him from fleeing. "What are you talking about?"

Mizuki gently raised his hand to Yuuta's neck, drawing him down again. "Mm, does Tezuka come to your brother's, or does your brother go to Tezuka?"

"Mizuki, stop it!" Yuuta scowled, but there was fear in his eyes. Mizuki grinned. "My brother's not... Tezuka... Just shut up!"

"Oh," Mizuki sighed, "do you think they haven't done it yet? That would seem odd. They've been together for two years now, right? If I were your brother, I wouldn't wait. They're in the prime of their life right now. I doubt Tezuka could restrain himself, anyway... He has to let loose at some point, right?"

"Mizuki!" Yuuta cried out, ripping his hand away. "I don't want to think about my brother... and Tezuka..."

"No?" Mizuki asked, eyes innocent. "Why not?" He took hold of Yuuta's neck, pulling himself up so he could whisper in Yuuta's ear. "You don't want to think about Tezuka's lean, strong body pressing your brother down, spreading his legs, opening him up? Don't want to think about your brother's hands in Tezuka's messy hair, their mouths glued together, their muscular torsos brushing against each other... They must be having sex, right? Your brother seems to be the... aggressive type. I bet he just tackled Tezuka first chance he got...

"Does it make you jealous, Yuuta? Is that why you don't want to think about it? Are you jealous of your brother, just another thing he has that you could never have? ...Or are you jealous of Tezuka, not constrained like you are... able to touch your brother any way he pleases... any way that pleases your brother..."

Yuuta cried out, trying to pull away, but Mizuki was right there, Mizuki was always right there.

"Turn over," and Yuuta did as his manager commanded. He had been wearing a towel around his waist, but Mizuki stripped it away, and Yuuta could no more deny his arousal than he could the color of his skin. Mizuki grinned, and took off his shirt. He ran his fingernails over Yuuta's nipples and down his belly, circling his belly button. He dropped his shorts just before climbing up on the table, climbing on top of Yuuta.

If he kept his eyes on Yuuta's chest, he could see enough of a family resemblance to keep himself hard so he could use Yuuta's body.