title: Lust: December 4th
fandom: Prince of Tennis
characters/pairings: Fuki/Tezuka, Tezuka's father
rating: T
warnings: mentions of sex, mentions of bloodplay
summary: Tezuka still lives with the enemy
notes: for reddwarfer, for her prompt for my advent ficalendar. a sidefic to Lust. *snuggles Leila*

He sat before the enemy, his hands in fists on his knees. He was shirtless, and he left the door open, despite the cold. It reminded him of the winter on the mountain. He stared at the enemy, and the wide brushstrokes of his father's calligraphy.

The door to the house opened, and his father walked in, looking him over briefly. He walked across the salle, and closed the door to the outside. "The house is getting too cold." Tezuka didn't reply, and his father just stood there, watching him. "I suppose its no surprise that you're meditating again. Would you like me to sit with you?"

Again, Tezuka said nothing, but he looked up at his father, and so his father knelt down.

Tezuka closed his eyes, and repeated to himself the mantra of self-control.



It was because of Fuji. He couldn't blame Fuji. But Fuji was the one who wore his kimono so loose. Fuji came into the salle to tempt him, to make him want to go to bed.

Fuji didn't want to go to bed.

Fuji's skin was like silk. Fuji told him it was fine, he could drink all he wanted, it was exciting. He meant to restrain himself. They were in a 'public' part of the house. He couldn't think straight when Fuji was being so seductive.

It was Fuji's fault.



"You understand what is happening to you, don't you?" his father asked sternly. He clenched his teeth. He wanted to tell his father that he was too old to be lectured, but he had no choice but to endure it. "You've grown complacent, and there is no greater risk."

Complacent. He'd gotten used to having Fuji around. Having access... of letting himself indulge in the taste of Fuji's body and blood. He even made it a point to leave the house regularly now, going with Fuji to see their former classmates, or to go shopping or sightseeing with Fuji.

It was... a marriage. Were they not allowed a honeymoon?

"You put his life in danger when you take your control for granted," his father warned him.

It wasn't Fuji's life that had been in danger...



His fingernails had trailed down Fuji's chest, leaving tracks of red. He had lapped up the blood like a wolf. Fuji had enjoyed it. Fuji's beautiful body had been open for him. He could have touched Fuji anywhere, put his hands everywhere, his tongue, his teeth...

Fuji had moaned his name. That nickname that only Fuji used. His name. Tezuka had pushed him down to the floor, and Fuji had laughed.

They were young and in love and Tezuka wanted to possess every fiber of Fuji.

It was his right.



"Son, it isn't easy. It's not going to become easy, either. Nothing about this can be easy. That's why we must diligently remain steadfast, and not give ourselves even the slightest bit of quarter. If we waiver, if we fail...

"The person we love pays the price."

His father's words were heavy, and it wasn't as if they were without truth. It wasn't that he was dismissing his father entirely.

His father just didn't understand.



Fuji had teased him. After tempting him, Fuji teased him about being 'perverse' in 'public,' about being caught by Tezuka's grandfather. He said those things as he spread his legs out. Tezuka could read his intentions in his eyes.

He wanted.

Fuji had directed Tezuka's lips to where he wanted kisses. Fuji had initiated everything. Tezuka had been intoxicated on the scent, the taste, everything, everything Fuji intoxicated him.

The door to the salle opened.

He didn't get embarrassed. He wasn't ashamed at all. He remembered thinking only one thing.

Someone else was looking at his Fuji's skin.



His father reached out and touched his shoulder. "We're not alone. We never have to be. Together, we can..."

"No," Tezuka said harshly, pulling away from his father's grasp.

"Eh?" His father was completely confused. "Kunimitsu..."

"This is not the enemy I seek to conqueror," he stated simply.

"Oh?" his father replied archly. "Then what is?"

Tezuka looked up at the broad brushstrokes his father had made to help him combat his own demons.

"I must accept my feelings... emotional and physical for Syuusuke. However." He looked over his shoulder at his father. "Syuusuke is mine, entirely. What I must combat is... possession." He stood up and walked out quickly.



Don't you two have your own room for this, his father had asked. Have you no shame, he scoffed. He looked away, but that didn't matter. He had looked.

He had seen what was meant for Tezuka alone.

Fuji had laughed, and held his kimono together. He had tried to lighten the mood. He got up, and Tezuka followed him obediently. He held Fuji's hand tightly, and as they passed his father...

It wasn't a conscious action. It was instinct.

He bared his fangs and growled. Fuji had stopped dead in his tracks. His father's eyes had widened, and he took a half step back.

Tezuka had thrown his shoulders back, and pulled Fuji closer to him, leading him away.




He entered their bedroom and sighed heavily.

"I'm cold," Fuji complained.

Tezuka smiled softly, and got the electric blanket down from the shelf. He plugged it in and spread it over the bed. He didn't like the cold, either. And his body wouldn't warm Fuji.

"I don't like it when you meditate so much," Fuji yawned. "I can't sleep without you."

He slipped into the bed, and touched Fuji's lips, tracing them. Fuji looked up at him, and Tezuka felt exposed by that gaze. "I don't want you to sleep without me," he said softly.

Fuji slowly smiled, and then grabbed Tezuka's arm. "Then get in here, 'Mitsu. I'm tired."

"I'm sorry, Syuusuke," he murmured, and he kissed his lover goodnight.