title: the Late Show
fandom: Prince of Tennis
characters/pairings: Tezuka/Fuji
rating: Mature
warnings: masturbation, voyeurism, hand job
summary: Fuji leaves something behind, and has to go back for it.
notes: um. they are in high school. *nods*

The lights in the locker room were shut off already as Fuji slipped inside. Dusk was settling over the school, leaving the room half-lit in shadows. He'd gotten halfway to home before he remembered that he left his calculus book in his locker. He'd been showing Inui some of his problems, getting some impromptu tutoring between school and tennis. He would normally have just left it at school and forgotten about it, but he had a test in the morning, and for once, he actually felt like studying. Calculus was like learning a foreign language, and as much as it confused him, he sort of liked it. Also, if he failed, he might get into trouble with Ryuzaki-sensei and Tezuka.

Not that he would mind a little trouble with Tezuka...

He was shoving the book into his bag when he realized that the shower was running. He looked around the locker room quickly. Most of the team should be home by now. Oishi was probably thick into his homework. Eiji would have brushed his teeth twice. Momo and Echizen had inhaled six burgers and were now demanding dinner from their family.

There was only one person who would be here so late, and showering.

Fuji dropped his bag quietly, and snuck over to the door to the shower, just barely peeking around the side to see if he was right.

His jaw would have dropped off his face if he were anyone else. Fuji's mouth formed a little 'o', and his eyes popped open. It was Tezuka, just as he'd suspected, and he was just down the line from where Fuji was watching, his head tipped back in the water, his hands in his hair, rinsing out the shampoo that was draining down over his perfectly formed body.

Fuji's throat went dry, and his skin tingled all over his body. He licked his lips, and grinned. What fortuitous timing!

Tezuka squirted some liquid soap into his hand, and started to lather it all over his skin, just using his bare hands. Fuji thought he might just fall on his face. Tezuka was quite thorough, slipping his soapy hands all over his body, over his pert, dark nipples, and down to his waist, slipping his finger into his belly button. Fuji leaned closer, pressing his body against the doorjamb.

Fuji never really believed in the gods, or in fate, or in luck. His sister would explain to Yuuta and him in great detail the forces that controlled their life, but it was Fuji's experience that his life was well under his control, and what wasn't, didn't really matter.

He would have to reconsider the gods, and perhaps offer some thanks to the appropriate shrine.

Tezuka had gotten a few more squirts of soap, and was washing his genitals with all the care and thoroughness that was expected of the Captain of Seigaku.

Fuji ran his tongue over his lips, and willed Tezuka's hand to slow, for his fingers to curl around his cock, for him to find a certain rhythm...

Tezuka rolled his balls around his hand, and his cock started to stiffen. Fuji bit his lip to keep from laughing. Tezuka started to breathe hard, his stomach puffing in and out. He reached out to put his left hand on the tiled wall of the shower, and his right hand curled around his cock.

The air was steam and sweat, like something out of a dream. Fuji held his breath, so he could hear every squeaking moan that slipped from Tezuka's barely parted lips, the rhythm of his pumping fist like a beating drum, primal and powerful. Tezuka's eyes were tightly closer, and he bit his lip, his fingers quivering against the tiles...

Fuji was heaving as he watched Tezuka, his hand moving faster and faster, until finally, his body shuddered sinuously, and his ejaculate spilled over the tile, to be washed away slowly.

Tezuka continued to breathe heavily, his body slowly slumping as his right hand unclenched. The water sloughed down his back, his hair dripping off his head, looking longer with the weight of the water.

Fuji waited for his captain to straighten up and open his eyes before he spoke.

"Who were you thinking of?"

Tezuka's back went stiff, and he turned to face Fuji, shocked.

Fuji bit his lip to keep his smile from getting too wide. "Who were you thinking of, Tezuka? Anyone I know?"

Tezuka narrowed his eyes, but he made no move to hide himself. In fact, he shut off the water, and walked calmly right for Fuji, pausing by the table at the side to grab a towel.

"Ever the stoic... If you don't tell me who you were thinking of, I'll assume you were thinking of me." Fuji smirked at Tezuka, coyly leaning against the wall.

Tezuka regarded Fuji for a moment, and then shrugged, toweling his hair off brashly right in front of Fuji. "You will think what you want regardless of what I say, won't you?"

"Maybe I'm right," Fuji postulated. "Maybe you were imagining that it was me with in the shower, touching you... Mm, but our hands aren't really the same size at all, are they? So perhaps... perhaps you were imagining that you were sliding into my body, thrusting back and forth into my tight little hole..." He almost laughed, watching Tezuka grow more and more tense. The idea of Tezuka beating off, thinking about him... It was making Fuji even hotter.

Tezuka wrapped his towel around his waist and brushed past Fuji to go back into the locker room. Fuji followed him, his hands in his pockets, casually strolling. He straddled the bench across from where Tezuka was standing, and laid back. "That was quite a show, Tezuka. I had no idea you were so shameless."

Fuji smiled through the silence, closing his eyes. It was getting dark in the locker room, anyway, and he didn't want to watch Tezuka get dressed. He wanted to hold onto the image of Tezuka fondling himself under the shower spray.

"I had thought I was alone," Tezuka stated calmly and quietly.

"But you were in the team shower... The door was unlocked... It could have been anyone walking in. What if it had been Ryuzaki-sensei? Or Echizen?" Fuji chuckled silently. Tezuka was too quiet. And the pictures in Fuji's mind were too tempting. His body was reacting. "I don't think I can walk home like this. Were you thinking of me? Tezuka?"

He opened his eyes to see Tezuka looking at his, holding his glasses in his hands. Tezuka's neatly folded clothes were still on the shelf behind him. Fuji smiled up at Tezuka, but Tezuka was almost frozen in place.

Fuji's lips curled in wicked delight. "Maybe I should put on a show before I try to go home. What do you think? Did it relax you to let it out like that? Are you tired, or are you still hungry? ...If I start to undress, will you stay to watch me?"

He closed his eyes again. Tezuka was like stone, standing there in his towel. With his eyes closed, he could see Tezuka in front of him, water pouring down over his skin, his hand moving over the soft skin of his cock... Fuji squirmed on the bench. "I think I will. You can watch, if you like. And maybe I'll be thinking about you. What do you think of that, Tezuka?"

He didn't expect a response. He started to unbutton his school jacket from the bottom up, slipping it off his shoulders so it hung off him just a bit. He began on his shirt in the same manner, letting his hands skim over his skin as it was bared. The locker room was a bit chilly, more so because of the heat from the shower that was still lingering in his mind. He slipped his hands back and forth over his bare chest, his fingers toying with his nipples absently.

He couldn't have heard Tezuka falling to his knees next to him, but somehow, he knew that when he opened his eyes again, his captain would be there. Tezuka was kneeling next to him, his glasses hanging off of his nose, his hands neatly placed on his knees. It might have been a respectful pose for prayer, if he wasn't staring to raptly at Fuji.

Fuji had no problem with being an object of worship. "Should I, Tezuka? Decide for me, captain. What should I do?"

Tezuka met Fuji's gaze levelly, and then his hand reached out, faltering, to open Fuji's pants.

It took all of Fuji's reserve to not thrust his hip up into Tezuka's hand. He lifted his hips, and let Tezuka pull down his pants and his boxers past the rise of his ass, past his swollen cock...

Fuji smiled at Tezuka, pleased. He put his hand on his cock, and started to move it slowly. "You were thinking of me, weren't you, Tezuka. You were thinking of thrusting inside of me. You were thinking of making me moan. You wanted to know what I looked like when I was aroused, when I was coming, hard. Is it what you imagined? Am I living... up to your... expectation... Captain?"

Tezuka blinked, and Fuji was struck by how truly beautiful Tezuka's face was, how finely formed was his bone structure, how really expressive his eyes were...

Tezuka's hand reached out, and laid flat on Fuji's chest, the fingertips curling in slightly. Fuji gasped, his body bucking. Tezuka stared for a second, gauging Fuji's reaction, and then he smiled, just the tiniest bit. His hand drifted over, his fingertips circling around one of Fuji's nipples.

Fuji purred, and smiled, letting his eyes slip closed. "Say something, Tezuka. Captain. Touch me. Make me scream..."

He heard Tezuka's breath hitch, but he didn't really expect the second hand to seal around the base of his cock. His back arched, and he sighed in pleasure.

Tezuka leaned close to him, and he spoke softly into Fuji's ear. "So will you come when I tell you to? Syuusuke?"

Fuji moaned softly, tipping his head back, almost begging Tezuka to kiss his throat. He came in one long shuddering spurt, his body collapsing onto the bench when it was done, like his strings had been cut. He barely had the strength to move his hand away from his crotch.

He never would have guessed that Tezuka would lick him clean. He hardly believed it, even as he felt the soft, hot tongue moving over his body. He laughed quietly, his body shaking with each hiccupping chuckle.

Yes, he would have to ask Yumiko about what god he owed a favor to...

He lazily opened his eyes, shifting back and forth on the bench. He smiled at Tezuka, who was just... watching him, licking his lips. On impulse, he reached out to touch Tezuka's hair, slipping his fingers into the thick, coarse mess. He clenched his fingers in the damp tresses. Piece by piece, he was making Tezuka his. It was good. He pulled Tezuka down so he could taste himself on Tezuka's lips.

His bag started to sing, and he groaned. "This is always happening to us, isn't it?" He smiled ruefully as he sat up to rummage through his bag and grab his cell. Tezuka waited, still kneeling. Fuji only just glanced at the display before answering. "Neesan, hi. No, sorry, I had to go back to school... I forgot a book. No, no, it's ok, I'm on my way now. If you could just start dinner, I'll be home soon. Thanks."

It was dark now in the locker room. Fuji sat, his bare ass on the bench, his shirt and jacket hanging off his shoulder. Tezuka kneeled in his towel and glasses before Fuji.

Fuji tossed his cell on top of his bag, and put his hands in Tezuka's hair, pulling Tezuka closer to kiss him, deeply, slipping his tongue inside of Tezuka's mouth. Tezuka's hands came up to touch his skin, to hold him.

It only lasted for a minute. When they parted, it was too dark to see each other's eyes. Fuji stood up suddenly, pulled his pants up and buttoning his shirt and jacket. Tezuka stayed where he was, calmly watching as Fuji gathered himself together to leave. He stepped past Tezuka without pausing, hitching his bag up on his shoulder. He put his hand on the doorknob, and he smiled gently. "See you tomorrow. Kunimitsu."

He stepped out into the night, and walked quickly away. The air felt bitingly cold, and he felt like his nerves were in pieces, but for some reason, he couldn't stop smiling.