The walk back from the court was relaxed in a way Kunimitsu was becoming familiar with. It wasn’t the quiet of exhaustion, though both he and Fuji came out of their matches drenched and out of breath. Kunimitsu liked to think of it as the ease of honesty.

It had certainly taken long enough.

He had never said that out loud, but he rather thought Fuji had gotten the idea anyway. There was a rueful quirk to Fuji’s lips those times when Kunimitsu stood watching him for just a little longer than was reasonable, just to confirm that, yes, it really was Fuji playing such a magnificent game. That quirk was as close as Fuji would ever come to an apology for the years of frustration he had put Kunimitsu through by refusing to grasp his real strength.

Kunimitsu didn’t truly need an apology, because when that quirk smoothed into stillness Fuji unfolded for him, played matches with him that demanded every iota of his own strength. He was still losing half of them, and that was all the proof he needed of Fuji’s honesty and engagement. It was enough.

Sometimes, of course, Fuji chose to take his reassurances further anyway. Or perhaps it was Fuji’s own need for reassurance. Kunimitsu wasn’t sure the two could be separated. Given that they had just passed the turn off toward Fuji’s house, though, he thought that today was probably one of those times. And when they reached his house, and Fuji had finished being charming for Kunimitsu’s mother, and the bedroom door was locked behind them, Kunimitsu tipped his head at Fuji in question.

The gleam in Fuji’s eyes and the full fledged grin on his face were sufficient answer. It was definitely one of those times. Kunimitsu stifled a chuckle and sat down on the edge of his bed, leaning back to keep eye contact. If anything, Fuji’s eyes brightened; it looked like he was in an aggressive mood today, a conclusion that didn’t alter in the slightest when Fuji came to sit on his heels in front of Kunimitsu. He took one of Kunimitsu’s hands in his, uncurling it, stroking the palm and fingers.

“I like your hands, you know,” Fuji remarked, head bent over the one in his possession.

Kunimitsu made an inquiring sound, bitten short as Fuji’s tongue flicked out to taste a fingertip.

“They’re very well proportioned; long without being too thin,” Fuji noted, conversationally. “And very strong.” Fuji tasted the inside of Kunimitsu’s wrist this time, lingering just a bit. Kunimitsu turned his hand swiftly to curve along the line of Fuji’s jaw.

“Don’t tease,” he said, softly.

Fuji smiled with genuine amusement; they both knew he was never more straightforward than when he was touching and being touched. “All right.” He uncoiled up off the floor, hands finding Kunimitsu’s shoulder and chest to push him back flat on the bed. Kunimitsu wrapped an arm around Fuji’s waist to bring him along, and Fuji was laughing as he landed in a sprawl on top of Kunimitsu, driving his breath out.

The laugh flavored their kiss with a little wildness. Kunimitsu was getting used to that, with Fuji, though. Fuji’s mouth was hot against his, and as impatient as the fingers flicking open the buttons of his shirt. And then his pants. Kunimitsu threaded a hand through Fuji’s hair, pulling him closer as Fuji’s hand spread against his stomach and slid up. Fuji’s lips curved at the sound Kunimitsu made when Fuji’s hands paused for a thumb to stroke the line of a muscle, the arch of a rib, the outline of a nipple, tiny sparks of pleasure skittering under his light touch. Kunimitsu wrapped a leg around one of Fuji’s, levering their hips together. Fuji tossed his head back with a gasp, and Kunimitsu took the opportunity to tug Fuji’s shirt loose so his own hands could wander more freely. Fuji’s skin still seemed heated from their game, flushed and taut.

“Yes,” Fuji bent his head down again to murmur in Kunimitsu’s ear. “Like that.” He braced his free leg and turned them both over, pulling Kunimitsu on top of him. “Much better.”

Kunimitsu was not particularly surprised to feel Fuji’s hand smooth down his spine, under the loosened waist of his pants, until his fingertips rubbed over Tezuka’s entrance. A low rumble of approval filled his throat, rolled into Fuji’s mouth as they kissed. Fuji’s fingers pressed harder.

Sometimes, on slow days, they explored each other a little, had patience, for a little while, under each other’s mouths and fingers. But today wasn’t a slow day.

Kunimitsu spread his legs wider over Fuji’s hips. He liked this, liked the raw feeling of Fuji’s fingers working into him without anything on them. It was Fuji’s fierceness that drew him, fascinated him, made him want to touch Fuji as soon as their games ended, without waiting to be in private. He counted it a good day when that fierceness lasted until they were.

Those were often the quick days.

“Tezuka,” Fuji breathed against his throat.

“Mm.” Kunimitsu nipped just under Fuji’s ear, enjoying the sharp arch of Fuji’s body under his and the tension of the fingers inside him. “Yes.”

Fuji shoved down Kunimitsu’s pants, disentangling himself long enough to strip off his own as well. Kunimitsu rolled onto his back, stretching; he smiled at the flare in Fuji’s eyes. Fuji had an absolute passion for seeing him naked, something Kunimitsu was not above taking advantage of. When he spread his legs apart and held out a hand, Fuji was pressed against him again almost too fast for the eye to follow. Kunimitsu made a pleased sound into their hard, fast kisses, and reached over to fish a small foil tube out of his bedside table. With its contents cool in his cupped hand he reached down to stroke Fuji’s erection.

A hard shudder shook Fuji and he bit back a cry too loud for a house with other people in it. “You like surprising me,” he accused, between his teeth.

“I have a lot to catch up on,” Kunimitsu murmured back to the glint in Fuji’s eyes. “Now.”

Very little could distract Kunimitsu from the feeling of Fuji pressing into him, but Fuji’s hands behind his knees, Fuji’s thumbs stroking the soft skin there, did pull an extra sigh from him. When Fuji’s touch slid down his thighs, pressing along the length of stretched tendons, it was Kunimitsu’s turn to shudder. In that moment of relaxation, Fuji was inside him.

Kunimitsu released a breathless moan for the hot stretch and the shaking, always-alarming openness as Fuji pressed deeper.

On quick days, Fuji’s thrusts were fast and light, and the ripples his movement sent down nerve and muscle made Kunimitsu laugh today. Fuji caught his breath.

“Oh. Do that again,” he whispered, voice husky, pausing deep inside Kunimitsu.

“You can’t expect me to laugh too very often,” Kunimitsu returned, rocking up against him. Not that his expression was very sober at the moment with his eyelids heavy and his lips parted from the tingling tenseness Fuji had been driving through him.

“Something else, then, perhaps,” Fuji suggested, lacing the fingers of one hand through Kunimitsu’s. He slid their joined grip down Kunimitsu’s erection.

His entire body flexed toward the pleasure of that touch. He would have said something about Fuji enjoying surprises, too, but Fuji’s renewed thrust into him stole his voice. Fast pleasure caught him and dragged him under a swirl of sensation, aware of his body tightening to support it, of his fingers locked hard around Fuji’s, of Fuji’s moan, of his breath stilled in his lungs.

He opened his eyes in time to watch Fuji’s turn distant and his mouth soften. He liked to see that, especially since it didn’t ever take long for Fuji’s expression to return to his usual watchfulness. A watchfulness slightly tinged with smugness just at the moment.

“Mmm. That works, too,” Fuji commented, easing himself away and then down to lie beside Kunimitsu.

Kunimitsu took a moment to recall the track of their words. “That similar an effect just from me laughing?” he asked, turning on his side so he could stroke Fuji’s back.

Fuji stretched like a cat, nearly purring like one. “Of course.” He looked at Kunimitsu evenly, brushing his fingertips over Kunimitsu’s lips. “You could win every game we ever played with your laugh.”

“Perhaps that’s why I don’t.” Kunimitsu tucked Fuji closer against him, kneading the back of Fuji’s neck now.

Fuji closed his eyes with a tiny smile. “I know.”

End