For All the Wrong Reasons

For All the Wrong Reasons



by Lemon & Chai

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Rating: N17. Bondage, S&M, D/s, and well everything else. Yuki-muse is horny.



Summary: A YukiFuji, SanaTezu fic, with eventual fivesome with Atobe. Inspired by kitti-chan and lolistar. This update is dedicated to The Black Firefly.



Warning: Molestation and language. Tezuka-muse went ooc on me. Grrr.



Review replies:



JKL: XD Err... I'll try! Tezuka is... Tezuka. .... Not sure what to do with him. He definitely has his moments, though... I think the next chapter will reveal one of them.



ella_bella: Honestly, I never thought about SanaFuji (it's crack really), until I wrote this. XD There's some more at the start of this chapter, so bear with me, but after that Sanada loses the spotlight forever. XD Hm... let's see, next up is TezuFuji, and I think there's an orgy planned, and then a mixture of things... I didn't have any plans for any AtoFuji (without company) but perhaps I'll aim for an omake >D in honor of your lovely reviews.



yellow22: Wah, sorry for being so slow! Gomen gomen - I hope you enjoy this as well ~ the lemons are never ending, kufufu. ... Oh, except where the story kicks in. -sigh-



drmsr: Kekeke, glad you enjoyed it XD I took way too long with this chapter so it's okay to fall behind. There is some TezuYukiAto smut but very minor - afterall, Fuji is the lemon tree. There can't be sex without him.

---

A veil wrapped heavily around his consciousness, yet throughout the night Sanada was still slightly awake, his eyes closed but his arms gently holding the lithe brunette he'd gathered earlier. His body rested deeply from the swell of endorphins, but his mind tingled with excitement as the power from his conquest buzzed through him like a web of static electricity. He could still feel the tight skin against his palm as he had slapped it, the triumphant rush when he finally took control of the devilish vamp.



This was completely different than his time with Yukimura. He didn't feel that Fuji was fragile, or that he had to hold back. It wasn't that he thought Yukimura was weak, but ...



The past came to him, half as a dream and half as a memory. Since the break-up, he though he had pushed the days of worry and constant concern from his thoughts, but it seemed he'd merely squashed it to the back of his mind.



Yukimura was always breaking, back then. Ever since he was diagnosed, the medications he took made him terrible ill, breaking him down physically more than Sanada believed the disease was. But the doctors said it was necessary. If they weren't careful, Seiichi's lungs might stop working and he would suffocate. The disease would come in spouts. Usually he was fine... but when the attacks came, a limb would drop, sometimes two limbs, sometimes his whole body, till the captain couldn't move. He often fell, and had hit his head more than once, being unable to control what he was doing. But he said that the risk was better than the meds... Sanada and Yanagi would take turns making sure he took them. At home, Yukimura's family was in charge, and Sanada was sure that if it weren't for the elder sister, his lover would never have swallowed his dosage.



Seiichi's body grew weak. The firm muscle tone he'd developed from training disappeared. It didn't turn into fat - it just disappeared, leaving only skin and bone. He didn't eat, because he'd throw up, but he had to take the meds with food. The doctor's assured them that none of this was fatal, but Seiichi was dying. He was dying because his tennis was dying. He was dying because other than Sanada, all he had was scraps of a broken, careless family that pretended to be normal even while no one talked to each other, only at each other - parents who cared for him less the less perfect he became.



And back then, Sanada was dying too, watching Yukimura die.



Yukimura did not know how to live without being completely in control - of his team, his tennis, himself, and his body. Sanada could not help but think that Seiichi's current... attitude had something to do with him trying to prove to himself and everyone else that he had regained that control over everything he had. His captain was supposed to be cured now, but often times when Sanada glanced at the brunette, he'd see a pale, boney figure giving orders from a bench he claimed he was ruling from, but it looked very much like he was resting. Seiichi would not say anything if his symptoms came back - he would keep going, and going, and going, until there was no more of his body left to go on.



And from rumors Sanada had heard, Tezuka Kunimitsu was the same - sacrificing himself, his health and his body, for a fleeting moment of victory. Sighing, he wondered what was wrong with his choice in boyfriends, and suddenly realized that Fuji was probably not any better. The tensai was too familiar with pain, too willing to ignore it for the sake of someone else. Great - Sanada picked all the screwed up people.

---

Everything was still pitch black when Fuji cracked open his eyes. He usually slept nonstop after sex until late into the day, but something had woken him up. He could see nothing in the darkness, or maybe that was because his face was buried in Sanada's chest - oh.



The vice captain was hugging him gently as he slept, one hand protectively cupping the brunette's hair. The position was... unfamiliar. He liked to cuddle after sex, but this felt weird. Maybe because, despite everything, he still thought of Sanada as a stranger. Hell, when was the first time they'd even talked to each other? Last night? A few hours ago?



Fuji did not trust easily, and used his aloof, smiling mask to stay distant. Though once someone entered his heart he was fiercely loyal, and would do anything for that person. He was not unkind to strangers - but he had a different level of comfort for those he did not understand. And understanding came with time and communication.



Shifting to try to back away and out of the embrace, Fuji cringed as suddenly he realized why he'd awoken. His sore ass had been pinched funny by his position, and it hurt. The night before came flooding back to him... the things he'd done, said, the decision he'd made and the... the way he'd seduced Sanada into fucking him. Rough and painful, just the way Yukimura had ordered it to be.



No, it hadn't been pleasurable, it couldn't have been. There were good parts, yes, but mostly it was exhausting and full of stinging, tearing, slapping, gripping... oh yeah, and being flipped over by one hell of a meaty middle finger. And yet.... he'd come. God, god, what was wrong with him? He was in pure pain when he came, the pain alone driven him on and into orgasm. No, he couldn't call what had happened pleasurable - Sanada was too big, he was too unprepared, and he'd never felt so much during sex. But he had this sickening urge to wake the built athlete up and do it all over again.



He was a slut, just as Yukimura had said. He was a whore who enjoyed sex for sex's sake, who mixed up pain and pleasure and could no longer tell the difference.



As a romantic, he'd told his sister that he believed sex was about love, and he believed making love was a beautiful thing that shouldn't be soiled or taken for granted. And yet, he'd gone ahead and had sex for pleasure, with someone he hardly knew and certainly couldn't be in love with - no, it was not just Sanada. Everyone he'd had sex with except for Tezuka had been for the wrong reason.



Yes, he had loved them, but he had sex with them not out of love but to make Tezuka jealous. And then, worst of all, he had enjoyed it, enjoyed the pleasure he gained while using whoever his boyfriend of the moment was. He wondered if a paid-for prostitute was even comparable to him, or if he was indeed the utter most sludge at the bottom of the earth that he felt he was.



The tears gathered in his eyes started to fall, running down his lashes and across his cheeks. He cried softly and miserably, turning his face into the comforter to soak up the moisture and stifle his breathing.



He'd even pulled Sanada, who was like a gentle giant, into his twisted world of sado-masochism. Sanada said he was punishing him but Fuji knew he had not been punished enough. This was his choice, to ensure the vice captain was as messed up as the rest of them so that he had no choice but to enter their absurd orgy of a relationship.



He was ruining the people around him, just as he always had.

---

The vice captain awoke to the soft, almost nonexistent sound of muffled crying, but he had hardly been asleep anyways. The tensai was still safely tucked in his arms, but his face was hidden in the sheets, his still naked body trembling slightly. The cold night air couldn't have helped, and Sanada cursed himself for not pulling them under the sheets.



Fuji must have noticed he was awake, for the tensai suddenly stiffened then relaxed into the sheets, feigning sleep. The vice captain rolled his eyes, internally admitting that the brunette was actually very good at pretending, and if he hadn't obviously already been awake, Sanada might have been fooled.



He was about to force the tensai to get up so he could move them under the sheets, when the clouds outside shifted, letting starlight pour through the wide framed windows. Nocturnal shadows danced across Fuji's body, illuminating the pale skin with bluish shades that unveiled a web of marks and shimmers.



Charcoal eyes widening, Sanada realized what a mess the tensai was, how marred with bruised and covered in sweat and cum. Checking his watch, he gently shook the effeminate youth's shoulder, calling to him softly until the brunette finally turned to pout at him, looking upset about being woken up. Sanada gulped reflexively although he knew it was just an act.



He took in the red puffy eyes that had been hastily wiped against the sheets and kissed both of them, enjoying the surprised look that followed. Smiling, he whispered, "It's 4 am. I need to wash you off, then you can sleep."



Fuji regarded him for a moment, his blue eyes glowing in the darkness before he nodded, then smiled mischievously. "Fine, but you have to carry me."



Frowning, Sanada reached under his arms to pick him up, but Fuji pulled away.



"Not like that," whined the brunette. He wrapped his arms around Sanada's neck and nuzzled his shoulder expectantly. "Like a baby."



Wrinkles formed on the vice captain's chin as his frown deepened, a feeling of annoyance shifting through him though he wasn't sure why. He swept the small youth up bridal style, surprised at how feather light the tensai was.



Wiggling his feet childishly, Fuji insisted on being held while Sanada struggled to turn on the bath with one half-occupied hand. The water ran loudly from two opposing shower heads, and warmed instantly. Fuji pointed out to him how to change the settings so that the water poured from the faucet instead, filling the tub rather quickly.



The tub was ridiculously large, like everything else in the Atobe household, and Sanada laid Fuji gently in it before stripping off his own clothes and stepping inside. They were young but full grown, yet the bath looked like it could easily hold a third or a fourth. Fuji giggled while staring at him, and Sanada wondered if something about his body were funny. Niou always said he had too many abs, even in places where most men didn't have muscles. Temple twitching at the thought of the trickster, the vice captain forced himself to focus on Fuji.



The tensai seemed more amused looking at him than doing anything in particular, so Sanada sighed and took hold of his arms, pulling him half way up. He started cleaning the smiling youth like a child, cupping the water with his hands and smoothing soap across his moistened skin.



Fuji was enjoying his baby bath, maybe far too much - he was practically purring, and he was warm, and getting warmer by the moment. Sanada hadn't even started cleaning below his belly yet, letting the water drain as he went. When he reached Fuji's torso, he turned on the shower, rinsing them both in the clean water and letting the rest drain away. The parts that really needed cleaning were yet to be touched, and the anticipation seeped through the air, flushed across Fuji's cheeks and warmed him from the inside out.



"Nee...are you going to finish your punishment?" The words slipped out before he could stop them. Hadn't he just realized what a whore he was? What happened to the overwhelming shame he'd been feeling not too long ago? It was still there, fighting with his libido, making him feel sick, but the latter was controlling his movements, the lustful spark in his eyes, and worst of all, his mouth.



"You don't really think last night was enough, do you? We only did it once. Seiichi can make me come three times in an hour, without even taking me." Of course, he passed out cold after the third time, but Sanada didn't have to know that.



Laughing, the part of him that was out of control continued, "See, you want it just as much as me." It was true. Sanada had grown very hard while cleaning him, or maybe he was already hard before. Maybe he'd never softened after last night - Fuji was just that goddamn sexy.



"Look," Sanada growled, his voice streaked with lust and anger. He was sick of playing this game, driven mad by the clashing feelings of wanting to help and wanting to fuck. "If you want to be Seiichi's bitch, get on your knees and act like one."



Letting out a victorious laugh, Fuji pulled out of his arms and carefully lowered himself onto all fours. It seemed his little taunt from the night before had really affected the vice captain. He wagged his ass, and made a whimpering sound like a begging pup.



Allured, Sanada got down on his knees as well, bending over as if to hump the tensai but placing warm hands on his back instead. Strong, steady fingers traced along the brunette's spine, drifting along his hips and then massaging around his thighs. He felt a rough wet cloth suddenly rubbing his skin, and sighed longingly as his paramour cleaned and explored his lower body at the same time.



God, Fuji hated this. It was too light, too teasing... and it gave him too much time to think. Sanada obviously didn't need anymore convincing, it was only the brunette's sense of romanticism and morals that kept him drowning in shame. But it was too late. He'd already chosen - he would do what his body wanted, what Yukimura wanted. He'd given up on himself anyway.



Anger now cooled, Sanada put aside the cloth and gently touched the tensai's inner thighs, slowly massaging inwards and then cupped the tight ball sacks he discovered, playing with them and enjoying the puppy-like whimpers drifting from his pet's front. He ran his fingers up the sides of Fuji's straightened cock, a begging whine echoing off the bathroom walls.



Fuji's leg started to shake, pressed hard against the cold tile and weakened by the unbearable stimulation. He was exhausted from the night before, and was due for several more hours of beauty sleep. He was worn both physically and emotionally, though Sanada remained ignorant of the latter.



The vice captain decided to have mercy on him, he'd been good after all, not speaking a word since being ordered to play dog. Placing his hands on Fuji's ass, he parted the butt cheek, feeling a pang of guilt when he saw dried blood around the edges of the twitching hole. Bending down, he did what he'd sworn he'd never do in his life - and used his tongue to clean it off.



Fuji moaned, loudly, the intense sensation of rimming driving through him, making him thrust at air. Jerking back, Sanada grabbed his hips in surprise, stopping his movement but not his need.



"Take me," Fuji whimpered, breaking his puppy play. "Please."



Grunting, Sanada flicked on the shower heads, unsurprised when the spray hit them just right, falling hard on their hair and skin from both directions. The sudden heat shocked Fuji's cooling skin, and he cried out, turned on even harder.



The vice captain was taking his time, but he was really barely holding back. The shower wall had a smooth, oddly shaped shelf, which Fuji's body fit nicely against when he was pressed into it. Sanada grabbed one of the lotion bottles, figuring everything in this place worked like lube, and jammed two fingers up the tensai's hole. He didn't want the pain from last night but he was out of patience now. He jerked the fingers up and down a few times, then he pulled them out and started preparing himself as well, hoping the shower spray wouldn't wash too much off. Plain water, he learned from experience, did not make great lube.



Fuji moaned so loudly even over the shower noise as Sanada started pressing his thick manhood into his hole. The emperor had started so slowly but now he couldn't seem to fit himself in fast enough. He forced his length all the way up, using gravity to help pull the tensai down onto him, ignoring the pained cry that echoed off the walls when he was fully sheathed.



Fuji was in both heaven and hell. The pumping, again and again, god.... yes...yes... this pain... this was what he deserved, what he needed. What wasn't good was the pleasure, each time Sanada hit his prostrate, setting his nerves on fire and whiting out the edge of his vision. It was too much pleasure, actually, the pain was subsiding, and Sanada kept kissing him, all over the back of his neck and shoulders, nurturing him with his lips and hands even as he kept thrusting in and out.



The cock went so damn deep - what was it, 6 inches? 8 inches? It felt like it. His body couldn't handle it but at the same time it needed it, wanted it, drew it in and pushed it out, only to draw it back in. He was melting, heating, melting from the heat, he was exploding, god, he was coming, and maybe Sanada was coming too, he didn't know because at that moment the world shot to white.



It was only an instant, but Fuji was barely conscious enough after his orgasm to think inside of his dreams. Flashes of what he'd just done, flashes of the night before, plagued him and bullied him. He surprised even himself at how far he had taken this. Yukimura had given him orders, yes, but he'd chosen to take them all the way. He was a slut, a whore, and he deserved only punishment. That pain was good, but not the pleasure. Sanada was not supposed to be kind in any way. Fuji had seduced him, tricked him, taunted him until he broke all of his principles and forced him to not only cheat on his boyfriend but give into sadism and domination.



Seiichi, like always, got his way.



Fuji slept through the rest of the bath, and well into the morning.

---

Tezuka had been raised to never let his guard down - a value he held through all things, tried and true.



He held the value, yes, but as for his guard... while he always chose to remain guarded, his grandfather, the teacher of his mastery of emotional control, had never taught him how to keep up his guard while sleeping.



It was the kind of fatal flaw that he should have been aware of, and yet since all those around him were too afraid of him to do anything to him in his sleep, he'd always been fine.



Unfortunately, the two captains on either side of him, whether by equal status or just plain egotism, were not afraid of him at all.



Unfortunately, they did not respect or value his sleep or anyone's sleep the way they aught to, and they did not appear to have been taught basic rules of conduct.



Unfortunately, they were not like Fuji, who would have slept through the night and morning and through any of his supposed unguarded moments, that only - ONLY - occurred when he was unconscious, as, unfortunately, all human beings must at some point in a twenty-four hour period be.



So, as his ill fortune would dictate, he had let his guard down.



And it looked like Atobe had helped him out, by pulling his pants down as well. And Yukimura was currently tugging off his boxers. And hands - four of them - were sliding up beneath his shirt



His internal clock told him it was five a.m., and he had gotten four hours of sleep. He had attempted to keep his guard up by not falling asleep at all, but unfortunately his body betrayed him and decided Atobe's ten thousand dollar mattress was more comfortable than his guard.



Warm fingers pinched his nipples, drawing out a sigh, and a soft hand caressed his ass, while another hand, shaped differently and probably belonging to a different owner, coddled his balls. His molesters continued to undress him, pushing his boxers and pants below his knees, and his shirt up above his head, forcing his arms up as well. They pleasured his skin as they went, touching it, rubbing it, kissing it, licking it... oh god, the diva really did have the tongue of rumors, the muscle control that brought the most pure of virgins begging at ore-sama's feet.



In fact, the pink muscle was working its wonders at the moment, having moved down from Tezuka's navel to the tip of his aching shaft, and oh fuck, it started traversing the hot member with the most agonizing strokes. The tongue swirled and pushed and tickled, and then there were lips, too, also smoothing along the shaft, then kissing the tip, oh god, surrounding it, taking it in, fuck, it'd been years since he had a blow job, and Atobe was swallowing his cock whole.



The diva had no trouble deep throating it, and the blue-haired captain at his back was not helping - Yukimura's hands kept squeezing his ass, and his fingers where tickling his crack, teasing his hole, tracing the sensitive rim with his finger. Atobe took the bespectacled brunette in and out, his lips, tongue and throat vibrating with unbelievable sensuality.



Tezuka did not make any noise, he rarely did, but he started bucking his hips with encouragement from Yukimura. The diva had no trouble taking it, and what the hell, was Yukimura biting him?! He'd never had a hickey before, at least it'd be hidden by his collar.



He could see the diva's blurry head bobbing up and down, someone'd stolen his glasses, but his eyes soon squeezed closed as he grew lost in the building pleasure. He was so close, god, and now Atobe seemed too slow, he needed more, and even thrusting into the warm chamber was not enough, but then Yukimura, sensing his need, jammed a finger two joints into his ass.



With a small, startled cry, Tezuka jerked hard then came, his semen spurting into the mouth of Hyotei's king. He heard the bluenette behind him laugh, and he grunted in response.



They both pulled away from him, just enough that he could lay on his back and rest, before each draped over one of his shoulders and looked at him expectedly.



Sighing, he grunted, "What?" This was his way of saying, 'You just had your way with me, what more could you possibly expect me to give you?' Unfortunately (as fortune had abandoned him completely today), Fuji was the only one who could read through his one-word statements, which meant the two captains he currently accompanied went ahead with their assumptions.



"Nee," Yukimura pressed a cheek to his shoulder. "Which?"



"Hn?"



"Last time, we decided between ourselves," Yukimura calmly explained. "Which one of us to you want to take?" He spoke as if they were deciding a tennis tournament arrangement.



Eyebrow twitching, Tezuka glanced at the silent diva on his right, who was looking at him coyly, almost.... shyly?! Tezuka didn't buy it, but his cock did. The damn thing twitched along with his eyebrow. He looked to the left at Yukimura.... well he always knew the bluenette was pretty. In a gorgeous, wavy haired model kind of way.



They seriously wanted him to chose. He wondered if he had a third option of hiding beneath the bed. But hiding was not the same as putting up your guard.

His imagination popped up an image of Atobe, pressed hard into the sheets, whimpering and moaning as Tezuka pounded into the arrogant diva from behind. Then a second image of Yukimura, making the most beautiful, song-like noises as he was gently taken, submitting to his long time rival by wrapping his legs around Tezuka's waist while he thrust.

He pushed the images aside a second after they appeared. "No," he declared to himself. He would not do what they wanted. He'd fuck them - well, assuming he said yes to this relationship, he would - but on his own call and time. They would not control him.

He just needed to convince his cock of that, so the damn thing would stop aching.

"No?" Yukimura echoed, his voice laced with amusement.

Atobe was strangely silent, but he had two fingers pressed against his face insightfully. God, was he using that stupid move now? But the diva was waiting, giving him time to think, time to chose. They really, truly wanted him to decide for himself. Pleasure, comfort, companionship... What did these two want from this? What did they want from him? What did he want from them...

"I just want to talk," he sputtered. He knew he was in no position to say this, flushed and panting on the bed. But his instinct was telling him this was not the time. He enjoyed their ministrations greatly, but right now, they had to work this out... before the feelings got lost in the sex. If this... if such a thing could have a chance... if they could... maybe be there to stop him.....

He knew he had no right to hope, but.....

Maybe if this worked out, he could be with Fuji again.

An exasperated sigh snapped him out of his thoughts. "We pleasure you first thing in the morning, and you think you can get away without giving a return?" Yukimura turned on his side, making sure Tezuka felt a hard bulge against his leg. "We have our own wants-"

"Let's talk, then," Atobe interrupted, leaning across Tezuka and placing his hand on the bluenette's shoulder to silence him. "What do you want to talk about?" He smirked at Tezuka's unreadable gaze. "This relationship? Us? You?" He drawled, words slipping languidly through his lips. "Your current boyfriend? But you seem to have forgotten about him." Smirk widening, he leaned forward, his hand swirling carelessly across the brunette's chest. "Syuusuke?"

Tezuka didn't respond, but his gaze narrowed towards the door. His eyes were not accusing, but one glance at Sanada who stood guiltily in the doorway told the whole story. The ebony haired athlete couldn't meet his boyfriend's eyes.

"Ahn? Where's Fuji?" Atobe purred, despite knowing the answer. Rubbing salt in wounds was his specialty - there was something invigorating about emotional harassment.

"...Still sleeping," the vice captain grumbled, guilt practically rolling down his face in the form of a light sweaty sheen. Though he really shouldn't have been ashamed considering Tezuka wasn't looking too good either, obviously molested between two hot tennis stars on a very wide bed.

"Oh come here Gen," Yukimura laughed and patted the bed, his gracious smile clashing with the leer in his eyes. "Don't be shy."

Sanada hated himself for obeying like a well-trained puppy.

"We're having story time," the bluenette continued, tucking his feet in daintily to make room for his ex to sit. "Tezuka was about to tell us why he broke up with Fuji."

". . ." The stoic youth's lips stayed sealed. Hazel orbs dashed between the occupants of the bed, hidden by thick glass, but not from the scrutiny of the three pairs of eyes that traced his face.

"You want to talk, and right now, we all want to listen."

They were watching him, patiently, expectedly. Waiting. Wondering. Tezuka did not like being the center of attention...not like this, anyway, even though he knew he had to say something, for Fuji's sake if not his own. His team's prodigy... his best friend and former lover was being hurt, by this gentle looking beau on his left, and it was really all his fault for pushing the fragile hearted youth away in the first place. Gulping, he opened his mouth, then closed it. What could he possibly say? He had no right to talk, nor did he know what to talk about. He was not one to express himself, he was used to not being understood, except by Fuji.

"Well? We're waiting," Atobe drawled. "Or is Fuji Syuusuke no longer of any interest to you?"

". . ." It was like he'd forgotten how to speak - how to make his vocal cords vibrate and produce sound. He'd come here to scold them, to set things straight, but instead he felt like the child needing scolding. Perhaps he was far too hopeful...this... experiment, this train wreck waiting to happen, had sparked something inside him he had not felt in a long time - longing.

"Is that it? Does he no longer turn you on?" Yukimura twirled his hair between two fingers, combing it with his eyes as if checking for split ends. "Nee... When you see him in the locker room showers, do you no longer get hard? Genichirou gets hard when he sees me - oh don't you dare deny it, I've noticed," he giggled, his toes nudging the vice captain's thigh. "I get hard, too. Why do you think I always force Yanagi out?" He shifted closer to Tezuka, draping over his shoulder like a wanton tigress. "Nee... do you imagine, ordering all your team members to leave, all but him, do you picture yourself moving behind him, touching, feeling those curves along his sides, that you've started at for so long... can you remember what it feels like, to draw your hand across his spine, what it sounds like, his soft, longing whisper..."

The diva interrupted, "Seiichi, you're being lewd." Though honestly, the silver haired youth had pictured dragging Yukimura into the shower and doing the very things he'd described. "Besides, you'd have to be celibate not to want to fuck that thing."

"....No...." This wasn't... sex wasn't what this was about. Maybe it was, but there was so much more to everything... to Fuji, to them. It wasn't like he didn't want it, of course he'd love to pound into what was still the main object of his fantasies. But that was exactly why... "I still... want to but I... he... and people like you don't help," he spat, grabbing the well manicured hand that was sliding across his hip and pushing it back towards its owner.

Smirking, Atobe withdrew the offending appendage and licked the tips of his fingers. "So that's the problem, ahn? Too many others taking glances, and perhaps Syuusuke was glancing back?"

"Stop it," Tezuka deadpanned. His head started to ache. Memories of those times...back in middle school, when he and Fuji were together, flashed in his mind... and the diva's comment struck too close to home despite being wrong. After all, Atobe was one of those people taking too many glances at the taken brunette. There was something deeper, truer, more critical that he wanted to express, but...

"Or perhaps it went deeper than that," Yukimura purred, catching on to the diva's tactic. "You seam like the gentle type," he goaded. "Too gentle for him? Was he not satisfied?"

"That's not how..." The ache seeped into Tezuka's voice, fringing the edge of his emotionless mask. They were so close, so close to glimpsing beneath it, and Tezuka almost felt he wanted them to, but how could he... how could he possibly tell...explain the guilt wrenching in his gut for so long...

"Fuji ..." is the one who could talk to other people. The one who understood him, and everyone else, even though no one understood Fuji. Tezuka thought he wanted to only talk about Fuji, not himself. "...is apt with other people," he finished lamely, only to realize how his words would be misinterpreted.

"We're well aware," leered the diva, tossing back his bangs with those suggestive fingers. "He flirts just by walking."

"He's not meant to be hurt," Tezuka lamented, his words failing to connect. He couldn't do this, he was too awkward, and all these guys wanted to talk about was sex...

"What do you mean?" Yukimura's eyes narrowed, his tone suddenly cold. Even his hands were cold. He was listening, Tezuka realized, finally...

But instead of telling the bluenette everything he needed to hear, instead of reprimanding him and trying to reform him... Tezuka mumbled, "Back then..."

He wanted to tell them. He wanted them to at least see his burden, his mistakes. Maybe to stop Yukimura, or perhaps for his own sake... "Those times were.... we were already falling apart." Struggling to formulate his thoughts, he went slowly, as he did when writing. He had always excelled with essays. He'd written short stories before. If he could write, then he could speak as well… he had to. "I had recently learned from Yumiko about their father, but Fuji wouldn't talk to me about his childhood.... but he would talk to others. He was always talking to others, to our friends, to our rivals, to those who... eyed him. He always talked to them but less and less to me..."

"Is that why you stopped loving him?" Listless eyes of midnight blue pierced into him. They were listening, he realized. Yukimura was listening, and Atobe was too. Their goal... it was not just sex. He could see, through the shimmer of the darkened orbs, that they cared. Maybe not for him... but for Fuji.

"I didn't stop. I had to stop. I had to..."

"Why?" Now Yukimura was glaring at him harshly. "Because he was unpure?"

"It wasn't like that..." Even as he spoke, Tezuka's tone remained flat. His emotions stayed tucked behind his glasses, his expression unchanging as always... and the blue haired captain couldn't stand it.

"But you dumped him for it," he hissed, his empathy for Fuji swelling into anger. He was tired, exhausted both emotionally and physically in his attempt to make this work... but his determination stayed strong within him. "There was an incident, wasn't there? Fuji suspects so but he seems confused as to what."

"...it... I couldn't stop..." Tezuka desperately wanted to explain at his own pace, but Yukimura's hand gripped his arm so tightly the knuckles turned white.

"Did someone threaten him? Hurt him?"

"I couldn't protect him..."

"Did someone rape him?" Yukimura whispered, though his words were crystal clear. His eyes glowed in the unlit room, and for a moment everyone was quiet.

"Ah."

"Who?" Atobe demanded, his eyes narrowing sharply as ice cold anger shot through them.

"Me."

---

AN: Ugh, well that didn't go as planned. -collapse- Tezuka doesn't like talking. Tezuka-muse hates even more forcing Tezuka to talk. And all other muses end up spewing the above junkethslotch trying to get him to talk.

Sorry for taking so long to update! Reviews are muses! Review kudasai!