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. I swear, he fits into the plot. Inspired by kitti-chan and lolistar.



Warning: Petty drama.



.... Perhaps.



Oh yeah, and OT1. I swear, I've never read OT1, so I always wanted to try writing it.



Review replies:



Krystal: ... Gah! Well, you'll see, I guess. Bluenette I picked up from loli XD. Sorry about the length... I always aim for long but it seems this fic has no boundaries in any way. -sweatdrop-



Jaded: Yay, glad you enjoyed it. I hope I don't let you down! Yosh, gambarimasu! Fuji's really a mystery though, even to himself.



loli: Yes for you! (toinspireyouforbrokeninnocencecoughcoughupdateonegai) Fuufuufuu, Atobe... well, you'll see. Nya ha ha. Atobe is so smexy.



CrimsonBlade: Wah yay thank you so much for your review! I just had to get to working on this story once I read it, nya, my Yuki-mama and Sana-dada muses are poking me now. :D



Mick: I'm so glad, I was worried that Fuji would be ooc, especially in the beginning and when he's with Yuki. Thank you so much!! I was so happy to when I saw new reviews I had to update!!



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A faint chiming rang through the door, which opened only a second later.



"Why, hello," the bluenette spoke cheerfully, as if Tezuka's appearance was a pleasant surprise rather than a planned visit. The midnight blue gown that seemed like a cross between evening wear and pajama made the championship captain look nice. Like one of those sweet cakes Tezuka's fangirls squealed about, that he was sure sent them all crying to the dentist. Were Fuji wearing the same outfit, he'd get cat calls from even the straightest of men; but somehow Tezuka didn't think the same mistake in gender would be made with Yukimura. Something about those hawk-like eyes struck away the gentle effeminance of the rest of his image.



Tezuka gave no more than a nod for a return greeting, and stepped inside. Settling on the couch as directed, he ignored the offered cup of tea and crossed his arms in a show of firmness. But his determination went deeper than show.



"Well, you contacted me." Yukimura flashed a sugary smile. "What would you like to talk about?"



"Fuji."



"Ah," Yukimura chuckled, though at what, Tezuka wasn't sure. "My, you really are straight forward. No wonder Genichirou finds you so... refreshing."



Unfortunately the twitch above his eye gave away Tezuka's discomfort at hearing Sanada's ex using his boyfriend's first name, when even the stoic captain hadn't used it yet. Though, were he dealing with Fuji, he would have assumed the other used it on purpose, to rile him and throw him off-guard.



"Why are you dating him?"



"Hm, yes, straight as an arrow." Yukimura calmly sipped his tea, a rather satiated smile drawn across his lips, suddenly making Tezuka wonder where Fuji was. "For what reasons does anyone start to date?"



"Do you care about him?



"Why would we date if I didn't?" Ah, yes, he was just like Fuji, answering questions with a question. Probably this tactic worked wonders on his allies and enemies alike; but Tezuka was used to dealing with someone who liked playing games. The key was simple. Be blunt, and rather than expecting answers, make assertions and check if they're right or not. Fuji had taught him part of that.



"You hurt him."



Lids falling half over his eyes, Yukimura carefully set down his tea. "You shouldn't take such interest in your past sex life, Tezuka. It's not very becoming."



"You don't even bother to deny it."



Fuschia eyes widened for a fraction of a second as the lithe captain realized his mistake, then narrowed in anger.



"That depends on what you mean by hurt," Yukimura snarled. "I'm not the one who dumped him for no reason."



"He told you that?"



"I asked."



Sparks could have flown about the room with less intensity than the glares exchanged by the two captains. Frustration clawed through Yukimura's veins, but the bespectacled youth before him remained unreadable.



"Let me make this clear. I've never once gone to Fuji's house. He always comes here.''



Tezuka opened his mouth, then closed it.



"On his own volition," Yukimura added with a hiss, wanting to strangle the brunette to find out what he'd been about to say. That stern, unwavering visage did nothing to calm the racing pulse beneath Yukimura's chest.



"You want to play the hero, but you're an angel lit villain. You think I'm the one inflicting pain?"



He laughed, loudly and bitterly.



"I'm only a distraction. Mental pain covered by physical pain. Beautiful, superficial agony over inner misery. What right have you to judge?! Especially you, Tezuka Kunimitsu! Asking me why I date my boyfriend, asking me if I care, you hypocrite, you're the last one who has any right-!"



The loud thump of Tezuka's foot slamming onto the floor as he stood ripped the words from Yukimura's tongue. It was the first sign that the stoic youth was just as angry as his rival captain.



Seigaku's captain breathed heavily, then tightened his lips. The seconds that passed seemed to move in slow motion as the brunette let himself out, leaving a stunned Yukimura gaping at the door.



Ticks from the grandfather clock pounded inside the bluenette's ear. The nails digging into his palm as he tightened his fist left marks when he uncurled it.



He grabbed his tea cup and threw it against the door for the cabinet under the stairs. The shattered pieces fell lifelessly to the carpet, glinting prettily in contrast to the yellow tea now staining the wall. He marched over to where the mess was, leaning down as if to pick up the pieces, but yanking the cabinet open instead.



Crammed inside, his lover lay bound and gagged, blue eyes staring at the stairway's underside. His naked body trembled in the cold area, though a light sheen of sweat glimmered off his pale skin. One rope attached to a built-in coat rack, pulling firmly at the binds on Fuji's wrist. The ropes on his ankles attached to a bolt protruding from underneath the stairs.



Purple eyes narrowing, Yukimura placed his hand on the tensai's bared stomach, digging his nails into the soft skin around his navel. He poured his irritation into his grip, scratching deeply enough to draw blood. That had not gone as planned. Unable to see if his words were having any effect on the expressionless captain drove him over the edge. He didn't know how Sanada - or Fuji, for that matter - could stand it.



Somehow, the accepting droop of Fui's eyes and the fact the tensai was no longer erect as he'd been earlier brought serenity to the sadistic teenager. He undid the bindings, pulling the gag off last, but not without a stern warning look. There were certain things the captain refused to listen to right then.



To his surprise, Fuji gave him the softest, gentlest smile he had ever seen.



He stood there dumbfounded as the tensai wrapped his arms around his shoulders and embraced him.



"Thank you, Seiichi."



The clock's ticking changed from pounding to melodic. The tensai tilted up his chin and drew their lips together.



The kiss was so sweet, Yukimura didn't realize until later that Fuji used his first name.



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Gorgeous.



He didn't need a mirror telling who was the fairest one of all, since he already knew. But without a mirror he wouldn't be able to see that gorgeous body of his, so he was thankful to mirrors nonetheless.



Luckily, he had three of them, all carefully positioned so as to show every angle of his nicely toned chest, his lean, tight thighs, his admirably sized length and of course his gorgeous, perfect face.



Starting at his beauty mark, he drew his finger along the curve of his face, admiring its ideal angle, caressed his pinkish lips which were neither too thick nor too thin, then pushed back his hair in suave fashion. He was gorgeous, but that was his greatest problem: he just couldn't find lovers as gorgeous as him.



Well, that wasn't exactly true. Once in a while, someone would come along, like Fuji, who he found aesthetically satisfying, but, like Fuji, it was just so much trouble keeping them. The last one he had had a cute face, a nice tight stomach and ass, but was lacking in subtle ways. No matter, though -



Atobe always had himself.



Dropping lavender scented oil onto his hands, he briefly rubbed them together before wrapping one around his length and using the other to explore the tones along his body. His fingers knew how best to stroke, better than any of his lovers, though he did regret that he'd never get to use his oh-so-praised tongue on himself. Not that he didn't enjoy using it on others, but right now, he was having that reoccurring problem, in which there were no others.



Sighing, he turned so that he could view his ass from the side. It was nice and flat, of course, and he decided to wear the silver pants tomorrow. He had that necklace from Tiffanies one of those one-nighter girls had given him, that he happened to like but hadn't gotten to wear yet. Not that he didn't have his own vast selection of fine jewelry, but some lover once told him that gifts have a certain sentimental charm that made his eyes glimmer. Despite what his teammates might assume, he took such advice to heart. Ah well, he didn't expect anyone to understand the greatness of his mind, except perhaps Fuji, but that was one exception he didn't like to count. He pushed aside such thoughts for now; his personal stylist would have the last say anyways.



His hand increased its pace, though sometimes it slowed, allowing his fingers to tease the tip and ridge. Really, it wasn't that he didn't have both guys and girls lined up willing to have sex with him; but anyone who wanted to had to go through an extensive six month testing period, and a lot of them didn't even pass. Disgusting, really. But there were always exceptions. There were no real rules because Atobe was the rule.



What Atobe wanted, Atobe got.



He sighed. And yet he didn't have a lover. Shame. They were all missing out on those excellent, strokable calves.



His rhythm increased again, comfortably, desirably, as his free hand caressed his sensitive spots. His overflowing beauty was just too much for them, all of them, and he settled onto his comforter with a sigh as his hand moved up and down. Dabbing his fingers in the oil, he traced the outside of his hole, exhaling deeply as the ring of tissue softened in pleasure. If only he could fuck himself. There were just limits to being by yourself, and for some reason, all of Atobe's wealth and connections couldn't seem to overcome them.



Increasing warmth told him he was getting closer. He smoothly lifted and lowered his hips, increasing the friction with perfect vertical humps, and he could feel something within him start to rise -



And then his cell phone went off.



Glaring daggers at the new iphone his mom had forced on him, he tried to keep stroking, but the popular theme song that idiot Mukahi had set as his ring tone was killing his libido. Snorting in annoyance, he planned to hang up if he heard the voice of the brat he'd fucked earlier at school. He'd only taken the kid cause he played tennis and was obviously a virgin, though the diva thought he'd made it clear afterwards that he didn't want to be followed around. It had happened before, though he always had others take care of it. How could such prowess not draw a few stalkers?



The ringing continued, and he decided to sue Utada Hikaru or Paris Hilton or whatever stupid bitch sang such an irritatingly catchy tune. The caller must have hung up and redialed, before even hitting his voice mail. He grabbed the square device with impudence.



"Hello," he hissed, hoping the guy would get the hint.



Instead, a light, almost effeminate voice cooed, "Am I interrupting something?" The voice was pleasant, but his insight told him it still belonged to a male. The tone reminded him of Fuji. All the more reason to put up his guard.



"You-" he paused as his brain clicked through its audio memory. ". . . Yukimura."



The image of midnight blue eyes, wavy, dark hair and an acceptably beautiful face came to mind, along with some of the fiercest tennis plays he'd ever faced. He wouldn't say they had the best relationship; he had not enjoyed losing to the Rikkaidai's captain during last year's Kantou finals, but he did admit the lithe youth had unfathomable strength. Tezuka, though, was decidedly better.



A chuckle on the other end came as confirmation. "It's been a while since we've talked, Atobe." The other must have been smiling. Snorting, Atobe imagined him twirling the phone chord in his hand like a woman.



"Ahn..." The irritation had vanished from Atobe's tone and been replaced by interest. His deep, sexy voice reaped of pheromones when he was hard. "... Actually, I don't believe we ever have talked."



"Maybe not," the reply came as if saying 'no matter'. "I ... have a proposal for you. Won't you hear me out?"



A smirk pulled against the diva's lips as he pressed his fingers against his forehead. Maybe this would be a break in his frustrating sex life, or at least his boredom. Leaning back into his silken pillow, he resumed stroking himself, thumbing back and forth over his tip.



"I'm listening."



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Note: So sorry!! I tried to make it longer, but my Tezuka-muse was stone walling. He complained that Yukimura was being a scolding wife. How was my pathetic attempt at OT1? .... Okay so I realized after writing it that indeed, OT1 is impossible. -sweatdrop- So if anyone ever pulls off OT1, I will bow in glory and be her beta-ing servant.