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.

Warning: The beginning of my pathetic attempt at reconciliation. If they don't settle this soon, their libidos will die and there won't be any more smex! -gasp- So yes, I'll try to settle this soon. (That doesn't mean the story's nearing it's end, just that we're -maybe- moving towards fivesome XD.)

As if Yukimura wasn't ooc enough... -sigh- I hope at least Atobe muse can hang in there. And yes, the drama somehow manages to grow in its ridiculousness.

Some commentary on Atobe's mansion: There are two rooms they've spent time in, the viewing gallery where the painting is, and Atobe's bedroom.

Review replies:

loli: Yes, work harder! For poor Ryouma's sake (hasn't he stopped breathing for like, a few weeks now?!) and of course for Fuji -hearts- Nyaaa I want an update of BI so badly, onegai onegai! The orgy sex is coming -evil grin- errr.... eventually. Hopefully sooner rather than later. -sweatdrop- Hm... it's scary, between you and Krystal you guys seem to get all the variations of my plot twists down .. scary how our great Fuji-smut-filled minds all think alike XDDD. Hm... I wasn't planning any flash back scenes to Fuji and Atobe, but now I've got a little one dancing in my head XD I'll see if I can fit it in. If not, I'll write a special side ficlet just for you -glompchuus-

danu: Nya, thank you, I'm glad at least Atobe's coming out right. Hm... it's so funny, I've used Atobe as such an antagonist in the past, but he's really a good guy in this story (minus the sex with anything that walks part). Fuu, yeah, poor Yuki doesn't have a great family life, but he's not the only one. Hm... you just never know with Atobe. Hope this update came soon enough XD

shourin: Hi, thanks for the review, I'm so happy you found it interesting. I love the analysis. XD I agree, sounds like it could be that way. Yukimura had a rough time when he was ill, especially since he's a very proud person (like, well, all of them), but he was treated like something fragile while he was ill. Sanada no baka. I hope they can be saved... I love Fuji and Yuki, so I hope it's not too late, like you say. I guess we'll see, it's really up to the four of them, though with Atobe (an outsider) coming in, anything could happen...

Kyrstal: XD Glad you enjoyed it (Yuki's psychology is indeed in turmoil... and has been for a very long time). Fuji wouldn't scream though XD he's a good petboy. I also wonder where this is going to go, all the time OTL ... I hope my muses know at least.

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"You must hate me."

They cradled each other at the bottom of the stairs, both too hurt and exhausted to move. Their lithe, effeminate bodies curled against each other made them look children awaking from a nap, maybe because they still were.

"How's your arm?" Fuji eyed the wall through slotted eyes, contemplating whether or not to smash it to pieces. Though he supposed there was no point in being angry with inanimate objects.

"Your wrist-"

"I already cut it off," Fuji cooed. "The pain, I mean. I can do that, sometimes, if I focus."

"Tennis-"

"It doesn't matter to me. Though all the guys I've ever dated worship it," Fuji added with a bitter laugh. He lay his head on Yukimura's shoulder, resting his hand against his boyfriend's chest. He decided to make a dangerous inquiry. "What happened?"

Yukimura was quiet, his anger drained by lethargy. "They won't leave me alone," he whispered, too tired to raise his naturally soft voice any higher. "They want things to change even though they don't know how to change them. They're such fools..."

Fuji whispered in return, "And yet it's men like that we love."

He knew immediately it was the wrong thing to say, and felt a flash of terror at the thought of another beating. But his lover had lost all his energy, his fingers wrapping loosely around Fuji's throat in an enervated attempt to at least bruise.

"I would tighten my grip, if I had the strength," the bluenette sighed, giving up and letting his hand fall limply to his side.

"I know." It doesn't matter to me. I accept everything. All of your pain...

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He ditched morning practice. There was no point in going when he couldn't even play, and that was also the best way to avoid questions. He'd skipped so many times, it was a wonder they hadn't dropped him from the regulars. But his skills were too formidable for the coach to let him slip away. There were a dozen other schools scouting him, and he'd be an easy pick up if he were dropped.

Sighing, he made his way into the men's bathroom, glad to find it empty. Glancing at himself in the mirror, he touched the slightly puffy area under his eye. The bruising was faint, and would clear up by the next day, but he still made sure to put some make up on to dab out the faint bluish tint. He couldn't do much about the scratch mark along his jaw, where Yukimura's pinky nail had caught during one of the series of slaps. It was unusual for the bluenette to aim for his face, but the fact that he had showed how vicious he had felt at the time. Ironically, it was lucky that they fell, otherwise it might have gotten worse . . .

"Fuji."

Sharply turning towards the doorway, Fuji winced when his back hit the stall door, feeling half the bruises on his body scream at him. He gave Tezuka an annoyed look, as if his clumsiness was the stoic youth's fault. In a way it was.

"Did you follow me?" The tensai spoke coldly, still remembering how his old boyfriend had, at least from his perspective, bullied his new one.

"Kikumaru told me you were in here." Tezuka stayed near the hallway, blocking any chance of escape. Fuji didn't feel like going back to class then anyways. He knew Eiji was worried, but the redhead had been very good not to pry. The cat-like tennis player had learned long ago not to ask too many questions about Fuji's love life, or else his tongue might suffer the next time they ate lunch together.

"If it's about practice, I'll make it up later by running laps like I always do. If that's not enough, you can drop me from the regulars."

Fuji reached for the faucet head, planning to wash his hands so it seemed like he was ready to leave, but a large hand grabbed his wrist. Biting his lip to stifle a squeak, Fuji held as still as he could, trying not to react to the pain that shot through his arm.

"Put the bandages back on."

Glaring at the authoritative brunette, Fuji indicated through his expression that he didn't know what the other was talking about.

"Kikumaru also told me you wrote with your left hand during class."

Everyone else would think Tezuka was calm, but Fuji could tell he was upset. Seeing the tensai wasn't going to comply, Tezuka pulled up the sports-based first aid kit he'd brought with him and balanced it on the sink. He pulled back Fuji's sleeve, eyes narrowing at sight of the swollen wrist hidden below. Tenderly he wrapped the reddened appendage with self-adhesive bandages, then expertly fit a wrist brace on over them.

"This is overkill," Fuji chuckled softly. "It's only a light sprain, it'll heal in a week or so..." Penetrating hazel eyes cut short his laughter as they traced the cut on his face.

A serious grimace replaced the usual frown, and Fuji realized he must have noticed the bruising as well, and guessed as to what else the tensai hid behind his long sleeved turtle neck, worn despite the day's warm weather.

"Fuji, tell me honestly. Why do you let him do this to you?"

Tezuka's deep, solid voice always had a way to pound against Fuji's heart. His soft reply contrasted against it like water to a wall of stone.

"Because it's what Seichii needs."

Their eyes met, each searching the other for answers, for the understanding they'd had back in middle school. Back then they could communicated without words, somehow always knowing what the other thought or felt. Behind those thin rimmed glasses, Fuji could see his captain thinking, accusing him: What he needs, or what you need?

"It doesn't matter, Tezuka," he whispered, his blue eyes filing with wanton need as for the first time in a while, he truly looked at his former lover's face. "I don't matter."

The stoic brunette gave him a contemplative stare, his lips twitching slightly as if deciding what to say, but in the end he remained silent. He closed the first aid kit, expression never changing as he turned back towards the door. Fuji had seen, though, within those hazel orbs, a glimmer of the tacit question he prayed the other would ask, or maybe it was only an illusion that his hopeful brain had cast.

"Tezuka!" Desperation poured from his voice as he grabbed his captain's sleeve to stop him from leaving. "Tell me to break up with him, tell me you want me back, and I will."

Turning back towards Fuji, Tezuka looked down at the shorter youth, those shimmering cerulean eyes begging him to respond. He searched the other with his eyes, taking in the bandages on his wrist, the bruises on his face that were barely distinguishable but that he knew were there, along with all those hidden beneath his clothes. That memory flashed back to him again, Fuji's limp form spread across the carpet, the red bruises on his pale skin darkening to bluish black, the blood on his legs and the white thickness of cum...

"No..." His chest ached, and he indulged himself, just this once, drawing Fuji into his arms. "I didn't give you up so you'd be hurt by some one else. Please Fuji, don't let him hurt you, please..."

Gasping as Tezuka hugged him, Fuji leaned instinctively into the warm chest he missed so much, wondering if this was just another one of his dreams he still had about the captain even after all this time.

"If you feel this way, then won't you-"

"No. I can't." Knowing he'd already passed the boundaries, Tezuka pushed the tensai away before quickly striding into the hallway. There was no more he could say. He had to put as much distance between them as possible.

Left alone in the men's bathroom, Fuji slid to the ground. The cold tiles felt good against his hands, the unorganized patterns of small black and white squares blurring as moisture clouded his vision.

The harsh ringing of the hourly bell brought a shock to his senses as he quickly pulled himself up. He still had enough pride not to be caught crying in the school restroom.

He snuck out of the building, not caring about the rest of school. There were still a few hours before Rikkaidai's practice would be over, but he headed for the train station anyways.

He hoped this time Yukimura would kill him.

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"I thought we made it clear we didn't want to talk to you."

Short of allowing Atobe have his limo drive them to their respective homes, Sanada had been extremely cold to the diva, and Tezuka didn't say anything, as usual. Why on earth Hyotei's captain had shown up at Yukimura's house, other than supposedly to escort Fuji, Sanada did not want to know. They'd had a silent ride, though it seemed Atobe had spoken to Tezuka after they dropped the Rikkaidai vice captain off. Which was how he ended up here, staring at some gaudy painting that was supposed to be worth millions or something like that, talking to Atobe anyways.

"You didn't want to talk to me with Tezuka around," Atobe drawled, admiring the curl of his hair in one of he room's many gold rimmed mirrors.

"I'm not staying in the same room as you without my boyfriend," Sanada growled, arms crossed like a bouncer, though it was only himself he was protecting. "I came because you said Tezuka agreed to meet with you."

"I told him to come half an hour later," Atobe shrugged, his attention focused on some errant strands that refused flick in the same direction as the others. He'd have to have a lengthy talk with his hair stylist about that. Though, the small contrast of imperfection only served to make the rest of his perfect self shine, so maybe he should leave it that way. Well, all in all, any strand of hair on his head was perfect by association.

"I'm not letting you ruin another one of my relationships." Sanada's harsh tone radiated loudly like that of a samurai.

"Your break-up with Yukimura had nothing to do to with me," was the nonchalant reply. The raven haired youth kept a firm ten feet between Atobe and himself, which amused the diva to no end.

"It didn't help," Sanada hissed.

A knock on the large wooden doors of the viewing chamber broke through the tension. The butler appeared and announced the entrance of Tezuka Kunimitsu, who strolled in after the old man. The messy haired brunette looked as unreadable as ever, except for the twitch of his temple as he took in the disturbing extravagance of the mansion.

Sanada immediately took to the side of his boyfriend, staying very close to Tezuka, and very far from Atobe. It was a much more comfortable arrangement.

"Atobe," said Tezuka, and this single word seemed to be a greeting, statement, and question all in one.

Smirking, the diva lounged onto one of the heavily padded chairs, motioning for his guests to do the same, though they both stayed standing. "I thought," he began with an amused sigh, "I would take the place of Yukimura in listening to your relationship woes."

"Atobe." This time, it was spoken harshly. It was funny how Tezuka could say so much using only his name.

"I'm being serious." Pressing his fingers against his face, the diva continued, "Ore-sama is gracing you with his services as both an advisor and as a negotiator. It is far more likely that Yukimura will listen to me, than to you. I'm involved, whether you like it or not."

"What are you getting out of all this?!" Sanada demanded, already tired of the capitalist's games.

"Relief from boredom," Atobe yawned. "And finally some satisfying sex partners."

"You- !" Outraged by the diva's suggestion, Sanada's fists clenched as he declared, "I'm leaving!"

"Wait." A firm hand on his shoulder caught his attention, as his boyfriend stood firm and unmoving, eyes never leaving the diva. "Atobe, are you trying to help us?"

"Obviously," was the annoyed-sounding reply. Rolling his eyes, the diva again motioned for them to sit; this time Tezuka consented and Sanada begrudgingly followed suite. "Well?"

"You first," said Tezuka.

"Explain why you were with Fuji," Sanada elaborated.

Sighing, Atobe wondering how he should begin. These two were so straight to the point. It would have been boring if it weren't so totally uncommon in the present day and age. Well, as they say in business, speak to people in their own language.

"We made love. All three of us. It was fabulous." He could barely hold back his laughter at the expression on their faces. Even Tezuka's jaw had dropped a bit, rather than holding his usually tight frown. "Your Yukimura suggested it," he added smugly, looking pointedly towards Sanada. "Now, you understand my reasons. Ore-sama has finally found something worth settling on."

"All you care about is sex," Sanada charged, but Tezuka interrupted.

"And if you get bored later?" Despite his monotone, Tezuka's words were clearly a test. He seemed almost curious, but Tezuka wasn't the type to take interest in something for no reason.

"I never got bored of Fuji," Atobe scoffed. "He tends to unconsciously sabotage his relationships. I am as serious about this as anything, and that includes tennis."

The two captains met eyes, glaring each other down as Tezuka searched those dark purple orbs for truthfulness. Minutes may have passed before Tezuka slowly nodded, his judgment past. He must have approved of something, for he said, "What do you want to know?"

"Details." Smirking a bit as he relaxed back into his chair, Atobe lifted his hand to his chin in contemplation. "I want to know why you broke up with Yukimura. And why you -" he nodded to the brunette, "- broke up with Fuji."

"I don't know why that's any of your business," Sanada grumbled. He wanted to leave, but not without Tezuka. There was no way he'd let Atobe get his grubby little paws - or tongue, anywhere near his boyfriend. Not that he didn't trust Tezuka - but he knew first hand just how persuasive, or well, forward the diva could be.

"Please, I want to know too." Tezuka's gentle request, and his unusually polite language made Sanada's heart beat a little faster.

". . . Alright." He bit the inside of his lip, a nervous habit he rarely fell into but that was luckily hidden from sight. "It started a little after his surgery. The day he was released, I went to pick him up. Neither of his parents were there. I never saw them visit during his entire hospitalization. . . . He smiled cheerfully, glad the operation was successful, but I thought he seemed a little sad. He didn't speak, but took my hand and we walked together to his house."

"I knew he what he wanted. We hadn't really touched in almost a month, since I'd been afraid of hurting him during his illness. But he was still recovering - they hadn't even removed the stitches yet, and I knew he was on heavy painkillers. I insisted we wait, and he got upset. There was no one in his home, and I didn't want to leave him by himself, so I waited until his father came home from work. He wouldn't talk to me, so we sat in silence and worked on homework the entire time.

"He pushed himself far too much during the recovery. Nationals was almost upon us, and he wanted to be completely fit by the time of his first match. He was in singles one, so he didn't actually have to play until the semi-finals, but by then, he'd already regained all of his skills and more. The week before finals, I went over to his house, having noted his progress during training.

"He was thrilled with his condition, and told me he understood why I had stayed away, that it was for his sake, and thanked me for being at his side the entire time. We waited till his parents left, and started to make love... it had been nearly two months since we last were together, and, I don't know, I did something he didn't like and he pushed me away. He became more and more upset... when I tried to calm him down, he..."

Struggling to go on, Sanada paused to look at the faces of his audience. He was surprised to see acceptance and understanding, from both Tezuka and Atobe, as they listened intently, simply taking in what he had to say before making any judgments. Even Atobe looked serious for once... He trusted Tezuka, at least, and for Tezuka's sake, he could continue.

"He attacked me. But I'm strong, and he was still lacking physically, so the first strike wasn't much, and I grabbed his hands after that.

"... I can't describe how angry he was. He screamed at me to let him go, and I was so shocked that I did. After that, he lay face down on the bed and refused to move. I knew he was crying... I didn't know what to do, so I left.

"At school, he was back to his cheerful self. He was sweet, and apologized to me and said he didn't know what came over him. He said he was stressed from nationals and the recovery. So we decided to put it off until the end of the matches.

"Despite the outcome, he was still in a good mood. All of us felt a mutual sense of pride in the matches, win or lose. We met up after that, and finally had sex... for the first time, he was top and I was bottom. I can't say it worked out too well. ... But that was his request. Back then I could never turn him down...

"He seemed to think it was alright, but I refused to do it again. The next time we were together, he asked... " Pausing to swallow, Sanada unconsciously touched his wrist and spoke distantly as he continued. "He asked to tie my hands. He had a rope, and everything prepared. I refused without even thinking about it. I didn't think he was serious.

"He made sure I knew he was. He tricked me, telling me we would just test it out, and seeing the need in his eyes, I agreed. But once I was unable to move, he wouldn't undo the bindings. He hushed my protests, assuring me it would be alright, that this way we could both enjoy ourselves.

"I asked - begged him to stop, that I didn't like it, but he ... prepared himself and... and rode me. It felt good, yes, but I hated not being able to move, not being able to touch him. It felt like a long time, and he grew tired but eventually managed to come. I came too, but not as much as usual. I immediately demanded to be untied.

"Once I was out of the ropes, I slapped him. I was so angry I couldn't stop myself. He was quiet after that... he sat on the bed and wouldn't look at me. I felt ashamed for hitting him and apologized from the floor. When I didn't move, he told me I should go. ...

"The next day at school, I asked him if we were still together. He repeated my question back to me. I said that I didn't think we were.

"He said, 'then that is the answer.' .... and we broke up."

Deeply sighing, Sanada felt every word tumble out like a heavy block. It was strange. At first he hadn't wanted to tell them, but once he started talking, everything had just flooded out. Though he felt depressed about reviewing the past, he felt so much lighter now. He hadn't realized how much he'd needed to tell someone what happened.

Tezuka lay a supportive hand on his shoulder, rubbing his back in firm circles. Across from them, a deep frown crossed Atobe's lips, his brows knotted together as he thought it over.

"You two were together for a long time before that, ahn?" The diva had his insightful pose in place, though he seemed to be reading something distant rather than those in the room.

"Two years and a half," Sanada mourned. "Though it was purely platonic at first. We discovered puberty together." His lips twitched upwards as he recalled their early days of fumbling as they began to discover there was more to a relationship than just emotional support.

"....Hm..." Atobe didn't get a chance to voice his thoughts, because Utada Hikaru's latest release blasted through the veiwing room. Grumbling about killing a certain acrobatic tennis player, the diva swiftly flipped open his phone, giving a motion of apology to the two.

"Ore-sama speaking- ... ... You." Brows knotting, Atobe glanced at the others before replying, "I have guests. ... ... How did you know - ... never mind." His expression changed drastically with whatever the speaker said next. "What?! Why? Where are you?"

Sanada was surprised by the shaken look of concern the gripped the diva. He had not thought the multibillion dollar heir could make such an expression. Exchanging looks with his boyfriend, he wondered if there was some sort of emergency.

"There's nothing ore-sama cannot handle. ... ... ... I know what you want," Atobe scowled, and his eyes seemed to drift over Tezuka as he slammed shut the phone. "Manipulative bastard," he muttered to himself, before turning to his visitors. "Excuse me for a moment, I have something to deal with."

Pausing, he fingered his chin thoughtfully before adding, "Actually, if you could accompany me..."

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Atobe was already in the bedroom when his newest guest let himself in as he'd done last time. The lithe, shell-shocked figure looked far too pale in the door way, pupils dilated as he spotted the diva waiting for him.

"Atobe..." His soft voice was still smooth but held a desolate undertone. "Would you mind if I stayed here for a few hours?"

"You're always welcome to my bed," the diva smirked, earning a sharp glare for his comment, though his offer was still accepted. "Why are you here?" He asked with feigned curiosity.

It was a pointless question. They both knew exactly why he was there. Atobe was safe, neutral territory. At the same time, he was connected to each of them in such a way they could rely on him.

"He's at my house." His eyes were wide and unfocused, as if he were looking into his memories rather than at Atobe. "He was there when I got home. He wouldn't leave, so I left instead. . . I'm scared of myself.

"... Yukimura..." Atobe said comfortingly, wrapping his arms the effeminate captain who he could feel was faintly shivering.

"I'm losing control." The bluenette's voice fell to a whisper. His arms hung loosely at his side and his body limped against the diva's, but he did not return or acknowledge the gesture. "I wanted this to transition much slower, I wanted to control the pace, but the more you three become involved, the more I lose control of myself. . . ."

"It would have happened eventually anyway," Atobe drawled. "That's why you came to me, isn't it?"

"I hurt him, more than allowed, and I didn't even realize it until I saw him again . . ." His voice cracked, and his shivering grew worse as he choked, "I can't do this. I can't-"

A warm, large hand pressed gently against his back, causing him to freeze at its familiarity.

"Seichii..."

He gasped in horror as his eyes turned to meet Sanada's.

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A/N: GAH that sucked. Seriously, they're like, a therapy group. Sanada wouldn't shut up -sweatdrop- (It wasn't supposed to go on that long. ...) On top of that, he's a bad story teller. (There could have been a lot more introspection, but my muses tell me Sanada is a no-nothing, so he wouldn't have that sort of insight.) But yay for backstory? My muses are so out-of-control... I am open to constructive criticism.

Everytime I get a review (or see an update of one of my favorite Fuji!torture fics cough), I work extra hard on writing XD so the more you review, the faster the next update will be! Yay! And I love feedback, so, yes, review!!