Prince Of Tennis Fan Fiction ❯ Taste Test ❯ Taste Test ( Chapter 1 )

[ P - Pre-Teen ]

Fuji holds out the sake bottle for Ryoma, pressing it into his shoulder when his grumpy kouhai makes no move to grab for it. He smiles, but then he's always smiling, and tonight he's smiling even more than ever because Fuji's drunk and it's not fair to leave Ryoma in the dust. They're supposed to be having fun, and it's easier to have fun when the both of them are drunk. Ryoma's just being stubborn. But that's okay. Fuji is patient. Very patient.

"Echizen," he says, and Ryoma tugs his cap down farther. He nudges him with the bottle again. Ryoma pushes it away, so Fuji licks his lips and pouts. "Ne, Ecchi~zen?"

This time he knows he has Ryoma's full attention, despite the bill of Ryoma's cap hiding the boy's flushed face from him. There's a certain stiffness to Ryoma's shoulders, a certain purse to his lips, a certain thickness to his words as he tries to blurt out his trademark phrase-- but Fuji fully intended all that, of course. Fingers go for the bill and 'shhhnk' it to the side, and Ryoma's so surprised he only lets his eyes go wide.

"Want a taste?"

Ryoma blinks, zeroing in on the pink touch of tongue that pokes out between Fuji's lips, and there begins the staring contest.

Fuji holds up the bottle again, shakes it side to side a little. Shakes it like bait, bait that Ryoma doesn't go for, because he finds something else much more enticing. Because for some reason Ryoma would rather taste the sake straight from Fuji's mouth, lips pressed to lips and tongue meeting tongue, sloppy and hesitant and breathy and -sigh- irresistible.

Which was Fuji's goal all along, of course, but Fuji doesn't say a single thing aloud.

Teeth scrape against Ryoma's lip as Fuji bites down -just the right amount of pressure- and his grip on the other's shoulder is flimsy at best - but that doesn't matter because he's the one being pressed onto his back till he's staring up at Ryoma with his unearthly blue eyes. He wants to ask, 'Want another taste?' Instead he runs his tongue over his lips and smiles: "If you had a pet rock, what would you name it?"

Ryoma stares at him, wondering if this is the sake talking, or Fuji being weird again. Then he decides it doesn't matter; there wouldn't be much difference. "I'd name it Mada Mada Da Ne, Fuji-senpai." And Ryoma goes in for another taste.