My first try at this...
Title: Another Day
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Rating: R-ish …
Summary: Overcoming something is easier with someone else there...
Disclaimer: I don’t own them… go on… rub it in and make me pout…this is just what I’d like them to do if I did… hehe
Notes: Temps Mort Healing Challenge, 47 minutes including editing (damn last line hated me)
There are wounds that can fester and destroy a human being, if they let it. But people who have found a way to deal with this…can overcome it.
Hands roam over milky skin, tongues battle for dominance, hips gyrate against each other as they fall back onto the bed. There’s a beat in their heads, old now, like a dear friend, and yet never mundane, never boring and never ignored. It sweeps them over, in the silence of the room, and plays only for them, thumping to the beat of their hearts.
Years have passed, and times have changed, but outside those walls they are everything they need to be; everything it’s acceptable to be. Inside is a different story. Inside they give way to who they are, and what they want, need, desire and can’t get enough of.
Buttons pop, material stretches at the seams, and zips are undone as the desperation of restrained desire takes them both over. Contained and controlled in front of almost everyone they know, it’s only when they’re alone that they can let go.
Letting go of the daily mask each wears isn’t easy, and doesn’t happen on cue. It’s a slow process as well, but when they’re gone; when the smile and the frown wash away to leave them bare before each other, every blow of the day, every scorn of their troubles melts away and is healed.
Like a drug to each other, they cleanse themselves of what others taint them with. The bigotry washes over them, the porcelain shell the world presents to them is forgotten, and all they are left with is what they’ve wished to be.
Landing on the soft bed, brown eyes gaze up at the blue ones above him. He sees that hunger, knows that feeling, can almost taste it, because he feels it himself. It’s a relief, a reprieve that is sorely needed from pretending to be that which is expected.
And every time it feels just that little bit closer to the edge, just that little bit more precarious. As if they’re only barely holding each other away from tipping over into the abyss. Sanity is overrated, but being saved from it is a unique occurrence in itself. Each day they do that for each other, in every way they can, because being there, understanding and knowing each other the way only they do, is the only way to mend what breaks or bends each time they step out the door.
Delicate fingers traverse a lean chest, and blue eyes lock onto brown, before a tongue flicks out over a nipple, eliciting a gasp from the man on his back. With a chuckle, Fuji takes the nipple into his mouth to tease, to nibble, but most of all to distract the other into focusing on only that which he is doing. Only that way can he hope to give Tezuka the release the other needs; the release from daily pain, doubts, and most of all, from himself.
A hand fists in tawny hair, pulling the shorter man in towards him. Tezuka moans slightly, eyes closed, Fuji’s name on his lips. He has long since discovered that this is the way that Fuji recuperates himself. By making Tezuka feel, making him finally let go, Fuji wins something for himself; the restoration of his purpose, of himself.
Every day tears them apart when they aren’t together, and every night is more tangible evidence of putting each other back together. Like a puzzle only they know, each is aware of where the pieces to the other fit. In silence or through touch, they are capable of rebuilding the other from scratch and making them feel like new. It might only take a word, a look, or the brush of their lips against the other’s, yet it always works.
Tezuka doesn’t know what he’ll do if it were ever to fail him. He’d fall apart, without the stiches that hold his wounds together. With Fuji there, the pain is lessened and the pure task of living is no longer just that. The taller man closes his eyes as Fuji fills him, a moan falling from both their lips, as if they are one.
Enveloped in a tightness that Fuji feels sometimes is all that is holding him together, he rests for a second to take in the sight beneath him. They never speak of it, because they don’t need to, because they both know. It’s how they are with each other, and it’s what he needs, because Fuji has never been very sure just how to express himself seriously around another person.
But all Tezuka needs to see is his eyes, and the taller man seems to know. Fuji smiles softly, a gasp escaping Tezuka as he withdraws before pushing back in. Slowly, Fuji thinks. Tonight, he wants to take it slow.
What they have is addictive and yet necessary, and it has been for years. A silent healing that neither of them denies, and yet neither of them admits to. Maybe it’s because they don’t need to do that either.
The moment takes him over, ripping him from his thoughts and contemplations, and giving him only one goal. It’s obvious that Tezuka has had a bad day, probably a very bad day, and all Fuji needs to do is make the other forget. And he knows he is good at that.
Every thrust of his hips, takes them away from where they are, to their own needs, their own desires, and their own feelings. It leads them away from societal conceptions, away from disappointment, from the families that disowned them, and leaves them in that place where they let nothing hurt them. That place where they lick their wounds, or each other’s wounds; that place that no one but them can intrude on.
Such a warm, well known rhythm, which never fails to astound them, no matter how often they feel it. It never fails to help them, to scour their wounds and make them whole again. Even if it is just for those few moments of ecstasy as they cry out for each other in a completion that leaves them gasping.
Tangled in each others limbs, hearing that beat, the beat of their hearts hammer through them in the silence that they share, all they know is how right what they have is. How unfair it is that their wounds are ripped anew each day, never enters their minds, because that is just the way things are.
Tomorrow will be another day, and they will deal with it the same way they deal with every other day, by being there for each other, by loving each other, and by doing everything they can for each other, in order to seal those wounds away.
There we go... mah first attempt at a challenge...
Feedback is lurved...