Genre: Vampire AU, Romance, Drama
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Pairing: Tezuka/Fuji, eventual SanaYuki, and maybe even OshiAto
Disclaimers: This fanfic is borne solely from the unique kind of psychosis that inspired it. So yeah, I grabbed the plot bunny, therefore, it is mine. The characters, however, are Konomi-sensei's and he ain't about to sell the rights to them any time soon.
Rating: erm... a hesitant R?
Summary: Fuji is the hunter, Tezuka is the prey. But in an existence where there are more questions than answers, in a world where some entities are shrouded in mystery, nothing is ever that simple.
Author's Notes: The first chapter to vierblith_tefu's gift fic. I know I said I'd update earlier in the week, but my procrastination tendencies worked hand in hand with my perfectionism and delayed the completion of this first chapter like crazy! At any rate, I hope you enjoy it!
(1) Naughty but Nice is an actual cocktail mix made up of 0.5 shot of Disaronno Amaretto, 0.5 shot of Peach Schnapps, 1 shot of Amarula Cream, and 1 shot of Cream.
(2) Schadenfreude is a term usually defined as finding a largely unanticipated delight or amusement in the suffering of others. The word is of Germanic origins; Schaden (damage, harm) and Freude (joy). So basically, what Ooishi was saying here was that he went to see Tezuka specifically to laugh at his misery.
(3) Golden Week is a collection of four national holidays in Japan within seven days. These holidays would include Showa Day (Apr. 29), which is the birthday of the former Emperor Showa, Constitution Day (May 3), Greenery/Nature Day (May 4), and Children’s Day (May 5).
Tezuka Kunimitsu braced his hands on either side of the sink basin as he bowed his head and let the water drip down from his face. He could hear the music blaring from the other side of the door as several patrons exited the washroom, leaving him alone. After a few moments, he raised his head to look at his face in the mirror; through the fringes of his chestnut brown hair, golden hazel eyes stared frankly back at him even as his strong, angular chin unconsciously jutted out in a pose of silent defiance. It had been a tough couple of weeks.
The university where he was teaching as an associate professor in the Science Department had been asked to play host to a group of foreign exchange students who would be staying in the campus dormitories for an entire month. In the usual Japanese bid to make an unrealistically good impression on their guests, Hanamura-sensei, the full professor that Tezuka usually assisted, had been given the task to spearhead the preparation plans. The end result: the bulk of Hanamura-sensei’s academic workload has been entrusted to the hazel-eyed associate professor. And as if he didn’t have enough to worry about, the periodic phone calls he got from his mother did not help any. If he still had to deal with the grief his family gave him about his sexual orientation on an almost daily basis anyway, then what was the point of his moving out?
With a sigh, Tezuka blindly reached for a couple of paper towels, wiped his face dry, and put his eyeglasses back on. He felt the world tilt to the side as he straightened up and realized that he probably shouldn’t have drunk those last two glasses of cognac. He leaned on the sink for support for a moment and made a face at himself. This wasn’t like him. It wasn’t like him to be careless. It wasn’t like him to let things get to him so much that he would over-indulge in alcohol. But well, there had to be a first time for everything. And now he knew for certain that he never wanted to do this again. With a deep breath to clear his head somewhat, he pulled the door open to once again be one of the unnamed faces in the crowd.
The club was unusually crowded for a Tuesday night, but he supposed it was better that way – after all, there was no better place to maintain one’s anonymous solitude than in the middle of a nameless crowd. People were less likely to pay attention to you in dimly lit, packed places… or so Tezuka thought as he headed towards the cluster of payphones at the corner, thinking of calling his best friend, Ooishi, to pick him up as he was in no condition to drive, casually looking around along the way. Unthinkingly casting his glance towards the dance floor, he saw him. Yes, people were less likely to pay attention to you in dimly lit, packed places…unless, of course, you really, really stood out.
There, in the middle of the dance floor, was what some of Tezuka’s students would have referred to as an “orgasm on legs”. Wearing black leather pants so tight that he must have poured himself into them, heavy black boots, and a black mesh shirt that hid practically nothing, the vision on the dance floor was dancing with himself – and enjoying it immensely, by the look of things. His eyes were closed, body moving in time to the pounding beat, hips alternating between moving from side to side and going around in a provocative circle, and his hands moving sensuously over his own body, as though making love with himself. Every once in a while, someone would dare to dance with him, and for a few moments, he would graciously allow it, willowy arms seductively going around a neck or a waist, body sinfully enmeshed with his partner’s – man or woman, he didn’t seem to particularly care which – but then, he would turn away; abruptly, as if drawn away by some mysterious force within the music, he would disentangle himself from his partner and continue dancing as though waiting for someone who could keep in time with him.
Before he could even register what he was doing, Tezuka found himself walking and single-mindedly moving towards the proud beauty in the middle of the dance floor.
But then, just ahead of him, he felt a sharp stab of resentment spike.
And then, to his side,
A little while later, a blond haired man with pure lust burning in his eyes sidled up next to
Fuji danced alone for the next two songs and he was starting to think that perhaps it was time to give up and move on to a different hunting ground (that is, a different club), when he was assaulted by the most powerful surge of desire he had ever felt in his life. A pair of strong, lean arms wound around his waist shortly thereafter, and with that warm body so close to his,
Tezuka looked down at his dance partner’s enraptured face and found himself wanting the honey-haired man even more; he wanted to possess the man. But he also felt the anger directed at himself magnify – this was not the kind of thing that Tezuka Kunimitsu did. He wondered if he could blame the alcohol for this behavior that was so out of his character… And then all mental functions ceased for the bespectacled man when he felt his partner grind his hips against Tezuka’s.
Tezuka’s eyes hardened in resolve at the challenge. He was definitely not going to lose this beauty as so many others have tonight. Tezuka adjusted his hold on the tempter in his arms to have his hands rest lightly on his partner’s hips, and slowly, tentatively, Tezuka started to move.
Without saying a word,
“Haven’t seen you here in a while,” the silver-haired bartender said by way of greeting.
“Indeed,” the green-eyed man agreed. “So, what will you be having tonight?”
“And for the gentleman…?” Niou prompted, looking at Tezuka.
The answering smile in the bartender’s face made Tezuka think that there must have been a layer to that conversation that he didn’t quite get, but decided to just shrug it off. More importantly, Tezuka thought, from the conversation he just witnessed, he was able to glean a couple of pertinent information: (1) that the blue-eyed charmer with him apparently was a regular of this club and was here often enough to be on friendly terms with the bartender, and (2) if he could order something with absinthe in it with relative impunity, then he must know how to hold his liquor.
As soon as the bartender turned his back to them to get started on their drinks, the blue-eyed man turned to Tezuka, resting his chin on a hand. “
The man was wreaking havoc on his normally well-behaved libido and Tezuka was getting more than just a little annoyed. “Tezuka. Tezuka Kunimitsu,” came the reply with a throat gone dry.
The hazel-eyed man’s head snapped up to meet
Tezuka smiled back and wondered what it was about this blue-eyed beauty before him that made him act contrary to his usual nature. With a resigned shake of his head, and more than just a little bit of incredulity at how much he was willing to trust this stranger, Tezuka handed over his car keys. “It’s the ’89 black sedan,” he said before taking a mouthful of his drink.
The small grunt Tezuka gave as his unconscious form hit the bed brought another small smile to
Blue eyes narrowing contemplatively,
Eyes gleaming brighter than usual,
And of course, there was that touch of possessiveness – this would be the first time that
Having had his fill,
When he woke up the following day, the dizziness Tezuka felt would be more than just from a hang-over.
Tezuka was woken up the following morning by sunlight hitting him square in the face. Blinking and squinting his eyes, he tried to get up but that action seemed to have set off a damned marching band – complete with crashing cymbals – in his head, and so he fell back down onto the bed with a miserable groan.
With one hand still on the curtains he just pushed aside to let in the stream of morning light, Ooishi Shuuichiro turned to look at the dismal picture his best friend presented. “Rise and shine, Tezuka!”
Tezuka rested one arm over his eyes to block out the offending brightness and only replied with a pitiful moan.
Ooishi shook his head at his friend. “That’s what you get for being an idiot. Granted, this would be the first time you’ve been this much of an idiot, so I guess I shouldn’t be teasing you about it.”
Tezuka peeked at Ooishi from under his arm, and in a low, gravelly voice, said, “Remind me again why I thought giving you a spare key to my apartment was a good idea?”
Ooishi smiled tolerantly at the occupant of the bed. “Because you believe in planning ahead and although you wished it wouldn’t come to this, you thought that one of these days, your family just might be able to drive you to drink and you thought I’d come in handy when that time comes.”
Tezuka finally managed to gingerly sit up (without tripping the mechanism that activated the marching band in his head) and studied his long-time friend. The bright sunlight glinted off Ooishi’s deep black hair and his expressive emerald green eyes were currently holding both traces of concern and amusement. The gentle smile playing on his lips softened the otherwise rigid line of his pointed chin. “What made you decide to come here this morning, anyway?” Tezuka asked rather bluntly.
“Schadenfreude2,” Ooishi replied without missing a beat.
Tezuka raised an eyebrow at his friend. Ooishi’s one of the kindest, most caring people Tezuka knew, but the former’s rather unusual sense of humor often threw Tezuka off balance.
“I’m kidding!” Ooishi laughed. “I called you up several times last night, but I kept getting your machine, so I knew you went out. Your cellphone was turned off too…”
“I didn’t want to get a call from my mother on the one night I wanted to get out and just let loose so I turned it off and left it at home,” Tezuka stated flatly.
Already very familiar with Tezuka’s family woes, Ooishi wisely refrained from making further comment on that situation. “Trust you to go out on a Tuesday night and get your first experience of getting thoroughly smashed just because university’s out for Golden Week3,” the green-eyed man teased instead.
“Hn,” was Tezuka’s grunted reply as he carefully eased himself out of bed and onto his feet. However, a wave of dizziness and nausea washed over him, and the marching band in his head returned in full force as soon as he took to his feet. Tezuka swayed unsteadily and Ooishi was by his side in a heartbeat.
“Are you alright?” the ebony-haired man asked in alarm as he firmly pushed Tezuka to sit back on the bed. A gentle but commanding hand grasped Tezuka’s chin and tilted his face upward to allow Ooishi a better view as the latter examined first Tezuka’s right eye, and then the left. And then, shifting his hold to grasp Tezuka’s lower jaw, Ooishi swiveled his friend’s face from left to right and then back again, tracking the movement of Tezuka’s pupils.
“Ooishi?” Tezuka said rather stiffly, as his friend’s hold on his lower jaw did not provide the ideal conditions for talking.
“I’m not a child.”
“I know,” Ooishi replied in a long-suffering voice. Content that there was nothing seriously wrong with his friend, the green-eyed man let go of Tezuka’s face. “But just because I’m a pediatrician doesn’t mean I only know how to deal with under-aged patients.” And then he added worriedly, “Aside from last night’s escapade, have you been getting enough sleep? Your inferior conjunctiva – that’s what you call the part that you see when you pull down your eyebags – looks a little pale. You might be a little anemic.”
Tezuka shook his head at his mother hen of a friend. “You worry too much, Ooishi. I’m sure it’s just the hang-over that’s got me like this. Which is all the more reason for me to never do that again.”
“Well, if you’re sure…” Ooishi reluctantly agreed. “I hope you managed to meet someone interesting last night, at least, to make up for that miserable hang-over you’re nursing right now.”
Flashes of blue eyes and sensual dances and searing kisses and stimulating conversation went through Tezuka’s head. Well, if he’s not getting insanely drunk ever again, there is that reason to go back to that club, at least. Going clear across the other side of the city to lessen the possibility of meeting somebody who knew him (by 89.57% according to the Chemistry associate professor, Inui-sensei) just to de-stress himself paid off in ways Tezuka never expected. But all he said to his friend was a non-committal, “Perhaps.”
Ooishi’s eyes widened at that response. “You did!” he gasped out in accusation. “You met somebody! So tell me about him!” the young pediatrician demanded.
Tezuka shook his head and tried to delay the inevitable. “Let me get some hot tea into my system first.”
“Fine. I’ll go put on the kettle but you’re telling me everything once you’ve had your tea,” Ooishi said through narrowed eyes.
“Hai, hai,” Tezuka replied tiredly as he made to stand up once again. This time, it was Ooishi who held back his friend.
The green-eyed man looked quizzically at the general area of Tezuka’s collar. “Did you hurt yourself?”
Tezuka just gave his friend a ‘Huh?’ kind of look.
Reaching out to get a better look, Ooishi tugged at the collar of Tezuka’s now very unkempt-looking shirt. There, right below the collar line, towards the back, were three small spots of what looked to be drops of blood. “Did you nick yourself or something?” Ooishi asked again, this time examining the left side of Tezuka’s neck, but seeing nothing wrong with it, not even a red spot, Ooishi let go. “You’ve got spots of blood by the collar of your shirt,” he added when Tezuka started tugging at his own shirt and craning his neck to look at the stains Ooishi was referring to.
Tezuka almost crossed his own eyes trying to look at the spots but when he did see them, his brows furrowed in thought. He had absolutely no idea how those got there. But at the state his hung-over mind was in, it was too much effort to worry about the seemingly insignificant spots. He just shrugged his shoulders, “I probably just popped a weirdly placed pimple. Let’s go have that tea and some breakfast. I need to feel human again.”