Strawberries and Cream

S.a.C. Guest Chapter By: ladygizarme

Disclaimer & Dedication: I don’t own PoT or its characters. I don’t own the plot for this story either. I merely have a deep love for both, and for renren, and couldn’t help but write this when she gave me the okay to do this for her birthday (which was at the beginning of June, so I’m way late, but at least it’s still the right month!). Obviously, this is fanfiction, and neither of us will ever make any money from it. :p

(ok, so this is ren...i just have a few things to add to this: 1. lg, you are my favorite person in the world, thank you so much. i love that you used my musicaa cue, which is actually Eiji's, but hey..you know...also thanks for bringing this fic back to my mind..i needed the love....i really did. 2. lg brought to my attention, and i will bring to yours, we know that i had said that Ryoma had had no previous sexual experiences with another, but we figured that since this was more...out of need, carnal if you will...Ryoma, being the indignant little punk that he is, wouldnt consider this as a real "other person" type of deal.- end ren)

So now, in the words of ren and our beloved Eiji:

_______________________________musicaaaaaa cue

Nearly Two Years Ago:

“Stupid, lazy oyaji,” Ryoma grumbled to himself as he walked down the sidewalk.

He was in a bad mood; today had not been a good day. First, he’d slept late, his cousin Nanako having left the house early that morning for some reason, and his father not bothering to wake him when he’d slept through his alarm. Once he’d made it to school, a half hour late, his teacher had assigned him extra classroom and cleaning duties for lunch and after school, plus he’d been deprived of his usual nap during English as he was bombarded with pop quiz questions to ‘keep him on his toes’. Not that it wasn’t extremely easy for him, but still, how annoying. Add to that the unlucky pairing of him with Horio for the aforementioned cleaning duties, said boy having been reprimanded for his loud, bragging motormouth during class (and the affliction of his screechy voice subsequently plaguing Ryoma the entire time they cleaned, despite his diligent attempt to tune him out—where the heck were Kachirou and Katsuo when he needed them?) and he was already understandably cranky and annoyed by the time he finally made it to tennis club after school (closely tailed by the still-chattering Horio, of course).

Then, since they arrived late to tennis, Ryuuzaki-sensei assigned them both to run laps before beginning their club activities. It wasn’t so much the running Ryoma had been annoyed with, nor even the fact Horio was again accompanying him in his punishment. It was the fact he was called out about it in front of the whole club, which he was expected to soon be granted Captaincy of. How was he supposed to keep their respect as their Captain, and continue being the pillar of support Tezuka-buchou had entrusted him to be, when he was already being reprimanded? As if he wasn’t already getting lip about both his age and his height—when was that growth spurt Inui had predicted supposed to come again?

Once his laps were finally done, finishing way before Horio, Ryoma finally made it onto the courts and hoped to have a warm up match with Momo. Unfortunately, the other boy was in the midst of a heated argument with Kaidoh at the time, not that Ryoma was surprised, so he was left to warm up with Arai. That in itself wasn’t too bad, as his now-Third Year-senpai had been improving recently and, though Ryoma could still utterly demolish him if he wanted to, he did help to work up a sweat when Ryoma took it slow. However, once that was done, and Ryoma was about to drag Momo away from a new fight with Kaidoh so he could have a real match, it suddenly started pouring down rain. It lasted long enough that Ryuuzaki-sensei cancelled tennis for the rest of the day, and Ryoma was left utterly frustrated in his day’s activities as he walked home in the rain.

Of course, the rain would decide to let up just as he approached the small shrine he called home, and Ryoma glowered at the suddenly-appearing sun as he walked the path up to his door.

Announcing his arrival, Ryoma hadn’t waited for a reply before heading up the stairs to his room and changing into dry clothes. He decided to lounge in bed with a tennis magazine while he waited for the sun to dry the dirt court of the shrine so he could at least get a match with his dad. With the day he’d been having, he should’ve known it was too much to expect to be allowed to relax. The next thing he knew, his father was barging loudly into his room and roping him into running a ‘very important errand’ for him.

Che, important, yeah.

“Stupid, lazy, ero-oyaji,” Ryoma grumbled again as he reached the store he’d been sent to. Seriously, why couldn’t his dad come pick up his new, specially-ordered, girly magazine himself? Oh yeah, Ryoma’s mother was due home soon and Nanjiroh didn’t want it to be confiscated before he even got to look at it. So he’d sent Ryoma to do his dirty work while he stayed home to greet his wife, and would discreetly retrieve it from him before ringing the nightly bell. Stupid oyaji.

Using his anger and indignation to push down his approaching blush, Ryoma opened the door to the adult bookstore and went inside. At least his father had had the hindsight to call ahead, so the store manager was expecting him and knew he was actually picking up his father’s order, and wasn’t just some pervy little teen looking for kicks and ignoring the ‘Adults Only’ sign on the door.

Having made his father’s purchase, Ryoma left the store with the bag hidden away inside his ever-present tennis bag. With this task finally complete, he turned to head back home, but paused as he heard the all-too-familiar echo of tennis balls on the nearby equally-familiar court. With a small smirk on his lips and defiance burning in his bronze eyes, the young teen turned in the opposite direction, deciding burning some energy off with his favorite activity was in order. His father could wait a bit longer for his delivery anyway.

As he walked, though, he remembered that he needed to buy more grip tape. The last time he’d used it, he’d noticed the roll probably didn’t have enough left for one more use. So, making a slight detour in his destination, he found and entered the closest tennis shop. He was distracted for a few minutes by the covers of a few well-placed magazines, but soon put himself back on task, realizing he was just a section of shelf away from the much-needed grip tape. Just as he reached for it, though, he found himself experiencing a curious case of déjà vu as his hand was not the only one that closed around said tape. Or, rather, his hand closed around it and the second hand—which wasn’t his, mind you—closed around his hand.

Immediately rising to the obvious challenge to his claim on the last roll of his preferred tape, the raven haired teen turned his head to glare at the owner of the previously mentioned second hand. His bronze glare was met with the impassive, slightly curious gaze of familiar dark blue, and his sense of déjà vu once more kicked into gear as the identity of his grip-tape-rival made itself known as one Ibu Shinji. The grip on his hand tightened slightly as Shinji refused to back down, and Ryoma’s glare narrowed as it grew in intensity. It had been a long, frustrating day, and he wasn’t about to let this guy get the upper hand on him and his grip tape.

“Ah! Echizen-kun…” Shinji said softly, blinking slowly, apparently having just recognized the other boy.

“Ibu-san,” Ryoma acknowledged, his hold on the tape never wavering.

Shinji looked from Ryoma, to the grip tape, back to Ryoma, back to the grip tape, lingering longingly on their hands obstructing his view of the item in question.

“There’s only one left.”

“It would seem so,” Ryoma replied. “Looks like you’ll have to settle for one of these others this time.” He gestured to a different grip tape on the shelf.

This time it was Shinji’s turn to narrow his eyes as he glared at the other suggested grip tape as if it offended him.

“This sucks, I hate déjà vu,” Shinji began mumbling. “I swear this happened before already, and I didn’t get my grip tape that time either. I only got Echizen-kun’s leftovers when he was done with it, and that wasn’t even enough for one use. I had to reserve it before I could get my own after that, but I forgot to this time and I really need grip tape and I don’t like any others now that I’ve used this one. Damn. And Echizen-kun grabbed the same one as me this time as well. Why do we always have to be in the store at the same time when we need grip tape? What am I supposed to do, I don’t like these other tapes, but Echizen-kun thinks he should get this one. But he got it last time, so I should get it this time. Besides, he’s younger than me. If he went to Fudoumine, I’d be his senpai and he would have to do what I say and let me have it, but he doesn’t so I…”

As Shinji’s softly mumbled tirade to himself continued, Ryoma sweatdropped, trying not to loosen his grip on the tape in the process. Sometimes he wondered if Shinji mumbled like this, seemingly oblivious to anyone overhearing him, on purpose so as to throw his opponent off and make them lower their defenses. Well, Ryoma wouldn’t fall for it!

…Still, the fact remained that they both had ahold on the tape and had yet to come to an agreement. It was obvious Shinji wouldn’t be backing down anytime soon, but Ryoma wouldn’t either, especially after the day he’d had. He needed that grip tape!!

He cleared his throat before interrupting the ranting boy, “Ibu-san.”

Shinji stopped mid-rant and turned his face back to Ryoma.

Ryoma internally grumbled, a little bitter he was about to make a compromise for what should rightfully be his, but if it got him out of this situation with the mumbling boy quicker, he would do it.

“I’ll play you for it.”

There, he’d said it. And even though he was making a compromise by even suggesting he not be the one to get it outright, Ryoma was confident he would come out victorious in the end regardless.

“Okay.” Shinji agreed.

After a short, mostly-mumbled discussion, they agreed Ryoma would pay for it and Shinji would pay him back if he won.

They walked side by side to the nearby court, which was rather scarcely populated due to the recent rain and the courts just now getting dry enough to play decently. Ryoma and Shinji chose their court and sat down on their respective benches to ready their rackets. Just as Ryoma was about to pull off his old grip tape to replace it with the new one, he heard the familiar mumbling from his companion as a shadow fell over him.

Shinji clicked his tongue softly to himself, scoffing, “Tch, Echizen-kun said we would play fairly for it, but he’s going to use it anyway. I don’t intend to lose to this shorty, so he’s stealing some of my grip tape right now, but he probably doesn’t think he’ll lose so he doesn’t think that it’s stealing, but I don’t think I’ll lose either so I should be able to use it before the match also. It’s only fair, but…”

Hearing the mumbled tirade, Ryoma sighed under his breath before turning his face up to address the other boy.

“Here, you can use it for yours too, okay? Just sit down and wait ‘til I’m done.”

Shinji obliged his request and sat beside him, quietly watching the younger boy wrap his racket handle quickly and efficiently. Then Ryoma handed the tape over to him and waited for Shinji to do the same. When the Fudoumine Third-Year finished, he went to put the tape in Ryoma’s bag for safekeeping during their game, as they’d agreed. However, as he was doing so, the zipper got caught. As Shinji struggled with the bag a moment, something completely unexpected slipped from inside and out onto the ground right in front of the blue haired teen. Immediately knowing what it was, Ryoma made a dive to grab it and tuck it back away before the other boy realized what it was; however, he had no such luck.

Shinji looked down curiously and bent to pick it up, grabbing it just as Ryoma did. A split-second thought, wondering if they were eternally destined for grabbing the same thing at the same time, ran through both their heads before it was forgotten in favor of struggling for possession of the dropped item. Which, if you haven’t guessed by now, was the very item Nanjiroh had sent his son out to get in the first place.

“Oh? Echizen-kun reads ecchi magazines?” Shinji muttered, curiosity piqued.

Ryoma’s grip tightened a fraction as he grit his teeth and denied, “It’s not mine.”

Shinji wasn’t paying him any attention, though, as he continued muttering, “That’s strange, I never would have thought Echizen-kun would read this kind of thing. Especially since it has all these girls in it. I always thought Echizen-kun had a thing for Tezuka-san, and that would make him gay, but this magazine is full of girls which would mean he’s not gay, unless he’s in denial like Akira-kun and trying to convince himself he’s straight by looking at this. But I don’t know what good it would do, because if he’s really gay this wouldn’t turn him on anyway, so how would he masturbate to it? Maybe he just buys it for show and really masturbates to Tennis Weekly like Akira-kun does, even though he tries to say he doesn’t, I did catch him that one time when I was staying at his house and came in the room after my bath... I don’t know why Akira-kun won’t just admit it, I told him I masturbate to him after tennis practice, but he keeps insisting on going out with An-chan even though…”

“I said it’s not mine…” Ryoma tried to insist again, but was once again ignored.

“…but still, I thought Echizen-kun was gay, because I saw how he used to look at Tezuka-san. Maybe he’s just confused and frustrated since Tezuka-san graduated and went on to high school already, so he doesn’t know what to do with his hormones and thinks this is the only way to go. Still, if he wants to get any relief, gay porn would get better results than hetero porn. I could suggest some to him if he wanted, although I mostly just imagine Akira-kun now. Maybe I should explain how to fantasize properly so he can imagine Tezuka-san and he won’t have to waste his money on these ecchi magazines full of girls…”

Whatever else the blue-haired teen might have said was suddenly cut off as Ryoma’s mouth crashed down on his, his fingers digging into the older boy’s shoulders to hold him in place, effectively silencing Shinji as his intent had been. It was by no means a sweet kiss. It was hard and wet, and teeth clashed and met lips and tongue—both their own and each other’s—quite a few times before either party deemed they’d done all they could and this thing that tried to pass off as a kiss was over. Still, despite its sloppiness and their obvious lack of real-life experience in the area, the kiss left them panting, an aching heat curling low in their bellies and rushing blood southwards.

“Shut up already. I said. It’s. Not. Mine!” Ryoma gasped out once he deemed he’d finally caught Shinji’s attention, finally pulling the magazine from the other boy’s hand along with the almost-forgotten grip tape.

Shinji merely stared back at him, blinking slowly.

Annoyed, on edge, and feeling a bit more than slightly defensive after listening to the other boy’s mindless rant, Ryoma felt the rare need to explain himself further as he stuffed the retrieved items into his tennis bag.

“My stupid, perverted old man made me pick that up for him. I don’t read that trash, and I don’t get why he’s so obsessed with it. It’s not interesting in the least!”

Several moments passed after his mini-outburst, the two of them simply staring at one another in silence as the whole of the past few minutes sunk in. Finally, Shinji spoke.

“Ah… so, I was right about Echizen-kun’s sexuality…”

Ryoma frowned, having not fully thought out the implications of his recent speech until after he’d said it, and not sure if he was happy with the fact that the first person he’d come out to was this person.

“I didn’t say that!” He tried to deny. He hadn’t even fully come to grips with it himself yet, he didn’t need someone else prying into his private life. That perverted old man at home was enough of a nuisance already. However, it seemed he wasn’t going to get out of this that easily. The damage was already done.

“Hmm, so you are in denial like Akira-kun. That’s a shame. Denial will stunt your fantasies, and masturbation is a lot better when you don’t have to force it. Although, having someone else touch you is even better than that. Akira-kun and I did that one time, but then he freaked out and said he wasn’t gay and that’s why he hides his Tennis Weekly in his ecchi mags now…”

During Shinji’s mumbled speech, Ryoma had begun dragging him away from the open courts and into the nearby bathroom. Once inside, he locked the main door and covered Shinji’s mouth with his hand, forcing the other boy’s rant to trail off unfinished yet again.

“Fine,” Ryoma conceded heatedly. “I’m gay, not that it’s any of your business, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go running your mouth off to anyone else about it, like you tend to do.”

Shinji blinked at him. “What are you talking about? I don’t do that.”

Ryoma mentally sweatdropped, wondering yet again if this guy was serious or just messing with him. He wasn’t sure which was actually the worse option.

“So, did you want my help then?” Shinji asked, seemingly out of the blue.

Ryoma frowned at him questioningly. “With what?”

“Your erection,” Shinji answered simply. “You did kiss me after all.”

Ryoma scowled. “No thanks, I’m fine.” He made to walk past him, wanting to unlock the door he’d just locked and get back outside where things were normal and concerned only tennis. Shinji stopped him, though, with a hand on his shoulder.

“I bet I could teach you something new,” the older teen said, his already soft voice taking on a slightly husky quality. “I know how you like to steal other people’s techniques.” If he couldn’t plainly see the impassive, almost open look on Shinji’s face, Ryoma would have sworn the other boy was smirking.

Despite his curiosity at what sort of new techniques he could possibly learn, Ryoma was wary of what agreeing to this proposition would entail, and made to refuse again.

“I d—”

Before he could finish, he was pressed back up against the door, a taller body pressed flush to his, and a warm, wet mouth covering his own, swallowing any further protest. He could have probably found the strength to push him away, since Shinji surely wouldn’t go as far as to rape him. However, as the older boy’s hips met his and he felt a growing hardness pressing against him, protest was quickly becoming a moot point as he felt his own cock filling out as well, blood rushing and creating an ache that craved friction and satiation.

The kiss didn’t last long, as it had mostly been used as a distraction to deter Ryoma from running away from what was obvious to Shinji that he needed right then. He backed off a little, just to show he wasn’t forcing him to do anything, and just as he suspected, Ryoma didn’t leave. Instead, the younger boy’s hand pressed at his own crotch, wanting and needing to relieve the growing pressure. As he watched Ryoma rubbing at his clothed erection, Shinji palmed his own member through his pants as well.

“When you do this,” Shinji breathed softly. “What do you think about? Who do you think about? For me, it’s usually Akira-kun. For you, it’s probably Tezuka-san, ne? At first you probably just imagine his face, the strong jaw, the sophisticated nose, the shade of his eyes as they watch over you so intently behind his glasses. Then his body and the way it looks in his tennis clothes. Maybe you think about how he moves during a match, remember watching the way his muscles play under his skin as he moves around the court. Maybe you imagine playing him, knowing his attention and body is entirely focused on you during that entire time. Next you might think about afterwards, when practice is done and everyone goes to shower. Except in your fantasy it’s just you and him, naked in the showers, and you capture his gaze and he looks at you so intensely you think you could come just from that, but then he’s on you and you’re glad you haven’t come yet because you want it to last, for him to touch you, for you to touch him, to enjoy the heat of your bodies and the feel of skin against skin…”

As Shinji spoke, Ryoma’s idle rubbing became more and more purposeful, the pressure of his hand steadily growing in rapidity and intensity until it was no longer enough to simply stroke through his clothes. He needed skin to skin contact. It was the same for Shinji as well and, without either boy planning it, they both began to lower their tennis shorts and underwear over their hips to free their erections to the cool air of the bathroom before wrapping their hand around themselves to stroke more freely. However, when Ryoma reached for himself, his wasn’t the only hand there and he shuddered slightly at the foreign feeling of Shinji’s hand pumping him. A soft, surprised grunt escaped him, and the corners of Shinji’s mouth turned up slightly as he heard it.

“I told you, didn’t I? It feels different when someone else touches you.” With this said, he twined his fingers around Ryoma’s free hand and brought it to his erection, guiding the younger boy to stroke him as he stroked Ryoma. They stroked each other in tandem, gradually increasing the pace until their upward and downward strokes were simultaneous. Shinji’s grip on Ryoma was a little tighter than he was used to, but it felt good, especially when he added a little twist at the base every so often or pressed his thumb into the slit, stealing precum to slick the way.

Ryoma closed his eyes, and if he tuned out the pleasured mutterings Shinji made under his breath, he could just imagine it was someone else touching him. Someone with brown eyes, a sophisticated nose, and glasses. Someone who shaped and influenced not only his tennis, but his life, in a dramatic way in the past year. With a deep, shuddery breath that he used to try to stifle his moans, Ryoma took a firmer grip on the foreign manhood in his other hand, and sped up his jerking of Shinji’s cock as he wished the other boy to do to him.

Not long after that, he felt Shinji stiffen, sucking in a sharp breath as his cock spasmed in Ryoma’s hand, shooting his seed onto the door in front of him, just shy of hitting Ryoma. Shinji’s hand had paused what it had been doing as he’d orgasmed, and as he took a few seconds to recover, Ryoma pushed his hand away and reaffirmed his own grip on himself, pulling and stroking for all he was worth until he also came, his cum covering his hand and some leaking through his fingers onto the floor as he tried to catch it.

The two boys leaned their backs against the door, slowly coming back to themselves as they caught their breath and felt their bodies calm down. That’s when it hit Ryoma what had just occurred, and he quickly pulled up his shorts, seeing from the corner of his eye that Shinji did the same and forcing himself not to look.

“Mada mada da ne,” He muttered to himself before going to the sink and washing his hands clean of his and Shinji’s cum, Shinji using the sink beside him for the same purpose. Then, after they’d dried off and were about to leave, Ryoma caught Shinji’s wrist just as he opened the now-unlocked door. When Shinji turned a curious gaze to him, Ryoma spoke.

“You can have the grip tape, just don’t ever mention this again.”

Shinji blinked, then nodded. They exited the restroom and walked over to the bench where they’d left their tennis things. Ryoma handed the grip tape over to Shinji and, after Shinji started muttering about the length of tape Ryoma had already used on his racket, declared that repayment of the receipt total wasn’t necessary. Then Ryoma packed up his things, suddenly no longer in the mood for tennis, and left the courts in the direction of his home.

He should get there just in time for dinner and avoid a griping lecture from his dad by slipping that damn troublesome girly mag to him under the table. Then he would do his homework for tomorrow, take a bath, and go to sleep, dreaming of his former buchou and hoping tomorrow would be a much less-eventful, more normal day.

*****
Momo had spotted Ryoma on his way to the courts with Fudoumine’s Ibu Shinji from the window at the burger joint. Quickly finishing up his meal (three more burgers, a large fry, and a large Coke) and throwing out his trash, Momo had thrown his tennis bag over his shoulder and jogged over to the courts, hoping to play a game with his kouhai since he’d missed out during practice that day. However, when he made it to the courts, Ryoma was nowhere to be seen, though Momo recognized his bag along with another one on one of the benches near an empty court. Knowing there weren’t many places for him to go, Momo headed over to the bathroom to see if Ryoma was there.

Frowning when he found the door locked, Momo bought a juice from the nearby machine and leaned against the wall, deciding to wait and see who would eventually come out of the bathroom in the hopes that it was Ryoma. Though it wasn’t an everyday occurrence, it wasn’t completely odd for the main door of the bathroom to be locked, since sometimes people changed here and didn’t want to change in the small, cramped stalls. Although, when he thought about it for too long, he realized he didn’t see Shinji either and if Ryoma was the one in the locked bathroom, Shinji was most likely in there as well. His brow furrowed further as he wondered what was going on, and he gave himself a minor headache thinking about it.

Just as he was about to give up on waiting and find someone else to play, Momo heard the heavy deadbolt click and heard a low squeak as the door handle turned. Slowly walking back over there, he barely caught the words Ryoma uttered to the other boy with him. The sudden gut feeling that he didn’t want to be caught eavesdropping made Momo duck around the corner before the boys finally exited the restroom, peeking around just enough to assure their identities and watch Ryoma hand over a roll of grip tape before the shorter teen left the courts.

After a curious trip into the bathroom, where he found evidence of certain unexpected bodily fluids near the door, Momo left the courts as well, walking at a slow pace as he thought over everything he’d heard and witnessed. Surely he was mistaken in his assumptions. It was just coincidence there’d been cum in that bathroom after hearing Ryoma tell Shinji to ‘never mention this again’, right?

As troubled as he seemed to be about it, all worries were quickly forgotten when he got home and found a feast awaiting him for dinner. His stomach growled, completely forgetting the tray full of burgers and fries he’d finished not even an hour beforehand, he greeted his family, and thanked his mother before digging in. All was right with the world.
*****
Happy Belated B-day, renren!! Hope you liked your present!!
And to you readers as well, drop [us] a line in a review! ^__^
&hearts
~ lg

Oh, P.S. for anyone confused by some Japanese words in here:

Oyaji: familiar/casual word to refer to your father, along the lines of “old man”
Ero-oyaji: perverted-“old man” (ero=erotic, takes on “pervy” role when tacked on like “ero-jiji”, etc.)
Ecchi: this is how the Japanese pronounce “H” which stands for “hentai”, which means pervert and often stands for anything sexual or perverted, from H-games to insults to porn (mostly het porn)

Aaaaand anything else, I don’t remember at the moment and most of you probably know all these anyway…

(and more ren-hope you liked this.. i know i sure as fuck did. isnt she wonderful? yes...she is! and sorry everyone, the next chapter will be back to me... after that, you would all prob. rather prefer i just dropped the fic all together. much love.-ren)