An Idiot's Guide to Ectopic Birth

Yonekuni was about to smother himself to death with a pillow. He had it pressed against his face, wrapped over both ears, and yet he could still hear all the moaning and panting and thrusting that was going on in the next door room. Beasts! Both of them! Didn't they know that there was some one else at home? Didn't they know that going at it four times in a row was disrespectful to their neighbors?

Fuck. Yonekuni threw the pillow across the room with enough force that it knocked over a bonsai plant sitting on a table there. He needed a shower. He figured there was something sick about him if he was getting hard from the noises his brother was making with Norio, but he hadn't had sex in a long time, and before that he was getting it multiple times a day with multiple women.

He turned the shower to its maximum temperature setting and stepped underneath it, letting the water run scalding rivers down his skin. It didn't give him any relief, though, his dick still red and stiff between his legs. Might as well, he thought, and he brought a hand down to wrap around his shaft, a little too tight, and moved it with violent yanks and twists of his wrist.

He leaned against the shower wall and closed his eyes.

Fujiwara. An image of swollen lips, parted minutely to let escape shuddering breaths. White skin that flushed deep pink with Yonekuni's touch. Half-lidded eyes, unencumbered by glasses, looking at Yonekuni like the only thing he needed in the world was Yonekuni's cock up his ass.

"Yonekuni," he said, words appearing as if by magic between moans and pants, "please. . . I want your cum inside of me."

"Shit." Yonekuni groaned as he came, white cum splattering on blue tile.

His heart was beating heavy in his chest, water pounding on his now red skin. He breathed, forcing himself to calm down. Fujiwara. . . what was this distance between them? Why was it so hard for him to bridge?

An hour later Yonekuni heard the doorbell ring, and ran downstairs to get it. Genichirou wasn't home yet, and the rest of the Sanada family was meeting them at the restaurant for dinner that night. Last he heard, Norio and Kunimasa were off to take a shower, presumably together, so no one else was going to answer that door. He opened the door to find Fujiwara standing there, looking as though he wasn't sure if he had found the right house.

"Hi," he said, pushing up his glasses. He was smiling in that hesitant way that he did when it came to Yonekuni.

Yonekuni stared at him for awhile. Fujiwara was so unlike the girls Yonekuni was used to dating. Yonekuni liked girls who were petite and slender, while Fujiwara was tall and broad-shouldered. Yonekuni liked flashy, pretty girls that stood out, while Fujiwara was only good looking in a very average way. Yonekuni liked blondes, and Fujiwara had short black hair that he wore neatly combed to the side.

And yet, it wasn't those girls that made his breath catch in his throat like this.

"Hey," he said, pulling Fujiwara towards him before pressing their lips together in a kiss.

Even Fujiwara's kisses were tentative. It was something Yonekuni really disliked about him, this hesitancy when it came to their relationship, like he was walking over thin ice. Yonekuni had some distant memory of a somewhat bolder Fujiwara, but it was too far away to grasp.

"Come on," Yonekuni said, pulling away, "I'll show you to our room."

Fujiwara nodded, his cheeks slightly flushed as he followed Yonekuni upstairs to their room. Yonekuni closed the door, and then he pulled Fujiwara closer to him again. His kisses, this time, were deeper, lingering, his tongue exploring the crevices of Fujiwara's mouth. Fujiwara's hands tangled in the front of Yonekuni's shirt. They broke apart, and Fujiwara looked up at him hopefully.

"Madarame?" he asked.

Why, Yonekuni asked himself. It had been so easy, with the Fujiwara in his imagination. And now he had the real thing, tangible and willing in front of him, and he couldn't. . .

When Madarame didn't answer, Fujiwara shifted, pressing their bodies closer together. He rubbed up against the taller man, frowning at what he felt. . . or, in this case, what he didn't feel.

"Madarame, maybe if I. . ."

Fujiwara tapered off, perhaps too embarrassed to finish his sentence. His eyes seemed to be asking permission, but Yonekuni didn't say anything. Even so, Fujiwara got on his knees and unzipped Yonekuni's pants, taking Yonekuni's limp cock in his mouth. Yonekuni shuddered as he felt that wet heat surround his cock, as he felt Fujiwara start to suck on him in earnest. And yet he still couldn't get hard.

After awhile Fujiwara stopped, eyes looking down and away in embarrassment.

"I have to take a shower before dinner," he said, getting up.

Yonekuni zipped his pants back up and fell backwards onto the bed. Was this, he asked himself, burying his face in his hands, what they called impotency?

* * *

"I didn't know the monkey was coming," Sanada Akari said, her smile tense as she glared at Yukimura. "Unfortunately, I only made reservations for ten."

"Mom," Kentarou whined, "they can always add another chair to the table."

"I suppose," Akari spit back. She mumbled something to the host, and soon they were placing a shaky plastic folding chair at the table.

"I assume," she said to Yukimura, "that's more than adequate to meet your standards."

Yukimura smiled. He was about to open his mouth to reply when he felt Kentarou's hand clasp over it. Kentarou was scooting him forward, towards the table.

"I'll sit in it," he whispered, "it's not a big deal."

Yukimura was stewing. In his opinion the Sanada matriarch was a petty, vindictive social climber. And while her husband had an extremely foreboding presence, at least he was content to stay silent when it came to most things. Sanada, Yukimura decided, must have gotten his anti-social nature from his father. Sanada-san was seating himself at the head of the table, and the others started falling into seats around him.

"What are you doing here?" Kirihara asked Atobe, who was sitting across from him.

"Why, of course I would be here," Atobe replied. "I'm the father of Genichirou's future baby, after all."

"Yes," Akari cooed, "you two are like sons to us already. I'm so happy both of you could come, unlike some freeloading, uninvited primates."

"Sorry we're late," Kunimasa said, entering the private room with Norio by his side. "Auntie, uncle, you remember Yonekuni's mate."

Kirihara sat up straighter in his chair, eager to see who Yonekuni had brought. . . except he didn't see any one.

"Where is she?" he asked. "Is she behind that guy standing next to you?"

Yonekuni blinked. "No. . . this man is my mate, XXX Fujiwara."

Fujiwara smiled and waved from beside Yonekuni. "Hello."

Sanada, Yukimura, and Kirihara blinked at Fujiwara in confusion, while Atobe wondered why they all seemed so perplexed by this situation.

"I thought," Sanada said, "you hated men."

"Fujiwara's an exception," Yonekuni stated, as they went to take their seats.

"Really, Genichirou," Akari said, "don't you listen to the family gossip when I tell you?"

"Not at all," Sanada muttered.

"I listen to you all the time," Kentarou said, beaming at his mother. Akari beamed back, and Yukimura glared darkly at them both.

"Oh, Kentarou," Akari said, "except for your choice in lovers, you're such a good son."

Yukimura decided, instead of replying to that comment, to turn to the newcomers. He remembered Norio's story about meeting Kunimasa from last night, and figured that Fujiwara and Yonekuni's story had to be a good one too.

"So," Yukimura asked, "how did you two first get together?"

"Well," Yonekuni, looking as though he was pondering the question himself. "I can't really say. I don't remember it."

There was confused silence for a little bit, Fujiwara blushing slightly. But then Fujiwara stammered as he tried to explain. "Whenever Madarame used to get sick he'd get into this daze, and he would come to my house. From there it turned into something sexual, but he never had any memory of it. Later, when he found out. . . I guess, he agreed to being in a sort of trial relationship with me."

"I'm not so sure," Atobe said, "we needed quite so much information. But thank you, I suppose, for sharing all the same."

Yukimura froze as a plate was being put down in front of him.

"What is this?" he asked, voice cold.

"Oh?" Akari replied. "Is that not your usual diet?"

Every one looked down to see two unpeeled bananas, and nothing else, on Yukimura's plate.

"Oh, bananas!" Kentarou said nervously. "I love bananas! Here, Seichi, let's switch dinners."

Sanada sighed, glad that his idiot brother had actually managed to diffuse that situation. Conversation seemed to break up into smaller groups after that, something that was inevitable considering how many people there were.

"So from what I gather," Atobe said to Yonekuni, who was seated between him and Sanada, "you were sleeping with Fujiwara without even knowing it? How is that even possible?"

Yonekuni shrugged, not really knowing himself. "I'd only go over to Fujiwara's house when I was weak. You're cold-blooded, you know how easy it is to get sick."

"Yes, but I've never made love to some one without knowing it before."

"It's not like I like not remembering," Yonekuni replied, his gaze fixed at Fujiwara, who was sitting near the other end of the table. While his memories of those times with Fujiwara were mostly sealed away, he had glimpses of them. Fevered words and gentle embraces. . . they made him uncomfortable, even as he relished them. "But it's like that was a different person. It's a part of me that Fujiwara knows, a part of me that I don't."

At his end of the table, Shiro was also being questioned on the topic of his relationship with Yonekuni.

"You and Yonekuni-senpai are getting along, aren't you?" Norio asked.

Fujiwara frowned at the question. "What makes you say that?"

"Well. . . at the Christmas party, Yonekuni was being so affectionate with you."

"Christmas party?" Kirihara asked.

Fujiwara blushed at the memory. It had been months ago. . . he had been embarrassed, but so happy, when Yonekuni had pulled him into his arms in front of every one at his family's Christmas party, had placed a kiss on his hand. "Well, since then. . . things have maybe gotten worse."

Norio frowned sadly. "You mean he still won't touch you?"

"What do you mean?" Kirihara asked. "Do you have the same problem that Norio does?"

"Aka-chan," Norio complained, "you're being so noisy."

"No, Kirihara," Fujiwara said, "it's just that, ever since the first time we slept together while Madarame was conscious, after that he wouldn't touch me at all. That changed after the Christmas party, somehow, but now. . ."

Fujiwara was blushing fiercely now, eyes fixed resolutely on his plate, as though there was something of great interest located there. "Now, it seems, Madarame can't get hard when it comes to me."

Fujiwara shook his head, voice dropping almost to a whisper. "It's hopeless, after all. I was wrong to think that I was good enough. . . in the end, Madarame really does hate men, doesn't he?"

A heavy silence seemed to settle over the three of them, but then Norio grinned and punched Fujiwara in the arm. "You're wrong! You'll see. Yonekuni-senpai's definitely working out some issues, but he really does love you."

Kirihara frowned as Norio comforted Fujiwara. He had thought the members of Rikkai had relationship problems, but Sanada's family really had any of them beat. He got a text message from Yanagi then, and he flipped open his phone to read it.

"Rain," it said, "finals postponed until Monday."

Kirihara almost groaned. He was looking forward to getting revenge on Seigaku, especially now that Yukimura was back. Ah, well, Seigaku would live to fight another day, he guessed the saying went.

Every one finished eating dinner soon, thankfully without an incident occurring between Yukimra and Akari. The adults left directly after paying the bill, leaving the kids to decide the next plan of attack.

"I suggest," Atobe said, "that we have a goodbye party for your lovely cousins. Say, at my house?"

"I suppose I can text the rest of Rikkai," Yukimura agreed.

"Oh, fun!" Norio exclaimed. "Fujiwara, you're coming, right?"

Fujiwara's face brightened up, but Yonekuni was already getting up.

"Pres. We're going home."

Fujiwara looked over at Yonekuni, then sent an apologetic smile towards Norio and the rest of the group. "Thank you for the offer. It was nice to meet all of you."

Yonekuni and Fujiwara walked back to the Sanada household in silence, the air between them tense and heavy. Norio was a good friend, Fujiwara thought, but he really didn't know the situation. He didn't know Yonekuni as well as Fujiwara did. He waited until they were back in their room, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

"Madarame," he said, "I think we should break up."

Fujiwara swore he could feel the air around them get colder as Yonekuni froze in his movements. Yonekuni turned to face him, his expression unreadable. "What do you mean by that?"

Fujiwara looked at the floor, the walls, the ceiling, anywhere but where Madarame was standing. "I don't want you to force being with me. If you only like women, there's no way you can be with a man."

Yonekuni wasn't saying anything, and Fujiwara could almost feel his heart catch in his throat. So that was the situation after all.

"I can stay in one of the other rooms," he said, turning to leave. His hand was on the doorknob when Yonekuni reached out, his fingers wrapping around Fujiwara's wrist.

"You're wrong," he said, "this isn't about you being a man."

"Then what is it?" Fujiwara asked, not brave enough to turn around. "Is it just me, then?"

"No, I. . ." Yonekuni wasn't sure what it was. But, it seemed, every time they were together, Yonekuni couldn't help but think about his other self, the one who Fujiwara knew so intimately. In his head there were locked away memories, memories that belonged to some one else. Everything that had been going through his mind, everything he wanted to say, came spilling out. "You call me Madarame, but you called him Yonekuni. It's him that you're in love with, isn't it?"

Fujiwara could feel his heart rate beat even faster, but he thought he was starting to understand now. He turned back around, leaning against the door. Yonekuni looked confused standing there in front of him, and he reached out to brush some blond strands of hair out of Yonekuni's eyes. "Madarame. . . are you jealous?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Yonekuni said. He seemed, uncharacteristically, a little bit like a petulant child. "How can I be jealous of myself?"

"In that case, should I tell you about the Yonekuni that you don't know?"

"Should I tell you," Fujiwara said, pulling Yonekuni forward, "how you like to kiss me?"

Fujiwara was blushing, embarrassed, but he pulled Yonekuni down towards him so that their lips met. Slowly, like time had come to a stop. Hungrily, each kiss as though it had been forever since the last.

"What else," Yonekuni murmured against Fujiwara's lips, "do I like to do?"

They were pressed against each other now, Fujiwara against the door and and Yunekuni between his legs, no space between them. Yonekuni's arms were resting on the door, a hand buried in Fujiwara's hair.

"After that. . ." Fujiwara panted as Yonekuni pressed even further against him, Yonekuni's breath on his ear. "After we take our clothes off. . . when you're getting me ready. . . you like to twist your fingers together when you move them in and out of me. You like to scissor them when they're inside, but you don't like to keep them in there for too long, because you like it a little too tight when you fuck me."

Yonekuni shuddered and grinded against Fujiwara. He was hard now, could feel Fujiwara's erection rub against his through the fabric of their clothes. He hadn't done this since he was a barely pubescent kid. . . dry humping against some girl until they both got off. But it felt so good, right now, and he couldn't stop.

"Should I tell you your favorite position? You like to be on the bottom the best. You like to watch me when I'm riding you, but I never know if you're watching my expression or if you're watching where your cock's disappearing inside of me."

Yonekuni's hips continued to shallowly thrust against the other boy, and his cock felt so good grinding against Fujiwara's, even with the fabric in the way. He brought his hand behind Fujiwara, somehow fitting it underneath the fabric of his pants to caress smooth skin there. He pressed his fingers against that small hole, and Fujiwara arched as they entered him.

"But," Fujiwara after awhile, shuddering and panting but still able to speak, "after awhile it's too hard for you to just lay there and watch, so you grab my hips and start thrusting up into me. Eventually you flip the both of us over, so that I'm on my back with one leg over your shoulder and it's like you're even deeper than you were before. And when you start thrusting you do it hard and fast, until we're both cumming, and I can feel your cum shooting inside of me."

Yonekuni shuddered as he came, spilling himself into his boxers. He'd need to clean up, eventually, but. . .

"And then what?" he asked, lifted his head back to he could look at Fujiwara.

Fujiwara was looking at him with half-lidded eyes and flushed cheeks, his words coming in shuddering breaths. "And then you like to do it again."

Yonekuni leaned down to capture Fujiwara's mouth, his tongue swirling in that wet heat. He was still so hard, and he fumbled with Fujiwara's pants even as he roughly turned the other boy over so that his stomach was pressed against the door. He unzipped his own pants, and then his dick was pressed against that little hole and he was roughly shoving it in.

Fujiwara gasped at the intrusion, but he thrust back against him, and then Yonekuni was fucking him, hard and fast with no semblance of rhythm and order, the wood of the door seemingly about to splinter and break with every thrust. Fujiwara wished they could fuck like this forever. It had been so long, and he never felt as right as when he had Yonekuni's cock inside of him.

But his own cock was rubbing against the door, and maybe it would be sore a little bit later, but right now it felt so good. He felt himself coming, biting his tongue to keep from screaming as he did so. He felt Yonekuni empty himself inside of him then, felt the cum drip out a little from where they were joined. Then both boys sank to the floor in a tangle of limbs, sweaty and hot and temporarily sated.

It took awhile for either of them to come back to their senses, and when they did they found themselves spooned together on the floor. Yonekuni's chest was pressed against Fujiwara's back, an arm around Fujiwara's waist.

"There's only one you," Fujiwara said, once he was able to speak again. "Whether you remember or not, you're the man I've always been in love with."

Yonekuni pulled Fujiwara closer against him, closing his eyes as he breathed in Fujiwara's scent.

"Fujiwara. What you said at dinner, about this being some kind of a trial period? This isn't just a trial. Not for me, not for a long time now."

Fujiwara smiled, for the first time a little bit secure in what they had together. "I understand, Yonekuni."