That Left Arm

BY : Orcux
Category: Prince of Tennis/Tennis no Ohjisama > Yaoi - Male/Male
Dragon prints: 3062
Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Tennis/Tennis no Oujisama, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.


 



The match ended with a tumultuous wave of cheers for the Shitenhouji team, and the referee called 6-0. Ryoma leant against the fence, his Fila cap shading his eyes from view as usual. With a smirk donned upon his lips, he bounced a tennis ball on the edge of his racket without sparing it even a glance.



"As expected of Shiraishi-san," he murmured to himself, watching as the Shitenhouji captain shook hands with the other player. His left arm, he couldn't help noticing idly, looked the same as ever. Elegant and-he frowned slightly at this- bandaged. He still couldn't help wondering what had happened to it.



Was it a fashion statement? Ryoma scoffed at this, though part of him silently agreed that the bandages looked good on Shiraishi.



Was he injured?



If so, by whom…?



A scorching-hot, irrational anger flared within him, before he calmed himself down with a deep breath. Come to think of it, it most probably wasn't an injury. The Shitenhouji captain could move his left arm as normally as he did his right, which was saying something.



Well, only one way to find out.



Curiosity piqued, Ryoma waited against the fence as Shiraishi congratulated and debriefed his team. Only when they began to file out did Ryoma step forward to confront the Shitenhouji captain.



The court was nearly empty by then, except for the referee who seemed to be fighting an internal battle as to how he should step down from his high referee's chair.



Ryoma decided to label him as a lost cause.



"Hey," Ryoma called out to Shiraishi, walking forward, his soft-soled shoes making a slightly squishy sound against the damp court grounds. It had begun to rain halfway through the matches, but both teams had insisted on continuing the matches. Luckily, it had died down to a drizzle, but the smell of fresh rain still lingered in the air.



Shiraishi had been drenched as well, and his fallow locks hung limply as rain droplets dripped off them. His shirt was thoroughly soaked, turning it nearly translucent, revealing his well-defined torso.



Ryoma gulped. How tempting.



Shiraishi turned to look at Ryoma, his frown dissipating rapidly.



"Hey, 'Koshimae'," he teased, lifting Ryoma's cap off his head and ruffling his emerald locks. "You came to cheer for us? Thanks."



Ryoma scowled. "Give it back to me, you idiot." He jumped up and down, trying to retrieve his cap. After several failed attempts, he pouted and folded his arms across his chest. "Also, don't call me Koshimae. It's annoying."



Shiraishi raised an eyebrow. "Hm…? You seem to be great friends with Kin-chan, though." An amused smile donned his lips, and he waved the Fila cap just above Ryoma's head, jerking it back up when Ryoma grabbed for it.



"Not really. He's just a worthy opponent." Ryoma muttered, reaching out for the cap. When he missed yet again, he made a frustrated sound and stepped on Shiraishi's foot in vengeance.



"Ouch!" Shiraishi doubled over in pain and dropped Ryoma's cap back into his waiting hands "Alright, alright, you win!"



Ryoma set his cap back on his head, looking extremely pleased with himself. Shiraishi rubbed his towel against his hair, causing the stray droplets to trickle down his arms and body.



"Ah…" Shiraishi sighed, looking at the soaked bandages on his left arm morosely, "Looks like I have to rewrap my bandages again. Guess I'll do it at home."



"About that…" Ryoma started hesitantly, then backed down again as Shiraishi glanced at him curiously. "…Never mind, it's nothing."



"Hmm…" Shiraishi gazed at him thoughtfully for a moment. "Okay, then."



Surprised that Shiraishi dropped the matter so quickly, Ryoma watched a little disappointedly as Shiraishi slung the towel around his neck and reached out unzip his tennis bag.



"Alright, see you then, Echizen!" Shiraishi grinned, reaching out to slip his tennis racket into his bag. Startled by his sudden decision to depart, Ryoma grabbed onto Shiraishi's wrist instinctively. The tennis racket fell from Shiraishi's arm, and landed on a thud, to the floor. A few droplets dripped slowly down from their intertwined hands.



Shiraishi raised an elegant brow, questioning him silently. Ryoma bit his lip, avoiding his gaze. The awkward silence between them lengthened, and neither of them made a move to break it. There was a soft clang. It seemed that the referee had finally managed to step down from his chair, and had left the courts, leaving them alone.



Taking a deep breath, Ryoma decided to speak up. "Can I ask you a question?" He tried to ignore the fact that he already did.



"Sure," Shiraishi sounded slightly amused. "What is it?"



Ryoma shuffled his feet awkwardly, already regretting his decision to ask the Shitenhouji captain about it. Well, no time like the present, he thought to himself. Deciding that he had already dragged out the question for too long, Ryoma decided to ask the question- short and concise; it would work out somehow.



"What happened to your left arm, Shiraishi-san?"



Shiraishi chuckled. "How many times do you think Kin-chan has asked me that?" He asked cheerily, and gesturing to his bandages. "What makes you think that I'd tell you?"



The question hung in the air between them for a moment, before Ryoma, his eyes still covered by his Fila cap, murmured softly. "Won't you tell me?"



For one of the few times in his life, he felt vulnerable- weak, and foolish. What made him think that Shiraishi would answer his question? The Shitenhouji Captain had no obligation to tell him, a random boy from a school located relatively far away, such personal details. He didn't have to.



But Ryoma wanted to know.



Shiraishi's eyes softened. He disentangled his hands from Ryoma- who realized with a shock that he was still gripping onto the other's wrist- and stroked Ryoma's cheek with his thumb.



"Do you really want to know?" His soft voice melded with the rain, his eyes now smoldering with an unreadable emotion. Ryoma barely managed to suppress his shiver at the sudden attention he was receiving from the other. He nodded, his mind filled with a pleasurable haze as Shiraishi's hand steadily travelled downwards.



He barely registered the pain as Shiraishi pinned him against the fence, his right hand restraining both of Ryoma's wrists while his left hand slipped under Ryoma's jersey.



Ryoma's mind was starting to clear, and he was beginning to be aware of the situation—he was on a tennis court, alone with the Shitenhouji captain who was incidentally his crush, and they were about to… He blushed.



In public, where anyone could see them.



Where anyone on the other side of the fence could see him, especially, seeing as he was pushed up against the fence in a very compromising position.



"W-What are you…? Ah…!" Ryoma's sentence ended with a gasp as Shiraishi's left hand tweaked one of his nipples. Encouraged by his response, Shiraishi continued his barrage of assaults on Ryoma's nipples, eliciting breathy moans from him. Ryoma trembled violently, and he reached out to grip the fence, which was slippery with rain. Shiraishi's right hand released his wrists, and joined his other hand in stroking and teasing Ryoma's nipples.



"A-Ah… Shiraishi-san… I can't…" Ryoma gasped out, the overwhelming sensations assaulting his overly sensitive body.



"Hmm…" He felt Shiraishi sigh, and he shuddered, still not fully comprehending what was going on. When a few fingers were pressed to his lips, he made a sound of incomprehension. "Suck on them," Shiraishi whispered, his husky voice filled with lust and desire.



Ryoma's protest died on his lips when Shiraishi's free hand travelled downwards and pulled his shorts down, exposing his member to the damp, cold air. He hissed in discomfort, but was quickly silenced as Shiraishi began to stroke his member, his fingers teasing Ryoma. The pleasurable daze overtook his mind again, and his tongue languidly peeked out hesitantly from between his lips, before his member was stroked again, sending tingles of pleasure up his spine and he engulfed Shiraishi's fingers within his hot cavern, trying to keep himself grounded to reality.



As Shiraishi's hand continued to stroke him, driving him crazy with need and want, his breathing became more and more erratic, his knees almost giving way under him from the intense pleasure, his fingers curled around the slippery fence desperately to support himself, and his hot tongue lapped around Shiraishi's fingers almost desperately, enveloping them with saliva.



"Ah…" Shiraishi breathed out, his fingers swirling around the tip of Ryoma's member, slick with pre-cum. "You're already so wet…"



"Y-You don't have to say it like that… Ah…!" Ryoma tried to speak, but his sentence was cut off yet again as Shiraishi started to stroke his member with vigorous, strong strokes- he arched forward in pleasure and cried out involuntarily, the heat coiling up within him. As Shiraishi's ministrations drove him closer and closer to the limit, his whole body shuddered helplessly; his toes curling as he nearly tumbled over the edge…



But as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped.



Ryoma whined in frustration, biting Shiraishi's fingers as he demanded for more. His member was still fully erect, and he suddenly felt uncomfortable and very exposed.



"Shiraishi-san…" he whined.



Shiraishi chuckled. "Don't be so impatient- we haven't even gotten started on the main event yet."



Main event…? Ryoma's thought process was interrupted as he felt something foreign penetrate him from the back. It took a while for Ryoma to register what the feeling was, and a sound of discomfort left his lips.



"S-Shiraishi-san, not the fingers…" He managed to whimper out, as Shiraishi continued to stretch his opening, thrusting his fingers in with increasing speed. Despite the lubrication the saliva had provided, Ryoma had never been penetrated before, and he clenched his teeth, wincing in pain.



Shiraishi watched in fascination as his fingers disappeared inside of Ryoma's slender body, his eyes darkening in lust. His job wasn't made any easier when Ryoma's tight muscles clamped down upon his fingers unrelentingly, as the rookie player automatically tried to minimize the pain he was receiving.



"Relax, Echizen," Shiraishi coaxed gently, blowing a rush of warm air into Ryoma's ear, making him shiver.



The stinging pain made him shift uncomfortably, the feeling of Shiraishi's long slender fingers stretching him, reaching deeper inside of him…



Ryoma cheeks lit up, and he turned his head slightly to give Shiraishi a sideways glare. "E-Easy for you to say... Ah…!"



Suddenly, with a particularly violent thrust, Shiraishi's fingers hit a particular spot in Ryoma, causing a spike of hot, white pleasure to shoot up his spine. He cried out, his slender body a shivering mess as he tried to comprehend what had just happened.



"Hmm, so that's the spot…" Shiraishi grinned, withdrawing his fingers from inside of Ryoma. Ryoma shot him a confused look, and his mouth opened as if he wanted to ask him something, but thought against it as he tried to catch his breath.



Shiraishi chuckled at the look on his face, his fingers slid out of Ryoma with a squelchy sound. He bent down and retrieved something from the ground, leaving Ryoma staring at him speechlessly.



"W-What… are you doing with that…?" He asked uncertainly, his brilliant golden eyes fixated upon Shiraishi's hand.



Shiraishi smiled reassuringly. "I'll show you in a moment." The pitter-patter of rain droplets beginning to fall again caught his attention, and he looked slightly worried.



"Looks like we have to hurry," he mused, and approached Ryoma, who was staring at the sky in bewilderment. Catching the young tennis player by surprise wasn't what he wanted to do, but it was raining, and he had to hurry.



"Shiraishi-san, it's raining. What should we— A-Aah…!" Ryoma cried out, feeling tears of pain well up in his eyes. His eyes widened as he realized what Shiraishi was planning to do. Panic started to rise inside of him, and he stared down at the offending object.



The tip of Shiraishi's tennis racket had been pushed inside of him, the smooth surface feeling uncomfortable inside of him. The handle was so incredibly thick that he couldn't even phantom how it would fit inside of him and not rip him apart.



He shook his head furiously, wincing as pain wracked his body. "D-Don't …!" He whimpered, trying to prevent the other from doing what he planned to do. Shiraishi's brow furrowed. He didn't want to cause Ryoma pain, but the other's body was just too sinful, too delectable… And seeing him so powerless… he just couldn't stop.



With a small thrust, he continued to push the racket inside of Ryoma, who gritted his teeth and tightened his hold on the fence again, his fingers slipping on the cool, slippery surface. Things weren't made easier for him by the rain, which had begun again- the droplets slid down his arms and the fence, making it difficult for him to maintain his hold on it.



"Shiraishi-san… Ahn…!" He bit down on his moan, as Shiraishi began to stimulate his now half-erect member again, and his head lolled back from the sudden surge of pleasure. The pain he felt dulled to a throb as the feel of Shiraishi's sinful fingers around his member drove him crazy with desire.



Shiraishi took advantage of his pleasure to drive the racket further inside of him, making Ryoma arch back as his body tried to accustom to the impossibly large size of the racket. The hilt of the racket was now firmly buried inside Ryoma, and from the look on the other's face, it wasn't a very pleasant experience.



A whimper left Ryoma's lips as he tried to concentrate on the sensations Shiraishi was giving him. The delicious friction Shiraishi's fingers provided as they stroked his member again and again, distracting him from the searing pain he felt as the racket slid deeper inside of him.



Suddenly, as Shiraishi gave the racket a particularly violent shove, Ryoma's body rocked forward- he tried to keep his hold on the fence, but his fingers slipped on the wet and slippery surface and he felt himself falling hard and fast.



He fell back onto the racket and although his inner walls clamped down onto the surface of the racket, he couldn't stop, for the surface of the handle was too slick and smooth. It hit his prostrate deep inside of him dead on, making him cry out, his toes curling in pleasure, his insides burning with a fiery desire. Ryoma rode on the racket, the hilt of the racket striking his prostrate over and over again, his helpless moans mingling with the sound of the rain pelting down upon them.



Shiraishi felt that there couldn't be a more beautiful sight. Ryoma's legs were spread wide apart as he bounced upon the racket, moaning and mewling. His golden eyes were half-mast and unseeing as his senses were lost in the pleasure assaulting him, and his member was impossibly erect, covering Ryoma with a mixture of pre-cum and droplets of rain.



It was becoming harder and harder to restrain himself from simply taking Ryoma there and then. Shiraishi felt that he could cum just from watching Ryoma like this, if the painful strain in his nether regions was saying anything.



"A-Ah… I can't… any longer…!" Ryoma's breathing was erratic as he writhed on top of the racket, his thighs quivering with the effort of riding on it.



In a flash, Shiraishi removed the racket from Ryoma, ignoring his indignant whine at having his release denied again.



Shiraishi unzipped his pants, hissing slightly as his member was exposed to the cold air. He pinned Ryoma against the fence, and with a shove, buried his erection deep into Ryoma, making him cry out at the intrusion. It was not as thick as the racket had been, making it a more pleasant experience for Ryoma. As he was trapped by Shiraishi with the fence pressed hard against his back, the feeling of complete submission had never made him feel so aroused before.



Shiraishi pressed his lips against Ryoma, muffling his moan as he thrust into Ryoma's body, whose slender frame shook in pleasure, having become used to his size more easily. Ryoma shuddered uncontrollably, closing his eyes as Shiraishi's tongue invaded his mouth, investigating every crevice and corner, stroking his tongue and creating a delicious friction between them.



"Ah…!" Ryoma cried out, as Shiraishi found his prostrate, the blinding pleasure robbing him of his senses. He vaguely felt his legs being lifted up and slung over Shiraishi's shoulder, his back pressed against the fence for support. His weight was now supported solely by Shiraishi, and the gravity made him rock upon Shiraishi's erection more vigorously than ever. At this angle, Shiraishi could thrust even deeper inside of Ryoma, striking his prostrate over and over again, making him cry out in pleasure, and moan in helpless ecstasy.



Their tongues battled for dominance, the both of them lost in each other, grinding against each other to create more friction, more pleasure…



With the familiar heat coiling inside of him, Ryoma broke away from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting his tongue to Shiraishi's. His small frame shook in unadulterated pleasure, as he relished the feeling of being filled up again and again.



"S-Shiraishi-san…! Ahn…! I'm going to…!" His cry of pleasure seemed to spur Shiraishi on as his thrusts became faster and deeper, causing intense waves of pleasure to assault Ryoma's body. He writhed on top of Shiraishi's erection, his head thrashing from side to side, incoherent moans spilling from his lips.



And he came, his body spasming and shuddering helplessly, the blinding pleasure causing his vision to white out, his inner walls contracting rapidly on Shiraishi's erection as he rode out his orgasm. The feeling of the tight heat and Ryoma's ecstatic expression sent him over the edge as well, and he continued to pound into Ryoma, causing the other to moan powerlessly as he spread his legs even further to heighten their pleasure.



As the waves of pleasure began to ebb away, Ryoma's vision began to fade, the proof of the overexertion on his body finally taking its effect. He felt himself being supported by Shiraishi's gentle arms, before his consciousness began to disappear.



And he never found out what happened to Shiraishi's left arm in the end.



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