Title: A Late Lunch
Author: justsonya
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Pairing: Oishi/Kikumaru
Rating: R
Prompt: #57 - Lunch from fanfic100
Word Count: 1,052
Disclaimer: Not mine. Never were, never will be.
Notes/Warnings: Sex, although not terribly explicit. Yaoi.


Eiji would proclaim for months afterwards that it was Oishi's fault they were late for lunch, arriving red-faced, panting and exhausted. It certainly couldn't have been his fault, because he'd made sure they were up before the alarm actually went off that lovely Saturday morning. Not that he'd confess that part while pointing the finger at Oishi in front of others, because it was no one's business in the end and would lead to all sorts of questions they weren't really interested in answering at this point in their lives. The point was, he'd set the alarm, and then made sure it would be a lucky day by getting them both up before it went off.

Well, he supposed it had been lucky, in its own way. They had been looking forward to meeting their friends for lunch, a tradition the former Seigaku regulars had begun when they all entered college three years ago. Not everyone could make it every week, as some were attending schools farther away but there were always at least a few of them there. Eiji always approached the event with the hopes of seeing everyone and was nearly impossible to restrain on Saturday mornings, bounding out of bed and rampaging through the apartment like a natural disaster.

It was only natural, he told himself later, that Oishi, who tended to wake up more slowly and far more grumpily than he, himself, did, would have sought any means possible to calm him down. Especially as rumor held that everyone was actually going to be there this week, even Fuji, who had been out of the country on an internship the entire semester. Really, however, he would argue, there was no need to tackle him so suddenly and drag him back to bed. He'd been up, hadn't he?

In the end it was Oishi's fault, he would point out accusingly, because when he'd tried to get up and resume his high-energy activities, he'd found he couldn't, being thoroughly pinned to the bed by the weight of the other man. When he'd tried to squirm to get away, wiggling and twisting with energy, Oishi had sighed, grabbed his wrists, and slammed his mouth down over Eiji's to end his whining, giving his mouth something else to do but make complaining noises.

Oishi should have known better, Eiji would scold him, reprimanding and teasing at the same time. When had they ever managed to get out of such a situation in less than three hours? It certainly wasn't Eiji's fault that the kiss of silence Oishi had forced on him had resulted in Eiji's wicked application of teeth to his lower lip. Oishi just had the ability to inspire those sorts of reactions in the redhead. Certainly, Eiji would defend himself, he'd started out fully dressed, and Oishi was the one who had managed to remove all of his clothes before Eiji had even been aware of it.

Oishi, not usually one to defend himself in the face of ridiculous accusations, would stop Eiji right there, and remind him that Eiji had been the one whining about the tightness of his jeans. He'd only been doing him a favor, he would claim. Eiji's comfort and happiness always came first in his mind, after all. More importantly, it would have been cruel, after freeing him as he'd been kind enough to do, to leave him in such a painful state of arousal, wouldn't it have been?

True, Eiji would acknowledge grudgingly. He certainly wouldn't have tolerated Oishi stopping there, especially after putting forth the effort to remove his clothing like that. Of course it was still Oishi's fault that his mouth felt so incredible, so hot, and wet and fierce, wrapped around him. Still, he would argue, if Oishi's goal had been to shut him up, he'd failed miserably, much to the neighbors' chagrin, as Eiji had moaned and cried out repeatedly in pleasure and the banging on the walls had increased.

Nodding in agreement, Oishi would admit his focus had changed by that point, and he certainly had never objected to hearing Eiji cry out his name in pleasure. It was the whining that had been bothering him, after all. Of course, he'd resolved both problems when he'd rolled Eiji over and pressed him face-down into the bed, hadn't he? The banging on the walls had stopped, and Eiji had not resumed whining in the least.

That, Eiji would point out grumpily, was because his face was pressed into the pillow when Oishi pulled him up to his knees but refused to let him brace himself on his hands. More importantly, he would state firmly, it was hard to talk when your teeth were buried in fabric as wicked Oishi did evil things with his fingers to his poor, unsuspecting body. Anyone would be distracted, he would claim, by someone doing that to them first thing in the morning.

It hadn't, Oishi would reply, stopped Eiji in the least from looking up and demanding more, requiring a frantic search for lubricant that had been lost under the bed the night before. Or from demanding that he hurry, or go deeper and harder, he would add, smiling wickedly at the thought. He had only been obeying orders, and was innocent, he would claim. After all, making Eiji happy was his life's goal, wasn't it?

At that, Eiji would narrow his eyes, trying to find a way to continue arguing his point. This would always result in a small wrinkle between his eyes that Oishi couldn't resist, pressing his lips against it fondly, before moving to that soft, bothersome mouth, nipping gently at the bottom lip. Now really, Eiji, Oishi would ask, dropping kisses down the side of his neck, tongue sneaking out randomly to taste, why should they fight about such a silly thing?

That, of course, would then lead to the reason they consistently thereafter began to arrive late for Saturday lunches with their friends, as Eiji felt the need to bring up the argument every Saturday morning. The others might have noted the self-satisfied gleam in the redhead's eyes, but they never mentioned it to Oishi, who always looked a bit tired, but relaxed, after regaining his breath after their arrival. It wasn't anyone's business, after all, now was it?