Sex Ed with Furuya-sensei

"Miyuki-kun, are you paying attention to the lecture?"

No, the hell he is not.

How can he when he's encumbered by such an unwelcome, untimely predicament?

He had a dream about Furuya last night. An erotic one that threw him for a loop.

They were in Furuya's room in Hokkaido. Masamune was strapped to a chair and being forced to watch the absolute scene that was occurring before him.

Furuya made Miyuki's body his bitch, unrelenting and possessive. He called out daring positions he wanted to be fucked in, and Miyuki, high on pleasure and the need for release, followed his every command. He seized his hips and thrust with vigor and purpose, praying for Furuya's usually monotonous voice to reach octaves he's never heard before.

Furuya pulled him in deathly close and locked his legs behind his back, quivering and begging to climax. They kissed sloppily, often eyeing Masamune to see him radiating with umbrage, and moaned loudly as they hit the peak of ecstasy.

In this realm of dreams, six seconds was sufficient enough for them to recover and continue their passionate endeavor, a mess of limbs and cum and sweat.

Miyuki, by the mercy of the remaining god that still loved him, woke up after Furuya left to help the team managers, and quelled his morning wood in solitude.

Unfortunately, that last god had betrayed him shortly after, and now he was suffering from his second erection of the day. In the middle of class, hiding it under his desk.

'For fuck's sake!' he thought, trying to shake the image of Furuya's naked figure, 'This is unreal. It was a dream, Kazuya. A dream about Furuya who you've never thought of that way…that's not exactly true. But, you're not attracted to him, not at all. Why is this happening to me?!'

Noticing that Miyuki's mind is light years away from the equations she was writing on the board, the teacher sighs as she sets down her piece of chalk.

"I think we'll end here for today," she says, packing her belongings, "Don't forget the homework for next week."

"Understood." Miyuki bows his head and waits until she exits the classroom to mull over his inner, and outer, dilemma.

'What should I do? My next class starts in ten minutes, so I should handle it in the bathroom. Wait, what if someone sees me? They'll think I'm a pervert, openly walking around with this thing in my pants.

'No, I am not doing it here. I'm in a classroom and I refuse to turn this into one of those sketchy manga scenarios. This is a place for learning. Yeah, I should be smart and wait till it goes limp. Good idea.'

His exhale of relief hitches in his throat as the door slides open and the devil himself, the root of this madness, walks through.

"Good morning, Miyuki-senpai," Furuya greets with a smile, setting down his bag.

The catcher prickles with sweat and mortification. Trying to cover his erection with his hands would only expose him, so he relies on his desk to shield it from Furuya's view.

"H-Hey," he responds coolly, "What are you doing in these head—uh, neck of the woods?"

"My class just ended and I felt like seeing you. By the way, my mom called earlier and said she wanted our opinions on some baby stuff she's going to buy. Cribs, clothes, you know."

"Y-Yeah, sounds cool." 'The longer you stand there, the more flashbacks I keep having. Leave!'

Furuya, perhaps due to his heightened motherly intuition, senses that something is off.

"Are you okay?" he asks, "You look fidgety. Is it too hot in here? I'll open up a window—"

"Don't take a step closer!"

The raven-haired teen pauses his stride, alarmed, "Thanks for yelling at me," he snipes.

Miyuki slackens, "I didn't mean to yell. It's…you don't understand."

"Help me understand."

"You're going to kill me."

"Get to the point."

"Okay, okay. I took my pills and had a good night's sleep."

"Really? I'm proud of you, senpai. What does that have to do with this, though?"

"I'm getting there. It was all fine and dandy until I had a certain dream…connect the dots."

Miyuki wriggles his eyebrows, trying to tap into Furuya's brainwaves and convey his message through telepathy. Miraculously, it works.

"Oh!" the pitcher exclaims, holding up a finger, "You had an inappropriate dream and couldn't stop thinking about it, so now you have an erection."

"You didn't have to say it like that!"

Furuya squints disapprovingly, "Pervert. In broad daylight, too. I lose respect for you daily, you know. I'm at my limit."

"My apologies, I can't exactly take care of it here, can I?"

"No, but I can." 'If it's for senpai's sake…I can afford to relapse.'

Miyuki flinches as Furuya walks over to him, rolling up the sleeves of his uniform sweater. He pushes Miyuki's desk aside then drops to his knees.

"Whoa, what are you doing?!" the catcher asks, "Are you insane?"

"No," the first-year responds, "I have experience, as you know, so I'll be done before you can even blink."

Miyuki battles with a sudden case of laryngitis, rendered speechless as Furuya unbuttons his shirt, exposing his torso. His hands on Miyuki's sides, Furuya plants delicate, sensual kisses on his stomach. He moans softly, licking slow circles on and around each individual ab as he makes his way down. He glides his tongue past Miyuki's belly button, earning a gasp, then tenderly licks and kisses his V-line.

Satisfied with his pre-dick-sucking ritual, Furuya fumbles with Miyuki's belt buckle and unzips his pants. His bulge is poking beneath his underwear, excited to meet its visitor.

Furuya pulls down the fabric and his dick swings out, standing tall and proud. It's throbbing with need, a need he is able to provide.

Miyuki watches, petrified, as the pitcher's long and slender fingers wrap around his cock, stroking it.

'Unreal,' he thinks, 'This can't be happening. How is he handling this so confidently? How long has he been thinking of doing this to me? Is this his sick method of torture? Revenge? Why can't I move? This is seriously wrong on so many levels...'

"We shouldn't be doing this," he advises, regaining his voice, "People can probably see us and…I don't want to use you. Morally, I can't."

"We're in a separate part of the building where no one can see us from outside," Furuya says, "I don't care about the second part. I've kept a lid on my desires for far too long. At least allow me to fulfill them. Now, stop interrupting me so we can get this over with."

After tapping Miyuki's dick against his tongue, Furuya accumulates a substantial amount of saliva and, like icing on a cake, lets it cascade down his shaft. He pumps it with his hand, trying to get an even, slick coating. Content, he wastes no time in wrapping the top half with his mouth and starts sucking. His full lips stick out, protruding over the head as he bobs up and down, more saliva oozing down as he sucks slowly, stroking the bottom half with his hand.

Miyuki's eyes dilate at the sight he saw in his dream, a perfect real-life replica. The way Furuya's cheeks hollow and puff out as he slurps loudly, long eyelashes fluttering, coordinating the movements of his lips and hand to create a delectable vacuum of suction.

Furuya moves his mouth to his balls, popping one of them in and swirling it around. He tugs at the skin with his lips, nibbling gently, then lets it snap back into place. He does the same to the other one before cusping both balls firmly, along with the base of his cock, and returns to sucking, skillfully swallowing his entire length.

"Shit," Miyuki growls, finally succumbing to his demise, "It's hitting the b-back of your throat…fuck…that's hot…"

Furuya represses a small grin, elated from the praise. He upgrades his technique and uses both hands, moving in opposing circular directions, to twist Miyuki's cock vehemently, still sucking, twisting his head and tongue. He slurps with enthusiasm and copious amounts of saliva dribbles down his chin and arms as he gets messier, but it's merely an afterthought.

Miyuki throws his head back in mind-blowing pleasure, letting out a wild scream. His skin is riddled with goosebumps and his toes curl in his shoes from Furuya's feverish movements, stomach shuddering with each shaky breath.

"Fuck!" Miyuki curses loudly, holding his head upright, "I-I'm gonna go crazy…two hands…where the hell did you learn that? Ooh…look at me. Look at me, Furuya."

Furuya locks eyes with him, and Miyuki feels the pit of his stomach churn with thrill. The pitcher's unyielding gaze is fierce and determined, a mirror image of his demeanor when he stands on the mound, ready to attack him with a blazing fastball. Now, it makes his cock swell up even more, rock-solid and painful. Teeth clenched, he encourages Furuya, cooing that he's doing such a fantastic fucking job and to keep sucking just like that, breathless "mhmms" and "ahhs" and "fucks" and "yeses" accompanying each word.

Miyuki licks his lips with relish, marveling at how Furuya succulently devours him, bubbles of spit appearing and popping, his red tongue flashing periodically. Its slightly scratchy texture, coupled with the alternating temperatures of his insanely hot mouth and cold fingers suffocating his cock, elicit another howl from him.

'Dreams aren't supposed to come true like this,' he thinks while tucking Furuya's hair behind his ear and rubbing his neck, surprised that he can even formulate cohesive thoughts with how pleasantly fuzzy his mind is, 'I'd say I'm dreaming again, but this is actually happening. Furuya's on his knees, sucking my dick, trying to make me cum.

'It's hot. It's really hot. I wonder how he'd look with those piercings, lip gloss, and nail polish…eh. I don't think he needs them. He looks fucking beautiful as is right now. Beautiful with my dick shoved in his mouth, that's funny. Don't get carried away, Kazuya.'

Furuya focuses on the tip, languidly running his tongue over the slit, licking and sucking under the head diligently. Raving reviews from his past sexual partners enlightened him to the fact that this move was enjoyed by most guys, and it's proven true for the umpteenth time when Miyuki growls lowly again, bucking his hips.

Miyuki revels in the noises Furuya is making. His soft, wet moans vibrating against him, the sound of his foamy saliva slipping all over, dripping down his balls and eventually to the space between his legs, sends sweet shocks down his spine.

If disobeying his morals felt this good, he could do without them forever.

Feral instincts possess Miyuki as he clenches two fistfuls of Furuya's hair and thrusts into his mouth, forcing him to deepthroat. Furuya's throat muscles spasm against the head of his cock and it feels so fucking good, the pressure, the sloppiness, the squelching, his frantic moans, the slight graze of teeth.

Furuya's tongue refuses to get complacent, swirling and flicking. Red-faced and nostrils flared, tears start welling up in his eyes at how rough and ravenous Miyuki is being, but as he confessed at Spin the Bottle a few days ago, he enjoyed it that way. He enjoyed being brutally mouth and throat fucked, momentarily relinquishing his dominance as his partners did with him as they pleased. Miyuki was enjoying him, groaning and seeking more pleasure to satiate his girthy cock, and he was supplying it graciously.

The salty taste of Miyuki's cock is unlike Masamune's nauseating one. The feel of his veiny, pulsating, porcelain-hard flesh savagely ramming down his throat is stimulating him. He's drunk on his heady and musky scent. His body is flaring up and he wants more.

Furuya taps Miyuki's lap, signaling for him to wait. His wish is granted, and he slowly glides his cock out of his throat with a fwap. It bounces to a stop.

Miyuki sucks air through his teeth at the view of Furuya's spit-mazed mouth, strings of saliva connecting to his dick. They disappear shortly as the younger teen delves back down and plants wet, hearty kisses from his balls to the tip.

"Mmm, fuck, why'd you stop sucking?" Miyuki asks, panting. The sudden cold air that hits his cock makes him whine, "I'm not done. Holy shit, you're freaking amazing at this. You didn't even gag. I'm kinda envious of the guys before me. Never thought I'd say that."

"I'm not done, either," Furuya says, gasping for air heavily, "This isn't about you anymore. I want to feel good, too."

He promptly stands and unbuckles his pants, stepping out of them along with his underwear.

Miyuki arches a brow, "Um, what are you doing? Do I have to return the favor?"

"No. I want you inside me. I'm burning."

"What?! It's confirmed—you're insane. We're at school a-and you're pregnant! It's not safe."

"Yes, it is. I asked Nurse Akagi a while ago."

"You were preparing for this? I don't have any condoms on me."

"I do. Lube, too. Sorry. It's a habit I picked up during middle school. I can't seem to break it. Stay still."

Furuya goes to his bag, cleans his face and arms with a napkin, and retrieves a box of condoms. He takes one out and then a small bottle of lube. Tearing the condom open, he walks back to Miyuki and rolls it over his twitching, spit-soaked cock. He coats on a nice amount of lube.

"I already stretched myself out," he says, "so let's get straight to the point. We don't have much time. Help me up."

Miyuki's intrinsic desire for more pleasure moves his body for him, helping Furuya sit on his lap. He tucks his hands under his thighs to support his weight.

"Are we really doing this?" he asks, "Isn't this what sparked our current situation in the first place?"

"Yes, but didn't we put that behind us? Be quiet, you're annoying me."

Wrapping one arm around Miyuki's neck, Furuya elevates himself a bit and reaches around to insert his cock. It's not a struggle, but breaching his rings of muscle requires more effort than he originally thought.

"S-Senpai," he moans directly into Miyuki's ear, "you're so…big…ngh…"

Oh, no.

Miyuki curses, trembling violently as his hands switch positions to grab Furuya's hips with a vice grip, trapping a guttural sound in the base of his throat.

Furuya looks at the evident strain on his face and blinks, "It can't be. Did you just…finish?"

Miyuki averts his gaze, a pink hue dusting his cheeks, "Y-Yes," he admits bashfully.

Furuya climbs off and sees that the condom is filled with cum. He sighs, "How? I didn't even do anything. I barely put it inside, it was only the tip."

"It was your moan! Besides, I was already on the edge from you sucking me off. Don't be so surprised when it's your fault."

"No. I'm disappointed. You're a disappointment. How could you finish so quickly from nothing?"

"You said you had experience and this clearly proves it! Stop trying to embarrass me! I'm not normally like this, I swear."

"Whatever. I wasted my time."

Furuya puts his pants back on, glaring daggers at Miyuki, "I've been desperate for this? I feel sorry for myself. Bye."

He shoulders his bag and exits the classroom, leaving a soulless, pride-less, post-nut clarified Miyuki behind.

--

Afternoon Practice

The members are lined up at one end of the practice field, waiting for Kataoka's instruction. Rumor has it that a hellish activity is in store and they're getting antsy.

Kataoka, with his hands jammed in his coat pocket, walks over to them and shouts, "Find a partner! We're doing two-hundred wheelbarrows down and back, switching halfway!"

He's muddled with confusion as the team starts laughing amongst themselves, pointing at Jun and Tetsu.

'Is there a joke I'm not comprehending?' he thinks, 'Is this another one of their group chat affairs? I should ask if Chris can perhaps add me to it. Understanding their humor is an under-appreciated aspect of being an educator.'

"We already know Captain and Spitz-senpai are gonna be the best at this!" Eijun cackles, keeling over.

"N-No, Sawamura," Kanemaru says, stifling his laughter, "Isashiki-senpai goes by Wheelbarrow-senpai, now, remember? Not that he approved it."

"Oh, yeah, you're right! Wheelbarrow-senpai, you have my support! Hahaha!"

A murderous aura envelops Jun as he pinches their cheeks, his eyes glowing red, "Y'all think this is fuckin' funny?! We play a game to lighten the mood and you're usin' my sex life against me?! I should rip your faces off for picking on me! This is your fault, Tetsu, I told you to drink the damn shot!"

Tetsu stares at him blankly, "Sorry."

"That had zero emotion behind it whatsoever!"

"At least we have the advantage. Up you go."

Jun grumbles as they get into formation, the others following suit. Kataoka blows his whistle and, as expected, the couple whooshes down the field at breakneck speed.

Jun roars as he moves his hands like the front paws of a four-legged animal, calculated and keeping pace.

"Tease me all ya want, I'm a freaking pro!" he shouts proudly, "Ain't that right?"

"I didn't doubt you for a second," Tetsu responds, carrying his legs effortlessly.

"Eyes off his ass, Tetsu-san!" Kuramochi jokes from the sidelines.

He's sitting out for this exercise, still in turmoil over Ryosuke. He newly wears the engagement ring on a chain around his neck, serving as a permanent reminder as the captain had suggested he'd do.

Meanwhile, Furuya and Miyuki are arguing in the dugout.

"You need to let me have another shot," Miyuki pleads.

"At what?" Furuya asks, playing with a baseball, "Disappointing me? No, thank you."

"It's because I disappointed you that I'm asking for a second chance. What happened back in the classroom was not a true testament to my…stamina. I can obviously last longer than two seconds."

"What a shame. How did Sawamura deal with such poor performance for two months?"

"Okay, now you're just rubbing salt in the wound!"

Furuya turns to Miyuki. Inwardly, he's not as disgruntled as he seems. His sexual partners all shared the same fate, ejaculating prematurely from his sensual touches. He was accustomed to an anticlimactic ending until he met Masamune. He had stamina and was the single person capable of making him climax.

Prior to them dating, Furuya only entrusted himself to his release, and always rode his partners' dicks to hit his prostate. Masamune, however, was having none of that shit and toiled until he accomplished what no other guy could.

Presently, here lies Miyuki, fighting for retribution with a desperation that's new to Furuya. He could just agree to his pleas, but there's something about his crush, the father of his child who once abstained from being near him, begging for sex that convolutedly exhilarated him.

'How the tables have turned,' he thinks, 'Karma is beautiful, isn't it, Miyuki-senpai?'

Miyuki huffs as Furuya simply stares at him, and he confesses a detail he's been withholding.

"Look, when that Hongō kid and I first met, he assumed that we were together and mouthed off about how I can't fuck you better than he can and whatnot. My initial reaction was anger because he was being a right asshole, but later on, I felt...threatened. Challenged. I still have a bruised ego from his comment. It's screwed up, I know, but I've felt inferior and insulted ever since."

"So?" Furuya leans in close, "In order to patch up your bruised ego, to prove a point that you're better than my ex-boyfriend, you want to have sex with me?"

"Don't phrase it like that."

"No, I want to hear you say it with your chest. You want to have sex with me."

"…"

"You didn't fall for it. You're strong."

Furuya puts the ball to Miyuki's chest, "I take my pleasure very seriously, Miyuki-senpai. I'm selfish and I know what I want and how I want it. My climax also comes first and if you can't fulfill that, redeeming yourself will be more difficult than it already is. Can you handle that?"

Miyuki holds his hands up defensively, faking a frightened expression, "Someone help! The Orgasm Officer, the Sex Secretary, the Dicktator is bossing me around! Oh, I'm so scared! Jokes on you, taming bossy pitchers is my part-time job."

"Cut it out. I'm serious."

"Me too."

"Okay. We'll see."

--

There was nothing to see.

"You came quickly again," Furuya chastises.

He shuts his legs closed and falls face-first into his pillow, "This is why I only trust myself. You're hopeless."

Miyuki's ego takes two left jabs and a mean uppercut. He's kneeling on the bed, mouth agape in disbelief, his condom a testimony to Furuya's words. He doesn't know where he missed the mark this time. This was never the case with Eijun. Never. He paced himself, controlled his breathing, everything he's trained himself to do.

He comes to the conclusion that Furuya's ass is the culprit, unbearably tight and clenching, and sighs.

'It's not my fault,' he thinks, cleaning up, 'Not at all. His ass is at fault. Why the heck does it feel that good, anyway? Doesn't make sense.'

Miyuki offers Furuya a wet wipe but he smacks his hand away.

"Don't talk to me, minute man," he says into the pillow.

"Wh-What…what did you call me?! You brat, you're thriving off humiliating me, aren't you? That must be it. I can't live with you for the rest of my life. No way. I'll go bald before thirty from the stress."

Furuya turns his head and takes the wet wipe, "That was my plan all along," he jests, "but, yes, I am frustrated. What's the merit in having that size and not being able to use it well?"

Miyuki sits on the bed, his back resting against the headboard. He covers his lower body with the blanket.

"Stop twisting the knife already," he drawls, "Speaking of size, you say some pretty funny things during sex. What did you call my dick earlier? A pole?"

Furuya hurriedly springs up and throws the dirty wipe into the trash can, "I have absolutely no recollection of what you are talking about," he denies robotically.

Miyuki laughs, "Sure, I'll take your word for it. Come here."

Furuya lays down next to him and Miyuki rubs his bump, "What are you doing?" he asks.

"Apologizing to our child for the disturbance. My pole might've—"

"Enough with the pole. I hate you."

Miyuki laughs again as Furuya rolls on his side, hogging the blanket, "I knew that would upset you. We have a knack for getting on each other's nerves, don't we?"

"Whatever," the pitcher bites, "Let me sleep."

"Share the blanket, first."

Furuya does so and Miyuki inches under it. He motions for the younger teen to move down a bit. His chest meets his back and his hand finds its way onto Furuya's bump.

It rests there.

"What?" Furuya asks, "Why are you so close? I can feel you breathing on my neck."

"Wow, I can't touch the mother of my child? I thought you've been dying for physical contact and this is how I'm treated for trying? Unbelievable."

Furuya grasps Miyuki's hand before it leaves his stomach and keeps it there.

"That's what I thought," the catcher says triumphantly.

Furuya ignores his comment and sinks deep into thought, a reoccurring event as of late.

'Miyuki-senpai is doing this out of obligation. This position we're in and doing sexual things, it's all meaningless to him. He's playing the role he's accepted, nothing more. I wonder how he truly feels about me…'

"Hey," Miyuki says, tapping him, "I'm surprised you didn't ask what my dream was about."

"It wasn't that important to me."

"What if it was about you?"

Intrigued, Furuya fully turns around to face Miyuki, "Really?"

"Yeah."

"Why do I feel like you're lying to tease me?"

"I'm not."

"Hmm…if so, you really are a pervert. You've gotten hard about me twice."

"Let's make that three times. Can we try again tomorrow? I still need to redeem myself."

"And you doubled down? Gross. No. Goodnight."

Furuya turns around for the last time and tunes out Miyuki's incoherent sputtering, smiling to himself.

'Relapsing wasn't as dangerous as I thought it would be.'

--

Two Weeks Later

Miyuki hops off the bus, arriving in the heart of Tokyo. It's the middle of the afternoon and he strolls through the saturated streets in search of a specific building.

--Flashback--Kasumi suggests therapy, saying that it might lessen the severity of his issues if he attended some sessions. She still has connections to offices and facilities in Tokyo, so she offers to sign him up and cover the costs.

Miyuki stays quiet. Therapy was a thought that scarcely crossed his mind. Belting out years of trauma to a stranger was an odd concept to him. However, seeing as he deliriously subjected Kasumi to that last night, he deems it not a shabby idea.

Whenever he was ready.--Flashback End--

Now he was ready. Furuya was treading along well in his pregnancy, and he couldn't let him upstage his progress.

Checking his phone, he reads Kasumi's messages to ensure he's at the right building.

[Messages - Kasumi-san]

Kasumi-san: I found a therapist for you honey. Her name is Fushiguro Ayame. She's accepting new patients so I signed you up for her. Her reviews seem good. I'll send the address to her office

[Kasumi-san sent a link from Google.]

Kasumi-san: I'm incredibly proud of you for taking this step Kazuya-kun. Let me know how it goes and if she's a good fit for you. Good luck :) <3

'She's so normal over text,' Miyuki thinks.

He walks into the building and speaks with the personnel at the front desk. They confirm his appointment and direct him upstairs to Fushiguro Ayame's office. It's on the seventh floor, the fourth door on the left.

It's open and he lets himself in, apprehensive. He's stepping into a place designated to help people like him, wallowing in trauma and misfortune. He can do it, he reassures himself, looking around.

The office is more of a glorified indoor garden, with large leafy plants and vibrant flower arrangements decorating the space. An abundance of natural light scintillates through the floor-to-ceiling windows, and Miyuki feels his anxiety beginning to ebb. Or maybe it's just his lungs overdosing on oxygen.

He spots a woman in the background, her back towards him. She's busy watering some plants. Had she not heard him enter?

"Hello," he greets, bowing, "I'm Miyuki Kazuya, your new patient?"

"Oh, Miyuki-kun. Welcome, welcome," she says, her back still facing him, "I like addressing my patients on a more personal level, so is it alright if I call you by your first name?"

"No problem."

"Wonderful. Nice to meet you, Kazuya."

Miyuki's heart plummets to his stomach.

The blood coursing through his veins runs cold, trepidation setting in. His body numbs over with horror that freezes him in place. The fresh oxygen suddenly feels dense, choking him, and he struggles to breathe.

Kazuya. That subtle inflection on the 'a' made it sound more like Kazuyaa, an inflection that he was incredibly familiar with.

Unmistakably familiar with.

The woman turns around and a single shaky word trails from Miyuki's lips, his voice barely a whisper.

"…Mom?"