Crossovers, Fruits Basket/Weiß Kreuz, Momiji/Omi, Secrets
The first time Omi saw Momiji, and felt a heated thrill of attraction shoot through him, he felt relieved. The interest he felt for the pretty little blonde allayed the fears he couldn't talk about with any of his teammates: not with Aya, whose manner didn't invite confidences; not with Yohji, whose free time was spent chasing anything in a skirt; and certainly not with Ken, the soccer-crazed athlete who was the source of his confusion in the first place. It helped that Momiji seemed just as interested, clinging to him with decidedly physical expressions of affection, slender body pressing close. He didn't mind that Momiji tended to order him around a lot; he was used to that.
It was a week before he found out that, girl's uniform aside, Momiji was a boy.
"It's not like it was a secret or anything," Momiji said, blinking at him with wide, innocent eyes. They grew wider, and bright with impending tears. "Does this mean you don't love me anymore?"
He of all people should have known better than to fall for that look, but he found himself rushing to reassure . . . him anyway. "Of course, I still love you!" And that was how Omi found himself with a boyfriend.
Although Yohji's teasing about spending so much time with his new girlfriend could reduce him to stammering, he couldn't bring himself to just come out and tell them Momiji was his boyfriend. And it remained a secret, because Momiji tended to drag him back to his own house rather than the flowershop, where Omi learned that even if his mind had hangups about being gay, his body had no such hesitations.
And having a boyfriend who was so physically demonstrative of his affections wasn't so bad, either, he thought as Momiji stroked gentle fingers along his cock, while sucking firmly on the side of his neck. He squirmed back against the warm, naked body of his lover, feeling the proof of Momiji's masculinity prodding him between the cheeks of his ass, but the other boy seemed to be in no hurry. He held Omi close, one arm wrapped around his chest and the other reaching for his groin. It was an embrace that seemed more affectionate than lustful, although Omi was certain it would get there soon. He hoped it would, anyway, because he wasn't sure he could handle begging to be fucked while dressed like this.
It was possible he could work up the courage to tell his teammates about having a boyfriend, given time. But he was quite sure he never wanted them to find out about this, even if Momiji said he looked so pretty in a skirt.