Not as porny as originally intended, but more fun, I think. I kind of want to call this pairing "T & A" but it seems so disrespectful.
Every Good Boy Deserves Favour by Halrloprillalar
Prince of Tennis, Tezuka/Atobe, PG13, 1000 words.
What Atobe wants...
"You owe me a favour," Atobe said. Tezuka drank his tea and waited for Atobe to elaborate. But Atobe just crossed one leg over the other and sat back in his chair, slipper almost falling off his bare foot.
Tezuka took a bite of cake. It looked as though it would be sickly, but instead it was light with just a hint of sweetness. There were strawberries on the side.
Atobe leaned across and plucked one from Tezuka's plate. "You should ask me what the favour is." He ate it in two bites.
It must be a match. What else? "What is the favour?" Tezuka asked and set his cake down on the table.
"You'll find out soon enough," Atobe said and took another strawberry.
Atobe hadn't even called first. He'd just sent a car and expected Tezuka to come. When he arrived at the house, Tezuka followed one servant for what seemed like a half a kilometer before being passed on to a second. The second took him around corner after corner before finally ushering him into Atobe's presence.
Tea and cake and Atobe. The tea and cake were very good. Tezuka reached for his plate as Atobe snatched away Tezuka's last strawberry. Tezuka looked at Atobe, at the full bowl of strawberries between them, at Atobe again.
Atobe stood and walked around the table, around behind Tezuka. Tezuka felt hot breath on his neck. "They taste better from your plate," Atobe whispered, his mouth against Tezuka's ear.
Tezuka tensed up before he could help himself. Atobe went back to his chair. Tezuka pushed away his cake, his tea. His stomach felt strange, almost queasy.
"If you don't care for the cake," Atobe said, "I'll have something else brought in."
"It's fine." Tezuka spread his hands over his knees, leaned back, tried to relax.
"I'm glad to hear you say so." Atobe wiped his mouth and fingers on a napkin. "Are you comfortable?"
"Liar." Atobe tossed the napkin onto the table. "Don't forget I know your weakness."
Tezuka's shirt was tight around his chest. He thought about the homework he still had to finish. He thought about the racquet he needed restrung.
"You should ask me what the weakness is," Atobe said. "Though of course you already know."
Tezuka's fingers were gripping his legs. He thought about the camera phone his mother had bought for him after they had won Nationals. He still hadn't taken a single picture.
Atobe leaned forward. "It's me," he said and smiled.
Tezuka's legs were propelling him upward. Enough of Atobe's baiting. Enough tension, enough strangeness. He was leaving, even if it would take him half the day to find his way out.
"You can't leave." Atobe leapt up and stood in front of Tezuka, blocking his way. "You have a favour to do for me."
"Atobe." Why was Atobe doing this? Did he really want... Did he think Tezuka really would...
"Tezuka." They looked at each other and Tezuka felt his breath catch in his throat. Atobe leaned in slowly and Tezuka didn't move, didn't back away. Tezuka stood still, absolutely still, and let Atobe kiss him.
Atobe's mouth was slow and warm, pressing lightly, coaxing Tezuka's lips apart. A tiny seed of heat dropped into Tezuka's belly. Why can't I taste the strawberries? he thought and Atobe took his mouth away.
"Better than I expected," Atobe said. He took Tezuka's collar in his hands, pulling Tezuka toward him.
"No," Tezuka said.
"Yes," said Atobe and kissed him again.
Tezuka opened his mouth to it, closed his eyes. The seed bloomed, tendrils wrapped around his guts, his lungs, his limbs, squeezing him, immobilizing him. Atobe's tongue brushed Tezuka's lip and Tezuka tried to catch it, followed with his own when Atobe drew it back.
Atobe slid his hands inside Tezuka's collar, onto Tezuka's shoulders. Tezuka shivered, Atobe moved his hands onto Tezuka's back, and Tezuka's shirt slipped off and onto the floor. Tezuka hadn't even realised Atobe was unbuttoning it.
The room was brighter than before, everything had a glassy look. Tezuka opened his mouth to tell Atobe this wasn't on, they couldn't do this. But Atobe was taking off Tezuka's glasses and Tezuka was grabbing Atobe around the waist and everything crashed together at once. Atobe had his fingers inside Tezuka's waistband, pulling him, kissing him along, until they had stumbled through the curtains and out of their clothing and onto the bed.
Atobe wasn't wearing any underwear.
Tezuka didn't know what to say afterwards, so he didn't say anything. Atobe was sitting up in the bed, the sheet crumpled around his waist. He dabbed at his face with blotting paper. Tezuka got up and went to look for his clothes.
They weren't there. They weren't there. His glasses were on top of a bureau, which was precisely where Atobe had not put them down. And next to the bureau was a rack and on that rack was a tuxedo which had definitely not been in the room before.
He didn't want to think about what that meant.
Tezuka put on his glasses and went back to the bed. "Atobe," he said and folded his arms. "Where are my clothes?"
Atobe shrugged. "Probably being cleaned. Did you find your tuxedo?"
"I need my clothes." It was difficult to be properly dignified while naked. And there was a draught.
"Put on the tuxedo." Atobe got up and stretched. "But make sure you don't take mine by mistake."
"It's my birthday," Atobe said. "You're my date for the party tonight."
"It's easier to keep the girls away if they think I'm gay." Atobe went over to a mirror and started fixing his hair.
"No." Maybe if Tezuka said it enough times, it would sink in.
"But you have to." Atobe looked over his shoulder at Tezuka. "You owe me a favour."
"Favour?" Tezuka stared. "But I just--"
"Tezuka," Atobe said. "That's the favour you owe me for."
Tezuka put on the tuxedo.