Possessive, not Jealous
Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Tennis or any of its characters.
Possessive, not Jealous
Atobe scowled as he scanned the Hyotei tennis courts. Currently, he and his teammates were attending a practice match with both Seigaku and Rikkaidai. The heads of the schools had decided that it would be a good idea to have the three nationally ranked teams play against one another in order to foster friendly competition. So far, Atobe was not amused by the outcome.
“Sugee~! That was awesome!”
Sighing, Atobe turned to observe his singles two player who was happily bouncing in between the two tensais from Seigaku and Rikkaidai. Jirou had captured an arm from each of them within his own.
Fuji giggled and ruffled the shorter boy’s strawberry-blonde hair playfully. “I take it that you enjoyed the match, Jirou-san?”
Jirou nodded. “It was so sugoi! You and Marui-san were so awesome! Like, when you did Tsubame Gaeshi, and then Marui-san did Tsunawatari. It was so…so…sugee~!”
Marui shook his head and tried to pull his arm out of Jirou’s grip. “Uh-huh. Hey, do you mind letting go now? Sanada looks pretty pissed that I’m not practicing anymore. The last thing I need is for him to get all slap-happy on me.”
The Hyotei player pouted and clung to the redhead’s arm more tightly. “So you don’t want any of the chocolate or candy that I had Keigo import from Germany for me?”
“Heh. On second thought, screw Sanada.” Marui plopped down on the bleachers behind them, dragging Jirou down with him who in turn dragged Fuji along. He bumped his head lightly against the strawberry-blonde’s. “You’re okay kid. Not to mention cuter than Bakaya.”
Jirou smiled brightly. “You think I’m cute?”
“Sure. Akaya is cute in this demonic way, but you’re more innocent looking.”
Fuji smiled. “Saa. As innocent as anyone from Hyotei can be at least.”
“Eh?” Jirou blinked in confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Marui and Fuji looked at each other over the smaller boy’s head. “Nothing.”
“Jirou!”
“A-re?” The Hyotei player twisted his body so that he could focus on his captain but still keep a hold on the two beside him. “What, Kei-chan?”
“Stop fooling around and get on the court. You haven’t played at all yet.”
The older boy huffed, releasing the two tensais in order to cross his arms. “Mou. Don’t be so mean. You said that I could talk with Marui-san and Fuji-san.”
“Ore-sama said that you could play against them if you wanted, not sit around doing nothing. Go practice.”
“I’m busy.”
“Jirou!”
Hyotei’s volley specialist ignored Atobe and rummaged through his bag. He pulled out a large box, opening it to reveal several intricately designed chocolates and colorful candies. “Marui-san! Fuji-san! Here! They’re really, really good!”
Marui reached out and grabbed a piece of chocolate from the box. His eyes widened as the chocolate melted in his mouth. “Damn! This stuff is the best I’ve ever had! How much was it?”
“I’m not sure. Keigo buys it from this one place that doesn’t list any prices.”
“That’s Atobe for you.” Fuji chuckled as he took a piece of candy. “He always gets the best no matter how much it costs.”
“Mmhm. Gakuto saw the final costs of these once and started screaming about how Keigo is a crazy, rich bast-Ack!” Jirou yelped as Atobe stormed over and yanked him up by his arm. “What are you doing?!”
The taller boy snarled angrily. “Go to the locker room.”
The strawberry-blonde glared at his captain. “No. I’m busy. Go back to doing captain stuff or whatever you do with Tezuka and Sanada like you were earlier.”
“Now, Jirou!”
“Ugh! Fine!” Jirou ripped his arm out of Atobe’s grip and stormed past the other Hyotei Regulars. He entered the locker room, slamming the door behind him.
Shishido whistled as Atobe headed past him. “Damn. What the hell did you do to Jirou? He’s pissed.”
Gakuto snorted. “That’s an understatement. I don’t think that I’ve ever seen Jirou this angry before.”
Atobe glared at his Regulars. “Run fifty laps and keep practicing. Kabaji, if anyone tries to interfere, make them run until they faint.”
“Usu.”
“What?!”
The other Hyotei Regulars gaped as their captain firmly closed the locker room door behind him. The lock slid into place with an ominous sounding click.
“Damn it, Atobe.” Shishido groused. “Just because you pissed Jirou off doesn’t mean you can throw a hissy fit at the rest of us.”
“No kidding. Makes it hard to believe that you’re the drama queen of the group.”
“Shut it, Mukahi!”
“Make me!”
“Shishido-senpai.” Ohtori placed his hand on his partner’s shoulder. “Let’s just finish our laps so we can practice more.”
“Ch’. Whatever.”
Oshitari shook his head in amusement. “We’d better all start running. You never know where Atobe might have put cameras.”
Atobe ran his hand through his hair and took a deep breath to calm himself as he spotted the strawberry-blonde. The older boy sat on the sofa hat Atobe had imported for him, arms crossed and glaring for all he was worth. The captain moved so that he was directly in front of the smaller boy. “What did you think you were doing?”
Jirou huffed as he was forced to look up at Atobe from his position. “I was having fun before you decided to be mean and interrupt it.”
“The point of this entire thing was to practice, not socialize.”
“You can’t have friendly competition, which is what the real point is, without socializing with the other teams, Keigo. Besides, you seemed to be having fun talking with Tezuka and Sanada over in the far court.”
“Those two don’t even know what the word socializing means.” Atobe paused as a thought passed through his head. He took a step back, hand raised in his infamous Insight pose. Amusement replaced anger and frustration as he studied the volley specialist. “You’re jealous.”
“Am not.”
“You are.”
“Well, so were you.”
“Ore-sama was no such thing.”
“Uh-huh. Sure.” Jirou rolled his eyes, uncrossed his arms, and relaxed back on the sofa. “You weren’t jealous at all when you yanked me up and ordered me in here.”
“Ore-sama wasn’t, and you were hanging off of them.”
Jirou giggled at the almost childish tone Atobe’s voice had taken. “I hang off of everyone, Kei-chan. You know that.”
Atobe crossed his arms. “Ore-sama still does not see the need for you to do that.”
“Jealous.”
“And Ore-sama is not jealous!”
“If I admit to being jealous that you were paying more attention to Tezuka and Sanada than you were to me, then will you admit to being jealous that I was doing the same thing with Marui-san and Fuji-san?”
“Were you jealous?”
“Were you?”
“…”
“Okay, how about this? I was jealous, and you just happen to be a possessive boyfriend.”
Atobe smirked. He leaned down and caught Jirou’s lips in a fiery kiss, chuckling as his boyfriend moaned deeply. The silver-haired boy moved so that he was laying on top of Jirou who was splayed out across the sofa. When he broke the kiss, he smiled smugly down at the panting strawberry-blonde underneath him. “Ah. That sounds about right to Ore-sama.”
Jirou whimpered as he felt strong hands run over his stomach. He wiggled, letting Atobe remove his Regulars’ jersey and shirt. Atobe shed his own jersey, and Jirou impatiently yanked off his captain’s shirt so he could run his hands over the expanse of skin that was revealed.
Atobe caught Jirou’s lips once again and plunged his tongue into the other’s mouth. The older boy’s eyes closed as he focused on the kiss, and Atobe quickly grabbed an item off of a nearby shelf while raising his singles two player’s hands off of his body.
Jirou’s eyes snapped open as he heard a ripping sound. He attempted to move his hands from where Atobe had placed them above his head and realized that he was unable to. ‘What the-?’ Breaking the kiss, Jirou tilted his head and saw that his wrists were bound together and to the arm of the sofa. “Kei-chan, is that grip tape?”
Atobe smirked into the crook of Jirou’s neck, where he was happily making a hickey, as Jirou stared at his bound wrists in disbelief. “Maybe.”
“Oshitari won’t be happy. Isn’t that his?”
“He’ll be more upset that he didn’t think of using it like this first.” That being said, Atobe turned his attention to licking down Jirou’s chest. Jirou writhed on the sofa as Atobe’s mouth covered his nipples one at a time, bringing both to full attention. Bracing both of his feet so that they were flat on the sofa on either side of Atobe’s body, Jirou raised his hips so they connected with his captain’s.
Both boys groaned as their groins rubbed against each other.
Atobe let out a low growl and quickly rid Jirou of the rest of his clothing. Strong hands ran over the pale legs that were revealed, teasing the skin with barely-there touches.
“Keigo~!” Jirou whined. “Stop playing!”
“Hm…” The heir kissed the inside of Jirou’s thigh. “No. I’m having fun playing with what’s mine.”
“It’s my body, and I say stop playing and get on with it!”
“You said it yourself, I’m possessive.” Atobe moved back up and kissed Jirou. “It may be your body, but it belongs to me.”
Jirou pouted and tugged his wrists. “Can you at least release my hands?”
“No. It’s more fun this way.”
“Says you.”
Atobe chuckled and kissed the strawberry-blonde once again before lifting the other’s legs over his shoulders. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you have fun as well.”
“You’d better-Ah!” Jirou shouted as Atobe’s tongue ran over his entrance.
Atobe slowly lapped at Jirou’s entrance before suddenly plunging his tongue into the boy’s body. He tightly gripped the smaller boy’s hips as Jirou screamed and twisted in pleasure.
“Keigo~!” Jirou keened as his captain continued the movement. “I get it! You don’t like me hanging off of other people. I’ll try not to do it so much in front of you anymore, okay?”
The silver-haired boy raised himself up, letting Jirou’s legs slide down to hook around his waist. “Only in front of me?”
“Well, it’s not like I actually do anything with them. You’re the one I’m having sex with. Or, at least we will be having sex if you ever decide to get on with it already!”
Atobe chuckled and slipped a hand between the cushions of the sofa, grabbing hold of the lube the two of them always kept there. He quickly removed the rest of his clothing and slicked three of his fingers with the cool substance. He thrust two of his fingers into Jirou’s body, knowing the boy was stretched enough from his tongue.
Jirou moaned as Atobe prepared him, back arching whenever his prostate was struck. As a third finger was entered, he began moving in an effort to speed up the pace. He whimpered in loss as the fingers were removed.
Atobe caught Jirou’s lips in a heated kiss and completely entered the older boy with a single thrust, striking the boy’s prostate at the same time, causing Jirou to scream loudly into the kiss.
“Kei-chan.” The smaller boy panted breathlessly. “I’m not gonna last long.”
“Then I’ll make it quick.” Atobe pulled out before quickly thrusting back in, setting up a fast pace that was completely opposite of the slow pace he had been using to ease the strawberry-blonde beforehand. He groaned as he felt Jirou’s body clench around him tightly. “Jirou.”
“Keigo!” Jirou screamed out loudly as he came, splattering both his and Atobe’s chests with his release.
Atobe bit down on Jirou’s neck as his orgasm ripped through him. Panting, the captain pulled out, smiling at the sated look on the volley specialist’s face. He grabbed a towel off of the shelf and cleaned both of them up. “Ore-sama trusts that you had fun?”
Jirou laughed and nuzzled his boyfriend. “Back to Ore-sama already are we? That was quick. It usually takes longer than that.”
“Ore-sama believe that Kabaji is capable of keeping the other Regulars away, but even he can’t keep Sakaki-kantoku out of here for too long if that man decides to come looking for us.”
“True.” Jirou tugged his bound wrists once again. “Can you release my wrists now?”
Atobe reached over and quickly removed the grip tape, smirking at the bright red marks that were left behind on the pale skin.
Jirou saw the look and pushed the taller boy off of him. “Mou. Look what you did. You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”
“Actually, no.” Atobe stated as he began re-dressing. “That’s just an added benefit.”
“Sure.” The older boy pulled on his clothes and slipped on his jersey. “At least the marks are covered now.”
“Of course.”
“What are you smirking at now?”
“Nothing.” Atobe decided not to mention the large hickey that could be seen peeking out of Jirou’s collar.
Jirou glanced over at the heir suspiciously before shrugging it off. “Whatever. Come on. We should probably get back to the courts before Kantoku actually does decide to come get us.” He exited the locker room with Atobe following, making sure that his jersey sleeves were pulled down over his wrists.
The Hyotei Regulars all stopped their matches and gathered around their missing players.
Oshitari chuckled and smirked at their captain. “It looks like you were able to, shall we say, convince Jirou to not be upset with you anymore.”
Jirou huffed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that you have a hickey the size of a fucking tennis ball on your neck!” Gakuto exclaimed, pointing at the strawberry-blonde’s neck.
The singles player squeaked and slapped a hand over his neck, not realizing that the movement caused his sleeve to slide back off of his wrist. “What?! Kei-chan!”
“What the hell happened to your wrists?!”
Atobe smiled smugly at their resident tensai. “Ore-sama owes you a roll of grip tape.”
Oshitari’s eyes widened in surprise. He shot a look over to the marks on Jirou’s wrists before focusing back on Atobe. “You didn’t.”
The heir shrugged.
“You did. Too bad you didn’t record it. I would have loved to have seen Jirou’s reaction.”
“Even if Ore-sama did, you wouldn’t be seeing it. And Ore-sama never said that it wasn’t recorded.”
“You really do have cameras everywhere.”
“Keigo!” Jirou glared up at his boyfriend. “You…You…Arg!”
Atobe chuckled and placed a kiss on Jirou’s forehead. “Don’t worry. You look good when you’re bound up like that.”
“Keigo!”
The End.