title: Bored
fandom: Prince of Tennis
characters/pairings: Atobe/Fuji
rating: Teen
warnings: sexual situations
summary: Fuji is bored, and Atobe wants to entertain him.
notes: for chibiwings, for her birthday, yay! and also for Christmas, double yay!
and for once, i'm actually accepting that the series takes place when they say it does... when the boys are in junior high. ^_~ this fic, however, takes place during their high school years, heh.

It was going to rain tomorrow, but today, the sky was clear, with thin filaments of stretched out clouds spread over the azure sky. The roof of the school was often busy at lunch, but today, it was too cold, really, for most people.

There would only be one person up here, and he would have been here for far longer than the few minutes since lunch began.

He stepped around the corner, and smiled down at his prey. "Skipping class again, Syuusuke-kun?"

Fuji looked up, smirking wryly. "Keigo-kun, how nice to see you. Is it lunch already? You are such a good boy, aren't you?"

He smiled broadly, and sat down on the roof with his back to the railing, facing Fuji. "Not really. Here, I brought you something." He placed the bento box between them.

Fuji twisted his cigarette around in his fingers, and looked down at the box. "Open it."

Atobe rolled his eyes, and reached out to take the cigarette. "The coach will be angry if your grades drop again."

"Doesn't matter," Fuji shrugged, hugging himself tightly. He looked away. "It's so boring."

Atobe took a long drag from the cigarette. "Not enough excitement for the Prodigy?"

A smile that looked less than happy spread over Fuji's face. "It's always the same, isn't it? We've done all of this before. I don't know... I think I may have to just..." He shrugged.

Atobe watched him closely, his eyes narrowed. Since they started at Jonan together, he and Fuji had had a somewhat antagonistic friendship. It was exciting and challenging, and electric. Sometimes, Fuji made him want to scream, and sometimes, Fuji made him want to scream. Fuji thrived in competition, but the strenuous demands of the schoolwork just weren't his thing. Atobe bumped Fuji in the knee. "Hey. Come to my house after practice."

Fuji shook his head, and grinned.

Atobe bumped him in the knee again, smiling. "Come to my house."

Fuji opened the bento box, and smirked at Atobe. "Why?"

"Tezuka is playing today in Germany," Atobe informed him quietly. "We can watch on my satellite."

It was interesting to watch. Atobe desperately wanted to know what kind of relationship Tezuka and Fuji had, but it would be crossing the lines to ask, and then he wouldn't get any points. Fuji didn't show any emotion, didn't falter in his movements as he pulled out a rice ball, didn't say anything at all, but there was something telling in the quietness of it that Atobe couldn't interpret. "Watch it... in your room?"

Atobe smiled arrogantly, and picked up rice ball for himself. "Don't you want to come?"

Fuji winked at him.

They often went to each other's houses. Fuji's sister didn't like him. Fuji's brother was afraid of him, but not often around. At Fuji's house, there was always someone relatively close by. Even when they were alone, there was always the threat of not being alone. It was exciting, in a way, especially to Fuji, but at Atobe's house, not only did they have privacy, but they had insulating layers of privacy.

Inviting him over had nothing to do with tennis.

Fuji didn't answer him specifically, but Atobe made him go to class after lunch, and at practice, Fuji was normal. They didn't say anything to each other at all about afterward, but Fuji walked home with Atobe, as if he had said he would all along.

Atobe let Fuji walk ahead of him up the stairs to the east wing, where he lived. Fuji had a nice little ass, and he reached out to brush his hand over Fuji's ass as they walked. Fuji looked over his shoulder at him with a small, knowing smile.

Fuji dropped his bag and jacket inside of Atobe's room, and stretched out, belly down, on Atobe's bed. Atobe licked his lips, and put away his backpack and jacket neatly. He turned on the television, setting up the channel for tennis, and then he stretched out next to Fuji, running his hand up Fuji's back.

"You were good today. At practice. Impressive."

"I impressed the great Atobe," Fuji smirked. "I must have been really good."

Atobe's hand drifted down. "You will be."

Fuji batted Atobe's hand away. "I thought we were going to watch tennis."

Atobe looked at the screen. "Are you interested?"

"If it's Tezuka, it's always interesting, isn't it?" Fuji smirked.

"He'll win," Atobe sighed. "He always does."

"Do you think?" Fuji asked, and he seemed to want to know.

Atobe put his hand in Fuji's hair. "You should know better than I, hm?"

Fuji rolled onto his side. "How much longer, Keigo?"


"How much longer are you going to keep going like this?" Fuji's eyes were open and clear.

Atobe considered. "How much longer are you going to keep going like this?"

For a moment, Atobe was sure that Fuji would just laugh. "I never thought about going pro," he sighed, rolling back onto his belly, propping his chin up on his hands. "But it's so boring here, now. It seems... easier than any other option." He nodded to the television as Tezuka was taking the court. "Looks like he's having fun, mm?"

Atobe turned away from the television, pulling Fuji's shirt out of his pants. He pressed his lips to the small of Fuji's back, and tasted Fuji's skin shivering. He put his hands around Fuji's waist, and unbuttoned his pants, pulling them down enough. Enough to touch the skin where Fuji's ass started to curve up, enough to make Fuji moan soundlessly, enough to feel Fuji's eyes shudder shut.

He let his hands roam up Fuji's back, his fingers digging into Fuji's skin, into his flesh. He licked up Fuji's spine, breathing deeply over him.

"Chasing after him, hm?" He whispered softly, clutching Fuji's shoulder.

Fuji laughed. "Jealous, Keigo? Green isn't your color."

"Any color is my color, sexy," Atobe purred, and turned Fuji over.

Just to make Atobe mad, Fuji kept watching the screen as Atobe undressed him. "Don't you want to go? Don't you want to play, Keigo?"

Atobe spared a glance at the screen. Tezuka was serving, looking gorgeous, as always. He put his mouth on Fuji's nipple, and stole his attention back from Tezuka. It didn't matter if he did go. There were plans for him, plans that were formed from the day he was born. Before that, even. There was no point in entertaining thought of it.

He opened Fuji's shirt, and grabbed rough kisses from his lips, tearing the clothes from his body, lifting him in his arms and stripping him bare. He moved inside of him, catching kisses, grabbing onto the lingeringly long strands of his hair, making sure his eyes were on him the whole time.

He kissed the sweat from Fuji's brow as Fuji lethargically stretched out, not bothering to clean himself up at all. He combed his fingers through Fuji's hair, wringing out the droplets of sweat. Fuji would follow the path Tezuka had laid out. He would leave, and even though Atobe was more than capable of following, too, he would be left behind.

So, he would take what he could now, and more, if he could. He was Fuji's first. He wouldn't be forgotten.

He pressed Fuji to the mattress, annoyed now that he hadn't completely taken his clothes off, taking kiss after kiss, watching his reflection burn in Fuji's eyes.

He would always be Fuji's first.