Disclaimer: I do NOT own PoT

Pairing: Atobe Keigo X Echizen Ryoma

Note: Finally, I was able to write a second chapter. (I really can't write a decent one-shot even if my life depended on it. Or maybe I can. IF my life depended on it. Thankfully, it's not.) Anyway, it took so long, I know and I'm very sorry. But here it is now. I was actually a little lost on how to start this chapter but then I thought that it would be better if I just continue where we left off, so . . . enjoy! Oh, and a warning. Lots of fluffy, sweet, tingly feelings. Sorry, I just couldn't resist. This is a Royal story, after all. They have to be sweet.

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Part 2

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Ryoma no longer tried to push Atobe. Nor did he try to move away. Halfway into the kiss, when Atobe was sucking on his tongue and sending delicious feelings coursing through his body, Ryoma decided that kissing Atobe wasn't so bad, after all. And he actually wants to do it again. He must have really gone insane.

"That," Atobe whispered against Ryoma's lips, "that took care of problem number two." Smiling teasingly, he added, "and quite splendidly too if you ask Ore-sama."

Ryoma blushed. Damn Atobe and his amazing seduction prowess. "Ne, Monkey King?"

"Hmm?"

"Will you stop calling yourself Ore-sama? It's making me feel dizzy."

Atobe frowned. Nobody asked him to stop referring to himself as Ore-sama before. But Ryoma just did, so, "Very well. Ore-sama shall try."

Ryoma just rolled his eyes.

Then he met the other's lips for another kiss.

.

Seven more hot, wet, long kisses later (he wasn't really counting but a remote part of his lust-filled brain thought it necessary to remember each and every stroke of their tongues every time their lips met), Atobe decided that he couldn't take it anymore.

He lifted his head from where it was buried in the other's neck and watch with half-lidded eyes as Ryoma struggled to compose himself. Atobe was delighted to note that the younger boy wasn't successful.

Now, Atobe wasn't normally tactless or even the least bit vulgar. He usually chooses sophisticated and intellectual words to express his thoughts and feelings. At the very moment, however, he just couldn't bring himself to wince nor care at his rather rude choice of word. In fact, he was a little surprised to find himself agreeing that, with his flustered face, sweaty forehead, panting breaths, half-lidded dazed eyes, red swollen lips, and with a thin trail of mixed saliva running down his chin, Ryoma simply looked . . . fuckable.

Atobe adjusted his legs a little to give himself more space down south. It was starting to hurt.

Ryoma, on the other hand, was trying hard to bring much needed oxygen into his fuzzy brain. He was vaguely aware that he wasn't thinking straight but he quickly let go of the thought in favor of inspecting certain . . . physical . . . emotion that he was feeling for the very first time.

Ryoma felt hot, almost feverish. But it was the good kind, he supposed, since he was craving more of it. And that was the strange part. He experienced having a fever before. And it sucked. He felt dizzy; his eyes were watering from the uncomfortable heat being emitted by his suddenly weak body; he was cold but his skin felt hot and sticky with sweat. All in all, it was something that he never wanted to experience ever again.

But this. This kind of fever. The feeling at the moment is almost similar in a way but is also quite different. He felt dizzy. But it doesn't make him nauseous. It was more of a pleasant buzz inside his head, allowing him to just feel instead of think. His eyes doesn't feel watery, but feels heavy instead. Like he wanted to close them but doesn't really want to. And his body. It doesn't feel weak at all. In fact, he feels strangely high on adrenaline. Although his movements (with the exception of his heart) aren't at all jerky nor are they excited. They're rather slow, languid, almost lazy but still managed to be hurried and desperate. And his skin. It's feverish. Definitely hot and sticky with sweat. But not at all uncomfortable. And the idea of more skin-to-skin contact doesn't bother him at all. In truth, he actually hungers for it. To feel more of the heat coming from the other's equally hot body. As crazy as it sounds, he actually wanted to get burned. It was weird. Insane. All these contrasting, confusing, foreign emotions all because of one perverted sexy Monkey King's kisses. Ryoma has yet to decide if he actually, truly liked it or not.

And speaking of which.

Ryoma blushed when said Monkey King kissed him lightly on the nose. Yet again arousing another weird and rather embarrassing emotion from deep within his chest. He felt . . . (Ryoma resisted to make a face) . . . sappy.

Atobe couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips. Ryoma was just too cute for words. Unless you focus on his disheveled appearance. Then that's an entirely too different matter.

Clearing his throat, Atobe pushed himself away from temptation. No. As much as he wanted to, as much as he needed to, he is not going to make love to him on this cold, dirty floor inside this cold, dark room. Taking a deep breath to further strengthen his resolve as well as to calm his body, he straightened up and fixed his clothes. He did the same to Ryoma's before taking hold of the other's hand and pulling him outside.

"What now, Monkey King?" Ryoma asked, a little surprised at the other's action.

Atobe smirked. "What? You wanna stay in there and make out some more?" He teased and was delighted to see the brat – his brat – sputtering in embarrassment.

"O-of course not! I was just . . . err . . . surprised!" Ryoma declared, trying hard not to stutter and failing miserably. Why is it that the Monkey King doesn't seem to be bothered or even embarrassed at all? After they did those things . . .

Ryoma turned away as he felt another blast of warmth spreading on his cheeks. Damn it. He have got to stop blushing, lest his blood start congealing in his face and brain. That just won't do. He tried focusing on other things instead and found himself looking at his hand. Being held by the older boy. Gently. Their fingers intertwined. He blushed again. Or rather, he blushed some more.

"Don't worry," Atobe intoned, looking straight ahead. "We are going to continue this later." By then, they were already outside the building, but still a few yards away from the still on-going party.

"Wh-what?" Ryoma replied unintelligently, his eyes going wide and his heart pounding wild.

Atobe looked at him, amused before leaning down on his ear. "We are going to continue where we left off. Later." he whispered, letting his lips brush against the delicate earlobe. "So just wait for a little bit. Ne? Ryoma."

Then he straightened up, rather quickly. He just didn't trust himself not to push the too tempting boy against the nearest flat surface and ravish him on the spot, spectators be damned.

Ryoma, on the other hand, was plainly speechless. And red, like fire-hydrant red, on the face. The Monkey King just called him by his first name! And, more importantly, they're going to continue later?! Ryoma wasn't sure if he should feel excited or scared. He should probably try to protest just for the sake of it. He was about to open his mouth when a cheery voice interrupted him.

"Ochibi~!" Kikumaru called, jogging towards them. He was slightly red on the face and his movements are a little wobbly indicating his intoxicated state. "Where'd you go, nya~? I was looking for you everywhere!" He then went up straight to Ryoma and enveloped him into a bone-crashing hug.

Atobe looked on, amused. Although inside, he was trying to stop that green monster from rearing its ugly head inside his chest.

"Stop that, Eiji," said a pleasant, genteel voice. They all looked to see Syuusuke Fuji, smiling, his hands in his pocket. "You're starting to hurt Echizen."

Kikumaru immediately complied and bounced to Fuji, grabbing on his arm happily and looking very much like a cat.

Ryoma gratefully took deep gulps of much needed oxygen. Damn, but he forgot how painful Kikumaru-senpai's affection can be. He leaned towards Atobe when the older teen put an arm around him.

"So, where did you go, Echizen?" Fuji asked, looking pointedly at Atobe before raising a brow at their first year.

Ryoma shrugged. "Somewhere . . . dark." He answered vaguely, smirking as Fuji's eyes widen minutely.

Atobe looked down at the cheeky brat in his arms. There was still that telltale sign of a blush and his lips are still slightly swollen. If you look really closely and if you know what to look for, you'll see that the brat had been thoroughly debauched just mere minutes ago. But he's there now, standing comfortably in Atobe's arms and smirking that famous arrogant and snotty smirk of his, telling his senpai that he'd just been to 'somewhere dark', not denying the unspoken query of what he'd been doing and with whom. Atobe was torn between applauding the temerity of the brat and missing the cute stutter and blushes of his earlier countenance.

"Right." Fuji recovered. He gave Atobe a thinly disguised warning look, his message clear: We'll talk about this later.

Atobe nodded. He expected as much, not just from the tensai but probably from the others as well. They are fairly protective of their youngest member, after all. Atobe dreaded his confrontation with Tezuka and briefly wondered if it was worth it. When he felt Ryoma's hand grabbed onto the back of his shirt, he smiled. He looked down and thought, Yes. It was definitely, positively worth it.

"Ochibi~!" Kikumaru bounced back to Ryoma although this time, he didn't try touching him in any way. Whether it was because he registered Atobe's possessive arm around his kouhai or he just didn't want to 'hurt' his Ochibi again by glomping him, no one can tell. "Let's go to the court, nya~! Sanada-san and Buchou are playing and everyone was betting and laughing!"

Sanada and Tezuka, having a match? In the middle of the night and during a party? Atobe felt his interest piqued. But he has plans for, err, with Ryoma later! But, then again, it was a match that didn't happen very often and it was Sanada and Tezuka! It was bound to be exciting. But then having Ryoma beneath him was just as exciting. Just thinking about it cause a certain part of his anatomy to reawaken. And . . . Argh! Damn it! Which will he choose?

While Atobe debated with himself, Kikumaru already lost his patience and was starting to pull Ryoma. "C'mon, Ochibi~! You're going to love this, nya~!" The red-head's smile turned positively evil while Fuji chuckled, a flash of something sadistic glinting in his suddenly open eyes. Ryoma found himself wanting to know, very much, the reason for this almost malicious display.

He grabbed onto the Monkey King's hand – the older boy was staring at Fuji with wariness – and pulled him along.

"Let's go, Monkey King. We have got to see this."

….

Ryoma stared open-mouthed at the incredible display in front of them. Beside him, he could feel that Atobe was similarly petrified and was probably staring, as well, no doubt with his jaw on the ground.

There, in front of them, was Genichirou Sanada and Kunimitsu Tezuka standing – unsteadily – on opposite sides of the court, each holding a racquet. Now, this is to be expected. They are playing a tennis match after all. So nothing wrong there. What's unexpected is that the two are missing items of clothing from their normally formal and proper, impeccable person.

Sanada was missing his shirt making the taut muscles on his tanned abdomen stand out, his skin glistening with sweat. One of his feet, the left, is clad in a white sock, the sole grey with dust. That plus his shorts and the ever present cup on his dark head were the only items of clothing he was wearing.

Tezuka, on the other hand, wears more clothes. Which was fortunate, or unfortunate depending on how you look at it. Like Sanada, the Seigaku captain was also missing his shirt, his skin shockingly pale compared to his opponent's. Unlike Sanada, both of his socks stayed on. Unlike Sanada still, Tezuka wasn't wearing his tennis shorts and was wearing his school pants instead. That, too, stayed on, thankfully.

"3 games to 2," Hajime Mizuki called gleefully from the umpire's seat. His face, like everyone else's was flushed red and he was leaning heavily on the steel arm of the seat. He was looking expectantly at Tezuka, his expression bordering on a hungry look. Ryoma cringed, feeling suddenly disturbed.

There was a lot of lewd comments and wolf-whistle from the inebriated crowds. Ryoma looked back to Tezuka and saw the cause of this. The bespectacled captain had removed his belt making his pants ride low on his hips and causing the top of his black boxers to peek out teasingly. Despite the blush, the Seigaku Captain looked determined as he walked unsteadily to his position on the baseline.

Sanada was also looking determined, his eyes, however, were trained on Tezuka's body.

Ryoma shuddered with a new bout of distress. This is so not good for his psychological welfare.

"What the fu–" Atobe caught himself just in time. It's not becoming for a person of his stature to curse out loud. No matter that it was warranted for this . . . this . . . situation.

"What is going on?" he asked instead. He was pleased to note that his voice only quiver a little. He forced his eyes to look away from the disturbing tennis match of the stripping kind and focused on Fuji. He absently pulled Ryoma to his chest, his arms going around his waist to protect him from the leering crowd.

Fuji was amused. His eyes remained open, the sadistic glint on it obvious for everyone to see. He gave Atobe a small glance before turning back to the game. Atobe tried not to feel irritated. The Seigaku tensai was looking quite like evil incarnate and Atobe's survival instincts were kicking in.

"They're drunk," was all the tensai would say.

Mizuki's voice sounded again but Atobe wasn't able to hear the score because of the loud cheering. He did see Sanada reach for his remaining sock, though, which means that the score was in favor of Tezuka.

Ryoma leaned back to Atobe and placed his hand above the ones on his waist.

"Tezuka and Sanada made a drunken bet," said a soft but low voice. Atobe turned to Oishitari who he recognized by the unmistakable Kansai-lilt in his voice.

"A drunken bet?" Atobe asked, incredulous.

"Hn. They wanted to know who can hold their liquor better."

". . . But – " Atobe was confused. "Tezuka don't drink. And even Sanada . . ."

Oishitari shrugged before looking over Atobe's shoulder. Atobe followed the look to Fuji. He suddenly understood the reason behind the sadistic look.

"And the game of strip tennis?" Atobe turned back to Oishitari to see him looking at Ryoma. He raised a brow at Atobe but didn't comment.

"It was to test their tolerance. The person who loses the match loses the bet." Oishitari explained, his eyes easily following the movement of the ball. Atobe knew that his friend isn't drunk. His alcohol tolerance is very high and when he drink (which is not always the case since the blue-haired tensai hates the taste of any alcohol with the exception of sake) he only got slightly tipsy and no worse than that.

Oishitari looked fairly amused but behind his glasses, you can see that his eyes are showing a calculative look. Atobe guessed that his friend had made his own bet with someone.

"The stripping . . ." the blue-haired teen continued. "Well, I'm not sure with that one. They were just playing, then the next thing everyone knew, Sanada was taking off his shirt. Tezuka followed suit." He shrugged.

Atobe shook his head. It must have been a fairly strong alcohol that they mixed with the punch. Because none of the two captains would even consider playing strip match if they were sober. For that matter, Atobe was sure that they wouldn't even consider getting drunk.

Atobe was glad that he himself has a high tolerance of alcohol and was thankful that he only had one drink of the questionable punch. Otherwise, he'd probably be there with the two captains, arguing who should play who and embarrassing himself when he insisted drunkenly that all three of them can play, however they manage to do that. He doubt he'll agree to the stripping though. No. Atobe, even when drunk, has a high moral and was relatively dignified, thank you very much.

His musing was cut short when deafening cheers erupted from the overly-excited crowd. Frowning, he looked up and was beyond shock when Tezuka, that supposedly conservative, prim and proper boy, forgo his socks and went straight for his pants, instead.

Atobe watched, horrified as the Seigaku captain eased his button slowly, his bespectacled eyes trained on Sanada who was positively salivating as he focused on those pants that was being lowered, oh so slowly. And is that a . . . bulge?

Atobe paled for a second before all his blood rush to his face, making him dizzy. Oh God! His eyes! His poor, poor eyes! He had to consciously tell himself to get a grip before he had the sense to lift his hand to cover Ryoma's eyes. This is just too disturbing and terrifying on so many levels he didn't want the already petrified boy to have a trauma.

And trauma they will have for sure! He and Ryoma loved tennis. They positively live for it. How are they going to play in the future now if every time they step inside a court they will be bombarded by these . . . these . . . shudder-inducing images!?

Atobe turned Ryoma in his arms and he felt sympathy for the poor boy when immediately, Ryoma placed his arms around his middle, embracing him hard and looking for all the world like a scared child.

"We're leaving," Atobe said to Oishitari who was blushing and looking away from the court.

Oishitari looked at the smaller boy in his friend's arm and nodded in understanding. "I'll see you at school."

Atobe turned to Fuji and was glad when he immediately received a nod.

"Come, Ryoma. We're getting out of here."

Ryoma nodded his head against Atobe's chest and let him stir him away from the crowd. He was still petrified and he felt thankful for the Monkey King's thoughtfulness. God! His Buchou . . . And Sanada-san . . . They . . .

"Stop thinking about it," he looked up to see Atobe watching him amusedly. They were now standing outside the gates of the school waiting for the older boy's ride. Ryoma glared.

"I can't stop thinking about it." he snapped, annoyed now. "That was my Buchou in there and he . . ." Ryoma shuddered again. No! Stop brain. Stop thinking about it. Just . . . stop!

"Alright," Atobe said, his eyes turning mischievous. "How about Ore-sama help you stop thinking?"

And before Ryoma could process what that meant, he was already being pulled flushed against hard chest, his face tilted up as his mouth was attacked by lips and teeth and tongue. He moaned and gratefully opened his mouth, his own tongue twisting and dancing against that plundering delicious muscle.

They osculated for a while, making sure to erase the disturbing images from each other's minds and replacing them with the memory of their own taste and sound and pleasure.

When they pulled apart, both of them were panting hard and wearing similar satisfied grins.

….

"Why does Ore-sama have to stay here again?" Atobe asked for the third time that early morning.

He was standing inside a clean albeit ordinary-looking room. There was a single bed to his right, a small closet to his left and a side-table containing magazines and other reading paraphernalia. Directly in front of him was an open window letting in the cold early morning air. It was still dark outside, the time being around three AM.

"Because kaa-san invited you to stay here for the night and you were too overly-polite to refuse." Ryoma answered. He was yawning and rubbing his eyes tiredly.

They got there half an hour ago, Atobe having drive Ryoma home. He wanted to go to his mansion at first but Ryoma insisted that his mother would be worried so against his better judgment, he ended up here, wearing a large, commoner t-shirt and a too short pajamas, staring down at a small, cramped bed. Atobe's face scrunched up in distaste.

"But why does Ore-sama have to stay here in this tiny room?" he asked again.

"Because this is the guestroom and Mom put you in here."

"But why can't Ore-sama just stay with you instead?" Atobe fairly whined. He was aware that he was doing it but he couldn't help himself. This room is just way beneath him and every ounce of his sensibilities – and he have plenty of these, each of them as delicate as the other – are protesting loudly.

Ryoma watched him in amusement, the corner of his lips lifting up and his eyes bright with a golden glow.

Atobe stared, mesmerized.

Then, wonders of all wonders, the younger boy walked to him and raised on his tiptoes, his hands on Atobe's shoulders to support himself.

Atobe waited, heart pounding.

Ryoma looked at the older boy's eyes, noting the blue flecks swimming in the stormy-grey depth. Then, slowly, he leaned in.

Atobe closed his eyes, his arms going around Ryoma's waist. He felt the pressure on his lips and he hummed in approval.

The kiss was soft and slow and innocent. Atobe let Ryoma control it, letting the younger boy press and pull, letting him set the pace as their lips move together sensually. He rubbed a hand up and down the boy's spine and smiled into their kiss when he heard the contented sigh.

After a while, Ryoma pulled away and let his head fall to Atobe's chest. He was panting a little and he was sure that he's blushing again but that's okay 'cause he felt strangely happy especially as he can hear the other's heartbeat – it was beating in perfect harmony with his.

"I've to go sleep, Monkey King." Ryoma said but made no move to leave. He felt comfortable where he was.

"Then sleep," Atobe said before moving to scoop the younger boy in his arms. He went to the bed and laid him down. He smiled when Ryoma immediately scoot over to the side before burrowing under the covers. He went to the door and closed it. He debated for a moment if he should lock it but quickly decided against it. He doubt Ryoma's parents will be as rude as to invade his privacy. He left the window open for it was a hot, stuffy night without the cool breeze from the outside.

Yawning wide, Atobe took off the too-short borrowed pajama leaving himself clad only in the t-shirt and his boxer. Then he crawled under the covers and pulled Ryoma against him, smiling when the boy automatically turned in his arms and buried his face against his neck.

"Goodnight brat," Atobe whispered, his voice soft with rarely-shown affection. He gave Ryoma a small kiss on the temple and closed his eyes. Before he fell asleep completely, Atobe thought he heard a sleepy "Goodnight, Monkey King."

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End of Second Chapter! It's sweet, ne? I was fairly melting with all the fluffiness when I was writing this. Now. I know, that this is Rated M but our boys' activities so far have only involved kissing and necking. It was fairly light, yes? Well, except that part where Tezuka slowly shimmied out of his pants. It was merely teasing and stripping but I felt like that part wasn't just Rated M but X-RATED! I was squealing and blushing the whole time! I was torn between imagining that sinful scene and hiding my face behind my hands. Damn Tezuka, that hawt, sexy slut! (LOL. XD Looks like Atobe wasn't the only one who has an amazing seduction prowess.)

Anyway, maybe I'll write the lemon scene in the next chapter. Keep your eyes open! There will be no warning!

Keep writing me your awesome reviews. Suggestions may be considered so feel free to voice your opinions.

Thanks and much love,

Eftela.