[fic] Reservations Part 2
Title: Reservations Part 1 Part 2
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Characters: Atobe, Sanada, Yukimura
Prompt: #052
Word Count: 4522 total ((which is apparenlotly like 2 words too long for LJ or something >_>))
Rating: NC 17 *le gasp*
Summary: Sanada and Atobe's date.
Disclaimer: I don't own the pretty boys . . . yet
Author's Notes: This is set after Seigaku’s match with Rikkidai and is Pre-OT7. Much thanks go out to my wonderful beta crimson_raining. Also, I am so so so so sorry, it took so long to get this next one out, my muse died fior a couple months >_>
Previous Chapters : I . Monumental Ideas II. Welcoming III. Protests IV. Confrontations V. Laying down the Rules
As he expected, Atobe’s limo was waiting outside in the same spot it had been parked several hours ago, when it was still fairly light. Sanada wasted no time tugging open the door and sliding inside; lounging against the opposite side of the seats and tugging his hat down over his eyes as if to take a brief nap until the diva made his way to the limo.
When Atobe burst into the limo a short while later he was still flushed, but no longer so dishevelled, every hair back in place and suit looking as immaculate as it always was. Sanada briefly wondered if the diva hadn’t just gotten a new suit while inside so he would appear unruffled. Sanada could feel the almost palpable rage radiating off the blonde gaze, hiding his smirk, “Something wrong Keigo?”
“Of course not Genichirou,” Atobe growled, sprawling elegantly across from the brunette obviously hoping that looks could kill.
Sanada nodded, “That’s good to hear, after all, we wouldn’t want anything to interfere with our date,” Sanada said, not a trace of sarcasm detectable in his voice, though he was sniggering inwardly at the look on Atobe’s face.
Abruptly, Sanada realized that the diva was squirming quite a lot more than was normal and when the brunette caught sight of the prominent bulge at the front of the other boy’s pants, he snickered aloud.
“What’s so funny?” Atobe snapped out sounding more put out than angry now.
“Nothing,” Sanada answered shrugging and turning to stare out the window.
It didn’t seem to take too long to reach the restaurant, a snobby high-end place that looked like it checked credit at the door. Sanada’s eye twitched at the sight of it and at Atobe’s sudden snatching of his hand as he was dragged through the crowd of people lined up and waiting for a table, or a reservation to open up. Atobe was instantly recognized and ushered through the line to a table at the far end of the restaurant that was, although fairly private, still in view of everyone else inside.
“I’m surprised you didn’t insist on a private table in some back room or something,” Sanada grumbled, beginning to feel mildly out of place with his old and worn out cap, though to take it off would let Atobe win. “Thought it would be beneath you to dine near such plebs.”
Atobe sniffed loudly at either the intended insult or the contraction, looking like he wanted desperately to inform the Rikkia fukou-buchou that the word was not plebs, but plebeian. However he controlled the urge and said instead, “Ore-sama is not so selfish that I would deny others the pleasure of witnessing my awesome prowess.”
Sanada fought the urge to laugh out loud; only Atobe could pull off that line and stay completely serious.
Surprisingly, after that, dinner went fairly smoothly. Atobe kept conversation going, loving the sound of his own voice more than was strictly necessary and Sanada liked not having to talk overly, but commenting every so often to show that he was still listening. The diva even mildly approved of the dish Sanada had ordered. He finally began to relax, feeling at least mildly full from the meal, despite being more expensive, the fancy dishes never seemed to fill one right up, and was letting the food settle in his stomach as they waited for the bill to arrive.
A sudden fleeting touch to his thigh had Sanada starting and almost jumping from his seat in surprise. The touch ran slowly up his legs, landing solidly on his crotch, moving and shifting in a way that sent sparks up his spine.
The brunette scowled, glancing covertly under the table to see a socked foot resting in his lap. He thought to grab the foot and push it from him but Atobe’s hand suddenly caught hold of his. “Something wrong Genichirou?” The blonde asked innocently, toes flexing across his groin.
“Atobe,” he snapped, trying to tug his hands from the divas.
“Careful Sanada, you’re beginning to attract attention,” Atobe responded grinding his heel across Sanada’s rapidly hardening cock.
Sanada glared furiously, the effect only mildly ruined by the fluttering of his eyelids as Atobe’s toes began to map out his arousal. Rikkai’s fukou buchou clenched his fingers into the tablecloth, swallowing his moans and fighting the urge to buck up into the demanding touch to gain more friction.
Sanada should have expected the foot’s quick retreat, but he hadn’t and it took all his willpower to stop a groan from escaping his mouth as the waiter gently set their bill on the table and Atobe set about paying it. At any other time Sanada might have protested having his night paid for like some woman, however at the moment, his cock was dictating his thought, none of which had anything to do with who paid the bill.
The second Atobe had finished paying the check the brunette grabbed a hold of his forearm and dragged him out towards the exit and to the waiting limo, ignoring the blonde’s indignant sputters. He all but threw the diva into the backseat, and the door was barely shut before Sanada threw himself atop Atobe, pinning the blonde buchou with his weight.
“No teasing this time I presume,” Atobe panted out, already hard and wanting from anticipation.
“No teasing,” Sanada agreed, unzipping the blondes pants for the second time that night and tugging both those and his boxers to the diva’s knees in one easy movement.
The brunette stilled for a moment, eyes fixed on the first sight he had of the pretty pink cock jutting out of a nest of blonde curls, a shade darker than the diva’s natural hair colour. The sight, at least, proved the boy was a natural blonde, unless of course, he dyed the hair here too. Sanada really wouldn’t put it past him.
Atobe it seemed, liked to be watched, his cock twitching and growing harder at the scrutiny until a pearly white bead of precome forced it’s way from his tip. Abruptly, Sanada was hit with the urge to lick it off, taste the blonde on his tongue as he sucked the boy’s hardness all the way down his throat, not stopping until he heard the diva scream.
Instead, Sanada restrained himself, pulling Atobe’s pants off completely and tossing them to the other side of the limo.
“You know Atobe, I half expected you to scream at me that those pants were Armani or something and that they were not to be thrown around so carelessly,” Sanada smirked, petting pretty, pale thighs.
“Armani? Please, I have taste, ore-sama would never be seen in something so plebeian.”
“Of course not Keigo,” Sanada chuckled, palm ghosting across the other boy, effectively ending the conversation and making the diva squirm and gasp. “You know,” Sanada said thoughtfully, repeating the motion again to let the boy know what was coming was a rhetorical question and was not to be answered, “You’re almost tolerable once you shut up.”
Atobe growled, suddenly furious and attempted to force the larger boy off him, nearly sending the both of them tumbling off the seat. Sanada, however, managed to keep the diva pinned, much to the blonde’s frustration and, it seemed, arousal. “Getting off on this Keigo? You like being pinned beneath me; knowing you can’t escape unless I let you?”
“Fuck off,” Atobe snapped, though his eyes told the brunette he had hit the nail on the head.
Sanada leaned forward dragging his tongue up the hollow of the diva’s throat, only partially exposed by the dip in the collar of his shirt and almost hidden by the frills that nearly every shirt the boy owned seemed to have. The touch made the blonde shudder, obviously sensitive, as Sanada had witnessed before. The brunette’s hand returned to the diva’s cock, thumb swiping over the slit and gathering precome; making it easier and smoother as Sanada’s hand sped up, wringing out desperate moans from the Hyotei buchou.
Sanada suddenly began sucking on his fingers desperate to try something, knowing that if he asked Atobe to do it, he was liable to get his fingers bitten off. Once they were and wet and slick as they were going to get, he positioned them at Atobe’s entrance before beginning to ease one saliva-slick digit inside the boy.
Easier said than done. The blonde was tight, oh so tight and forcing a finger in was nearly impossible, especially once the diva started to become aware of what he was trying to do. “What are you-ow! Stop Sanada!” Atobe growled, trying to squirm away from the single digit, forcing it’s way inside his body.
“Don’t be such a baby Keigo.”
“What?!” Atobe shouted, his voice becoming stringy and high pitched, “Now quit it!”
“It’s just one finger Atobe, or can’t you take it?” Sanada challenged, forcing his finger inside the blonde up to the third knuckle, then pausing, ignoring the soft whimper of discomfort from the other boy.
The challenge had been issued and Atobe clearly wasn’t going to back down. Sanada, now that he didn’t have to worry about the diva trying to escape, began to focus more on what he was doing, one hand still diligently stroking the blonde’s cock, keeping him hard and wanting.
Still, it seemed no matter what he did, Atobe remained tense and tight. Though he had never done this with Yukimura, he had tried it with Jiroh several times, although they always used real lube, and the bouncy blonde singles player had always seemed to enjoy it. Atobe, on the other hand, had his eyes scrunched up, sometimes flinching when Sanada moved his finger too much.
Frustrated, Sanada curled his finger and Atobe’s eyes shot open, full body jerking of the seat in surprised pleasure. “What?”
“Fucking-” Atobe stopped to catch his breath, “Do that again.” Sanada curled his finger obediently and Atobe winced, “Ow, not like that!”
Sanada scowled but diligently searched for that spot again, gaining the same reaction when he found it. Only this time, he held his finger against it, causing Atobe to arch and writhe and moan and his muscles to loosen just a little bit. Enough that Sanada was able to slip another slick digit inside of him, hand a blur against the others cock.
It didn’t take too much longer for the diva to come, release coating Sanada’s hand and spattering the seat. Even sated and dazed Atobe still caught the brunette’s hand before he could wipe it on the seat. “Really Genichirou, you’ll ruin the upholstery,” the diva murmured dispassionately. “There’s some Kleenex behind you.”
Sanada nodded, smugly satisfied that he had undone the blonde so much and dimly wondering if he was going to get any satisfaction tonight. His answer came as he turned back around to face Atobe, having wiped his palm clean, starting in surprise at the blonde’s proximity. Atobe leaned forward, capturing Sanada’s lips in a surprisingly gentle and lethargic kiss compared to their previous ones.
Atobe’s hands fumbled briefly with the brunette’s belt until it finally came loose, slipping it open, and drawing down the zip, fingers hooking into the waistband of trousers and boxers both and slipping them down enough so that his hard cock sprung free. The blonde then tore his mouth from Sanada’s hungry one, lowering himself so that his mouth was hovering over the brunette’s cock.
Sanada shivered in anticipation and at the feeling of breath ghosting over sensitive skin. Even knowing what was coming didn’t prepare him for the feel of the diva’s mouth closing around him; teeth and lips and tongue all working in harmony to bring him to climax.
When he felt release approaching he dug his fingers into soft hair and held the diva’s head on his cock as he came, spurting deeply down the blondes throat, feeling Atobe swallow around him.
Sanada gently began to release Atobe as he relaxed from the intense orgasm, hands, gently soothing hair that he felt he had pulled too hard, just as he would with Yukimura or Jiroh.
Atobe looked just as smug as Sanada knew he must have looked moments ago, but Sanada couldn’t bring himself to care what the blonde thought he had won. He was far too sated and now, exhaustion was starting to kick in, causing him to yawn.
“Ore-sama will now escort you home Genichirou,” the diva said imperiously, pressing the call button for the limo driver and spouting out Sanada’s street and house number. Briefly, Sanada thought to ask how in the hell the diva knew where he lived when he thought of something far more important.
“Has your driver been in the car the whole time Atobe?”
“Mhm? Oh, yes, of course, he wouldn’t leave without my permission,” Atobe stopped for a moment, obviously fascinated by the brunettes embarrassed flush. “Don’t worry, he’s trustworthy, probably had his headphones in the entire time anyway.”
Sanada grunted his agreement and watched, amused as Atobe attempted to redress in the now moving vehicle.
When the car finally pulled to a stop just outside his house, Sanada wasted no time in escaping from the vehicle. “So Sanada, did you have a good time?” The diva asked, smug grin still present on his face. Sanada would forever relish the look on the blonde’s face as he shut the door in his face and turned to travel up the walk to his house.
All in all, he supposed the date hadn’t gone as badly as he had expected.
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