The first time he propositioned me had been after his match with Tezuka. I didn't plan on running into him, but as the fates would have it, he and I collided. Fired up from watching their match I had to go play. Inadvertently I had slipped into the rhythm. The practice wall was my focus, but soon I felt another on my right, ready to return what I had been bouncing against the wall.
Shinji, I thought.
But the stroke was different. I faltered and returned his volley. After a few more rallies I noticed the familiarity.
Atobe.
After such an exhausting match he was here, playing with me rather than against me. I stopped immediately; the ball came towards me and hit my forehead. It hurt but my eyes could not leave Atobe's form. I stumbled over my words as he smirked at me. He knew, he knew. I panicked and ran over to Shinji, trying to distance myself from that meaningful smirk still on Atobe's face.
I had involuntarily let him know just how much his play had affected me, and that made me horribly uncomfortable.
The first time I had met him had been on the courts, the second time had been there as well, but the third time I had met him had been in my bed. I had never expected to see him outside of the courts, but he had shown up. And he just kept showing up. I was surprised at his advances, but made no move to stop myself from reacting. I never expected him to show as much passion as he did, and he surprised me with just how skillful he is about everything he does, on and off the courts.
Later he told me my rhythm extended to the bedroom as well.