Long, slender hands trailed up his neck, ending with a caress on soft cheeks. So natural it felt, so wonderful. With a sleepy moan, he closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, feeling the delicate palm cupping his chin. The hand moved to stroke curly, ginger hair, carefully combing through with experienced fingers. He sighed, and snuggled further into the embrace of the owner of the hands, the soft, silken fabric welcoming his presence.

"Atobe," he mumbled groggily, slowly reaching out to the carefully manicured hand that had previously been in his hair. It did not take long before he found it, or rather, the hand found his, and gripped it tight, but gently, as if afraid to let go.

"Hm?" Atobe inquired silently, continuing his caring touch with the other hand instead. "What is it, Jirou? If there is anything you want, Ore-sama will be more than happy to bring it to you."

What did Jirou want? Sprawled out on Atobe's king-sized bed, complete with silken bedsheets and pillows enough for a regular household, his head in Atobe's lap, and the taller boy treating him like a prince? What more did he want?

"Dun' want anything," Jirou sighed, cradling Atobe's right hand. His most precious tennis hand. "Wanted you."

"Ore-sama is here, Jirou."

"I know," Jirou yawned. "Just... Wanted you."

"Ore-sama knows," Atobe replied with a small chuckle. "And Ore-sama's generosity demands him to pay attention to his love's needs, especially on his birthdays."

"You are boring, Atobe," Jirou pouted, opening his eyes slowly, blinking against the harsh lights of Atobe's room. "Can't you always be good?"

"Ore-sama believes he is quite good," Atobe retorted, brushing his fingers over Jirou's eyes, forcing him to close them again.

"Not like this," Jirou replied sternly, reaching up to capture Atobe's second hand. Atobe frowned, watching Jirou as he sat up, still with his hands captured by the redhead. "Why are you always so nice when it's just the two of us, and so... Atobish... Any other time?"

"Who knows," Atobe chuckled, leaning forward to capture a kiss from the confused boy. Jirou, surprised, felt Atobe's soft velvet lips caressing his own, granting him a warm kiss. Just as he was about to respond, Atobe pulled away again, but cupped his cheek with a wink.

"Ore-sama believes he is quite affectionate, Jirou. Don't you agree?"

"You are being mean, Atobe..." Jirou pouted again, scowling at Atobe as if he had just committed a heinous crime. "Teasing me like that..."

"It's not Ore'sama's fault that you never start anything," Atobe smirked, as he moved towards Jirou again, but instead of placing a kiss on his lips, he gently pulled at Jirou's shirt, unbuttoning the top buttons, revealing the smaller boy's collar. Slowly, he started planting loving kisses at flushed skin, moving upwards with dangerous sensuality.

"Every..."

Kiss.

"Time..."

Kiss.

"It is..."

Kiss.

"Always Ore-sama..."

Kiss.

"Who.."

A pullback and a smirk. "Starts being 'affectionate'."

Jirou did not have any chance to react before he was being pushed down on his back, Atobe perched on top of him, as if he was a prey waiting to be enjoyed. Atobe's hands started their work again, one of them masterfully entangling itself in strawberry blonde hair while the other went down to Jirou's chest, starting to unbutton more of his shirt. As Atobe bent down to place another kiss on Jirou's collar, the smaller moaned.

"Atobe.."

Atobe glanced up, before putting on his trademark grin. "You're being awfully noisy today, Jirou..." He complained. "Maybe Ore-sama needs to shut you up.."

As he spoke, he slowly moved from Jirou's chest and found his lips again. Jirou moaned slightly in pleasure, and barely registered his own hand reaching up to grab Atobe's neck, putting of his escape. This time, he would ensure Atobe could not toy with him as he pleased.

Atobe was an experienced kisser, Jirou noted, but without really paying attention to it as the wonderful feeling of vanilla assaulted his senses, and a confident tongue pried his lips open. With a small groan, he let the intruder pass, meeting it with his own as Atobe's hand again started gliding up and down his throat.

He loved Atobe. The boy was self-centered, conceited and annoying. But he was also Jirou's dearest person in the whole wide world. No body cared like Atobe. No one was able to care like Atobe, Jirou knew that. Even if Shishido spent all his time complaining about the captain, or if Mukahi sent glares at him every time he believed he was unseen, Jirou knew Atobe was a very lovable person.

"Jirou," Atobe commented as their lips parted, unwillingly from Jirou's side. "If that is your birthday wish, then Ore-sama shall grant you his affection any time you want."

Jirou had to smile.

"I love you, Atobe."

"I love you too. Happy birthday."