Title: A Frilly… Gift
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Pairing: Mizuki/Atobe
Notes: Prompt was 'Frills'

Mizuki held out the… um, thing in front of him.

"What is this?"

Leaning back handsomely from the couch, Atobe gazed up lazily, his azure eyes smirking behind long fingers.

"A gift from ore-sama."

Mizuki stared.

"For me?"

"It would appear so."

Rigidly, Mizuki turned back to the… gift, was it? He held it up gingerly, pinched between two fingers, almost afraid.

What the hell…

It wasn't unusual for couples to buy lingerie for each other, yes he knew that. And it wasn't like they hadn't done it anyway, so it wasn't even inappropriate. But still, this one… how could he describe it… It was just so… so…

"Frilly!" His voice sounded high, and he cleared his throat hurriedly. But then he saw the ludicrously decorated pants, and his larynx tightened again. "Why, why, is it sofrilly!"

Atobe wasn't even looking at him; his attention now focused on an ancient-looking book in his lap. Mizuki fumed as Atobe continued to ignore him.

"Yes, ore-sama is quite aware of that." He flipped through the pages, looking perfectly undisturbed. "It was ore-sama who picked out the gift after all."

"But I don't like frills."

"Of course you do. You wear frilly garments everyday." He glanced up briefly. "That shirt, for instance, is a perfect example."

Mizuki looked down.

"This is lace, dammit, not frills! And it's made from satin, something a normal person would give as a gift."

"Ore-sama's present is made of silk, and doubtless far better made than that top you're wearing, which," He added, as if the insult wasn't bad enough. "Clashes horribly with those trousers, coincidentally."

Mizuki glared. The man was infuriating. This was his favourite shirt. And it wasn't his fault that he wasn't born with a wallet sewed to his hand. Damn that Atobe…

Although the material did feel annoying soft between his fingers.

Damn him indeed!

"Well, thanks." He said dryly as he tried to stuff the underwear back into its original equally frilly box. But a hand suddenly grabbed his arm.

"Are you not going to try it on?"

Atobe's voice was close, too close. Breaths fluttered past his earlobes and Mizuki fought the urge to shiver.

"I'd rather not…"

"Ore-sama demands to see you in that, Hajime."

His hands fumbled with the box clumsily, it was not closing. He tried to edge away from the intoxicating scent permeating from behind.

"I said I'd rather not, didn't I… Hey! What the-"

Two hands snaked around his torso and had begun unbuttoning his shirt. A cool draft touched his skin as they became undone. Fingertips danced across his chest, tracing delicate circles; they travelled lower and lower. A moment later, a zipper sounded.

"Dammit, Keigo, stop… Ahh!"

Mizuki moaned. A long finger had trailed coyly across the front of his briefs and back. It was cold.

"Such unattractive undergarments, Hajime." Atobe murmured against his ears. "You could barely feel that, could you? Ore-sama has to do this-" Two fingers slid over the lengthening shaft, applying more pressure than before, and tapped gently at the top. "-before there is any decent reaction."

Mizuki was panting by now, his knees threatening to buckle any second. Atobe had abandoned his own shirt some time ago, and Mizuki could very clearly feel the heat every taut muscle brought as they moulded into his back.

The bastard had won.

"Fine."

His voice sounded dry and breathless as he forcefully wrenched himself away from the inviting warmth and idle hands.

"I'll change."

He didn't need to turn around to see the satisfied smirk on Atobe's face. The devil had reclaimed his throne. The arrogant bastard.

Five minutes later, Mizuki carefully took a deep breath and pushed open the door leading to Atobe's personal chambers. He had gotten lost numerous times before in this ridiculously huge mansion and was more than thankful that there were no maids about this time.

The tiny black and red panties (for there was no way they were briefs) were pretty, he could grudgingly admit that; but either they were actually designed for women, or simply five sizes too small, they felt tight, unbelievably and uncomfortably straining against his crotch. As Mizuki waddled across the halls, he knew his erection must be obvious.

"Mm…"

He jumped; the door swung shut behind him.

"Very nice… Very nice indeed."

Mizuki flushed red; Atobe had appeared from the side. He instinctively moved his hands to cover his lower half, but Atobe pinned him against the door before he could do anything at all.

There was a carnivorous hunger in those midnight irises as they burned into his skin.

"Wha-What are you going to do now?"

Mizuki tried to keep his face straight. It was hard to move at all when his legs were trapped between two far more powerful thighs and his whole personal space invaded like this. It was even more so when there were cool, smooth fingertips grazing over every expanse of exposed flesh.

Atobe smirked, lowering his mouth to the pale neck.

"I'm reaping my reward."

With a highly girlish squeak, Mizuki yelped as he was thrown onto the bed. The plump, soft mattress broke his fall, but it still hurt. However, wet, scorching lips attacked his throat before any complaint could be made and his body forgot about everything. It melted into the quilt.

Oh God… Mizuki moaned loudly.

Atobe's hands were smooth, unusual for a sportsman, and felt absolutely heaven as they glided over his form. His hands tangled into silky hair as whimpers and groans were ripped from his lips. The sheets rustled with their movement as the headboard rocked against the wall. Blood was withdrawing rapidly from his brain and Mizuki thought he would faint. It was going too fast…

"Kei-Keigo!"

Atobe bit down on a nipple. He wasn't going to stop.

"Argh! God, Keigo!" Mizuki was wailing; his body on flame! It was too fast, too soon, he couldn't breath. He needed… he needed…

A hand grabbed his cock.

God…

"More…" The plea left his lips, barely louder than a whisper. "I need more… Keigo… Now! I-"

But a pair of lips swallowed his words before they could be uttered, and Mizuki kissed back with every fire and passion ignited within his body.

Then he touched Atobe; letting his hands grasp and grope at everywhere. Muscles were rippled and groans were wrenched. He slid his tongue along the bottom lip and gasped when Atobe sucked on it greedily. The hand on his cock was moving faster and faster…

"Ow!!"

There was loud popping sound and Mizuki's mouth detached from Atobe.

Glaring, he dropped a hand to where the pain originated. Grunting with the effort to lift both his and Atobe's body, who was now sucking on Mizuki's neck and refused to help out whatsoever, he pulled and yanked until the accused object was swinging freely in his hand.

It was black and red.

"You!" Mizuki tried to pull Atobe off him, wanting to accuse him directly. But Atobe merely moved his face to the other side. "You…!"

He saw the dangling frills.

"You just wrecked my present!"

Atobe looked up at that, his eyes still hazy with lust, and a hand grabbed the torn panties. He stared at it for a while, then with a casual flick of the wrist, thrown it to the side. Mizuki opened his mouth to protest, but Atobe's lips found him again.

"Who care?" Impatient hands resumed their original task, now obstruction-free.

"It's just a frilly underwear."

A/N I would love to make this into a smutty fic but unfortunately, I'm still too embarrassed to write full-blown sex. You do not know how much I was blushing just writing the word 'cock' (I'm even blushing now).

First time writing Atobe/Mizuki, I've read next to nothing about this pairing so I hope the characterization is all okay.