Pressed hard against the wall, rough wood digging phantom splinters into his back. Long
fingers holding him in place, pushing against his hip, clasping his wrist above his head.
Green eyes glimmering in the fading light as a knee slides between his thighs, firm
against his legs. Soft orange hair sliding past his cheek, a ghostly caress of butterfly
Lips teasing at the corner of his mouth, coaxing pleasure instead of their usual
annoying, infuriating, infernal smile. Taunting, a tongue sliding slick inside his mouth to
kiss and burn itself into his memory --
-- and Atobe woke up.
Prince of Tennis |