Disclaimer: Konomi-sensei owns the characters. Atobe Keigo owns his own suits and some incredibly pricey wine. Akutagawa Jiroh owns Atobe Keigo's ass, for tonight at least.

Warnings: shounen-ai (AtoJi, other implied Hyotei), kissing, sexual themes.

A/N: While the clock has changed for most everyone the site runs on GMT -8 which means I have ten whole minutes until it is no longer the 31st. So I'm not late. Definitely not. :3

Dedicated to Lahdolphin. HAPPY BIRTHDAY! (You're fifteen! :D)


"Kei."

Atobe Keigo spun around to find the person who had spoken his name, or part of it anyway. He knew who it was already, of course, because he was a genius (and because only one person in the entire world was allowed to call him that without fear of having their neck snapped in two), but before his eyes could locate Akutagawa Jiroh the shorter boy had grabbed his wrist and pulled him around the corner into a nearby room.

Atobe raised an eyebrow upon turning to face the boy. Though he didn't look different from normal, bar the incredibly nice Italian suit he had on (that made him look all the more handsome), Atobe knew there was something off the second he set eyes on him.

So he kissed him.

Their lips met, but only for a brief moment, and when Atobe pulled away there was a sigh along them.

"You're drunk," Atobe stated plainly. This sunk in for a moment before it really hit him. "You drank." While Atobe all together did not have a problem with this (he himself had been exposed to a number of alcoholic beverages in his lifetime and, if posed the question, would not deny the fact that he had been as the commoners colloquially called it, 'smashed' a few times before), Jiroh was not one to do such a thing. The strawberry blond grinned nonetheless, half bouncing where Atobe's arms held him in place.

"While you were occupied entertaining business guests everyone else was out properly celebrating New Year's Eve. They happened to be in the middle of a game of 'I've Never Ever' and seeing as you were rather heavily involved in a conversation about the stock market I decided to go along and participate via text message. It was quite simply seeing the abundance of alcohol you have lying around your house, and I hope you don't mind that I've opened another wine bottle. I was planning on finding a lone champagne one, but seeing as the new year has yet to hit it seemed a bit backwardly festive," Jiroh replied. What shocked Atobe most about this reply, however, was not what Jiroh was telling him – it was the words Jiroh was using.

Apparently, Jiroh's vocabulary increased ten fold when under the influence.

"Er, right then. That's… interesting." Atobe's reply was nothing more than a time waster as he wracked his brain for some place to store the boy; his room was out, he knew, and the entire house was in full party mode with a number of important business clients there. An idea struck him. "Why, then, did you come seek me out? Surely the games you have spoken of were enough to keep you entertained, no? Perhaps you would wish to return to where you came from and continue playing? Ore-sama could even arrange for you to be transported to whatever location they happen to be occupying."

"I'm here because of their game." When Jiroh spoke this his tone was different than anything Atobe had heard from him before. Normally the boy's voice was fluffy and lighthearted, a kind of underlying joy that signaled the spring in Jiroh's step perfectly. Now, however, there was something a bit deeper underneath, a weighty tone that sent a single shiver down Atobe's spine.

"Shishido posed an 'I've never ever banged my significant other at an office event' which got me thinking…" Jiroh's hands moved from where they rested at his sides to Atobe's shoulders. In one swift spinning motion their position had been flipped; Atobe was now pushed against the door, and there was a glint in Jiroh's eyes normally reserved for a cunning plan from Oshitari or Atobe. "I never have. And I just couldn't help but think that perhaps… just perhaps you would need a break from tonight's events." The last few words began Jiroh's hands trailing upward, smoothing over the material of Atobe's own suit before fingers trailed across the back of Atobe's neck. One hand settled warmly on the nape of Atobe's neck and the other planted itself on the heir's jaw. Before he could get a word out around the mindful of shock Jiroh was kissing him forcefully.

It was entirely unlike what kissing Jiroh was normally like. The volley specialist was usually more reserved, and Atobe normally led. Normally the two of them went slower, a gentle caress of mouths instead of a hurried frenzy. ('Because,' Atobe had once said, 'hurried frenzies were for commoners who were afraid that what they were doing was going to have consequences.' At the time, Jiroh had agreed.)

Now, though, Jiroh was pressed flush against him. His shirt was untucked, and the hand that had been on Atobe's jaw was now pulling the other teen's dress shirt out as well. Surprisingly nimble fingers undid the buttons on the suit jacket and on the blue shirt, pushing them backwards.

Atobe's mind gave the signal that this was going to far.

It took every ounce of logic still left in his brain for him to place the hand between his chest and Jiroh's, but he did and the shorter boy stilled and pulled away. He looked up at him, light confusion in his eyes but it was paired with the wicked deviance that had caused his previous actions.

"Not here," Atobe stated, hoping his voice would hold some of the authority and power over the other boy that it usually did.

"I think you'll find it to be quite enjoyable," Jiroh purred as he ran a hand up Atobe's now bare chest, tugging on the other teen's tie in order to yank his head down. They were a few centimeters apart, Jiroh's warm breath tickling Atobe's face, the scent of a aged fruits and alcohol swirling around his head in an intoxicating concoction. Had this been any other situation and they were in this position Atobe would have pulled the other teen into a kiss, but as he was trying to avoid this situation he urged his mind not to.

"Later, then," Atobe mumbled out, but his half-protest was drowned out by the moan bubbling up as Jiroh bit down on the sensitive flesh of his ear. "J-Jiro-"

"Give in," the throaty voice directly in Atobe's ear told him, and there was a part of him that wasn't sure whether it was Jiroh who had spoken those words or something internal. The blond was the obvious culprit as he followed this up with, "you can't deny you'd love the thrill of it" and a hand directly down the front of Atobe's definitely-too-tight-at-the-moment merino suit pants.

With every functioning thought left in his brain, Atobe's head shot up. He looked at the boy seriously, and it seemed that there was weight beneath the gaze because Jiroh stilled and met it.

"We need to go the next room over; there's an attached bathroom," was the last coherent comment from Atobe for the night.


Ending A/N: Reviews appreciated. Sorry for the tease, if you'd like it I'll write it but it'll be LJ f-list or e-mail confidential only for a number of reasons. :3 (I just love thinking about Jiroh with a possessive side, though!)