It was a peaceful day that found Jin sitting against the storage shed, quietly smoking a
cigarette. Scowling, he fingered the bruise the bastard from lunch had managed to score on him
before Jin had taken him down. Just as he let his hand drop footsteps clattered along the
pavement and he turned to watch Sengoku throw the door to the shed open and drop a basket of
"Aren't first years supposed to be doing that?" was the question of a bored man.
The door swung shut with a bang, "Oh, I told them they could go on home," Sengoku replied
cheerfully, leaning to the side to peer at Jin, "Neh, whatcha up to?"
Jin didn't bother to answer that for obvious reasons, which didn't stop the red-head from
approaching and crouching by his side anyway.
A finger brushed down Jin's cheek, circling his bruise, "What happened?"
"Some punk got lucky," Annoyed, Jin jerked his head to the side, but could not escape
"Awww," Sengoku leaned forward and pressed his lips to Jin's bruise in a kiss, gently
ghosting the damp curves across the colored skin, "There. All better." He smiled cheerily at
Jin and was gone, pounding merrily back to the courts.
Jin scowled and ignored the fact that it did feel better.
Part Two |
Prince of Tennis |