Topgallant : Prince of Tennis: 30 Kisses

For the 30_kisses challenge.
#3. Jolt. And dedicated to

darkeyedwolf, who certainly know why. ;) Also, in my head Ryoma is about 15-16 here, so everything's on the up-and-up. Er. Mostly.

"You're slipping, Buchou," Ryoma whispered, running his hand over Tezuka's stomach.

"Howso?" Tezuka allowed Ryoma to sidle closer to him beneath the sheets.

"I can tell what you're thinking." Ryoma studied Tezuka intently out of his soft, huge eyes. "I can tell what you want."

Tezuka privately ran through and discarded several less-than-suitable retorts to this, and waited a moment, taking the opportunity to run his fingers through Ryoma's hair, down to the point where one disheveled strand clung to his cheek, before replying. "Well?"

For just a moment, Ryoma's eyes fell half-closed, and he leaned his head into Tezuka's touch, a gesture just shy of a nudge. Tezuka felt something warm and terrifyingly pleasant churn his stomach.

"You want to let me play against Yuuta on Sunday," Ryoma murmured, and he batted his eyes open.

Tezuka regarded Ryoma's expression, which was smug and altogether too confident (though Tezuka couldn't blame him, considering the context). He propped himself up on one elbow and pulled Ryoma against him. Ryoma's frame was light, and he moved willingly, still young and under-developed enough to feel like a sprawling tangle of limbs in Tezuka's arms.

"You're forgetting something," Tezuka informed him, while Ryoma settled himself against Tezuka's chest and nuzzled his way up the side of Tezuka's neck. "Fuji desperately wants to play against his brother. He has not had that opportunity."

"Che." Ryoma shrugged and propped his hand up on his elbow, which he in turn propped unceremoniously on Tezuka's chest. "Fuji-senpai will be fine."

"By which," said Tezuka (who was secretly impressed by the fact that he could still be wry while Echizen was sprawling all over him and very clearly preparing to do far more than sprawl), "you mean he will pretend that everything is fine and then take revenge upon both of us whenever possible for the next six months."

Ryoma stilled, amber eyes widening for a moment. Impulsively Tezuka ran his hand over the smooth skin of Ryoma's arm where he leaned against him. For a moment he was overwhelmed by the fact that he had Ryoma here like this, completely unguarded, and that the part of him that struggled to be open, to be completely unguarded as well, came closer when he was alone with Ryoma this way than at any other time.

"So you'd rather have me mad at you than Fuji-senpai?" Ryoma after a moment. "Are you afraid of him, Buchou?"

"No," Tezuka replied solemnly, choosing not to notice the tiny widening of Ryoma's smirk. "But I'd rather have you angry with me than Fuji."

Ryoma frowned and he tilted his head. "What for?" He shifted closer, close enough for Tezuka to feel Ryoma's breath against his lips. Ryoma's eyes darkened as they met Tezuka's, and Tezuka suddenly felt very warm beneath the bedsheets and Ryoma's weight against him.

"You," he answered, "Are far more interesting when you're upset."

Ryoma fixed him with an irresistably gratified look, simultaneously cocky and embarrassed. The frighteningly pleasant sensation in Tezuka's gut intensified with a jolt, and he reached up to pull Ryoma into a kiss. Ryoma sank into Tezuka's touch, into Tezuka's kiss, and Tezuka closed his eyes and let Ryoma's eagerness carry him forward. When their lips parted Ryoma's eyes were glittering and intense, and Tezuka couldn't help himself; he smiled.