Disclaimer: Not mine. Konomi Takeshi’s.

Pitfall Number Three

By Lady Androgene

There are certain pitfalls to being a morning person and having the poster child of Valium as one’s boyfriend.

Especially if said morning person is Atobe Keigo, and said Valium poster child is Echizen Ryoma.

One such pitfall is the issue of time management. Ryoma doesn’t and will never possess a sense of urgency, no matter how important the event, usually preferring sleep to other things in life apart from tennis, Karupin, and grape Ponta. Oh, and the great Ore-sama, naturally.

Atobe, on the other hand, while occasionally known for his fashionably late arrivals to social gatherings worthy of his attendance, has the grace and decency to be prompt on other more pressing matters such as academics, family, tennis and yes, Ryoma.

For this particular pitfall, Atobe counters with a wily solution. He deliberately sets the alarm an hour earlier, to give him some time to wake up the sleepy brat (usually that takes 20 minutes on good days, 30 for the usual days, and 45 for the ‘touch me and die’ days). More often than not, if Atobe has anything to say about it, the one-hour leeway also includes certain invigorating morning exercises, which Ryoma so affectionately dubs as ‘rape.’

Another pitfall is the mood factor. While Atobe is not a particularly cheerful person, waking up to greet the new day puts him in a good mood, for the world will once again have a chance to extol his existence.

In contrast, the normally self-assured and unsentimental Ryoma can rival a woman with a nasty case of PMS when forced out of his precious slumber. No, he doesn’t start throwing random objects for no apparent reason, nor does he arbitrarily yell at any creature that moves, but he does become edgy, irritable, and starts threatening many lonely nights on Atobe’s part if the older boy so much as breathes too loudly. And to think that Ryoma is sleeping on Ore-sama’s majestic bed, the ungrateful brat.

Atobe will never admit it but he is capable of tolerating anything, even the toxic grease-laden burgers Ryoma loves consuming, EXCEPT deprivation of his daily dose of Ryoma. The boy has managed to get under Atobe’s skin without trying. There’s something curious about the way Ryoma tries to resist him that makes him want to maul the younger boy even more. It also helps that Atobe knows that Ryoma’s impudence is merely a front, for let it not be said that Atobe Keigo doesn’t know how to please.

Besides, the only thing worse than trying to get Ryoma to have sex with him is not having sex with him at all. And he refuses to resort to onsen powder and hot water bottles, as Ryoma once smugly suggested.

Of course, Atobe has again devised a solution to this particular pitfall. How can he not, with the superior mental faculties at work in his magnificent head? To tell the truth, the solution is quite simple, and laughingly so. All it takes is the tantalizing aroma of specially catered Japanese breakfast dishes, served in the finest china and silverware, and delivered in bed. And like magic, Ryoma willingly rises from sleep.

Sometimes, Atobe joins in the breakfast, although he usually discards the expensive china to make way for his specialized, more palatable eating apparatus, which in layman’s terms, is Ryoma’s washboard, just-as-edible stomach. Since this is a messy method, Atobe gets the added bonus of dragging his boyfriend to the showers or bath, depending on the time, and fooling around some more.

A third pitfall would be the problem of this trite concept known as random fits of horniness, which often falls on Atobe’s part. For if both boys have the same problem, then there is no problem. Sadly, that is not the case.

And to Atobe’s dismay, he has yet to find a solution for it.

Currently, Atobe is coping with the unsolvable pitfall number three. He has just woken up from a very nice dream, one that involved hands, lips, edible pantyhose, tango music and lots of orchestral moaning. Then to his outrage, he suddenly wakes up just as he was getting to the part where Ryoma was writhing under him, begging for the grand finale of their explosive coupling ritual.

And now, he is as horny as a sole bull dolphin in a legion of females.

Atobe feels a growl of frustration making its way up his throat as he discovers the culprit. A lean arm, which can only belong to his boyfriend, has unceremoniously splayed itself across his chest, for some reason that Atobe doesn’t feel like pondering on for the moment. One of the many mysteries surrounding Ryoma is the fact that he sleeps like week-old lard, but at the same time, has an inveterate tendency to be frisky whilst sleeping.

Ryoma makes a melodious purr again, a sound that makes Atobe harder than he already is. Unable to resist, Atobe lets his imagination wander, and he eventually comes to the logical conclusion that Ryoma is having the same dream he had. From the sounds Ryoma is making, he must be on the throes of passion, continuing where Atobe had left off when he woke up.

Well then, Atobe thinks, It isn’t fair that you get all the fun now, is it? Grinning, he prepares to turn that dream into orgasmic reality.

However, just as he is about to launch himself at his boyfriend, Ryoma breathes out the name “Karupin’” and rolls over to his side, turning his back towards Atobe.

Atobe is affronted. He is again reminded that he has yet to acquaint himself with the fact that another creature occupies such a large space in his boyfriend’s heart , although how such an anomaly is possible escapes his guesses.

His irritation does not change the fact that a certain part of his anatomy is in dire need of attention though. But Ryoma is still halfway between lala land and Ore-sama’s grand presence, so getting him in a mood for some morning sex will be a Herculean task. He briefly wonders if he should resort to his solution to pitfall number two, but then, that will take too long. He wants relief and he wants it NOW.

Atobe sits up and looks at his boyfriend’s blanketed form. He partially removes the covers, taking in the remnants of last night’s session—several indiscreet hickeys—and makes a decision. Ryoma will probably throw him off and sulk around the whole day, especially when he sees the territorial marks on his chest, but at this particular moment, Atobe doesn’t care. It’s Ryoma’s fault that the Hyotei captain is suddenly horny anyway.

So, Atobe, feeling his actions are justified, replaces the silk blankets covering Ryoma with his own weight, and blesses the boy’s cherry lips with his own superb ones.

The kiss is met with no resistance, obviously, because Ryoma isn’t conscious yet. Atobe deigns to swivel his tongue inside the boy’s mouth, provoking a response. When there is still no sign of life from Ryoma, Atobe’s lips leave their former post and trail a light path of whisper kisses along Ryoma’s jaw to his neck.

A soft half-moan flits through the boy’s lips, but he does nothing, remaining limp. Atobe then resorts to running his elegant fingers along Ryoma's lean chest, moving south, before working around Ryoma’s hips and resting on one soft butt cheek. Ryoma’s eyelids flutter.

Atobe squeezes.

Almost instantly. Ryoma’s eyes jerk open and Atobe smiles. Now that Ryoma’s awake, it’s time to get serious.

“Monkey –mmph!” Whatever protest Ryoma has is drowned out by Atobe’s forceful kissing, as the older boy decides to re-enact the delicious dream he just had. It is only a matter of minutes before Atobe has totally dominated Ryoma, as his deft hands are suddenly on every inch of the first year’s body.

Ryoma wrenches his mouth away. “Monkey King, you’re a child molester,” he declares, just as Atobe is reaching down towards Ryoma’s nether regions.

Surprised by the unanticipated accusation, Atobe’s right hand stops, although his other hand is still keeping Ryoma in his place. He has expected something along the lines of ‘Fuck off, I’m sleeping’ or ‘Get off me or you won’t get any for tonight’ but ‘You’re a child molester?’ That can’t be right. “Excuse me?”

“Think about it.” Ryoma’s sleep-laced voice lacks strength, and Atobe starts to doubt if the boy is fully awake. “I’m twelve years old, so that technically makes me a child. And you’re a super rich guy, who spoils me in return for sexual satisfaction.”

Of all the low, insipid things to call him, this has to be the worst. Atobe’s eyes darken and he huffs. “Ore-sama simply makes sure you are well-pampered to have enough energy to engage in pleasurable mutually exclusive activities,” he answers indignantly.

“And you seem to have a disturbing fixation on my butt.”

“Ore-sama is merely of the opinion that you have a particularly fine posterior. You should be flattered of my appreciation.”

Still, Ryoma doesn’t appear to have heard him and he yawns. “You obsess when I’m not in the mood to have sex.”

“Ore-sama does not obsess. I only point out reasons why such a measure is unjust and uncalled for.”

“You also stare down anyone who comes within a five foot radius of me.”

There is something odd in the way Ryoma speaks, as if he is still in the vestibule of dreamland, talking on autopilot. Still, Atobe won’t take those accusations lying down and he continues rebutting Ryoma’s fallacious remarks. “Ore-sama does not tolerate having his boyfriend tainted by classless plebeians.”

“And above all else,” Ryoma continues, as if Atobe hadn’t spoken. “You deprive me of sleeping hours whenever you get all horny. Like now.” And with that, Ryoma uses the opportunity to wriggle out from under Atobe and resumes his sleep, not seeming to care that he is all exposed without the sheets.

Atobe's good mood dissipates. He hates it when Ryoma bests him. He hates it even more when Ryoma bests him then ignores him for something as trivial as sleep.

Gathering his pride, he grabs the alarm clock, purposely sets on the alarm bell and shoves it near Ryoma’s ear.

As expected, Ryoma grumpily pushes it away, pressing the snooze button at the same time. The loud ringing stops. “Get that thing away from me.”

“You need to wake up,” Atobe answers, suddenly finding a need to be difficult. Let Ryoma deal with it. It’s not like Atobe doesn’t get the same shit from Ryoma every other day. “You have morning tennis practice, and you know how Tezuka is when it comes to tardiness.”

Ryoma blinks at the red digital numbers. “It’s six thirty. Practice is at eight.”

“Ah but I have to see that you are properly fed, bathed, clothed, and driven to school,” Atobe counters, smirking. “And that takes time.”

Ryoma groans. “I can take care of myself, Monkey King. I’m not a baby.”

“No, but you’re a child, and children need to be looked after.”

“I don’t need to be looked after.”

“Don’t give me that, Ryoma.” There is almost a sing-song quality to Atobe’s voice as he defends his point. “My arguments stem from your own assertions.”

“Yeah well, fuck you, see if I care.”

Oh, this is getting good. Ryoma is frustrated and Atobe is coming close to the answer he is waiting for. “Tsk tsk. Such language isn’t befitting of a child. You deserve a good spanking.”

“Do that and I will whack you so hard, people will be living in Mars when you wake up,” Ryoma growls threateningly, which of course, only makes Atobe smirk even more. “And for the last time, don’t treat me like a child.”

Jackpot.

Atobe shrugs. “Alright.” Then again, he proceeds to plunder another breathtaking kiss from the boy's lips without reserve.

Ryoma pulls away again, this time with more difficulty. “Keigo!” he half-yells, dropping the primitive nickname he keeps using on Atobe as he twists himself out of Atobe’s clutches. “What are you doing?”

“What?” Atobe feigns innocence—if you count that playful, superior look on his face as innocent—and raises one fine eyebrow. “You told me not to treat you like a child. So I’m not.”

“Argh!” Ryoma turns his back on Atobe and buries his face in the pillows. “What is wrong with you!”

“No, Ryoma, what is wrong with you?,” Atobe corrects, thoroughly enjoying himself by this time. “You accuse me of being a child molester. Then when I try to properly treat you like a child, you tell me not to. And when I treat you as I would not treat a child, you tell me to stop. Make up your mind, for the love of god.”

“Mou… It’s too early to think straight.” Ryoma’s muffled voice drops to an almost plaintive quality, but Atobe knows better. “Just let me sleep.”

“No.”

“Fine. I’m not listening to you.” Then Ryoma hides under the blankets before Atobe can steal them.

Atobe glares at the lump under the sheets, more than a little bit annoyed by now. While he finds it highly amusing to get a rise out of the Seigaku rookie, his patience is rapidly dwindling and if Ryoma keeps up this foolish act, Atobe will give the boy a real reason to be sorry.

With much difficulty, he takes a deep breath and starts counting. Ten nine eight…

He has never taken defiance well and he isn’t about to start now. Seven, six, five… Atobe closes his eyes and breathes steadily to calm his unusually plucked nerves.

Four, three, two, one. His eyes open, and he turns towards his boyfriend.

“Fine then, let’s just put it this way,” he starts, making sure his voice doesn’t betray his frustrations. “If I’m a child molester, what does that make you, aa? You certainly refuse to be called a child.”

Ryoma doesn’t answer. Atobe leans closer, and looks under the blanket, only to be immediately aggravated again.

Of course, the little brat has fallen asleep on him. Again. It’s amazing. Really, one would think Atobe’s used to this, what with having a teammate who can beat his boyfriend’s sleeping prowess, but no, the great and wonderful Ore-sama still cannot stand to be ignored.

Finally letting go of all pretenses, he shakes Ryoma awake. “Oi, Ryoma. You did not answer Ore-sama’s question.”

“Zzzz… Hn?” Ryoma blearily opens one eye and sees Atobe’s face hovering above his own. He groans. “What now?”

“If I’m a child molester, what does that make you?”

Ryoma makes an adorable sound that falls halfway between a grunt and a sigh before answering in an irritated, sleepy voice.

“Sore.”

Then he promptly falls back asleep.

That one monosyllabic word floats through Atobe’s ears and knows he should be feeling something akin to apologetic. But strangely, he feels rather… flattered. He leans back on the pillows, and joins Ryoma under the covers, feeling a smile growing on his face, as he took in the sleeping visage of his boyfriend.

Ryoma’s unfairly attractive when he sleeps. One would never think he had been ready to claw Atobe’s eyes out minutes before. Atobe’s gaze lingers on Ryoma’s face a bit longer and he feels a strange warmth in his gut, one that doesn’t have anything to do with his carnal cravings at all.

For once, Atobe allows Ryoma to sleep in. He momentarily wonders what Tezuka would say if Ryoma comes to tennis practice late, all red faced with an I-just-got-molested look in his eyes. Then he shakes his head, deciding that he shall simply grace the Seigaku tennis courts with his Aesir presence later, and accompany Ryoma so he won’t get into too much trouble.

Ah, being a philanthropic god is a taxing task. Ryoma must reward him tonight.

Atobe closes his eyes, the smile still on his face. This is turning out to be a very good morning.

Now that he thinks about it, pitfall number three isn’t really a pitfall at all.

OWARI

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A/N: I’m quickly falling in love with this pair. There isn’t enough of it around. Ryoma and Atobe are two of my three favorite characters in PoT, the last one being Momo. (I’m also in love with the AtoMomo pairing, but for some reason, MomoRyo stings my eyes)

Wrote this during my break. I was actually thinking of turning this into a lemon (because I agree with Atobe, Ryoma needs some spanking) but I have class in ten minutes. Besides, I really need to start writing something that would be accommodating to all age brackets. I swear I will use a G rating for my next fic.

Oh yeah, I just noticed that a lot of AtoRyo fics involves waking up on Atobe’s bed. I wonder why.