Title: Languid

Word Count: 935


Ryoma's eyes flutter open to the afternoon sunlight and Tezuka's arm around his waist. The boy turns, and snuggles closer to the lump next to him. The covers are sprawled. A heavy burn throbs between Ryoma's legs, and much to his chargin, his rear-end aches. The 17-year old peers over the blankets at Tezuka.

He's awake, of course. Ryoma can't count how many times the captain has pretended to sleep just so they can cuddle.

"Buchou?" the boy whispers. He slips his arms under Tezuka's back and wraps them around his torso. Tezuka's brow twitches, and two dark brown eyes reveal themselves. "Echizen?" the older figure murmurs, reciprocating the hug. His sculpted muscles securely hold Ryoma to his chest. Ryoma raises an eyebrow, but says nothing.

"This is comfortable," Ryoma stretches his neck so his cheek rests against Tezuka's nape. "Except my butt hurts."

Tezuka sighs audibly. Leave it to Ryoma to ruin a perfectly precious moment. "I told you to put the ointment on before going to bed, but you refused to listen," the brunette gives Ryoma a reprimanding look, still fixed on playing the role of a captain. Ryoma grunts in response, shifting uncomfortably. Tezuka's eyes slant.

"If you're really uncomfortable, go put it on now."

"No," Ryoma yawns. "Don't wanna get up."


Ryoma turns and rests on his elbows, a glare on his face. "It's your fault. You made me bottom. Go get it for me."

Tezuka chances an incredulous expression, despite his faith in not showing emotion. Sometimes, Ryoma can be inconceivably rude. "I will not get it for you," the older says lowly, brushing a strand of Ryoma's black-green hair. "If you feel uncomfortable, it's only right that you get up and get it yourself."

"It's your fault," Ryoma jabs. "You did this to me."

"You wanted it," Tezuka replies solemnly.

"And now I want the cream thingy. Go get it."

Tezuka frowns, and fumbles for his glasses by the table. He slips them on, and his vision clears up. He looks at Ryoma with disapproval written all over his face, but the effect is somewhat lessened because he's holding the boy tightly in his arms. "I will not do your work for you," the captain insists, nudging his petulant boyfriend. Ryoma curls closer to the warmth. "Why?"

"I'm tired too."

"Being bottom is much more work," Ryoma whines. Tezuka doesn't mention that Ryoma's never had sex except this once, so there isn't really any way for him to confirm that. He glances past his boyfriend to the window, where dust sparkles against the windowsill. They really should start getting up, and making breakfast. But Tezuka feels inexplicably languid today.

Ryoma kicks his boyfriend. Tezuka winces. "Echizen. Stop. You're seventeen now, not five."

"And your nineteen-year old teenager, not a father," Ryoma shoots back. They stare at each for a moment, gazes focused, until Ryoma smirks and falls back down onto Tezuka's chest. The latter runs his fingers through the boy's mop of hair. "We have university, you know," Tezuka mentions quietly, tucking one of Ryoma's strands behind his ear. "We could still make it to the afternoon lessons."

"No." Ryoma says. "Please, no. I can't even walk."

"If you get the ointment-"

"You get it," Ryoma protests, stretching his legs. He cringes in pain. "I'll sleep some more."

Tezuka cannot phantom his boyfriend getting any lazier than this, but he feels hypocritical, because he feels the same way too. Although normally prompt and responsible, even Tezuka wants to sleep in and just lie there for a while. His entire body aches, and the sunlight warming his neck tousles his eyelids.

"Last night was good," Ryoma finally says into Tezuka's chest.

Tezuka's lips quirk, despite his tiredness. "It was. We did good for our first time."

"I did good," Ryoma corrects. "You were a little mada mada dane in the beginning."

Another lengthy sigh escapes Tezuka's mouth, and he rolls over and gently places Ryoma onto his own side of the bed. Ryoma frowns, and shuffles closer so his nose touches Tezuka's, both of their eyes locked in an intense gaze. Ryoma really does believe last night was good – despite the pain in the beginning, it had been one of the most exhilarating things he has ever done. The thrill had nearly matched tennis. Nearly. But not quite.

"A match today?" Ryoma ventures.

"You said you couldn't even walk."

"That's different."

Tezuka adjusts his glasses. "Let's take it easy today."

"More sex?" Ryoma eagerly suggests.

"No." A pause. "Definitely not more of that."

"Ch'," Ryoma responds huffily. "Fine, buchou. I guess I can't argue with you."

"I suppose you can't."

A brief silence ensues, and they both don't know what to say next.

Ryoma stills, and Tezuka wraps his arms around him once again, gently coddling him. The boy, in turn, mewls in appreciation and comfortably snuggles up to the captain. The walls in their room brighten, beckoning them to wake up and welcome the day, but both are rather content in just lying in each other's arms. Candidly, Ryoma sighs and closes his eyes. Tezuka's breath tingles against his ear, and Ryoma happily decides that he could stay like this forever. The pain in his backside escalates.

"Buchou?" the boy whines.


"My butt hurts."

Dreadfully, Tezuka gives into the repetition, and slips off the bed to get the ointment. It always ends up being him, anyway, no matter how much he reasons. Perhaps that's because reasoning with Ryoma is an impossible task itself. From behind him, Ryoma snickers in triumph.