Happy Santa_Smex, Venivincere!
To: venivincere
From: illuminations
Title: Take me back to where it all began
Recipient's name: venivincere
Rating: R
Pairing(s): Tezuka/Ryoma, with tiny sprinklings of others.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created by Konomi Takeshi. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's Notes: Dear venivincere, I wasn't sure if I could write Tezuka/Ryoma, since they're such a non-talkative pair (rawr) and were never one of my main pairings. So! Hopefully what I've written works and you enjoy it. :) Many thanks to TR for the enthusiastic beta-ing. <3
The alarm goes off and Ryoma's eyes blink open, hand reaching out from the blankets to smack it blindly until it shuts off. He turns his head, half his face still pressed into the pillow, and waits until the numbers on his alarm clock stop looking like a blur. 7:01 glares at him, bright and angry. The smell of breakfast wafts underneath his door and he sits up, rubbing at his eyes as Karupin crawls into his lap, pressing front paws against Ryoma's chest.
Karupin meows. Ryoma grunts.
He remembers that high school starts today.
"Oi, Echizen!" A body slams into Ryoma, nearly knocking him over. "Echizen! Couldn't stay away, could you? You love your senpai too much. That's okay, not shameful at all!" Momoshiro's arm finds its way around Ryoma's shoulders, squeezing almost too hard. "How was America? Horrible? That's too bad, definitely too bad."
Ryoma ignores the presence of Momoshiro's arm and continues walking. Momoshiro doesn't seem to mind, simply following as he continues to talk. "This is just like old times, except you're not as bratty."
"Stop touching me, senpai," Ryoma mumbles.
"Ochibi!" A flash of red zips through the crowd of students in front of Ryoma, and then he's being made to participate in a Kikumaru-Momoshiro sandwich, cap nearly falling off in the process. "Momo, ochibi's with us again!"
"Senpai!" Ryoma grunts and pushes the two away. He places both hands on top of his head, as if the sandwiching has after-effects.
"Hey, Echizen," Kikumaru says, also putting his arm around Ryoma's shoulder. This is the last thing Ryoma wants, to be walking down the hall on the first day with two ridiculous upperclassmen riding his back. Kikumaru leans down and points a finger in his face. Ryoma wonders if he can relapse from jetlag. "Try-outs are on Thursday. You better be there!"
"Kikumaru-senpai," Momoshiro butts in, "of course he'll be there. Why wouldn't he be there? Hey, Echizen, you're gonna be there, right?"
"I'm gonna be late for class," is all Ryoma says before ducking out from underneath them and turning the corner.
Like they needed to know he's had Thursday circled on his calendar since three months ago.
Ryoma sees everybody that day. Even Inui who stopped him in the hall to take his measurements, eyebrows raised afterwards like he was surprised and astonished Ryoma had grown over the summer, and then he bumped into Kaidoh around the corner after making a quick exit when Inui asked him, "Can you cough for me too?"
On his way home, he thinks about the one person that wasn't part of everybody.
***
Tezuka's room was cold. Ryoma took off his sweatshirt and draped it over Tezuka's chair.
"Buchou," he said quietly, gripping the back of the chair.
"Go home, Echizen."
"No." Ryoma walked up to where Tezuka sat at the edge of his bed. "Buchou," he said again, louder, though Tezuka showed no reaction. Ryoma didn't really expect anything less. Holding his breath, he reached out and held his hand next to Tezuka's cheek, barely touching. Motionless.
Tezuka didn't even blink and Ryoma dropped his hand back down. He bit his lip in frustration. "Why not?" he asked, even though he's asked before despite Tezuka giving him the same non-answer every time.
"It's not appropriate."
Ryoma clenched his hands into fists at his sides, fingernails digging into the creases of his palms. "Why," he kept pushing, because he was leaving tomorrow morning and just wanted to know - wondered when Tezuka would give him something real instead of something that would barely placate a child. He wasn't a child, he wanted to scream. Felt his lungs burn with it.
Tezuka didn't even answer this time and something in Ryoma snapped, or perhaps it was something between them that he suddenly forced away because in one blink, Tezuka was on his back while Ryoma hovered above, jaw clenched as he breathed hard through his nose. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, tangled as he tried to find the words - any words - to make Tezuka understand. It frustrated him that his silence meant maybe he didn't understand either.
Closing his eyes, Ryoma dropped his head to Tezuka's chest. His hands went from Tezuka's shoulders up to his buchou's face, touching blindly. His fingertips drifted over the curves of Tezuka's cheeks and jaw, and down to the rise and fall of Tezuka's throat. He felt Tezuka's pulse thrum and race against the rhythm of his own.
"Echi-"
Ryoma cut Tezuka off with a kiss, eyes suddenly wide open as they stared into Tezuka's. He didn't want to hear it again. For once, he wanted Tezuka to say something else besides go home. He wanted to believe that that wasn't what Tezuka really wanted, just what he thought he had to say.
Tezuka's hands came up and gripped his arms, thumbs pressing into Ryoma's elbows. When Ryoma didn't budge and instead deepened the kiss, his thumbs dug in even more, almost painfully. Ryoma moved his mouth over Tezuka's closed lips, breath held, and his chest tightened with each passing second. Even when he was playing Tezuka and his lungs stung with each breath just to keep up, it never hurt this bad.
Ryoma jerked his arm out of Tezuka's grip and slid his hand down to slip it underneath Tezuka's shirt. The muscles of Tezuka's stomach tensed immediately, and after that, Tezuka's entire body stilled underneath Ryoma.
It wasn't supposed to ever be like this, Ryoma thought as he broke the one-sided kiss.
"Echizen," said Tezuka almost inaudibly, and Ryoma's hands shook. He tried to will the sound of disappointment in Tezuka's voice away. It didn't work. "Please go home."
Ryoma somehow made his limbs move and crawled off of Tezuka. The ground didn't even feel like it was there as he backed away from Tezuka who was still lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling. "Buchou."
Tezuka reached up and gripped the part of his shirt that had ridden up when Ryoma touched him, tugging it back down. He didn't let go afterwards. Nausea built in Ryoma's throat and he suddenly wanted nothing more than to be anywhere but there.
He ran.
***
On Thursday, Ryoma wakes before his alarm and lies there until it goes off. He hadn't seen Tezuka yesterday either, but knows that a meeting would be inevitable today. The nausea from three months ago stirs in the pit of his stomach, but Ryoma ignores it as best he can.
He's going to do it right this time, even if he has to force more chances.
Classes drag unbearably slow that day and by the time Ryoma arrives at the tennis courts, there's a level of nervousness in him that he hasn't ever experienced before. Most of the Seigaku regulars are already warming up, but no sign of their buchou.
Momoshiro spots him first and waves him over, shouting his name loud enough that it makes nearly everyone take at least a glance at him. Ryoma tells himself he's not going to throw up as he walks to wear Momoshiro is.
"Echizen." Ryoma's only halfway when Fuji stops him. "You look pale." Ryoma just stares at him, wondering what he's supposed to do about it. "If you can't play your best, just tell Tezuka."
"I'm fine," Ryoma says and presses his mouth into a tight line, then adds belatedly, "Fuji-senpai."
Fuji opens his eyes a little and looks at Ryoma curiously. It makes Ryoma feel paranoia on top of his nerves. But all Fuji ends up saying is, "All right, Echizen. Good luck. We've missed you," and walks away to warm up with Kikumaru.
Ryoma puts his bag next to Momoshiro's and takes his racket out. He grips the handle tightly, though it still feels like it's going to fly out of his hand the moment he hits the ball. As he goes to warm up with Momoshiro, he wonders if Tezuka's watching him from somewhere. The thought that Tezuka might be, regardless of whether or not he really was, comforts Ryoma enough. At least more than the thought of Tezuka no longer caring at all.
His muscles still haven't loosened by the time they're all lined up on the baseline, instead feeling like they're even more wound up. He can barely stand still, fingers twitching around the grip. There were murmurs during warm-ups about him, about the kid that came back from America (again) and was already buddy-buddy with the current regulars. Ryoma didn't care what they said, at least not until they started mentioning Tezuka's name.
"Hey, Echizen." Momoshiro digs his elbow into Ryoma's side. "Tezuka-buchou's tennis has gotten even scarier."
Ryoma tugs his cap down and shrugs.
"Maybe for you," Kaidoh cuts in from Momoshiro's other side.
"Shut up, Mamushi," Momoshiro says. "Remember when my game with buchou was two minutes longer than yours?"
"He went easy on you!"
"Whatever, asshole. Buchou would never do that!"
"Don't call me an asshole, you asshole!"
Momoshiro starts lunging for Kaidoh, but only manages a rough grasp of Kaidoh's collar when they're cut off by a voice that's both familiar and foreign to Ryoma. "Momoshiro. Kaidoh."
Managing to look sheepish, Momoshiro scratches the back of his head. "Sorry, buchou." Kaidoh just looks down.
It's what Ryoma's doing too suddenly, staring at his shoes and the way the laces of one are coming undone. He wants to see Tezuka, but he doesn't want to see him in front of everyone else. Sweat feels like it's trickling down his face but when he reaches up to wipe it away, nothing's there.
"Report to your assigned court after all names have been read," Tezuka says, then proceeds to go down the list. "Court D - Echizen Ryoma."
Ryoma's sure there are other names after his, but he can't be bothered to care behind his irrational relief at hearing Tezuka say his. He snaps out of it when Momoshiro starts walking away, grunting when Momoshiro tells him not to destroy the other player.
But then the first guy tells him that buchou's favorite doesn't mean special treatment, so Ryoma decides he can ignore Momoshiro's advice and ends the game in ten minutes, 6-0. After that, everyone else loses confidence and he doesn't even have to try that hard to win.
It does feel nice afterwards when he goes up to Inui and reports the scores, and sees the list of names identical to the one from three years ago. Ryoma sort of wonders if everything can be identical to the way it was three years ago, now.
Ryoma stays behind after practice, ignoring Momoshiro when he insisted Ryoma should go with them for celebratory sushi. Tezuka had disappeared into the clubhouse ten minutes ago and Ryoma thinks it's been long enough, that if they don't talk now, Ryoma's the one that's going to start avoiding.
He waits outside the door and scuffs the toe of his shoe against the grass, bag propped up beside him. Sounds of shuffling and a locker opening and closing filter out, slightly muted, and Ryoma feels his ribcage grow tighter and tighter around his lungs.
"Echizen."
Blinking, Ryoma looks up and finds Tezuka looking at him. He hadn't even noticed Tezuka come out, too caught up in mulling over what he would say; he still hasn't come up with anything.
"… Hi, buchou."
It's awkward. Ryoma wants to take back his words already, and he hasn't even said anything at all.
"Did you need something?" Tezuka asks, completely neutral. Ryoma doesn't know if he likes that or not.
"No," Ryoma says. "Just wanted to - I don't know." He drops his head again and tries not to sulk in frustration. "Sorry," he says stiffly, when Tezuka stays silent. "For what I did back then. I was stupid." Tezuka doesn't say anything to that either and Ryoma starts to question if any of this is really the good idea he imagined it would be. He knows the apology is three months too late, but he's trying. "That's all."
Tezuka nods once. It doesn't really make Ryoma feel less guilty. "Your tennis has improved again," he says after a while.
Whether or not that was meant to be forgiveness, Ryoma still can't stop his mouth from curving upwards at the praise. "Thanks, buchou." Ryoma picks up his bag. "Are you going to the train station too?" he asks hesitantly, extra careful for not wanting or willing to screw things up again.
"Ah." Tezuka turns his body away slightly and Ryoma takes the two steps to be next to him.
He hopes he hasn't assumed wrong, and lets out the breath he's been holding when Tezuka starts walking with. It's not completely comfortable, but it's hundreds times better than what the last few months have been like. Maybe familiar isn't too far off.
Halfway to the station, Ryoma tightens the grip he has on his bag's strap and says, barely audible above the sounds around them, "Buchou. Do you want to play a game sometime?"
They walk a block before Tezuka says, "That would be good."
At dinner, Nanjirou tells Ryoma to stop smiling so much, it's creepy.
The first school they play is Yamabuki. Neither he nor Tezuka play, but Ryoma doesn't mind so much; at least, not when he gets to sit next to Tezuka for the duration of the game. They win easily, but Ryoma doesn't really remember anything that happened, too focused on how there's only a few centimeters of space between him and Tezuka, enough so that he can feel Tezuka's body heat.
After, while Tezuka converses with the coach, Ryoma gets accosted by Dan Taichi who's manager of the high school team now.
"Echizen-kun, Echizen-kun!" he calls, running up to Ryoma. He hasn't grown as much as Ryoma, but the headband seems to fit better now.
He finds out that Dan still talks five thousand words per minute and most of it is about how Akutsu-senpai never joined tennis again, but it's okay because Dan still goes over to his house anyway.
"How's Echizen-kun?"
"Uh. Fine," Ryoma answers, glancing over at Tezuka, fully prepared to ditch the second their conversation seems to be over.
"How's Tezuka-buchou?"
"… Fine, too."
Dan smiles even brighter. "I'm really happy for you, Echizen-kun!" Ryoma's more than confused and his face probably looks it because Dan continues with, "You and Tezuka-buchou?"
Ryoma still doesn't know what Dan's talking about, but it sounds troublesome and he starts feeling antsy, wanting Tezuka and their coach to be done already so they could leave.
"You know, sometimes when Akutsu-senpai is being really difficult, I sit on his lap and tell him I'm staying there forever unless he talks to me," Dan says casually.
Ryoma doesn't really know what kind of reaction to give him at that point. Luckily, someone calls Dan's name then, telling him the bus is here.
Dan yells back that he's coming, then turns back to Ryoma. "Bye, Echizen-kun! Tell Tezuka-buchou I said hi!" he says before running back to the Yamabuki team.
Shoving his hands into his pockets, Ryoma turns around and does the same, walking back towards where Momoshiro is waving at him. He passes by Tezuka and the image of him climbing into Tezuka's lap suddenly appears in his head.
He tries not to blush too hard when, as soon as he's within earshot, Momoshiro asks him why he looks constipated.
An entire two months pass after that with neither Ryoma nor Tezuka mentioning the match they agreed to play. With his new biggest fear being too pushy, Ryoma doesn't even want to ask about that, no matter how badly he wants to play. One day, when he stays behind again so he and Tezuka can walk to the station together (somehow, a habit that's been formed, though he'll be the last to complain), he decides he can't wait anymore and blurts out, "I want to play, buchou."
Tezuka finishes buttoning up his shirt, then says, "I am free this weekend."
"Oh. Okay." Ryoma wonders if, just then, it was a smile that he saw pulling at Tezuka's mouth. "Um, the usual place?" He hasn't stepped foot onto the street court under the tracks since the last time they played there however many months ago, but it still feels wrong to call it anything but their usual place.
"Is two o'clock alright?"
Ryoma nods. Even if he had something else planned, it wouldn't matter.
He's going to play with Tezuka again.
Saturday afternoon, Ryoma gets to the street courts half an hour early. He walks around the court, then stands at one end, toes against the baseline. He didn't get to see Tezuka's tennis on try-outs day, and Tezuka hasn't had a reason to play since outside of assisting others with their moves, so Ryoma doesn't know what to expect. He's restless, wanting Tezuka to be standing on the other side of the net already, wanting to see what's changed and what's still the same.
Tezuka's the only thing he constantly finds himself wanting to work towards, more than any international tournament or fame. It's a sort of greediness he can't help.
Two o'clock finally rolls around and Tezuka shows up right on time. They don't speak and Tezuka takes his spot, asking Ryoma smooth or rough.
Ryoma takes a deep breath and chooses. Then they play.
Ryoma's trailing horribly forty minutes in. It feels like while he was gone, Tezuka's tennis increased an entire level. He feels a little jealous, even though there's nothing he can be jealous of. Maybe the moment it happened. He thinks he should've been there.
Even so, he uses everything he knows, pushing himself past the way his muscles burn and wrist aches. Tezuka is the only one besides his dad that can ever tell when he's using 100%, and Ryoma thinks that's the only thing Tezuka deserves, even if it's not enough to be a challenge.
Tezuka's moves are sharp and swift, and at one point, Ryoma feels like they're playing with two balls. He doesn't know how his legs are still working, but as long as they are, he'll keep diving at the smashes and jumping up at the lobs.
In the end, he loses, but he feels more content than all of the times he's won at the US Open. Tezuka comes up to the net and holds his hand out. Ryoma stares for a few seconds before taking it. The sweat on their palms makes it slippery, so Ryoma just grabs on tighter.
There's a clatter and Tezuka's gaze breaks away from his to look down at where Ryoma let his racket drop. When Tezuka looks back, there's clearly a question in his expression, one that Ryoma answers by lifting his now free hand to Tezuka's chest and fisting his shirt. They haven't let go of each others' hands yet either.
"Is it okay yet?" Ryoma makes himself say, because he doesn't know if he actually wants to know the answer.
"Echiz-"
"Look at me," Ryoma says firmly, ignoring that Tezuka already is. He's not 12 anymore. He wishes Tezuka would see that.
Tezuka's hand starts slipping away from his, but Ryoma darts his own forward to circle his fingers around Tezuka's wrist to stop it. If Tezuka really doesn't want it, Ryoma will let him walk away, but he doesn't believe that's what Tezuka's thinking at all. There's a bit of blind hope in what he's doing, but he would take the risk over and over if he had to.
"Come on, buchou," Ryoma says, quieter this time. Right now is most vulnerable he's ever felt, and he sort of hates it, but he just wants Tezuka to trust him again.
Tezuka lets go of his racket too.
On the train, Ryoma stands between Tezuka and the door. He's trying not to be the worst kind of teenage girl, the kind that only knows how to cling. He balls his hands into fists and shoves them into his pockets, thinking it'll be fine, but then more people get on the train two stops later and Ryoma has to stand so close that one of his feet ends up between Tezuka's.
When they finally get to Tezuka's stop, Ryoma kind of feels like kissing the ground when they exit the train, grateful that he can put some distance between them again. He wants to be close to Tezuka, but he doesn't want everyone in Japan to know just how much.
Tezuka's house looks the same; though Ryoma doesn't know what he thought would've changed. While he changes into house slippers, Tezuka goes into the kitchen and makes them tea, telling Ryoma to go upstairs first if he likes. Half way up the staircase, he hears Tezuka tell his grandfather that Ryoma's here for some tutoring.
If Ryoma weren't so nervous, he would laugh.
It's clear what's going to happen, and he thinks Tezuka knows it too, but even so, when Ryoma gets to Tezuka's room, he stands in the middle like doesn't know what to do. Sitting at Tezuka's desk seems awkward, but the bed would be even more so. He's still standing aimlessly when Tezuka comes upstairs with their tea, face pinking in embarrassment even though Tezuka says nothing about it.
Tezuka chooses his bed, sitting down on the edge, and looks at Ryoma expectantly. Ryoma clears his throat and goes to sit next to him, tucking his hands under his thighs without thinking about it.
"Are you nervous?"
Surprised, Ryoma blinks up at Tezuka, not expecting such a direct question. "Um?"
"The other day," Tezuka says, looking a bit uncertain, "Inui discussed the intricacies of body language with me."
"Oh." Ryoma takes his hands out, resting them on the bed instead. He almost wishes Inui were there when Tezuka reaches over and places a hand over his, so he could tell Ryoma if he's reading the gesture right or just thinking too much. Tezuka's still looking at him silently and it takes a beat or two for Ryoma to realize that he hasn't answered yet. He considers lying, but knows that it would be pretty transparent. "Maybe," he says, deciding on middle ground, and he shrugs a little.
Tezuka curls his fingers underneath Ryoma's hand, pressing against the middle of his palm.
The warmth of Tezuka's fingers makes Ryoma's breath catch for a second and he grabs back, like he's keeping Tezuka there in case he changes his mind. Sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, he scoots closer until their joined hands are snug between their thighs. He can feel Tezuka's breath now, barely grazing against his cheek. Swallowing hard, he leans in even more until his mouth is centimeters away from Tezuka's. "Buchou," he murmurs, squeezing Tezuka's hand, "I can, right?"
Tezuka brings his other hand around and cups Ryoma's face. Ryoma closes his eyes and holds his breath, waiting.
"Yes," Tezuka exhales, and he kisses Ryoma.
Ryoma fists the bed sheets with his other hand and makes a soft noise, letting Tezuka kiss him for a few seconds before he starts returning it, light and tentative before it finally hits him that Tezuka is giving him permission. It's okay and Tezuka wants what he wants too.
Pulling away to curl his hand around the back of Tezuka's neck, Ryoma leans back in and kisses Tezuka just a little bit harder, enough that the frames of Tezuka's glasses dig into his cheeks, though he ignores it easily because Tezuka's still kissing back and Ryoma fears that if they stop for even one second, they'll stop completely.
Tezuka does break the kiss, but before Ryoma can start second-guessing, Tezuka is nudging at his shoulder and making him lie down. Ryoma tugs a little on Tezuka's hand, until the other is hovering over him. Tezuka's weight presses Ryoma's hand into the mattress while he reaches up and takes his glasses off.
Leaning down, Tezuka's mouth brushes against Ryoma's before nudging his nose against Ryoma's cheek. "Echizen."
"Ryoma." Tezuka lifts his head again and furrows his brow. "I want to hear you say it," Ryoma says, turning his head and letting his mouth drag against Tezuka's.
Nodding, Tezuka sits up and kneels between Ryoma's legs. He lets go of Ryoma's hand, but makes up for the loss by trailing his fingers down Ryoma's sides, then slipping them underneath his shirt. Tezuka's hands are warm, but Ryoma still shivers, eyes falling shut as he arches his chest a little into the touch.
Even though Tezuka goes slow, Ryoma doesn't register his clothes being taken off until he's laying there in his only his underwear. Tezuka is still fully-clothed above him, watching him through heavy-lidded eyes and Ryoma tries not to blush too hard, feeling almost uncomfortably exposed.
Tezuka touches him like Ryoma's going to fall apart if he presses too hard, and Ryoma doesn't say anything if only because each brush of Tezuka's fingertips is affecting him more than he'd like to admit. By the time Tezuka is kissing down Ryoma's stomach, he has his lip between his teeth in anticipation, toes already curling on either side of Tezuka's hips.
He doesn't have time to complain about how dressed Tezuka still is when Tezuka starts taking his boxers off, mouth continuing to drift lower. He doesn't know how to speak, period, when Tezuka wraps his hand around him and starts stroking leisurely.
Tezuka leans up again and lies down next to him. Ryoma circles his arm around Tezuka's neck and buries his fingers in Tezuka's hair, mouth parting when Tezuka dips his head and mouths along the length of Ryoma's collarbone, stopping only when he gets to the dip at the base of Ryoma's throat. Tezuka sucks firmly at the skin there and Ryoma's head automatically tilts back to give him more room, a small, choked noise escaping his throat when Tezuka starts moving his hand faster.
"Buchou," Ryoma says, blinking up at the ceiling. He's sure he's not going to last for long if Tezuka keeps going like this. He digs his heels into the mattress, thighs tensing jerkily. It's like Tezuka doesn't even hear, fingers tightening as he laps his tongue against where his lips just were. Ryoma whines, arching even more, nails scratching against Tezuka's scalp.
Tezuka reaches up and takes Ryoma's chin, pressing their mouths together firmly before sucking on Ryoma's bottom lip. It sends another shiver down Ryoma's spine and he clings to Tezuka, fingers gripping Tezuka's bicep.
"Buchou," Ryoma says again, quiet and shaky. "Don't want to - you, too." He slides his hand down Tezuka's arm and thumbs at his hip, slipping it underneath the waistband of Tezuka's shorts.
Taking his hand away, Tezuka helps and they strip him from the waist down. Extracting himself from Ryoma, he tugs his shirt off before scooting up the bed to sit propped up against the headboard. He then holds his hand out to Ryoma, pulling him onto his lap.
Ryoma closes his eyes and sighs as he rubs up against Tezuka, a different sort of warmth pooling in his stomach. He starts rocking his hips back and forth, sliding his arms around Tezuka's shoulders for leverage. His mouth finds Tezuka's again, moving over it slow but firm, tasting. He slides his tongue along Tezuka's bottom lip before pushing it past Tezuka's teeth, sweeping it over the roof of Tezuka's mouth.
Tezuka smoothes his palms over the juts of Ryoma's hipbones, following the movements of Ryoma's pelvis, but then grips them as he starts pushing his own up. Ryoma gasps softly as he pulls away and ducks his head against the curve between Tezuka's neck and shoulder. "Want to feel your hand again," he says quietly.
Immediately, one of Tezuka's hands slides across Ryoma's stomach to slip between them, fingers wrapping around them both. Ryoma thrusts into Tezuka's palm as he starts kissing up Tezuka's throat and jaw, smiling softly at the quiet noises Tezuka makes in his ear.
Their breathing grows heavier with every stroke and thrust, Tezuka eventually reaching up to pull Ryoma's head back lightly so he can have his turn kissing every patch of skin he can reach. Ryoma's moving his entire body against Tezuka's, the sweat on their skin making the slide easier.
"Faster," Ryoma murmurs, the pleasure winding in his stomach.
Tezuka complies and starts twisting his wrist on every upstroke. Ryoma moans low in his throat, letting his head fall back as he moves his hips faster, greedy for more friction. One of Tezuka's hands grips his chin and pulls him back up, and Ryoma barely has time to register what's happening before Tezuka crushes their mouths together, tongue pushing past Ryoma's lips to stroke it against his.
Ryoma's hands tighten on Tezuka's shoulders as a warning, pressing the skin white, and Tezuka pulls back, but lets their mouths stay touching, brushing together as they move.
Panting into Ryoma's mouth, Tezuka gives one more sharp twist of his hand and murmurs "Ryoma" against his parted lips.
His name is what pushes Ryoma over the edge and he groans under his breath, spilling between them. After, he looks at Tezuka headily and leans forward in a slight daze, kissing Tezuka softly, smiling as Tezuka tenses against him a second later.
They're sweaty and sticky, Tezuka's hair matted against the nape of his neck, but Ryoma stays where he is, forehead pressed to Tezuka's temple as he runs his fingers through Tezuka's hair slowly.
And as long as Tezuka's arms stay around his waist, he's not going to stop.
***
"Hey, buchou," Ryoma says the next day after practice. "We're going to do it for real today, right?" Tezuka crosses his arms and stares at him extra stonily, looking like he's considering whether or not he should be regretting all the decisions he's made.
"Go home, Echizen."