Ryouma was entertained by Tezuka-san’s apartment. Most of it was meticulously neat in an absentminded sort of way. He was willing to bet that Tezuka-san put things back in their assigned places without ever really thinking about it. So he had to wonder just who had supplied the huge, untidily sprawling spider plant that hung by the sliding door to the modest balcony, or the equally sprawling jade plant a short stand underneath it.

Actually, he’d bet on Fuji-senpai for the jade plant; Ryouma had seen one like it overrunning Fuji-senpai’s windowsill in a twining riot of tendrils. But Fuji didn’t use the same jab twice very often, so there must be someone else who thought Tezuka-san’s life could do with a bit less order. At least two people, then, who would probably approve of him, Ryouma thought, knowing that the grin taking over his face was likely a dead give-away to his thoughts.

“You look like you’re contemplating making my life difficult,” Tezuka-san remarked, behind him.

Sure enough. When Ryouma turned, though, he could feel the grin turning into something less certain. He’d spent quite some time, by now, sidestepping his physical attraction to Tezuka-san. Having Tezuka-san standing in front of him, close enough to feel his body heat, was a little… disorienting. It only got moreso as Tezuka-san’s expression softened; normally it took a good deal more work on Ryouma’s part before that happened.

It was actually better when Tezuka-san gathered him close. Easier to let his body’s response rule. Ryouma moved closer still, fitting himself against Tezuka-san, stretching up to press a kiss against his mouth.

The expression of Tezuka’s body changed, at that, tautened. So much the better—less time to waste thinking. Ryouma buried one hand in springy, honey brown hair and licked, lightly, at Tezuka-san’s lower lip. Tezuka’s arms tightened around him, hard enough to drive the breath out of him. Tezuka caught Ryouma’s gasp in his mouth, lifting him up and kissing him deeply.

And then Tezuka-san drew in a long breath and started to loosen his grip.

“Don’t let go,” Ryouma protested, pressing close.

Tezuka-san stilled. “Most people like to breathe,” he pointed out.

“Breathing is nice,” Ryouma agreed. “But when you hold me that hard I know I’ve really reached you.”

After a moment, Tezuka’s arms closed snugly again, and Ryouma looked up with a smile. Tezuka-san was studying him, mouth curved with a faintly rueful quirk at one corner. “I never expected you to make a vocation of that hobby of yours,” he said, softly.

“Why not?” Ryouma asked. “Don’t you know what you’re like, when you open up a little?” Tezuka-san’s brows asked the question, and Ryouma chewed on his lip, trying to put it into words. “It’s like water,” he said, at last. “Underwater, it’s everywhere, wrapped all around you, and it seems perfectly calm until a current comes along. And then you can’t do anything to keep from moving with it. That’s what you’re like when we play for real. And then, when you forget to be reserved, it’s like the surface of water—choppy or bright or ticklish when you put your hand in the way of the waves.” He couldn’t say what look there was in Tezuka-san’s eyes, now. It wasn’t one he’d ever seen before. But it made him think of something else, and he slid both arms over Tezuka-san’s shoulders, laughing up at him. “And I don’t know what it’s like, yet, when you touch someone, but I was hoping to find out.”

Tezuka brushed fingers through Ryouma’s hair and down the side of his neck. “Are you sure?” he asked, deep voice a little huskier than usual.

Accustomed, from years of listening, to hearing the things Tezuka left unsaid, Ryouma tipped his head and gave him a slightly exasperated look. “I’m not afraid,” he said, definitely. “And I like this, and I want to feel you.”

Tezuka’s arms tightened fiercely around him, again, but his lips against Ryouma’s were soft and light, coaxing faint, breathless sounds from him. When one of Tezuka’s legs pressed between his, Ryouma moaned, arching up against Tezuka and pulling him down to a more insistent kiss. When Tezuka’s tongue still only flirted with his, Ryouma nipped at it, and then made a pleased sound as Tezuka’s low laugh vibrated down the whole length of his body.

“Bedroom,” Tezuka murmured.

Ryouma growled, but let go long enough for them to cross the apartment without tripping. He would have pounced on Tezuka again, there, but Tezuka closed his hands over Ryouma’s shoulders, brushing his thumbs across Ryouma’s collar bones. Ryouma caught his breath, and stood, curious. Tezuka stepped back and began undressing, without either haste or hesitation. By the time his shirt slid off his arms, only to be caught and draped, neatly, over the closet door, Ryouma’s breath was coming short. Which he couldn’t help thinking was a little ridiculous, considering the number of times he’d seen Tezuka one pair of boxers short of naked, but there it was. It wasn’t until Tezuka stripped off the last cloth, and stepped back to sit on the edge of his bed, dropping his folded glasses on the bedside table, that Ryouma understood. It was in Tezuka’s eyes when he met Ryouma’s gaze, in the hand he held out to invite Ryouma close again. Ryouma had said that he wanted to see Tezuka open. Tezuka was telling him that he could.

Ryouma came and took Tezuka’s hand in both of his, stroking his fingers over the palm and hearing Tezuka’s breath catch in turn. And then he stepped back a little and reached for the hem of his own shirt. He couldn’t quite manage to meet Tezuka’s eyes, but he felt them on him like a beam of sunlight—something hot and tangible where it touched.

When he stepped back to the bed, Tezuka’s hands passing up his back smoothed the awkwardness away, and Ryouma leaned into him with a sigh, relaxing. This feeling, skin sliding over skin, was almost familiar. It felt like those times, when they played, that they both saw each other clearly, the times when they each knew what the other would do, when they… touched. Ryouma eased into the familiarity, straddling Tezuka’s legs so that he could press closer. Tezuka’s hands swept tiny shivers up his legs, over his ribs, threaded into his hair and drew Ryouma down to a kiss that made him glad he wasn’t supporting his own weight.

Tezuka’s mouth muffled the sound Ryouma made when those long hands slipped back down and between his legs. Tezuka let Ryouma’s sudden surge against him tumble them both back onto the bed, and Ryouma found himself sprawled over Tezuka, looking down at the smile lurking at the corners of Tezuka’s mouth. Shifting to twine his legs more comfortably with Tezuka’s, Ryouma paused and sighed. He could feel that Tezuka was hard. He rocked against Tezuka, gasping a little, both at the hot wash of sensation and at the soft groan it pulled from Tezuka. Tezuka’s fingers kneaded against his rear, spreading him open, stroking him, and Ryouma tensed a little. He saw both heat and deliberate restraint as Tezuka looked up at him.

“Have you ever done this before?” Tezuka asked.

Ryouma shook his head. “Not this.”

Tezuka’s mouth softened further, and he wrapped his arms around Ryouma and rolled them over, kissing Ryouma gently until he was breathing deeply again, moving with Tezuka. “Tell me if you don’t like this, then,” Tezuka said, reaching over Ryouma’s head. “Some people don’t.”

Ryouma felt Tezuka’s slick fingers nudging against him, and shivered a little, pulling Tezuka down to kiss him again. One finger pressed, circling, and slid into him. It was… odd. Ryouma couldn’t decide whether he liked it or not. The fact of it, there, was very strange, and yet the sliding movement might be nice. He frowned.

“More.”

He could feel Tezuka’s lips curve as they brushed his neck. A second finger pressed in, and Ryouma snatched a breath. Oh… that… yes, that was better. The stretch felt good, and the slide was firmer, now. He liked that. He wound his arms around Tezuka, arching up into him. “Mmmmmh. More,” he murmured.

Tezuka kissed him, hard, and Ryouma shivered again at the strained control in it. A third finger slid in between the first two, and the sound in Ryouma’s throat was harsher this time. The feeling was more intense, and he spread his legs wider, pushing up into it. Warm. Not rough, but… something like it. He held on more tightly, and returned Tezuka’s kisses with abandon.

Tezuka was letting his control go, too. When he knelt back and pulled Ryouma up with him, Ryouma found himself held almost as hard as he had been earlier, and moaned against Tezuka’s mouth. Now he could say what it was like when Tezuka touched someone. It was like the pull of a wave going out, drawing your feet out from under you and pulling you into the water. And Ryouma was perfectly willing to go.

“Tezuka,” he breathed.

Tezuka slipped around him and drew Ryouma back against his chest, straddling his knees. Ryouma smiled at the arms closed around him.

“You’ll be all right like this?” Tezuka asked, softly.

“Mmm. Yeah,” Ryouma sighed. It would be nice to watch Tezuka’s eyes, because he would bet that they were burning just a little wild. But he wanted more to be held, right now. It kept him from completely losing his breath as Tezuka pressed into him. He did grab for the headboard, though, because this was far more than Tezuka’s fingers had been and he was shaking by the time Tezuka’s hips met his. Tezuka’s hold on him tightened, soothing, mouth brushing the nape of Ryouma’s neck. Ryouma relaxed, slowly, panting a little. It felt good, just… intense. When Tezuka drew back and thrust in again, though, it pulled a sharp sound from him. That pressure, stroking inside him, was hotter, now, sharper. A new edge surged through him with each thrust. It shuddered down his nerves like heat waves off the street in summer, and Ryouma found himself moving, rocking back into Tezuka, straining against that hard slide.

Tezuka answered him, moving faster, hands stroking down Ryouma’s body, between his thighs, fondling him, lifting him up to meet the driving pace. The deep voice in Ryouma’s ear was rough, now, breathless over his name. Ryouma stretched into the tight hold and hard caress, voiceless with the weight of sensation running through him, driven into him, stroked out of him. It rushed down to a hot point and exploded through him, raking down him over and over and over.

Tezuka’s movement against him had a dreamlike edge for a minute, before he gasped sharply against Ryouma’s neck and caught him closer, stilling. A distant corner of Ryouma’s mind decided it was probably oxygen overdose. Most of him was too busy drowning in lax warmth to care. Eventually, Tezuka loosened his hold and drew away, letting Ryouma down to the bed and leaning over him for a slow kiss.

A last, small, shiver passed through Ryouma at the open smile Tezuka wore, and the laughing, rueful, affection in his eyes. He reached up and sighed, pleased, as Tezuka gathered him close again.

---

Being Tezuka’s lover, Ryouma had decided, was not significantly different from being his friend or his opponent. Well, except in the obvious sense, when Tezuka brought Ryouma home and laid him down on the bed, or pressed him up against the wall, or came up behind him at the door to the balcony and slid a hand…

Ryouma realized that he was getting distracted, and probably rather flushed, and refocused on the rack in front of him. The point was, they both still had their own lives, and their lives were still running along pretty separate tracks, and they had a limited number of times and places to meet. And if Ryouma wanted to keep going along on Tezuka’s hiking trips, which he did, Tezuka chose places with gorgeous views, Ryouma needed shoes that were not sneakers.

First, though, he might just need to read the manual of hiking boots to figure out what the heck all the alleged benefits listed on various tags meant.

A clerk popped up at his elbow. “Can I help you, sir?”

“Only if you can translate this stuff,” Ryouma told him, absently, squinting at phrases like ‘external heel’ and ‘mid cut’.

“That is part of my job,” the man said, easily. “Are you just starting out hiking?”

“I am,” Ryouma specified, “the person I go with isn’t.”

Actual interest replaced the professional smile. “Ah. Do I take it that you cover some more demanding trails?”

Ryouma had to stop and think about that. He suspected Tezuka wouldn’t think they were demanding at all, and he wasn’t having any trouble keeping up. But he certainly didn’t see any families on the trails Tezuka seemed to like best. “Yes, some,” he said, at last. “Probably more, later,” he added.

The clerk looked thoughtful. “Most of my customers who do serious climbing prefer the lower cut shoes, but more ankle support is a good idea when you’re still building up to that. If your friend likes rougher trails, the traditional, high cut boots will likely stay just as useful as time goes on.”

Ryouma had no intention of inviting injury. “Boots,” he agreed. “If he ever breaks out the climbing ropes, I’ll come back then.”

The clerk grinned. “It sounds like your friend really has you hooked,” he commented.

Ryouma choked down a laugh at the image this brought to mind. Though if their excursions ever turned to fishing, he was bringing a pillow. Still…

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” he allowed.

---

Ryouma rummaged in one and then another cupboard before giving up and standing in the middle of the kitchenette, glaring impartially at all of them.

“Do you reorganize your cabinets instead of biting your nails like a normal person?” he called into the living room.

“Yes,” Tezuka answered quite calmly.

Ryouma transferred his glare. Tezuka’s sense of humor could be a little abstruse sometimes, but Ryouma could recognize perfectly well when he was being teased. “Good to know that,” he returned briskly, “so where did you put the glasses this time?”

“Beside the refrigerator, of course.”

Ryouma fished out two, muttering, and brought the filled glasses out to the couch. “Serve you right if I dumped this on you.”

“Mm,” Tezuka said, agreeably. He was obviously wrapped up in the textbook on the table in front of him, and Ryouma had to stifle two separate impulses. The first was to spill a few drops of ice water down Tezuka’s neck to get his attention off the physics reading that he really didn’t need to devote such concentration to. The second was to get between Tezuka and the table, and kiss the stern line of his mouth into something softer. The entertainment value of one was about equal to the other.

Ryouma restrained himself for the time being, and set one drink down by the open textbook before taking his own and sprawling on the huge floor cushion that had put in an appearance a few weeks ago.

“Why are you bothering with this?” he asked. “It isn’t like you need a college degree to go pro, and if it’s professional tennis that you want you’re wasting four of your strongest years.”

Tezuka gave him a long look. “It’s debatable whether they’re my strongest years,” he said.

Ryouma narrowed his eyes. He was used to Tezuka’s roundabout conversational methods, but he wasn’t in the mood to be patient today. Tezuka sighed and closed his books.

“I’m planning on a career in pro tennis, yes. But what about after? If I decide I don’t want to teach, this,” he waved at the books and papers, “will give me more options. That’s all.”

Ryouma thought about that. It was true, his dad was pretty much useless since he didn’t play or teach; well, not anyone but Ryouma. He really couldn’t see Tezuka lazing around doing nothing but collecting dirty magazines.

Really, really couldn’t see it.

“I’ve never really wanted to do anything else,” he mused. “Not since…” he broke off, not quite prepared to say out loud not since I first played you.

Tezuka’s eyes lightened. “I didn’t really think you had,” he agreed, a laugh running under his voice.

After a moment of hesitation, Ryouma came to kneel between Tezuka’s legs and comb his fingers through Tezuka’s hair. “You’re coming, then?” he asked, quietly. “You’ll be there?” He felt a little silly asking Tezuka Kunimitsu, of all people, for that reassurance, but still…

Tezuka’s arms wrapped around him, tight enough to make him gasp. “I will,” he murmured in Ryouma’s ear.

Ryouma relaxed in that grip, content to stay there for as long as Tezuka wanted to hold him.

TBC