30 Kisses: #16, Invincible.

“I am not,” Ryoma seethed, “losing my focus.”

“Then show me,” Tezuka almost snapped back, but he had no chance, for Ryoma had already grabbed his racket.

Ninety minutes later they were tied 3-3 and had been at deuce for the past twenty minutes. Tezuka took the next point at last with an alpha-shiki Ryoma should have been prepared for, and Ryoma looked almost furious with him for a moment. Tezuka could feel his intensity across the court; when they changed places Ryoma stalked past with his head held high, shoulders back, fist clenching his racket.

Tezuka reached out, stopped him with a touch. Ryoma turned and Tezuka kissed him in one movement—tasted fire and sweat and lust on his tongue. Ryoma arched up, placed his fingers in Tezuka’s hair, moved closer, gave as good as he got—and Tezuka meant to break the kiss much sooner than he finally did.

Ryoma shuddered a breath when they parted, and Tezuka wordlessly took his position at the other side of the court.

His next serve was an ace.

Ryoma threw the tennis ball at his head.

“Nationals are in three weeks,” Tezuka said, ducking and walking calmly to the net. “I don’t want you distracted by anything in the interim.”

“How distracting will you be,” Ryoma retorted, storming to meet him, “if you’re right next to me and I can’t touch you?”

“Presumably,” Tezuka said gently, “No more than I’ve been for the past three years before we were together.”

Ryoma’s expression shifted, and he took Tezuka’s hand across the net. I should pull away, Tezuka thought, but didn’t.

“Three weeks is a long time to go without being kissed,” Ryoma said, tracing his fingers over Tezuka’s palm.

“Yes,” Tezuka replied, and closed his fingers over Ryoma’s as their lips met.

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