#roharpe

"Young master, please!"

"Huh? Who is this 'young master?'"

Harpe's tongue clicked out of sheer annoyance, watching as Ronan continued tidying the room, back turned as if unaware of the servant's disapproving stare. "Ronan," he finally gave in, drawing the other's attention at last, "you mustn't busy yourself with such menial tasks."

"Menial tasks?" Ronan put a hand to his hip, a smile to his lips that Harpe knew he wouldn't be able to win against. "Since when is serving the House of Erudon considered a menial task?"

"Th-That isn't what I meant," Harpe drew back a sharp sigh, too early in the morning for the young master to get on his nerves. "Please, just come back to bed. I'll prepare a nice breakfast for us to enjoy." He motioned with a hand, hoping to entice the other, but Ronan wouldn't budge.

"Or how about I prepare the nice breakfast?" Ronan countered, smug smirk and all. "Besides, I'm not going to pretend that I didn't see you dozing off the other day."

Damn his carelessness. "Young master, please-"

"Uh-uh," Ronan interrupted. "Now, young master-"

Harpe's eyes widened, visibly shaken.

"What would you like for breakfast?"

No, no, no! This whole thing felt inexplicably wrong!

"Or, I can just decide for you," Ronan nodded, hand on chin. "I know all the dishes you like."

All Harpe could do was sit in bed, mouth agape, unable to even protest with how his brain short-circuited at the current situation. Without even a thought, the young servant found himself leaping from the bed, grabbing at the other's arm. "Ronan, please," he beckoned, growing desperate, "I-I'll take care of everything!"

But Ronan remained unmoved, turning back to Harpe with the same smile, but different this time, different in a way that Harpe knew well and dreaded. He took a step back, shaking his head, opening his mouth to apologize, but Ronan had already gotten to work, hands at Harpe's waist.

"W-Wait, Rohonahan, wait!" Harpe cried out, giggles spilling from his mouth, despite no immediate action from Ronan, yet the all too familiar tingles already began shooting through his body.

"Harpe, Harpe," Ronan clicked his tongue playfully, fingers curling against the smaller waist, eliciting a squeal. "Haven't I already taught you that breaks are a necessary duty?"

Harpe didn't, or couldn't, respond to the question, nervous laughter filling the room as his body swayed helplessly in Ronan's hands. Despite the gentle touches, Harpe's body spasmed out of his control, an irritating weakness that Ronan loved to exploit whenever Harpe didn't yield to the young master's demands, as well as a common "teaching" technique for moments like these.

"Wahahaha! Rohahanahahan!" Harpe squealed uselessly, crying out when one hand applied stimulating pressure to his side. Why must the young master be so stubborn?!

"Harpe!" Ronan giggled, mimicking the high-pitched airy tone that took over Harpe's laughter. Meanwhile, both hands teased at the delicate sides through the thin material of Harpe's shirt, prompting the servant to withdraw his arms inward in some form of futile defense.

"Okahahay! I-I gihihihive!"

"You promise?" Ronan leaned in, his fingers digging indents through Harpe's shirt.

"ProhomiHIHIhise!" Harpe nodded his head profusely, saying anything at this point to appeal to Ronan.

And when Ronan finally released, Harpe fell backwards, the mattress catching his fall. He sat up to cross his arms, huffing in defiance, but knew that ultimately, Ronan called the shots.

"Strawberry pancakes for breakfast as an apology," Ronan breathed, leaning in to plant a kiss atop Harpe's ruffled hair. "But if I catch you working, I get to eat all your strawberries.

"Fine," Harpe closed his eyes briefly as he sighed, having lost this time. Strawberry pancakes were a nice consolation, at the very least.