"Move your textbooks," Courfeyrac stated. Combeferre looked up to see him standing in front of the couch, laptop in his hands. "We can study together."
"Why do I have to move my textbooks?" Combeferre asked curiously. His textbooks were in his lap for this exact situation, so Courfeyrac would have space to sit on the couch.
"They're in your lap," Courfeyrac replied, like that explained everything.
"That's my spot," Courfeyrac replied.
Combeferre stared at him for a moment, dumbfounded. "You want to study while sitting on my lap?"
"Yup!" Courfeyrac replied cheerfully.
Combeferre frowned slightly. "You don't think that'll be distracting at all?" Combeferre had decent self control, but since he and Courfeyrac had started dating, he hadn't needed to use it very often. At this point, he didn't know how long he would last.
"The best place to study is your lap!" Courfeyrac replied. "It's science!"
Combeferre raised an eyebrow. "I don't think there's any science-"
"Science, Combeferre," Courfeyrac interrupted emphatically. "Move your textbooks."
With a sigh, Combeferre complied, not willing to fight it anymore. Courfeyrac eagerly plopped into Combeferre's lap, shifting until he got comfortable.
"Okay, let's start with the flashcards online," Courfeyrac decided. "Why does this politics class have so many vocabulary terms?"
"The real question is why I'm taking the class," Combeferre moaned. "I'm pre-med. I'm not going into law. Why did I let Enjolras talk me into this?"
"You'll do fine," Courfeyrac reassured, turning to pat Combeferre on the head. "Now, flashcards."
Halfway through the flashcards, Combeferre was able to say with one hundred percent certainty that Courfeyrac's "science" was complete bullshit. Just as he had thought, having your boyfriend in your lap while studying was incredibly distracting. Of course he had always known that Courfeyrac bit his lip when he concentrated, but he'd never realized just how much that made him want to kiss him. He knew that Courfeyrac would drum his fingers on any available surface, but it had never been hot before.
Combeferre was going to explode, and then he was going to miss the test he had been trying to study for before Courfeyrac came over. It was such a shame.
Courfeyrac shifted slightly, and Combeferre was certain it was entirely purposeful that he brushed up against his boner. A wicked smile spread across Courfeyrac's face.
"I had no idea you found politics so arousing," he teased. "I would expect that from Enjolras, but I admit I never considered it for you."
"You're making it fairly difficult to concentrate on politics," Combeferre gritted out.
Courfeyrac's smile was completely mischievous. Combeferre should have known that was his plan all along. "Am I really?" Courfeyrac asked innocently. "Even when we're discussing the incredibly interesting electoral college?" Even Courfeyrac's voice shouldn't have managed to make that sound sexy, and yet…
"I didn't even know we were talking about the electoral college," Combeferre admitted. Courfeyrac shifted slightly, causing him to let out a fairly pathetic whine.
"I believe I may have been mistaken as to the best place to study," Courfeyrac declared.
"You think?" Combeferre replied in a strangled voice.
Courfeyrac turned around and pressed a kiss to his lips. "I think the best place to continue this studying is in your bed," he whispered. Combeferre picked Courfeyrac up off his lap, startling a laugh out of him, then dragged him down the hall to the bedroom.
"The whole 'studying' part failed," Combeferre remarked later that evening, toying with Courfeyrac's hair as he used his chest as pillow.
"Studying was never the goal," Courfeyrac replied. "You needed to take a break. You drank four cups of coffee in an hour. I really didn't want to take you to get your stomach pumped."
"That was one time!"
Courfeyrac laughed. "I knew you needed to take a break, but I couldn't just ask you."
"You could have," Combeferre countered.
Courfeyrac picked his head off Combeferre's chest to give him a disbelieving look. "Do you not remember what happened when I tried you to stop studying for that anatomy test last year?"
Combeferre did remember, although he wished he didn't. It wasn't his finest moment. Courfeyrac had gone to him half a dozen times, telling him to take a break. When he finally physically yanked the books away at quarter of four, an incredibly sleep-deprived Combeferre burst into tears. Thankfully, no one else had witnessed it, and Courfeyrac didn't bring it up that often. At least, not when other people could hear.
"You may have a point," Combeferre allowed.
Courfeyrac rested his head on his chest again. "I decided underhand measures might have been necessary."
"So you seduced me to get me to stop studying?" Combeferre replied, disbelief in his voice.
Courfeyrac laughed again. "It worked, didn't it?"
Combeferre would never admit to anyone else that it had worked like a charm. He sighed. "We should probably go back to studying."
Courfeyrac whined and wrapped his arms around Combeferre's waist. "We haven't fulfilled our after-sex-snuggling quota," he protested. "You can study later. Anyway, you studied for hours earlier, and you know this stuff inside and out. You'll be fine." Courfeyrac shifted slightly to get comfortable. "You're my pillow. You can't leave."
Ten minutes later, Courfeyrac, always tired post-coitus, fell asleep on top of Combeferre. After a minute or two of internal debate, Combeferre decided he was right; he couldn't move and risk waking him up. Studying could wait.
The next day, when the test was passed out, Combeferre felt prepared, even though he hadn't gotten any more studying done the night before. He flipped it over only to read that the first essay question was about the electoral college. From across the room, Courfeyrac dropped him a flirtatious wink.
If Combeferre's pants felt a little too tight for the next few minutes, that was no one's business but his own.
(As Courfeyrac had told him, despite the fact that he didn't spend the night frantically studying, he still did fine.)