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The Left-Handed Ace

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It’s disgusting. Unnatural.

He had barely been old enough to know what the words meant, but they said them anyway, his mother and grandmother. His aunt would join in too, when she was over.

He was old enough to remember their warmth from before they’d known. Before he’d shown his true colours.

You should teach him to be right handed anyway. Go against your husband’s wishes. It’s family tradition, after all.

The walls of his room weren’t quite as thick as perhaps they thought. His hands looked just the same as any other boy’s in his class, but they held a secret, one that meant he would never be successful, according to his mother and her side of the family.

Every time he heard it, he remembered the warmth of his father’s hand closing over his own, begging them to let him keep his individuality. “Let me handle it. Please, I’ll never ask anything else of you.”

Then his aunt had moved in, and it had gotten worse. She would slap him every time she saw him writing or drawing with his left hand, yell at him for not being able to write just as well with his right. She belittled him and sent him to his room without dinner more than once.

True to his word, his father never asked anything of his wife or her family. He ran away instead, taking trips overseas for work. Wakatoshi was thirteen when it came out that he was having an affair, and it was an instant divorce. He was forced to stay with his mother, despite not wanting to, for another year and a half before he was able to get into Shiratorizawa Academy.

He’d chosen it not only because it was a powerhouse school for volleyball, but also because it would mean that he could be away from his mother and her relatives. They had been only too glad to see him go.

 

They never came to any of his games, but that didn’t bother him. Most of the other boys on the team were also alone on parent visiting days. In his second year, his first encounter with anything resembling romance was with Shirabu. They were similar in disposition, saying exactly what was on their minds, even though they were equally as quiet, especially when together.

Even so, Wakatoshi was the one to act on the tension between them. They had both been alone on family visit day, playing cards with the rest of the second and first years who didn’t have anyone to meet up with, when he’d asked him out of the room, having noticed and been interested by the looks the other was shooting his way.

“Is something wrong? Do you want something from me?” He had asked, not holding back on being blunt.

“You’re attractive. I want – well, I don’t know. Have you ever kissed someone?”

Wakatoshi had blinked. “No.” And then, because he had wanted to, he ducked down and kissed him.

The younger didn’t take a step back, didn’t push him away as he had expected. Wakatoshi had always been taught that he should like girls, want to be with them, but instead of doing what he had expected, Shirabu had pulled him closer, licking into his mouth with a silky, slippery tongue that Wakatoshi found he didn’t like one bit. He clung to him as though the floor was crumbling and these were his last moments before being dragged down to hell for loving another man.

 

When the world didn’t end, the feelings of discomfort gradually wore away. He and Shirabu didn’t kiss again. They were, after all, on the same team. Wakatoshi didn’t have time to be distracted by pretty boys, on either his own or another team. He occasionally found himself staring at another player’s ass or arms, lingering over their lips, but he reminded himself of his father, of his unhappiness under his mother’s iron will, and he would immediately turn away, uninterested.

His second encounter with romance just so happened to be with Hinata Shouyou. The younger boy had found him after their match.

“Hey, wanna blow off some steam?” He asked, and because he had wanted to, Wakatoshi had agreed.

They collided in the washrooms, Wakatoshi’s fingers scraping down the column of his neck, blunt fingernails leaving white marks on the pale skin. Hinata gasped and tilted his head back, everything moving so fast, just like his volleyball.

It was explosive; he tightened his fingers in his hair, tugging the red head closer, bruising his lips, his right hand grabbing at the smaller boy’s tight ass. He barely left room for him to breathe. With any luck, he would choke him out, but it never happened. Hinata tugged at his shirt, but he declined.

The younger boy got onto his knees and, as if he’d done it so many times before – and maybe he really had – he took out Wakatoshi’s cock and sucked on the tip while rubbing it up and down with his tiny hands. It was good. Wakatoshi hated to admit it, but he really knew what he was doing.

Afterwards, he had left, having spent his load into his hand while getting Wakatoshi off. “Thanks.” Was all he’d offered, and Wakatoshi hadn’t asked for more.

 

His third encounter started at the end of the year, right before graduating. Shirabu slid into his bed in the early hours of the morning, just past one, and kissed the column of his neck.

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” He whispered against his skin, eyes heavily lidded. “You have no idea how many nights I’ve kept awake thinking about you, about having your hands all over me.” He licked a line up Wakatoshi’s neck, then pressed kisses to his collar. “I want you.”

Wakatoshi would be lying if he had said he wasn’t interested. He, too, had been thinking of Shirabu, especially after the Hinata incident. He had thought about what Shirabu’s mouth would feel like around him, what his ass or cock would feel like. He didn’t have any preference when it came to topping or bottoming; he would gladly engage in whatever his partner wanted.

So he cracked his eyes open. Shirabu, who had thought the older boy asleep, gasped and tried to slip away, but Wakatoshi was faster, gripping his hips and bringing him back in. The smaller boy squirmed and tried to get away, and he almost succeeded.

“Stop.” He said, and the smaller boy fell still, his breathing erratic, his heartbeat thudding against Wakatoshi’s chest so hard he could feel it. Or maybe he was imagining it. Either way, he looked like a captured bird; panicked and flighty. But he was being obedient. His limbs had ceased their flailing, and he was waiting for his fate.

Wakatoshi leaned in and kissed Shirabu’s cheek, softer than any kiss he’d ever experienced before, wanting it to mark something different. His mother and father had always been fighting, his father often the one to submit. He had thought of love as something to be avoided, but he didn’t want to anymore. He wanted to feel the warm flesh of another living, breathing human being underneath him. Ever since that first kiss, he had been hoping it would be Shirabu.

The setter inhaled sharply, then surged forward, kissing Wakatoshi deeply. He didn’t resist. He wanted this as much as Shirabu did. When Shirabu went to put his tongue in his mouth, though, he pulled back.

“Ushi-”

“Not that. I don’t like that.” He said simply.

“Oh. Sorry.” And then they were kissing again, hands wandering, breath coming in short, sharp bursts. Shirabu didn’t try to use his tongue again, and Wakatoshi was thankful for that.

After a while, Shirabu’s fingers wormed their way under Wakatoshi’s sleep shirt. “Can I?”

“Mm.” Wakatoshi grumbled, sitting up and taking his shirt off.

It wasn’t like he’d never seen it before, but the bare skin seemed to daze Shirabu. He looked up at him like he couldn’t believe it was happening, like he was expecting to wake from a dream at any moment. And maybe he would. Maybe they both would, and continue to pine after this moment.

But then he was sitting up, taking his own shirt off. Wakatoshi had a similar moment, where he just looked at the pale expanse of Shirabu’s creamy skin, his tight chest, his flat stomach, his jutting hip bones. He was absolutely beautiful and, along with his smooth face and wide eyes, looked so, so innocent. Wakatoshi, for the first time in his life, felt a stirring of desire in his gut, and he couldn’t help himself.

He dove down and bit at the skin of his stomach, reaching up to play with a nipple, causing the younger boy to gasp quietly, for he knew just how close the others were. He pulled a pillow down and smothered his face in it. Wakatoshi felt a stab of disappointment; he had wanted to hear him scream, to listen to every gorgeous noise that fell from his lips like shiny baubles hanging off the tree at Christmas.

Later, he promised himself, moving up his stomach to his chest, licking over his nipple and sucking on it harshly.

“Ah!” Shirabu whined from under the pillow. “Ushi-”

“Wakatoshi.” He rumbled, and the boy underneath him squeaked in pleasure.

“Wakatoshi.” He pulled the pillow from his face to look him in the eye. “Wakatoshi. Please. No more teasing. I can’t handle it.”

How could he say no to that face? “I don’t have condoms.”

“I’m clean. I got tested last month.”

“I don’t know if I-”

“It’s...” He sighed, then scuttled out of the bed, coming back a minute later with supplies of his own. “It...they won’t fit you...”

“It’s okay.” He lay himself on the mattress and beckoned him closer. “Shi-Kenjirou. I want you.” He said, repeating the words Kenjirou had uttered when he’d thought Wakatoshi asleep.

His breath shuddered. “Wakatoshi.” He bit his lip. “I’ve never topped before.”

“Neither have I. Nor have I bottomed.”

Kenjirou blinked. “You’re a virgin?”

“I am.”

“Oh. Maybe we should-”

“Kenjirou.” Wakatoshi growled. “Don’t even think about it. I want you.”

His breathing suffered even more under the weight of the revelation, but eventually, he was nestled in between Wakatoshi’s legs, three fingers stuffed inside his hole while he licked, kissed and sucked his cock. It felt even better than Hinata’s blowjob had, just because it was Kenjirou doing it. He threaded his fingers in Kenjirou’s hair, finally finding the haircut some form of awesome. He had always thought it looked sort of silly before, but now...well, how could anyone hate something that sifted so beautifully through their fingers?

“Kenjirou...I’m close...” He warned, and the warmth on his cock was suddenly gone. Wakatoshi groaned in frustration, but he knew that if it had continued, he would have come, and he wanted to at least experience Kenjirou inside him tonight.

The smaller boy opened the condom’s packet and rolled it over his cock, stroking it a few times, even though he didn’t really need to; he had been hard since Wakatoshi had kissed him back. He reached over and squeezed more lube onto the areas involved.

A deep breath.

Another.

Another.

“You’re thinking about it too much. I can take you. Have faith in your preparation of me.”

A nod. “Y-yeah.” He shuffled closer, falling to his hands a few times before he was close enough to have their hips flush together. “I need...can you put a pillow under your hips?”

He helped Wakatoshi to achieve the task. Finally, he was lined up and ready. “Wakatoshi...”

“Do it.” He took a breath to calm himself, to relax, and then the head was pressing into him. It hurt. A lot more than he was expecting. And it felt weird. So, so weird to have something foreign inside him. It wasn’t like his toy; it felt bigger, but also softer. It was more forgiving than the harsh silicon of the toy, but it was also...different. That was the only way he could describe it.

“Are you okay?” Kenjirou whispered, as thought he was afraid of the answer.

Wakatoshi realised that their hips were once again flush together. When had he moved? Had he even felt it? “Yeah. Are you?”

Kenjirou snorted. “What kind of question is that? I’m balls deep in your ass, Wakatoshi. I’m feeling pretty damned good.”

Wakatoshi smiled and pulled him in for a kiss. It felt amazing. Just having Kenjirou so close was a blessing. Wakatoshi thought that maybe he could understand why people fell in love. “Move, please.” He murmured, not giving himself the opportunity to change his mind.

The out movement was everything. Wakatoshi squeezed his eyes shut. The drag of Kenjirou’s cock against the walls of his ass was a transcendent experience. He reached the seventh level of hell about the same time that he touched the heavens. But, after everything, how could he think this was so wrong? Whatever had been taught to him must be wrong, because he felt full and complete, and then Kenjirou was slowly pushing back into him, and he had to bite the inside of his mouth to stop from moaning loud enough to wake the entire dorm room.

“Does it feel-”

“Yes. Don’t stop.” Came the urgently whispered reply, and Kenjirou must have gotten the hidden message, because he sped up slightly, rocking his hips smoothly. Reaching out, his palm found the middle of Kenjirou’s back and brought him closer, changing the angle, and it brushed up against something wonderful.

Kenjirou mashed their lips together, stealing the noise out of the moan that Wakatoshi gave. He kept pushing at that spot, going in as deep as he could, reaching between them and rubbing at his cock, which was leaking over his stomach. “I love you.” He whispered against Wakatoshi’s lips, right before he came.

Caught by surprise, Wakatoshi’s own orgasm flitted from his grasp. He blinked up at Kenjirou. “I...you do?”

The young setter stilled inside him, panting. “Yeah. Ever since...well, kinda just after that kiss last year.” His face was bright red, his voice soft, like he was embarrassed of it, so Wakatoshi brought him in for a kiss.

“I think that’s when I started falling for you, too.”

“You...you did?” He sounded shakily hopeful.

“Yes.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Would you mind pulling out?”

“Oh! Sure.” He did so, very slowly, taking the condom off and throwing it away. The glimpse Wakatoshi got of it showed it to be stained brown.

He winced. “Sorry. I didn’t have time to clean myself...” He mumbled as he realised that Kenjirou would have had to put his fingers into that.

“It’s alright. Still felt good.” He went to put on his clothes, but Wakatoshi stopped him.

“Sleep with me.” He held his arm out, and Kenjirou, after a moment’s hesitation, crawled under it, snuggling in close. They both quickly fell asleep, Kenjirou tucked under Wakatoshi’s arm.

 

When Wakatoshi woke, he wasn’t expecting Kenjirou to still be there. He had somehow convinced himself that it had all been a dream, that those feelings, those sensations, that cock, had existed only in his mind. But seeing his soft face right there, so kissable, it convinced him that it had indeed been real.

A smile took over his face and, because he wanted to, he leaned in and kissed the tip of his nose. Kenjirou murmured something in his sleep and rolled over, his arms flailing around in the process. Wakatoshi narrowly avoided getting an elbow to the face.

When Kenjirou had stopped moving around, he was facing away from Wakatoshi, his neck stretched at an odd angle, his lips parted. Gently, Wakatoshi moved him into a more natural position, then curled his arm around his waist, a strange warmth filling his chest.

The skin under Wakatoshi’s palm felt silky smooth, utterly hairless. It was wonderful. He curled himself tighter around him, breathing in the scent of his sleeping body. He smelled of warmth and sunlight and fresh sheets and just...Kenjirou. Wakatoshi was addicted.

The younger boy shifted in his sleep again, coming to rest on his back. Slowly, he opened his eyes. “Hey.” He whispered, as though afraid to shatter the mood, like it would all melt away if he was too loud.

To convince both of them it was real, Wakatoshi leaned closer and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “Hey.” His finger slid idly around his bare chest, raising goosebumps. “You’re so...” He didn’t have the words to finish the sentiment. “I love you.”

Kenjirou gripped his hand and pulled it away from his chest. “Tickles.” He breathed, then pulled him down for another kiss, and Wakatoshi thought that maybe, just maybe, everything was as it should be.

 

A year later, they're moving into their apartment together. Wakatoshi had kept close to school for that year in between, taking odd jobs and going away for volleyball every now and then. He had had enough money to be living in a huge apartment like his fellow players, but he was just as comfortable and more happy to be near his high school boyfriend.

Now, they’re moving into a place just a little bigger, closer to the jobs they’ve both secured for themselves. It's not at the same office, but it's close enough to each other that they can catch the same train for most of the way.

“Time to christen the apartment.” Kenjirou says, dragging him inside with the last of the boxes, taking it from his hands and setting it down somewhere where they won’t trip over it later. He stands on his tip-toes, asking for a kiss, and Wakatoshi gladly gives it, his lips tingling. Even after a year of dating, he’s still so in love with him. Kenjirou never asks more of him than what he can give, accepts the love he gets with a grateful attitude and focuses on what both of them want. Wakatoshi had never known anyone to be like him.

“I suspect you have something specific in mind?” Wakatoshi asks, smiling.

“Of course I do.” He connects their lips again and leads him to their bedroom, where he lays him back on the bed. It’s freshly made, but the impact of his huge body rumples the sheets. Kenjirou removes his shirt and steps out of his pants. “I love you.” He climbs onto his lap, and Wakatoshi can only grab his hips, utterly enamoured.

“I love you too.”

With his hands on his shoulders, Kenjirou brings their lips together again, reaching between them and undoing the fastenings of Wakatoshi’s trousers. His slender fingers find Wakatoshi’s cock, rubbing against it in the most wonderful way. Which is really just at all. He's become so thorougly addicted to his boyfriend's fingers, his body, his voice, his scent, everything about him. The way they have sex is no different. After a year of this, he doesn't think he could ever get it up for anyone else.

Wasting no time with foreplay, Kenjirou gets the lube and a condom from their bedside drawers, the lamp shaking in his haste. Wakatoshi chuckles at the younger boy's desperation.

“Relax. I’m not going anywhere.”

Kenjirou groans. “But I want you in me now, Toshi.” He grinds his hips down, fingering himself open a little to get the lubricant inside himself. Then, he takes Wakatoshi’s cock in his hand and dribbles lube over it, coating it in the thick fluid. He sinks down on his length with barely any preparation, leaning forward and moaning into Wakatoshi’s neck.

He starts moving immediately, hips rolling in small circles, his fingers gliding up his lover's back and into his hair. Wakatoshi lets him go at it for a while, content to let him set the pace. Soon, he’s feeling impatient. He stands and takes Kenjirou over to the wall, leaning him against it and thrusting up into him.

Kenjirou tilts his head back so quickly he would have hit his head on the wall if Wakatoshi hadn’t predicted it and already had his hand there. He takes the opportunity to bite at his exposed skin, sucking a bruise into the flesh of his neck, right at the base.

“Toshi! Not where people can see!” He says hastily, slapping him, but Wakatoshi knows just how much he loves it, even if he has to wear make-up so he won’t get in trouble. Indeed, just moments later, he’s stretching his neck out again. “More, please...faster...harder.”

Wakatoshi snaps his hips up, holding him closer, kissing and licking up the column of his neck, sucking small bruises into the skin, all the way up to his jawline. Kenjirou moans and wraps himself tighter around him, his heels digging into the small of Wakatoshi’s back.

“Please, pl- oh! Fuck!”

Cum splatters over his stomach as he reaches his orgasm, squeezing around Wakatoshi and milking him of his own orgasm. Wakatoshi wraps his arms around Kenjirou's shoulders and brings him over to the mattress, pulling out slowly. Getting a towel, he cleans him up before crawling into bed with him and wrapping him in his arms.

He kisses just behind his ear, a place that never fails to elicit a tiny gasp from him. Wakatoshi smiles. He’s so cute. He peppers him with even more kisses, going all the way down to his shoulders. Sometimes, he wishes he could just envelop him in himself and absorb him into his systems, to be able to feel him there always.

“I love you.”

Kenjirou’s hand finds his own and squeezes. “I love you too.”