Akaashi is not a cheater.
He tells himself this even though his eyes remain fixed on the flexing muscles of Kuroo’s thighs, deliciously exposed and mostly uncovered thanks to the length of his practice shorts.
Akaashi is not a cheater.
But he isn’t stupid, or blind; he can certainly recognize when someone is physically attractive. He huffs in annoyance as the subject of his staring cheers— his voice sounding oddly akin to that of an elderly man, which is a huge turn-off and should be annoying but instead the setter almost laughs, which is a surprise in and of itself— as he blocks Bokuto’s spike.
Bokuto. Right, yes, of course: Akaashi’s fucking boyfriend.
He scowls at himself. The immense amount of effort it takes for his head to turn away from the source of the intrusive thoughts should be a sign that said unwanted thoughts are far from the end of their taunting endeavors.
Bokuto suddenly slings an arm around Akaashi’s shoulders, and his thoughts stutter to a halt.
“‘Kaashi, that’s quite a face you’re makin’!” He laughs, poking the tensed line of his boyfriend’s jaw. “What’s got you so mad?”
“Nothing. I’ve just... got a headache.” The younger boy replies, and technically, it isn’t a lie… because pain-in-the-ass Kuroo-san is making his thoughts run so rampant that Akaashi feels almost dizzy.
“Oh?” Gold eyes blink in concern. “Well then maybe we should stop for a sec and I can walk you back—”
“I’ll be fine,” he dismisses. Though, perhaps he should have taken the owl’s offer; who knows how much longer they’ll be here, working their asses off when they still have hours of practice matches awaiting them tomorrow.
Nevertheless, the answer seems to satisfy his partner, who plants a quick kiss to his cheek before running back over to his spot on the court. From across the net, Tsukishima snickers when Kuroo sticks his tongue out to exaggerate a gagging noise.
Still not used to public displays of affection, the setter ducks his head as he feels warmth reddening his cheeks.
“Aww, Bo, you made him go all red in the face,” Kuroo jests, shoulders shaking in quiet laughter when he notices that his sly comment has Akaashi blushing that much more.
“Don’t be mean, dude!” Bokuto responds, his volume pitching close to a yell.
Even Tsukishima’s usual frown is upturned at the whole ordeal that is Akaashi’s complete and utter humiliation. Sighing, the raven-haired boy thinks that maybe he should have left when it was first suggested. It would have given him an easy escape from this mess.
In time, the third gym squad dissipates back to their respective team rooms close to the 10PM hour mark. And even when Akaashi is laying in bed two hours later, alone in the dark, hair damp from his shower earlier, with Bokuto snoring softly somewhere on his left, the buzzing in his brain just won’t quiet down. The image of a certain black-haired middle blocker keeps worming its way into his ever-racing thoughts. After thirty minutes of this, he finds that he’s unable to take the internal torture any longer, and he whips the futon sheets off his sweaty body with a frustrated huff. Barefoot and shiny with a thin layer of sweat, Akaashi tiptoes carefully out, trying his best to avoid stray arms and legs on his way to the door.
It’s only when he’s out in the dimly-lit hallway that he realizes that he has no idea where he’s supposed to go. It would be nice to get some fresh air outside, but it’s hotter out there than it is inside the school’s buildings, even with the sun’s harsh rays long gone. He doesn’t know of any indoor areas besides the bathrooms. So that’s where the second-year decides to go, for now. Perhaps he can locate a quiet alcove on the way there.
Turning the corner, the poor boy nearly runs right smack into a very naked tanned torso. Akaashi is about to make quick work of apologizing and walking away with his eyes on the floor, to save himself and the other student from possible embarrassment… when his gaze catches the muscular lines of a familiar thigh.
“Oya?” The man says, confirming his suspicions; and Akaashi can hear the guileful grin in his voice.
Fuck. What the actual fuck. Why did he have to run into him, of all people?
...Also. Why is he half naked.
“Why... am I half-naked?” Kuroo echoes, and Akaashi snaps his head up to stare at him in disbelief.
Had he seriously voiced his thoughts aloud? God, he must seriously be tired. He’s never just accidentally said something before, as having little control over his speech is a problem that the setter has never had to deal with. Well, up until now, apparently.
Infuriatingly, the third-year is smirking down at him with a shit-eating smile that screams amusement. His hair is wet, and it looks strange when it isn’t wildly pointing up in every gravity-defying direction possible. Stray droplets of water slither down the juncture of his neck and pool in the gap of his collarbone.
The fact that Akaashi can even see individual drops on the other’s skin tells him that he is much too close, and nervous butterflies make his stomach flip as he feels the heat of a blush crawling up his sweat-slick neck. Taking a step back and resisting the urge to fidget, he finally meets Kuroo’s gaze.
“...I suppose you’re shirtless because you showered, correct?” He replies, trying his best to mimic the dry tone that usually accompanies his voice.
The fact that he has to fake the way he normally talks is ridiculous. Akaashi digs his teeth into the inside of his cheek to stifle a sigh of annoyance at the apparent hole he has dug himself into.
“Correct,” the other says slowly, and Akaashi’s eyes are flicking down to observe his thin lips as they form the word before he can stop himself. “Whatcha doin’ up so late, Akaashi?”
Dear god, has his voice always sounded so nice and sultry?
“I could ask you the same thing, Kuroo-san.” His answer is quick, and he mentally applauds himself for keeping it together.
“Showering?” Kuroo emphasizes his point by running a hand through his dripping hair. “Thought we’d already established that.”
Akaashi can’t stop the annoyed sigh that leaves him. “We were kicked out of the gym almost three hours ago. Have you really been taking a shower for that long?”
That famous lopsided smirk of his returns to the cat’s face, and his amber eyes seem to glint in the present moonlight as he responds in a voice that has dipped into a dangerously low octave. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Shit. Akaashi curses himself for not walking away when he had the split-second chance. This is the second time this has happened in less than twenty-four hours. It’s quite telling that he didn’t learn his lesson the first time he chose to stick around when he didn’t have to.
And, honestly, those stupidly-exaggerated words of his and that stupid deep voice and his stupid tendency to flirt with anything that walks shouldn’t send jolts of arousal curling down his back. He shouldn’t be turned on, not even the smallest bit, by someone who is most definitely not his boyfriend. But his dick betrays him, gives a half-hearted twitch in his pants.
At the setter’s lack of a response, Kuroo barks out a laugh, and the volume of it is much too loud compared to the stillness of the hushed hallway. “Relax, man; I’m joking. You’re super tense, ya know? Kinda like Tsukki.”
The shorter boy doesn’t trust his voice, so he opts to breathe out what he hopes sounds similar to another unamused huff.
Sliding off the damp towel that’s been hanging out around his shoulders, Kuroo ruffles his dripping hair with it, the movement drawing Akaashi’s eyes up to watch the action. More water flings from the messy dark strands, only seen when the moon’s light and the fluorescent sidewalk lights from outside glint upon their surfaces. The light catches stray drops boldly traveling down the cat’s throat. Akaashi realizes in a horrible gut-wrenchingly-guilty kind of way that, without proper impulse control, he might have just let himself lean forward to lick the droplets from the expanse of bronze skin before him.
His own throat, turnt dry by the embarrassment of lustful thoughts, convulses around an invisible lump. A desperate, pleased whine almost claws its way out when the setter catches Kuroo’s lidded eyes dipping down to track the tracheal movement. Being the subject of such an intense gaze, he idly shifts his weight back and forth on his feet, suddenly all too aware of his heartbeat hammering behind his ribs.
“Well... guess I’ll see ya tomorrow, huh?” Kuroo muses, and his fucking voice, still in that deep timbre that Akaashi swears he has never once heard before tonight, seems to wash over the younger and leave him warm all over.
“Yes. I’ll see you, Kuroo-san.” God, Akaashi ducks his head slightly when his speech comes out somewhat raspy. Can the middle blocker sense the leaked vocal evidence? Biting his cheek, the setter wills his nerves down.
Somehow, Kuroo seems none the wiser as he slings his towel back over his shoulders and shifts to glide past him. Akaashi steps aside to give him more room to pass— seriously, why are they so close together, these hallways are more than big enough for two— when the devilish boy pauses, and his mouth twitches up in a gentle, friendly smile as he raises a hand to grip the setter on the shoulder.
“Don’t stay up too late, man. Who else is gonna be able to keep Bokuto in line?” He snickers a little as he continues to walk off.
Akaashi can’t even process the words spoken to him; his attention is hyper-focused on the sensation of calloused fingers dragging across the fabric of his t-shirt as Kuroo retracts his hand.
He’s thankful for the fact that Kuroo is facing away now, because the full-body shudder that ripples through him certainly wouldn’t have gone unnoticed had his amber eyes been on him still. He is also thankful for his earlier decision to head to the bathroom over sneaking outside, because he is so embarrassingly desperate that a simple squeeze on the shoulder has him half-hard in his boxers.
His rapid heartbeat is thundering loudly in his ears, but beyond it he can hear the sound of Kuroo walking the other direction. Akaashi can’t help but hyper-focus on the other’s footsteps, and it’s so fucking weird and embarrassing how obsessed he’s become with Kuroo.
The setter drags his feet down the hallways to the men’s bathroom like he’s taking a walk of shame after a one-night stand. He quickly locks himself in a stall and hides his face in his arms, trying (and mostly failing) to calm his body. Akaashi doesn’t want to jerk off to the thought of his boyfriend’s best friend, especially when he should be thinking of Bokuto if he were to get off to the thought of anyone.
After ten minutes of sitting in his misery, Akaashi’s finally boner-less. Rubbing his eyes and blinking them open, he washes his hands and begins the trek back to Fukurodani’s sleeping room.
Even just walking back through the corridor where he had his… surprise run-in with Kuroo makes his head hang in guilt.
As he soon lays back upon his futon, gunmetal eyes fixed on the generic classroom ceiling above, Akaashi can’t help but think to himself:
How the fuck is he supposed to get through this training camp?
The rustling of his waking teammates pulls Akaashi from his light sleep. He resists the urge to groan irritably because he just knows he didn’t get enough sleep… And they have three practice games today. How absolutely wonderful.
He idly hopes they won’t be assigned to play Nekoma at all today. If he can get through the day without seeing the rooster-headed middle blocker, he might just be able to get him out of the forefront of his brain.
The sluggishness of Akaashi’s movements doesn’t go unnoticed by Konoha as he dresses into practice shorts and a t-shirt.
“Akaashi, you gonna be okay to play all day today?” He asks, coming to stand in the younger’s peripheral. “You look kinda rough.”
“I’ll be just fine. I just could have done with a bit more sleep, is all.” As if the evidence of his sleeplessness wasn’t obvious enough, he finishes his sentence with a yawn.
Konoha gives the setter a small sympathetic smile, shrugging his shoulders. “Can’t be helped, eh? It’s hot as hell.”
Nodding in agreement, Akaashi finishes up straightening his futon and grabs his bag to take with him to the washroom. Luckily, when he enters the washroom, he finds that there are only players there he doesn’t know.
At 7AM sharp, Fukurodani enters the Shinzen cafeteria for breakfast. Akaashi can’t help but glance around anxiously, and when he doesn’t spot anyone adorned in Nekoma red, his shoulders droop in relief.
Perhaps he can avoid Kuroo after all.
It’s just past 1PM now, and everyone is gathered for lunch.
Akaashi and Kenma are sitting together, the latter too distracted with his PSP to focus much on finishing his meal. Akaashi finishes it off for him and leans back to watch him play, ignoring the looming thought that they still have one last match to play before dinner.
Of fucking course, Kuroo eventually saunters over to fetch Kenma, slyly glancing at his friend’s plate and nodding approvingly when he notices that there aren’t any leftovers— despite the fact that Kenma hadn’t been the one to finish off the remaining bites. What he doesn’t know won’t kill him, Akaashi thinks.
Automatically, the setter’s heart seems to go into overdrive when Kuroo is just simply nearby. He sighs, feeling so fucking ridiculous for being so goddamn infatuated with someone who isn’t Bokuto.
It’s weird, he muses, how he’s known Kuroo for a little over a year yet he’s just now starting to warm up to him. Akaashi wonders why his horny teenager brain is choosing so stubbornly to lust after this guy, this fucking pain-in-the-ass bedhead-ridden tomcat, when he’s got a sweet owlish boyfriend of his own who can satisfy his sexual needs. So why?
Akaashi realizes he must have been scrunching up his face or making a strange expression, because he’s snapped out of his web of thoughts by a snort. Looking up, his confused eyes meet those belonging to the source of his problem.
“What?” The setter demands, meaning to sound snappy, but his voice comes out flat instead.
“Nothin’.” Kuroo replies smoothly, resting a hand on his hip. “Someone just looks kinda… distracted over there. What’s got you so worked up?”
Akaashi scoffs. Honestly, he can’t help it. It’s the sheer irony of it all: the source of what’s got him ‘so worked up’ cluelessly questioning him about a one-sided predicament he isn’t even aware he caused.
“Just... tired. I don’t know how you managed to sleep last night with the sweltering heat and all,” he replies, bringing his knees to his chest and resting his chin on them.
At this, Kuroo grins and his expression morphs from bemused to smug. “Well,” he starts, voice wavering as he fails to contain a chuckle. “I’m sure you know what… um, action, is usually done to relax the body before bed, if you get my drift—”
“Oh my god, Kuroo, you’re disgusting,” Kenma’s nose scrunches in horror as he grabs his empty plate, walking away to the trash.
Kuroo snorts again as he watches the blonde walk off. “He can’t stand when I talk about sex-ish stuff,” he tells Akaashi. “It’s fuckin’ hilarious.”
What the fuck.
Akaashi, in all honesty, has no fucking clue what to say to that. How would one even respond to someone telling them they got off before going to sleep? He’s trying not to think about Kuroo in a sexual light, yet he goes and makes small-talk about jerking off? Dear god, Akaashi can feel his cheeks burning, and it’s definitely not caused by the summer’s heavy heat.
Before he can sit awkwardly silent for any longer, Kuroo speaks up again. His tone’s completely changed compared to the one of what he’d just mentioned beforehand.
“W-wait, that didn’t make you uncomfortable, did it? Like… you’ve, ya know, done that shit before, right?”
Akaashi snaps his head up to give him an irritated glare. “I haven’t met a single teenage boy who hasn’t, Kuroo-san.”
“Right, yeah, that makes sense.” Kuroo places a hand on his hip, shifting his stance to try and lighten the awkward tension. “Sooo, Akaashi, about that… stuff… have you and Bokuto—”
“O-kay, I am now exiting this conversation,” Akaashi announces loudly, popping up and brushing grass from his shorts. Kuroo can’t hide his laughter as he lets the setter leave.
...Akaashi didn’t really think it was funny.
Finally, after another sweaty scrimmage, Fukurodani is done for the day. Outside, they hose the sweat and grime from their hair and faces as they wait for the other two teams to finish their game.
Dinner is fine. Kuroo doesn’t accompany Bokuto at their team’s table. However, Akaashi does spot him irritating Tsukishima, and he feels a little bit of sympathy for the tall first year. But at the same time, he’s quite grateful he’s not trapped in Tsukki’s place.
Akaashi is exhausted, and he knows that helping Bokuto practice his spikes again tonight will be something he’ll regret tomorrow morning. So, instead, he bids his boyfriend and their team farewell and heads to the showers.
It’s not even 7PM yet, but to the setter, it might as well be midnight. His limbs feel jelly-like and his eyelids are heavy. A long cold shower is the only thing he wants right now, and in his favor (for once), the showers are all empty when he walks in. Finally he gets some alone time.
Not only did his early evening shower improve his mood, but it was also early enough that Akaashi knows he likely won’t see Kuroo on the way back to Fukurodani’s room, as he’s still probably practicing blocks against Bokuto or receives with Lev.
Thoroughly refreshed, the second-year towel dries his hair and brushes his teeth before he turns to head back.
Lo and behold, Kuroo pushes the door open.
Are you fucking kidding me?! Akaashi screams inwardly, taking a deep breath to calm his heart (and much too excitable dick).
“Looking fresh, Akaashi.” He says.
The raven-haired boy rolls his eyes and moves aside to pass by. At this point, Akaashi is just one-hundred-percent done.
“Ouch,” Kuroo turns around to watch him leave, feigning hurt as he’s still ignored. “Harsh crowd.”
“Goodnight, Kuroo-san,” is all he says.
He can’t help but breathe a sigh when he’s out in the hallway. What a long and strange day it’s been.
The next morning, Akaashi wakes before anyone’s alarm. Groggily, he grabs his phone to check the time. Why is he up so early? He sits up to look around, running a hand through his bedhead.
Looking down to his crotch, he sees exactly what woke him up.
Akaashi grumbles quietly, scrubbing an angry hand over his face. Seriously? He never has to deal with morning wood, so why does he suddenly now have—
Out-of-sequence images of the dream he’d had flash briefly through his mind, and his eyes widen in mortification.
He dreamt about him. He had a goddamn dream about motherfucking Kuroo Tetsurou.
...And, horrifically, the few blurry scenes he can recall from it makes his cock grow even harder.
There’s no avoiding it this time, he tells himself, getting up quietly to take care of his issue in the washroom.
Fukurodani only had two matches today, and Akaashi is thankful for it by the time dinner comes around an hour earlier than yesterday.
He’s a bit less thankful, though, when he goes to eat with Bokuto and he sees Kuroo sitting across from him. How in the hell will he be able to look him in the face without remembering what his brain so thoughtfully conjured up last night? Will Kuroo know what happened if he doesn’t look at him at all, though? Would that send the wrong message? What if—
“‘Kaashi!” Bokuto waves at him. “You gonna come sit?”
Smiling when his boyfriend flashes him a grin, he slides into the empty seat on his left, avoiding eye contact with the spiky black-haired man settled across from them.
Kuroo picks up with their earlier conversation. “...So, like I was saying, dude— it’s just a thought! Like, I know I don’t want it to happen anytime soon… probably… Or, actually, I guess I don’t mind when it happens. Hell, I don’t even care where! I’m lowkey desperate at this point, ya feel me? It’s just been too long.”
“I would say I get ya, bro, but…” He turns to glance at Akaashi.
Kuroo leans back in his seat, heaving a dramatic sigh. “Yeah, yeah, you aren’t single. We get it.”
“...What are we talking about?” Akaashi asks, chewing slowly on his rice.
Bokuto straightens like he’s been caught red-handed. “Uh, nothi—”
Akaashi nearly chokes on his fucking food. “I— what?”
“Ku-rooooo !” Bokuto whines, flicking his fork at him and flinging pieces of chicken in his direction. “Um, it’s nothin’, Akaashi! Kuroo just mentioned how it’d be cool to have a... threesome, so we were… uh... talkin’ ‘bout it?”
That explanation didn’t help his shock at all.
“You… want us all to have a…” He trails off, feeling a blush warm his cheeks as he holds the last word back behind his tongue.
“Oh— oh, wait, no no no! We were just talkin’ about threesomes in general! Not between anyone specific,” Bokuto rambles, nearly tripping over his own words in his hasty effort to remedy the misunderstanding.
“Bro, you wouldn’t fuck me?” Kuroo chimes in, dramatically clasping a hand around his open mouth, faking surprise. “I’m a little wounded.”
“...I mean, unless you want me to,” Bokuto murmurs, waggling his eyebrows and snickering as he plays along with Kuroo’s joke.
Akaashi rolls his eyes, knowing their ‘flirting’ has never been serious. He turns his full attention to his dinner as the two third-years continue their talk about threesomes, as the beforehand confusion apparently hadn’t deterred them from the subject.
He can’t seem to completely tune out their banter, though. So now he’s thinking about having a threesome with his boyfriend and Kuroo, because they’d planted the idea of the thing into his head in the first place.
...Admittedly, the setter doesn’t despise the thought of it one bit. Quite the opposite.
He swallows down a few gulps of water to push away the heat crawling up his neck.
In front of Bokuto, Kuroo throws his head back and laughs, the sound akin to that of an asthma-ridden dog. Akaashi can’t help but look up at him.
Shoulders still shaking with laughter, Kuroo doesn’t notice his staring, obviously. He’s too caught up in his animatedly obnoxious conversation with Bokuto.
The setter frowns as he dwells on the… fixation he has on Kuroo. He’s attractive, sure. There’s no doubt about that. But there are plenty of attractive players here at this training camp, so what makes the rooster-haired boy so different? Is it because he’s close with Bokuto? Is it just the scandalousness of crushing on his boyfriend’s best friend that’s drawing him in so stubbornly?
Hmm. ‘Crushing’ definitely isn’t the right word, because Akaashi knows what a crush feels like: it’s giddy butterflies in your stomach when they brush their body against you, said butterflies fluttering away from your stomach to dance around your heart, warm cheeks with the warm blossoming feeling of hope in your chest when they meet your gaze, the irrepressible urge to smile like there’s not a single problem on Earth whenever they’re near, the desire to hold them close and intertwine their fingers in yours. Akaashi knows because he’d felt all of that with Bokuto.
But, certainly, he feels none of the above towards Kuroo. That settles it, then: Akaashi isn’t falling out of love with his boyfriend at all (how could he?). Rather, his sexuality is… branching out, per se.
Akaashi isn’t stupid. He knows there’s a clear separation between romantic and sexual attraction, he’d just never been one to often feel sexual attraction to someone. The few times he had had never been this strong and impossible to ignore before. He wonders why it’s this way now.
Perhaps he’s just touch-starved and desperate for sex. He’s a teenage boy, after all, and he and Bokuto haven’t had a chance to do anything… intimate in about a month. So it’s possible he’s just simply losing his mind to hormones (as much as he hates to admit it).
Though if that’s the case, then Akaashi can most certainly fix this whole thing himself.
He’ll just catch Bokuto later when they’re both alone.
He hopes it works.
Dinner had finished about half an hour ago, and Akaashi had all but dragged Bokuto (gently, of course) to the second floor washroom, which isn’t as frequented as the first floor.
They’re wrapped up in one another’s presence within the farthest stall. Bokuto is a slow, sweet kisser, and usually Akaashi loves it, always taking advantage of the peaceful moments to revel in the affection of it. For some reason, though, it’s only serving to make the setter increasingly impatient.
Though the two of them can usually kiss and kiss until the end of time, Akaashi isn’t in the mood for such a languid activity today. He’s unusually pent up on sexual frustration and Bokuto seems to sense this as he slowly parts their interlocked lips.
Akaashi doesn’t give Bokuto the chance to ask about his off behavior, instead taking the kissing break as a chance to drop to his knees.
He normally isn’t a fan of blowjobs because he isn’t amazing at them and he isn’t fond of having drool and sticky semen all over his face. But strangely— like all things these past few days— Akaashi finds that he’s not particularly opposed to it right this moment.
He glances up to meet Bokuto’s wide eyes as the owl gapes down at him like a fish, visibly surprised his boyfriend is abruptly so eager. Akaashi gives a hum, as if telling the third year to stop him before he begins if he truly wants to say something.
Bokuto stays silent, and Akaashi pulls the man’s practice shorts down over his thigh compression sleeves. He’s half-hard already, making his job a bit easier.
Spitting in his hand and jerking the length a few times, Akaashi leans forwards and closes his mouth on the tip, working his tongue around the leaking head. Above him, Bokuto breathes out, his body tensing and then relaxing a bit as he lets himself go to the pleasure he’s being given.
Bokuto reaches down and pets a hand through raven hair. The action has Akaashi humming again and his dick jerks in his own shorts at the guttural groan it pulls from his boyfriend.
He goes slack-jawed and drives his head slowly downwards until his lips almost brush the base. His throat flutters around the length in his throat as spit collects in his mouth, and he pulls back up to suck at the tip.
Akaashi focuses on opening up his throat again to repeat the act when the washroom door flies open, and the laughter of two loud second-years from other teams fills the previously quiet area.
Flinching at their noise, Akaashi quickly composes himself so he doesn’t sputter on the cock still in his mouth. He glances up at Bokuto, eyes watering at the ache in his jaw, to see him just as nervous.
Comfortingly, his short-nailed fingers rub silently at the younger’s scalp as the setter stays rigidly still on the floor with Bokuto’s cock still resting on his tongue. He doesn’t risk pulling off, afraid the action will illicit possible sounds that’ll give away their presence.
The two players are still chortling obnoxiously, talking smack about some first year as they piss. Just another minute or so, Akaashi tells himself, taking a long breath in through his nose.
Except the bastards don’t fucking leave after one minute. Not even after two. No, they finish pissing and flushing and washing their hands, and then they stick around to chit-chat even more, completely unaware of the presence amongst them.
Finally, after another minute of irritably listening to their trash-talk as saliva drips down Akaashi’s jaw, Bokuto clears his throat and their voices cease.
“Uh, sorry to interrupt, my dudes,” he starts, and Akaashi closes his eyes as if he can hide from the humiliation. “I’m just tryna take a shit and I’d appreciate some privacy.”
After a few ticks of awkward silence, one of the boys speaks up: “Oh! Um, our bad, we’ll just leave! ...Enjoy your shit? I guess?”
When the door finally closes, Akaashi pulls off Bokuto’s softening cock with a sigh, wiping the immense amount of drool from his face.
“‘Enjoy your shit’? Honestly, who says that?” The second-year complains, rising on wobbly legs.
Bokuto barks out a laugh, helping his boyfriend stand. “I dunno. That’s an awfully weird thing to say, huh?” He continues with an apologetic smile. “Sorry ‘bout that. And just as I was gettin’ kinda close, too! Damn it all!”
Akaashi can’t help but lean forwards and give him a peck. “Keep it down, love. They’re probably still within earshot.”
“Heh, yeah probably. I wonder how they’d react if they knew what was really goin’ on?”
Akaashi rolls his eyes at the smirk that adorns his lover’s face. “You’ve gotten too much of your humor from Kuroo-san.”
“Hey hey hey! We’re both hilarious, you’re just a grumpy old man.”
“I don’t see how I’m the old man when you’re the older one with grey hair, though,” he replies, reaching behind the older boy to unlock the stall door.
Walking out after him, Bokuto chuckles as he goes to wash his hands too. “Ya got me there, ‘Kaashi!”
Akaashi feels warmth bloom in his chest and he tries not to gush over the man beside him. As he watches his boyfriend suspiciously eye the automatic paper towel dispenser while he waves a wild hand in front of the sensor, his thoughts whisper: God, I love him so much.
“Bokuto! You in here, bro?”
...And the door is pushed open again, this time to reveal Kuroo.
“Ha!” He laughs, walking into the washroom now. “I knew you’d be the fool they were talking about down there, Bo! I mean, who else would announce their intentions to take a private shit? Also, hey Akaashi.”
The raven gives Kuroo a polite wave, but he doesn’t miss the sudden change in the taller’s expression.
“Wait... Akaashi wouldn’t accompany you to take a dump. He’s too good for that nastiness.” A pause. Akaashi sighs, cheeks once again reddening as he prepares to be embarrassed twice this evening. “Ohoho, don’t tell me you two were gettin’ dirty up in here, were ya? How scandalous! I didn’t take you as the type to pull such a stunt, Akaashi.”
“I think you’ll find that there’s a lot you don’t know about me, Kuroo-san,” Akaashi purrs, swiftly moving to glide past the middle blocker towards the door.
Fuck, fuck, why did he say that? That was totally flirty, even a blubbering idiot would’ve been able to sense the innuendos behind the remark.
Outside the washroom with his back turned to the other two, Akaashi allows himself to relish in his stupidity.
That is, until Bokuto’s loud laughter breaks his trance. “Oh shit, dude! That was so fuckin’ sneaky! He just one-upped you so good, Kuroo, are you even gonna survive that?”
“Sh-shut up, Bo! You’re killin’ my vibe!”
So getting dick from Bokuto hadn’t worked, then. If anything, it had possibly made his desires much worse, because now Akaashi’s flirting with the universal center of his sexual problems.
He is utterly fucked.
That night, Akaashi spends a full hour and a half in the shower. He’s determined to get rid of this whole fucking issue before things can blow up in his face even more.
As much as he didn’t want to, he’s resorted to jerking off in the shower, because he’s desperate for a solution at this point. Maybe an orgasm is all he needs.
And yet, it’s been fifteen minutes of furiously stroking his dick, and it’s still not enough. He’s definitely horny, so that isn’t the problem, and his dick is able to get hard perfectly fine. So why can’t he even get close to cumming? What the fuck?
It might be because he doesn’t jerk off often. He curses himself for that lack of habit now.
Ultimately, he gives up, letting out a hard breath of frustration. Confused, angry, and exhausted, he finishes cleaning himself off before stepping out and throwing on an oversized t-shirt (with the way it stops in the middle of his thighs, it’s probably Bokuto’s) and briefs.
A small bit of steam hangs in the air and fogs up the mirrors, but he ignores it in favor of lazily brushing his teeth and drying his hair.
Sighing for about the thousandth time that day, Akaashi rolls his shoulders to try and get the sore muscles to relax.
Exiting the somewhat stuffy washroom (and grumbling when he notices his hair is still more than damp, even after aggressively toweling it off), the boy wraps his towel around his shoulders and checks the time on his phone.
Almost midnight. Great. He supposes that that’s what he gets for practicing with Bokuto and Kuroo until 9PM, per Kuroo’s blackmail-ridden declaration of, “if you refuse, I’ll go down there and tell those two guys what you rascals were truthfully up to.” Akaashi knows Kuroo would never actually tell someone private information like that, especially seeing as though their relationship isn’t publicly out in the open yet.
Still, though, it had convinced Bokuto immediately to agree, and when he’d given his setter those gold puppy-dog eyes, Akaashi really couldn’t turn him down.
His black hair is still dripping onto his towel occasionally, so he rubs at the dark strands with it as he turns the corner…
...And jolts in surprise when he sees someone down just eight feet down the hall in front of him.
The person steps into the pool of silvery light cast through the large corridor window, and Akaashi’s breath catches in his throat.
For the third night in a row, he’s run into Kuroo Tetsurou in the Shinzen school hallways.
Unhelpfully, Akaashi had just been trying not to envision this same man in the shower with him a few minutes ago as his hand was wrapped around his dick.
“So, the saga continues! We meet once again,” he slurs, and his voice is tired and deep. Also slightly hoarse from being so lively with Bokuto during practice earlier.
Akaashi feels his gut twist with heat at the sound of his voice, and he swallows down the dry lump in his throat. He averts his eyes away from the cat’s face, finding his gaze too intense and calculative to handle. His gaze trails down, down… until it lands on something he never thought he’d see.
There’s a tent in his shorts.
For a second, he holds his breath. He doesn’t even process how downright obvious and rude he’s being as he stares at it, completely entranced.
He hears Kuroo awkwardly clear his throat, and the setter flinches and ducks his head.
“Akaashi Keiji, are you staring at my dick?” He jokes, sounding like a scolding mother.
The air between them grows awkward as the boy in question doesn’t answer or move a muscle. Akaashi knows he needs to respond and fix this, fix whatever mess he’s made and fix the uncomfortable aura Kuroo is radiating, but he’s paralyzed like a deer in headlights.
“Haha, uh…” Kuroo shuffles awkwardly, trying to hide his half erection from view. “Dude, are you goo—”
“Let me help.”
Wait, what? Akaashi had meant to apologize and tell him he’s had an off day and is spacing out, but instead he offers to get him off?
Again, the middle blocker nervously laughs, trying fruitlessly to erase the tension. “You… what?”
Fuck it. Now that he’s said something about his desires now, they aren’t secret anymore. Go big or go home, right? And he’s already mortified himself enough today. This is hardly another crack in the glass.
“Kuroo-san,” he begins, finally meeting his gaze; albeit hesitant. “Please let me suck your dick.”
“Akaashi, I’m— you— you’re serious right now?”
Wringing his fingers together nervously, he ducks his head to make himself appear smaller, because he kind of wants to die in a hole now. “...Yes.”
Kuroo breathes out a puff of air as if he’d been holding it in. “But you— Akaashi, you have a fucking boyfriend. Wait, did you and Bo break up?”
“...No, we didn’t.” He sighs. “I know this is crazy and, frankly, quite stupid of me. Possibly the most thoughtless thing I’ve ever done. But I… I just…” he trails off, unsure of what to even say at this point. “I suppose I must be completely honest here. You’ve been driving me a little— how should I put this— mad these past few days, and even doing, um, things with Bokuto-san hasn’t been enough for me, when it has always been more than enough before now. I don’t know why, and I don’t know what’s wrong with me, and I don’t know what brought this on, but you’ve been on my mind this whole time and I suppose it has… um… made me unusually desperate.”
After a few beats of silence, Akaashi hides his face in his hands, face a burning scarlet now. “Oh my god, what am I doing? I’m an awful person. I’m so sorry, Kuroo-san, this is horrific. I apologize for making you uncomfortable—”
“Who said I was uncomfortable?” He answers, his tone one of genuine concern. “Akaashi, hey, look at me. Stop freaking out for a sec.”
He does. Emerald-and-gunmetal eyes meet Kuroo’s amber ones, and Kuroo gives him a small half-smile.
“Listen, there’s something you should know,” he begins, but he stops when Akaashi’s face pales significantly. “It’s nothing bad, don’t worry! Just hear me out. You were gonna know this eventually anyway, but Bo just wasn’t ready to tell you yet.”
When the setter’s complexion looks less ghostly, Kuroo continues: “when we were talking about threesomes and stuff earlier, Bokuto mentioned how he’d love to see you get, like, fucked by someone else, because he’s only seen you from his point of view; it was real sappy, the way he was gushing about how he wants to be able to see all of you and not just some or most of you. So that’s when I suggested having sex with another person, where you and the person have sex and Bo can watch and see all of you. And he said he’d totally be fine with it if you were okay with it, so… what I’m trying to say is: Bokuto won’t mind, just as long as he knows about it and gets, well, something out of it, if you catch my drift.”
Akaashi lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “I love Bokuto-san with all of my heart,” he admits quietly, breaking his staring match with the male before him to look at his own hands. “And— no offense, of course— I don’t feel that way romantically about you, it’s just the… other kind of attraction. I have no idea where it came from and I didn’t want to say anything to him about it because I was afraid he would be offended and believe that he isn’t enough, which is certainly false.”
“Yeah, I get ya. And to be honest, Akaashi, you really took me by surprise a minute ago. I’d never expect you to just tell someone you wanna go down on ‘em, but, well, like you said earlier: there’s a lot I don’t know about you.”
Akaashi smiles a bit at that, the taught string of tension between them beginning to loosen.
“Sooo,” the cat drawls, pulling Akaashi’s smartphone from his hand. “What do you say about giving Bo a bit of a show, huh?”
Desperation floods his senses again, and the younger wastes no time. He grabs Kuroo’s free hand and leads him to the unused hall with empty classrooms.
Finding an unlocked one at the end of the hall, he pushes the third year inside and locks the door behind them both.
“Ya know,” Kuroo slips the towel off the other’s shoulders and tosses it carelessly to a nearby desk. “I always had a feeling there was some sexual tension between us. I can’t believe I was right, though.”
Akaashi hums in response, trailing his hands down the clothed chest in front of him. He’s glad he can finally touch the object of his desires after so many days of longing, and the hard muscle underneath his fingertips certainly isn’t disappointing.
Kuroo holds up the other’s phone. “Unlock this thing and we’ll set it up somewhere,” he tells him, going to turn on the lights. The switch does absolutely nothing, though; the lights don’t work.
“Well, that sucks. Um, turn the flash on maybe?”
The setter instructs him to stand a few feet away where they’ll both have room to be visible within the phone camera’s range and turns on the flash.
“It won’t focus. The flash isn’t bright enough when you’re that far away, Kuroo-san.”
“Damn. Well, I don’t know how to fit us both in the video if we get too close for it to focus.”
Akaashi sets his phone down loudly on the desk. “We don’t— well, I don’t have time for this. We can video something later in a different room with working light fixtures, but right now I need to have a dick in my mouth.” He pauses, seeing Kuroo’s slight shock at his directness once more. “Um… if you don’t mind, that is.”
“Well since you asked so nicely,” Kuroo hums, even though he’s the one who’s sporting a slight erection. It never fully went away from before.
The moon’s pale rays combined with the distant glow from the outside street lamps gives them just enough light to see one another, but not much more than that. It adds to the riskiness of it all and Akaashi can feel his heartbeat increase as he approaches Kuroo like a predator stalking prey.
“Last chance to back out,” he whispers, leaning his face in close to Kuroo’s, his voice fanning out against the other’s jaw in a minty exhale.
Smirking, half-lidded yellow eyes meet his, sending a piercing jolt of arousal down his spine. “Hell no.”
And then Akaashi is backing him up until he’s seated in the teacher’s fancy desk chair, dropping to his knees for the second time that day. Excitement and pure unbridled arousal are roaring in his veins.
“Dear god,” he murmurs, and Kuroo almost doesn’t catch it, too distracted by the tickle of a hand hesitantly creeping up his thigh.
“What’cha muttering about down there?”
Akaashi looks up and sees a smug smirk settled on the cat’s lips. “I just… I can’t believe this is actually happening.”
And with that, he spits into his palm (again, for the second time that day) and pulls down Kuroo’s shorts, the latter raising his hips so the garment can pool around his ankles. Now mostly hard, his cock springs from its confines, and Akaashi can’t stop the small whine he lets out.
God, when had he become so eager? He usually doesn’t even like having a dick down his throat, but now he craves it like a bee to honey.
The male sitting above him hisses when slender spit-slick fingers curl and stroke around his length. Akaashi looks up then, seeing the other leaning back in the desk chair with his arm propped on the armrest, chin resting on his fist as he stares heatedly down at him. He looks so fucking hot like that: leaning back like he’s on a throne without a care in the world, while Akaashi— like a king’s servant— is kneeling at his feet. The power dynamic has his mouth watering.
“Can you take off your shirt?” His voice is already raspy with anticipation.
“Only if you take yours off too,” he purrs, sitting up to peel it off his body.
Kuroo isn’t beefy with large built pecs and enormous biceps like Bokuto; rather, he’s a slender type of muscular, hard where Bokuto is softer. It’s perfect.
Raising his arms to take off his own, Akaashi tosses it carelessly to the side, eyes never leaving the body before him.
“God, Akaashi, you’re gorgeous.”
Oh, Akaashi could certainly get used to that. He’s never really had a thing for praise, unlike Bokuto, but he definitely has some kind of thing for Kuroo talking like that. His voice is like sinful velvet, and the deep vibrations of it seem to resonate in Akaashi’s very bones.
They meet eyes again. Tongue swiping across his bottom lip, Akaashi roams his gaze across the expanse of muscle presented to him. “I do believe you’re one to talk, Kuroo-san.”
He snorts a little, but it’s half-hearted, clouded by his lust. “You’re too much, baby.”
“Am I?” He teases, and then he’s leaning forward to suck hard on Kuroo’s dick like there’s no tomorrow. The latter swears above him, squirming.
“Jesus fuck. Yes, you are . Just proved my point.”
Triumphant, he pulls back again, suddenly shy. “Um… I’ve only done this maybe five-ish times, so don’t be hesitant to guide me.”
Kuroo doesn’t verbally respond; he really doesn’t need to. He gets the message.
Akaashi wraps his hand around the base again and mouths at the shaft’s underside. The only dick he’s ever sucked has been Bokuto’s, so his technique is based solely on what makes Bokuto feel the best. He hopes his limited knowledge is at least somewhat universal with most other dicks.
The middle blocker breathes out a long sigh when his member is finally engulfed in wet spit-slick heat. Slowly, his throat still slightly feeling the effects of his boyfriend’s thick-as-hell dick earlier, Akaashi slacks his jaw and drops his head, keeping his throat gaped as much as possible. Kuroo doesn’t sport as much girth as Bokuto, so the fit is easier to accommodate. When the setter’s nose brushes the skin below his navel, coaxing goosebumps from tan skin, Akaashi stills his movements to let his throat get used to the blockage there.
A deep breath later, Akaashi flexes his tongue against Kuroo’s dick and hollows his cheeks. The hand resting upon Kuroo’s thigh feels the leg muscles twitch below his fingertips.
The action is repeated, this time with an added swallow. Akaashi squeezes his eyes shut as he forces his throat to clench around the unswallowable weight, resisting the urge to gag at the odd sensation.
“Fuck yeah,” Kuroo swears, shifting slightly in his seat.
Akaashi didn’t think it possible, but the third year’s voice is pitched even lower than it had been before. When he pulls back until the tip is no longer fully down his throat, Akaashi slithers his tongue, and Kuroo swears, long and drawn-out. Hearing it makes sparks of arousal jolt in the second-year’s groin like hot fireworks.
Now, he finds himself with a new goal: coax out as many noises and words he can from Kuroo.
Newly determined, Akaashi doubles his efforts. The hand on the other’s thigh drags upwards, pressing and massaging into pointed hips and a toned waist before his fingernails rake tantalizingly slow down over fit abs. Kuroo groans and rolls his body into the movements, flinching when they scratch at particularly ticklish spots.
Akaashi’s left hand comes up from the floor to graze the underside of Kuroo’s other thigh, nails scraping down to the calf. The loud slurp that erupts from his mouth when he hollows his cheeks again and bobs his head should be embarrassingly obscene, but it only serves to encourage the setter more.
Though he’s extremely focused on his efforts to make the other male feel good, he doesn’t miss the curses that occasionally fall from Kuroo’s lips. Akaashi huffs out of his nose as he goes down all the way again. When he swallows around the cock lodged fully in his mouth this time, he couples the action with twists to the captain’s nipples.
“Shit!” Kuroo gasps, the action causing his hips to jerk forwards. Hard.
It forces his dick to slam into the back of Akaashi’s throat, and his eyes fly open. Unprepared for it, his first reaction is to inhale air. This is a mistake because it makes his throat close more, and sends messages of panic to his brain when it seems to remember that he can’t gasp for air, as there’s a dick blocking the way. He pulls off with a wet, watery cough.
“Shit, shit— sorry, Akaashi, I didn’t mean to do that,” Kuroo leans down to cup the younger’s face, turning his head to look up at him. “You okay?”
Breathing fast and raggedly, the boy nods. “I’m alright. I just didn’t expect it.”
“Well, if you need to sto—”
“No,” Akaashi interjects. “I mean, I’m okay to continue. If— if you are.”
“All good here.” Kuroo assures, leaning back.
Taking a deep breath to settle down his quickened heart rate, Akaashi takes Kuroo’s length down his throat again, resuming his earlier actions like nothing had happened. He’s always been able to recollect himself quite fast.
After a few seconds, Kuroo tentatively rolls his hips forward just a bit, testing the waters.
Oh. Wait a minute.
Interested, Akaashi stills and lets his jaws fall open as much as possible, despite the building ache. His tongue flattens and rests over his bottom teeth so they don’t scrape the underside of the Nekoma captain’s cock.
Glancing up, the second-year finds Kuroo’s eyes already on him. Their gazes lock, and Akaashi tries his best to give him a small nod.
“I’ll go slow, yeah?” He says, rolling his hips again.
It’s so different to not be the one moving, Akaashi concludes. It gives him a bit of a break, though.
They still don’t break eye contact, even when Kuroo thrusts a little harder and the tip of his cock grazes the setter’s throat. A calloused hand comes down to thread through the younger male’s raven locks, holding him by the back of the head.
...Oddly, Akaashi likes it. A lot. He likes the idea of being held still while he just sits there like a puppet.
God, the more he thinks about it, how belittling the act is for himself, the more fond of it he becomes. His eyes glaze over, losing focus of the image of Kuroo in front of him as he moans.
“You need me to slow down, baby?”
And fuck, that voice. The way he talks to him, the way he looks down on him because Akaashi is beneath him, it’s as though he practically belongs on the floor like a toy. He has no idea where all of these thoughts are coming from, and the onslaught of them kind of makes his head swim, but he loves it.
The hand on his scalp loosens its grip, allowing the setter to pull off. Akaashi swallows the gathered saliva in his mouth before he speaks. “Could you… Um, could you please go harder?”
Kuroo nods. “Just tap my leg twice to slow down, pinch to stop.”
Akaashi scoots closer to the chair, and Kuroo wraps his legs over the younger’s shoulders and around his back. His heels digging into the curve above his ass, keeping the second-year close.
And then he’s moving again, starting slow at first but quickly picking up the pace. Akaashi is just along for the ride, sitting still and pretty as he’s used.
The spit pooled in his mouth drools down his lips and catches on Kuroo’s shaft to form a string of saliva between the two. The squelching sounds are absolutely filthy, but Akaashi wouldn’t have it any other way.
The setter is definitely rock-hard in his briefs, and he moves his hand to rest on the floor between his thighs. As Kuroo slides forward again, the younger grinds forward on his wrist and whimpers.
“God, I don’t think I’ll last much longer,” the blocker admits.
Perfect, Akaashi thinks, and he responds by hollowing his cheeks to suck at the other’s member as it slips back and forth past his lips.
“Jesus. And you said you weren’t good at this. Fucking liar.”
The grip at the top of his head tightens, and Kuroo pushes Akaashi forwards as he thrusts. Fuck, he really likes being manhandled like that.
“Akaashi, fuck, I’m gonna go faster. Pinch me if you can’t handle it.”
Bracing himself, the setter anchors himself down even more to ensure his body won’t rock too much, and then he closes his eyes to focus on relaxing his throat.
And then the captain is truly face-fucking him, both hands gripping his hair now, and Akaashi’s eyes practically roll into the back of his head as his nose is repeatedly pressed against his navel. Saliva trails steadily down his chin and neck now, and he feels it drip onto his thighs and arm. Tears trail involuntarily from his watering eyes. The front of his briefs are practically soaked in pre-cum. It’s messy and rough and the second-year adores it.
Akaashi’s mind is absolutely floating. He wonders why he’s never had sex like this; probably because he really hadn’t known sex could even be like this. He’s only ever fucked Bokuto, and the ace is always slow and sensual, treating his boyfriend like fine treasure.
This, however, is anything but that.
The setter feels lightheaded and heavy-limbed. Briefly, he thinks these symptoms might be the precursors of fainting.
“Shit, Akaashi, you’re doing so good.” Kuroo groans, low and guttural. “I’m getting close.”
Two hard thrusts later, he pulls the younger’s head back and off his dick, leaving just the tip on his tongue as he jerks a hand around his length. It doesn’t take long for Kuroo to orgasm in the setter’s mouth.
“Fuuuuck, that was hot as hell,” he moans, sitting back.
Akaashi almost doesn’t hear him, ears ringing too loudly, as he sits with Kuroo’s cum coating his tongue. He’s panting hard, open-mouthed, trembling as he regains a clearer headspace. He doesn’t know if he’s ever breathed this hard in his life.
“Akaashi, hey, you with me?”
The volleyball player in question feels practically mindless. He feels dumbified and blank-brained. He’s never felt like this before, and it takes him time to gradually process how into it he is.
Wiping the drool and tears off his face with his forearm, the second-year stands on wobbly legs, mimicking the unstable stance of a newborn fawn. He means to gracefully climb into Kuroo’s lap, but he all but falls onto the older man’s thighs.
Cum still present on his tongue, he leans forward to catch Kuroo’s lips in a bruising kiss.
Taken aback at first, but quick to adjust, the middle blocker wraps his large hands around the younger’s slim waist. When their kisses turn from simple locked-lip kisses to open-mouthed ones, Akaashi gathers the spit and cum on his tongue and grabs onto the third-year’s bedhead to tilt his head back. The angle allows gravity to let the cum and saliva drip down into Kuroo’s open mouth.
The latter pulls back. “Oh, you kinky little shit,” Kuroo chides. “Get over here.”
He repeats the favor, shoving his own cum back into Akaashi’s mouth and backing away to give him a hard stare.
“Swallow,” he demands, sliding a hand up around his neck. Not squeezing; just resting gently around it.
Akaashi swears he can feel the deepness of Kuroo’s voice vibrating in his chest. He obeys, opening his mouth to display the proof.
“Who knew you were the kinky type, huh?” Kuroo flashes him a teasing smirk. “I never would’ve guessed.”
“Well I certainly had no idea,” he mutters.
“Wait, you didn’t? How?”
“Um,” Akaashi starts, squirming atop the other’s lap. “Bokuto-san is the only person I’ve ever been with, and he’s always been very slow and gentle, so… I just assumed that’s how sex was supposed to be, and that there really wasn’t another ‘way’ to do it.”
“Huh,” Kuroo muses. “Well, hey, it never hurts to explore a bit, right?”
“...Sometimes it does hurt, Kuroo-san.”
Kuroo snorts. “Did the Akaashi Keiji just make an anal sex joke?” ‘The’ Akaashi in question rolls his eyes. “Truly a historical moment. Sooo... you want me to suck you off too, or…?”
“Um, actually, could you… could you please fuck me?”
Yet again, the Nekoma captain is a bit shocked. “Woah, I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you swear! But, yeah, if you want me to. Should we move to a room with working li—”
“I seriously can’t wait long enough to find an unlocked classroom with working lights, Kuroo-san.”
The fierce lust swimming in Akaashi’s ocean eyes is captivating and alluring, like a siren pulling a sailor out to sea, and Kuroo is inevitably drawn in. Immediately, the mood shifts back to the beforehand dynamic, and the desperation rides high.
“Ya know your eyes are beautiful, Akaashi? Your skin, too. Jeez, you’re fucking flawless.”
A heated blush builds in the setter’s cheeks and ghosts over his bare shoulders. “Thank you, Kuroo-san.” His voice is barely above a whisper.
“Too bad I’ve gotta mark up such a clean canvas, though,” he chuckles, leaning down to mouth at his neck. “Let’s see,” he mumbles to himself, “your shirt collar would end right about… here?” Kuroo’s lips travel to the spot where the second-year’s collarbone seems to disappear and mend with the curve of his shoulder and he pauses there to nip at the skin.
The teeth that graze over Akaashi’s skin makes him jump, not used to anything more than hands and lips touching him. Bokuto was always hesitant about leaving hickeys, worried he’d hurt his boyfriend. He isn’t good at giving them anyway.
Kuroo returns Akaashi’s earlier treatment: raking his nails down the latter’s chest and watching him squirm under the touch. He only leaves a few hickies on his shoulders, knowing the teasing would drive the younger male mad if he kept at it for too long.
“Hey, you got a condom?”
“...No,” Akaashi’s voice is slightly raspy. “But I don’t mind it raw if you’re clean.”
“I am. Guess that means we don’t have any lube either, huh?”
In response, the setter spits into his hand and looks up at Kuroo. “I can work with that.”
Kuroo continues touching whatever milky skin he can reach, and occasionally they make out again as the second-year preps himself. It’s all taken slowly in comparison to their previous pace because Akaashi has never fingered himself open without lube. Saliva dries quickly, too, so it’s a tedious process. Tonight is the first time for lots of things, apparently.
Three scissoring fingers later, the setter sighs as he pulls them out. “I-I’m fine now.”
“Let’s take this off the chair, my ass is going numb,” Kuroo declares, picking Akaashi up and pressing his back against the wall. “We don’t have to stand the whole time, but if I sit any longer, I think my legs might stop working.”
Akaashi is set down on his feet, and he turns around, bending forwards to rest his elbows against the wall and face his back to the middle blocker. Bracing one hand against the wall and using the other to guide his spit-soaked cock, Kuroo pushes in gradually.
At last, after days and hours of pent-up lust, Akaashi has Kuroo inside him, and he finds himself shivering gleefully at the mere thought of fulfilling such a fantasy.
“Dear god, ” the younger moans.
Kuroo— the smug bastard— merely chuckles, like he’d known that this is the reaction he’d receive. He runs a hand down Akaashi’s back, thumbing the soft skin between his shoulderblades. “Okay, ’m sorry, but I’ve gotta know: who feels bigger?”
Akaashi sighs and squirms, annoyed but too turned on to let the question truly tick him off. “U-um… Probably about the same? Koutarou is thicker, though.”
“Damn,” he clicks his tongue. “You called him by his first name just now, ya know. Never heard you say it before. It’s kinda cute.”
Mentally swearing at the embarrassing realization that he’d let it slip, Akaashi explains. “I try not to say it because we aren’t out. Y-you know how it is.”
...He doesn’t mention, though, that they also don’t call one another by their first names around others because it is intimate and precious to them, and they prefer to go by first-name basis only when they’re alone. It makes their time more special, in a way.
“Now can you please, for fuck’s sake, get going already?”
“So impatient,” the cat teases, and Akaashi is about to comment on it, because he is so done with the pointless fucking teasing, but then the captain pulls out all the way and slams back in, rolling his hips to deepen the friction.
The complaint dies on his tongue, and a wimpy, shaky noise is involuntarily emitted from the younger’s throat in its place. He’s gone so long without feeling full like this, and he’d obviously missed it.
“God, I can’t fucking wait to jus’ wreck you, Akaashi.” The sentence is ended with a groan as fingernails dig into the flesh of the setter’s curvy ass. “You know the drill. Tell me to stop and I will.”
Not even a second after he receives a nod in response, Kuroo thrusts his hips into the waiting body before him. They don’t hit as deep this time; at least not as deep as that first stroke had. He starts rather slow (slow for Kuroo, that is), which is a pace Akaashi is rather used to, thanks to his various nights with Bokuto. His boyfriend is a slow, gentle lover, the type to make love rather than merely fuck.
As the middle blocker wastes no time with speeding up his pace, the setter realizes that this time won’t be steady or romantic at all. That epiphany, in fact, makes him tremble with excitement, and he finds himself wanting everything that isn’t slow and steady.
“Kuroo-san,” he croaks, turning his head to gaze over his shoulder at the man behind him. “K-Kuroo-san, please, please—”
Akaashi isn’t even sure what exactly he’s begging for, but Kuroo seems to understand.
“I know, I know. I’ve got you, baby.”
Kuroo pulls out again and then changes the angle of his hips before he shoves back in hard, pressing his tan calloused hands into the dips of the younger’s slim waist to steady him.
“Oh, fu-uck, ” Akaashi swears, voice breaking as the punctuation of the movement jostles him and makes his body seize up. “Ohmyfuckinggod.”
“Yeah?” The captain whispers, leaning down to mouth at pale skin as he shallowly pushes in and out. “You sound so good, gorgeous,” he uses the grip he has on Akaashi’s hips to grind the setter back further onto his own dick, and as if to prove his point, the younger whimpers.
The pure desperation of such a sound snaps the small amount of resolve that Kuroo has left. Leaning back, he plants his feet and sets a wild momentum.
And, god, it’s so good, Akaashi thinks, as he crosses his arms to make a pillow for his head. Without his forearms cushioning the blow, he fears the force of it all might split his head open on the wall. He arches his back to deepen the angle, and the pleasure becomes even more perfect.
Past the sound of his own heightened pulse in his ears, Akaashi can hear Kuroo panting and cursing above him. Occasionally, he’ll change his aim slightly. After a couple failed attempts, he finally brushes directly against the bundle of nerves he’s searching for.
“A-ah—” Akaashi jerks, squirming with pleasure, his voice pitching higher as he rambles. “Right there, right there, ohmygod fuck yes—”
He inwardly tells himself to shut the fuck up, because he’s never ever been this talkative during sex. But it’s like the word filter that keeps his thoughts safely inside his brain has completely left the fucking building, and he’s too far gone to even care.
“Fuck, jus’ look at you,” Kuroo mumbles, increasing the exertion behind his movements to make the boy in question cry out. “So fucking hot. Never even heard you talk this much. You a slut for me, huh? Is that it?”
Slut. Something about that word makes the raven’s back arch, and his legs start to shake uncontrollably as he replies. “Y-yeah, yeah— oh god, say it again, please—”
“Yeah? Pretty fucking slut,” Kuroo growls, and a tremor worms its way through Akaashi’s skin, a sight that makes Kuroo snort in feigned mockery. “You really like it that much, don’t you? Shit, you’re such a whore.”
As the setter’s feet begin to slip in their place on the slick tiled floor, his lithe thighs quivering like he’s just run eight miles, his mind chants these words over: slut, whore, slut, whore, slut, whore. And, oh, he was so incredibly blind to think that sex couldn’t be beautifully disgusting.
“You’re a doll,” Kuroo praises, voice raspier than before as the strenuous strain sets in. “So fragile… except I— shit— kinda wanna break you.”
“Yes,” Akaashi whines in response, voice slurring in a way that has Kuroo rolling his hips possessively. “Wreck me, wreck me, I wan’ it. Wan’ it so bad.”
“Do you now,” the captain drawls, the words rolling off his velvet tongue like syrup. Short fingernails trail up the male’s back, leaving goosebumps in their wake as they ghost over the baby hairs at the base of the second year’s nape.
Slowly, ensuring Akaashi is okay with the situation, his lengthy fingers curl around Akaashi’s neck.
“Please,” he croaks, and the digits apply pressure.
As soon as he feels fingertips pressing deliciously into his trachea, Akaashi’s jaw falls open. He keens, and the sound is raspy and broken and completely involuntary as, for the first time, he slightly loses his grip of reality, mind succumbed to the numbness of sexual gratification.
Noticing the other starting to lose his stable footing, Kuroo pulls out to readjust their position, shushing Akaashi when weak protests fall from his lips. Turning them both to face the nearby teacher’s desk rather than the classroom wall, he twists the setter’s body to the side and bends him over the object. Propping himself up on his elbows, hooded green eyes give the other a weary, confused glance as he tries to understand the unique position.
Giving him a grin, the tomcat-like boy makes sure one of Akaashi’s legs stays on the floor while he lifts up the other one, stretching the limb out straight until the second year’s thigh is pressed flush against Kuroo’s chest and his calf extends above his bedhead.
The blocker wraps his arm around the outstretched leg and pushes back in, narrow eyes trained on the way Akaashi’s wet teeth sink into his swollen bottom lip.
“Holy shit, I didn’t think you could get any tighter,” Kuroo comments, watching the way the other’s mouth falls open around a silent sound.
He’s right: this angle makes it twice as good.
Kuroo leans forwards to envelop his free hand around Akaashi’s throat again, groaning when he realizes that the younger’s leg easily accommodates the further stretch.
“You ready for me to fuck you silly again?” He asks, thumb stroking the front of Akaashi’s throat.
With no hesitation, the setter nods, and he lets out a delirious sob when Kuroo reels back and immediately slams back in directly on his prostate. He sure is glad this particular desk is secured to the floor, but even the bolts might be susceptible to breakage.
The beforehand pace is easily picked back up, and the sounds of their lower bodies slapping rhythmically together is practically a musical symphony to their ears.
When Kuroo’s fingernails poke into the unblemished skin of Akaashi’s throat with the increased force of his grip, the second-year’s head lolls to the side as he moans, and this time his eyes do roll back.
“You’re the perfect fucking cocksleeve,” The third-year moans. “Is that what you are, huh? A fucktoy?”
Akaashi can only whimper in response as he lets himself be literally fucked stupid. He has half a mind, though, to reach down and shakily grab his own cock, which has gone untouched for way too long.
He nearly screams at the jolt of electric pleasure it elicits, and his body trembles uncontrollably.
“You gonna cum for me?” Kuroo inquires, eyeing the way the setter’s long digits twist around his member. “‘Course you are. You’re gonna cum on my cock and get it everywhere like the desperate little slut you are.” His hips twitch, rhythm faltering for a moment. “God, if only Bokuto could see you now. What would he think of this new side of you? You think he’d let you ride him ‘till you’re crying and begging him to pound you senseless?”
Akaashi gives a loud, watery whimper at that, and his tear-filled eyes flick up to meet Kuroo’s charged gaze.
Emerald sea-green meets golden amber yellow, and the second-year can’t take it anymore.
The captain seems to sense this, shoving in as deep as possible and grinding the tip of his dick right on the younger’s prostate.
“Fuck, fuck, fu— ohmygod yes, ” Akaashi squeals, head tipping back and to the side like he doesn’t know what to do with himself as he strokes himself with fervor.
His quivering mounts to an impossibly high intensity as the wave of warmth dwelling beneath his skin sparks, rushing towards its inevitable peak.
Akaashi cums with an unstable high-pitched keen, his body curling in on itself and snapping back to place like a coil. He registers the wetness of tears now on his cheeks before he even thinks about where it could have come from, and the splotchy stars clear from the sides of his vision as he inhales like he’s never before had oxygen in his lungs.
Removing his hand from its place on Akaashi’s throat, Kuroo gives him a minute to regain his sense of reality before he begins shallowly moving again.
Akaashi sobs at the feeling, oversensitivity lighting up his nerves tenfold. His body lurches and cringes in protest, but he wills himself to stay put, encouraged by the underlying pleasure peeking from beneath the slight pain.
“Keep going,” he wheezes, cheeks aflame in mortification at the sound of his voice.
Kuroo obeys, drilling into him. To distract the other from the new sensation of post-orgasm fucking, his free hand grazes Akaashi’s chest. Weakly, Akaashi moans, letting his head thump onto the desk as he lets himself be used.
The third-year whines brokenly, gripping Akaashi’s leg tighter. “You’re so fucking perfect. Such a good slut for me. Jesus, you feel amazing, Akaashi, holy hell.”
The occasional jolts of hurt transform into ones of a unique kind of ecstasy, and Akaashi is sinking back into that mindless headspace as he groans.
A few thrusts later, Kuroo plunges hard and deep into him, shouting a string of curses as hot semen coats the setter’s insides.
Feeble fingers brush Akaashi’s half hard-on, and just like that, he’s spasming and cumming again without warning, though the amount ejaculated is significantly less than before. He looks practically pitiful as cum pathetically dribbles down his twitching, softening cock.
“Damn,” Kuroo exhales, his throat so dry that the word ends in a cough. “Let’s go to the showers and clean up, yeah?”
Dumbly, Akaashi nods, his head feeling like it’s filled with rocks. As the Nekoma blocker cleans them up and guarantees no trace of their presence will be left over, he carries the younger to the washrooms.
As they’re relaxing and washing off languidly, Kuroo awkwardly clears his throat.
“Um, hope you don’t mind, Akaashi, but I uh… might have audio-recorded that entire thing,” he holds up Akaashi’s phone to show the proof.
Squinting, he swallows around the unquenched dryness in his throat so he can answer. “For Bokuto-san?”
Humming, the setter lays back on the tile. “I don’t mind. As long as we’re the only ones who know about it.”
The two stay silent after that, basking in their own exhaustion.
...And if they start to lazily make out again and hypothetically go for a second round? Well. No one has to know.
(Except Bokuto, who will later receive a video recording of their shower session).
The next morning, Akaashi feels utterly boneless. He considers faking an illness or injury to get out of the last day’s practice, but the pleading puppy-dog look in Bokuto’s eyes has him abandoning all excuses.
Later, however, he is hyper-aware of the concerned looks he’s been receiving (especially from his boyfriend) as he limps around awkwardly on very unsteady legs. Even just the warm-up stretches earlier had made the boy hiss in protest. He inwardly reminds himself not to have sex at training camps anymore, because not only are his muscles sore from hours upon hours of volleyball, but his ass is thrumming with a... deeper kind of pain.
When Kuroo waltzes over smugly to ask if he’s injured, he shoots imaginary daggers at the man. Unintimidated, the cat merely pokes the angry crease on the second-year’s forehead.
Soon after, they both confront Bokuto to explain what happened the night prior, and exchange the recordings of the... activities. The ace’s eyes go wide, both with surprise and excitement.
...And (after viewing said recordings) if Bokuto ends up yanking Akaashi into a storage closet to fuck him for the third time in 24 hours?
Well. No one has to know.