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Didn't I Tell You

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Since the beginning of their relationship, Akaashi has always been able to tell when Koutarou is hiding something. 

It’s not a very regular occurrence; one of the things that made him fall for him headfirst back in high school was his inability to wear his heart anywhere but on his sleeve. But when it does happen, it’s usually for one of two reasons; either he’s tragically embarrassed by something (because despite his lack of filter, he does still have his moments), or he’s trying to spare someone’s feelings. Both varieties make Akaashi want to kiss the life out of him, even if it is mildly frustrating sometimes to know that Koutarou is eating himself up over something and won’t tell him.

Sometimes that means bringing that frustration back home with him to their tiny Tokyo apartment where the baggage that he’s carrying takes up almost all of the limited space. Koutarou always seems to thinks he’s the best secret keeper to walk the earth - as several failed surprise birthday parties have proven - when in fact, it only takes one look at him after a bad day of practice to notice his slumped shoulders, his drooped eyebrows and the black cloud following him into the apartment to know that it’s going to be a matter of a couple of hours before cuddles are in order. 

Akaashi doesn’t mind one bit. Not only because it usually takes very little time and very little prodding to get to the bottom of what’s bothering him, but also because he knows he can be just as guilty in pretending as though he hasn’t a care in the world. He likes to think that he’s slightly better at hiding it than his boyfriend, but either he has a very warped opinion of his own skills, or Koutarou is just as in tune with him as he is with him. He has a feeling it’s a mixture of both, with how easily Koutarou picks up the moments when he’s clearly overworking himself, bringing tasks home and grinding at them till the middle of the night. He’s lost count of the number of times he’s felt Koutarou’s hard, warm body, sleepy from where he’s woken up to use the bathroom, press against Akaashi’s side as he works on the couch trying not to disturb him, and has been led by the hand to come to bed. 

Sometimes he wonders how they got so lucky to have found a way to keep each other in check so perfectly. How lucky they were to find each other at all, so young and so polar opposite in personality and temperament, that many people close to them have admitted that had they not witnessed firsthand how gone they are for each other, they would never have believed they could make it work past high school.

Which is why, when Koutarou comes home from Rio, high off his first but definitely not his last Olympics, Akaashi can tell something is different about him. 

He doesn’t notice it at first, mostly because Koutarou is always needy and touch starved after they spend more than a few days apart; he practically scent marks him upon his return to reach a state equilibrium. Having him as a second limb for hours on end on the day of his return is absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. He stays plastered to Akaashi’s side, vibrating with restless, overwhelming energy as he shows him the pictures on his phone that he hadn’t had time to send or the Instagram stories he’d saved and peppers Akaashi with every single seemingly trivial story about his time there. 

He doesn’t necessarily regret not going - there’s nothing he could have done once his holiday request wasn’t approved - but he’d be lying to himself that he didn’t wish he could have seen that sparkle in Koutarou’s eyes first hand from the stands rather than through a TV screen. Then again, as he explained to him before he’d left, “It’s not like I’d get a good look at you being there in person, anyway. This way, I’ll get to see all the close-ups, all the slow-motion shots of you when you spike and I’ll get to look at you as though I was standing right next to you while you play.” That had certainly gotten rid of the blues and before he knew it, Akaashi was being kissed for all he was worth. 

It’s not his need to be close and his hands on Akaashi’s legs and his nose in his neck as they watch TV during their first night together again that throws Akaashi off. It’s the way that Koutarou doesn’t feel entirely relaxed and is still carrying a bit of tension in his back and shoulders as he’s holding him. He is the epitome of a happy puppy whenever they’re close together like this. It’s something Akaashi has sometimes envied him for; how quickly and easily he’s able to let go of his physical stresses and inhibitions when it had taken Akaashi far longer to be comfortable with the kind of effortless physical intimacy that Koutarou adores. 

He guesses it’s something to do with the trip that has stressed him out. Perhaps something in his luggage went missing and he’s too embarrassed to say it. Perhaps in the excitement of the trip, he forgot to buy Akaashi a present and is working up the courage to tell him as though he cares about any material thing Koutarou could give him over the feel of him in his arms every day and the leftover smell of his cologne on their pillows when he wakes up in the morning. 

He assumes, like with everything else, that the reason for his taut demeanour will become apparent and resolve itself the usual way; some mumbled nasal grunting, a gentle you okay, sweetie? from Akaashi and the truth will come spilling out in a babble of high pitched sentences and finger pointing. 

Except it doesn’t. 

Even when they eat dinner, Koutarou still seems vaguely distracted even when he’s looking right at him. Akaashi attempts to engage him in a game of footsie, something which he usually laps up. Only this time, Koutarou tenses and drops his chopsticks in a fluster. 

He thinks he figures it out and smiles, slow and adoring. “You, uh… you wanna finish up here and then go to bed?”

Any attempt at initiating sex with Koutarou is never short of highly enthusiastic. This time is no different, but he definitely senses a thickness to the space between them that he’s not used to. 

They bathe and get into the fresh sheets of the futon that Akaashi had washed just that morning in time for his boyfriend’s return. Mostly a selfish gesture on his part; sex just always seems better that way, the mix of fresh clean scents mingling with something distinctly masculine, distinctly sexual and primal. For him, it’s a spine-tingling combination, even if Koutarou doesn’t necessarily notice the difference. 

He leans back against the softness of their futon, empty and colder for the few weeks that Koutarou has been away, and feels his body come alive again as Koutarou fucks into him, far more measured than he would have expected after even a short dry spell like the one they’ve just had. It doesn’t matter, though. His toes curl from the press and the pressure, and the back of his neck breaks out in a sweat from how deep he’s pressed and buried into the pillow and how he keeps throwing his head back. Clearly, Koutarou wasn’t the only touch starved one.

Only, it’s not the same. It’s not the same carefree and effortless fuck that he’s used to having with him. Sex had started out awkward for them as it does for most teenagers, but those days are long gone. Sex with Koutarou is fun, it’s intense, it’s passionate, it’s silly. It’s all the rewards that he’s always thought two people who love each other should get after a spell of fumbling and embarrassing encounters. Once they’d actually gotten good at it, it had been yet another way that they were able to read each other like a book. 

He can feel the way that Koutarou is holding back. It might not have been noticeable once, but he knows better of him after years together. He can feel the tension in the muscles of his back as he clings to his slightly sweaty skin. Can feel the way that his hips aren’t rolling or thrusting in a natural rhythm, but jutting forward in short little bursts of movement. 

It’s not bad. After all, Koutarou has always been naturally gifted in anything that involves physical movement. It’s just that Akaashi knows his body better than that and what it’s capable of.

He brings one hand up to Koutarou’s face and moves a strand of hair that has broken free from its hairsprayed form. He loves it when this happens - when he can see the physical evidence of just how much they’re enjoying one another. Back when he was younger and engulfed in his boyish shyness, it was always details like this that gave him the extra boost of confidence to know that he was doing a good job. That Koutarou was sweaty and his demeanour was becoming more and more stripped back because of him.

“Y-you—” Akaashi pants, trying to keep his voice as quiet as he can out of respect for his neighbours. He doesn’t need another humiliating conversation with them at the mailbox. “You can—go harder—c’mon—” 

Koutarou attempts to repress a whimper and Akaashi wishes he’d had the good sense to put some music on so that he could enjoy those sounds properly. Koutarou is never more unrestrained than when they’re together like this, which makes his current behaviour all the more strange. 

He does pick up the pace a little, though not by much. Akaashi decides to take matters quite literally into his own hands, bringing his palms to Koutarou’s ass, pressing his fingers into the cheeks in an attempt to urge him along. 

Before he even has a chance to delight in the feel of that plump, gorgeous ass in his hands again, a shocked gasp gets ripped from him when Koutarou’s hips snap forward and they go from zero to sixty in about two seconds flat. 

He hears a pained whine vibrate against his neck where Koutarou has hidden from view and as he fucks into him with a shocking amount of force considering how tense he was before, Akaashi is forced to snap his own palm against his mouth on instinct to cage his noises. His eyes are wide open, wild and shocked at the force with which Koutarou is fucking him; not much finesse to it, but a blinding and dirty need that he didn’t even know he was missing until it’s making him want to claw the sheets to shreds. 

The sensible part of his brain thinks they should slow it down at least a tiny bit considering it’s been a few weeks since they’ve last done this. While that may not be much, Koutarou is slamming into him with a truly shattering force right now and Akaashi is nearly certain he’ll be walking with a limp tomorrow. He throws his head back against the pillow and just accepts his fate for what it is, letting out nasal moans against his hand and praying for understanding and good graces from his neighbours. 

Instead of grabbing the sheets or Koutarou’s hair or the pillow or any number of things, his first instinct is to reach for his ass again with one hand, just to delight in how the muscle is flexing with the effort it’s taking to fuck him into the floor. The second he gets a hand on him, he feels the muscles seize up entirely, Koutarou’s whole body going hard and unyielding as he growls into Akaashi’s neck, coming with short involuntary jerks of his hips. The suddenness of it nearly shocks Akaashi to orgasm. Almost, but not quite. He finds his sanity to sneak the hand that was on Koutarou’s ass in between them and fist his cock for the last few seconds as Koutarou empties himself inside. 

He’s not even sure if Koutarou does it on purpose, but he feels a tender kiss on the side of his neck and in the end, that’s what sends him over the edge. He bites Koutarou’s meaty shoulder, begging himself to stay quiet, and clenches down on his slowly softening cock, knowing it’s probably overloading Koutarou’s senses. He doesn’t have it in him to care. 

As they come down, Koutarou keeps his head buried where it is and in his post-orgasm bliss, Akaashi can finally smell that dizzying mixture of sweat and detergent that gets him so hot. It makes his stomach flip, but he knows he’s too tired for a second wind. They both have responsibilities in the morning. 

Instead, he just gently moves Koutarou’s face up so he can blink at him, sated and smiling and entirely gone for the man above him. 

“I guess I should say, Welcome home after that, huh?”

Koutarou kisses him, blushed, but eager as always. And instead of pressing him for what was clearly bothering him all evening, Akaashi just lets his orgasm and the look on Koutarou’s face as he comes up from the kiss send him into a slow, well-needed sleep.


He’d hoped that it was just a one time thing, but sex after that becomes somewhat peculiar. Gone are their frequent giggles and Koutarou making a fool of himself in the bedroom in order to see in what new and strange ways he can make Akaashi orgasm that week. Gone is Koutarou’s constant aroused babbling. He hadn’t even realised how much he loved it when Koutarou told him how good he feels, how much he loves him, how he’s enjoying himself, until all he hears from him when they’re ruining the sheets together are whines, moans and grunts. 

He’s not really sure when to broach the subject that something has shifted, because Koutarou’s idiosyncrasies don’t usually last this long. It’s been a few days now and as clingy and lovable as he is during the day - all kisses on the side of the forehead and squeezes of the waist as they pass each other in the tiny hallway - he’s oddly distant the second they’re in the bedroom. Careful, reserved. Almost scared.

Akaashi has unknowingly trained himself to be perceptive and receptive to everything to do with Kotarou since the first game they ever played together. He’s almost convinced after having Koutarou back home for about a week now, that the hang up Koutarou has been carrying around with him like a bad smell is something to do with sex.

Only once he commits to that theory, it doesn’t actually make solving the issue any easier, because they’ve never had an issue with their sex life that couldn’t be solved on the spot. Koutarou is always delightfully responsive to any instruction in bed, whether it be softly spoken, or panted into his ear in a mad rush. As for Koutarou himself, it doesn’t take much for Akaashi to figure out whether or not he’s enjoying himself. 

With no previous experience to compare this predicament to, Akaashi decides to take a roundabout approach - trying to come up with some potential solutions before confronting Koutarou, as opposed to just asking him what’s wrong and risking whatever startled mess comes out of his mouth. He’s never really been the best at thinking on the spot.

The penny doesn’t start to drop till a couple of days later when he’s doing the laundry on a Saturday morning while Koutarou is at training. He knows that Koutarou doesn’t like him doing most of the laundry around the house, but he gets a stupid domestic kick out of being able to handle Koutarou’s clothes. It reminds him that he’s home for an extended period of time. It makes him feel like they’re settled, like he’s still present in the house even when he’s sweating buckets at the gym across town. 

As he’s putting Koutarou’s socks and underwear away in his basket draw next to their futon, he feels the press of something unfamiliar against his hand and his fingers curl around the object on instinct. He frowns as he takes out what is revealed to be an almost empty bottle of lube. 

The first thing that strikes him as odd is that it’s there in the first place; they usually keep the lube out and within easy reach of the futon, mostly under a pillow. They also don’t usually have more than one bottle on the go seeing as sex anywhere but the bed is almost impossible or awfully uncomfortable in an apartment this small.

But after he blinks at it for a couple of seconds, he realises that that’s not the strangest thing about this. Because this isn’t even the brand of lube they use and they certainly hadn’t bought this together. The reason for that becomes very clear when his eyes finally adjust to the fact that the brand name and the instructions written on the bottle aren’t in Japanese. They’re in a language he definitely can’t read but suspects that it’s Portuguese. 

He’s not sure why, but he has an intuitive feeling that this bottle of lube, clearly not meant to be discovered, almost certainly has something to do with his strange behaviour.

He’s not stupid. He’s very aware of what it looks like. But he also has known and loved Koutarou for years and knows that no matter how strange it looks, there isn’t a single bone in his boyfriend’s body that would know how to cheat on him. Not because he considers himself the world’s greatest catch, but because he considers Koutarou one of the world’s kindest people. He wouldn’t even know how to go out of his way to cause someone else pain. And as vain as it makes him feel sometimes to admit it, he is very much aware by now of how obsessed Koutarou is with him. He knows a little something about that kind of love too. 

He goes back to the drawing board and just stares at the bottle in his hand. He clearly bought it in Brazil, probably when he first arrived and not at the airport in Rio upon his return. He’s not even sure Koutarou could find a way of using almost an entire bottle of lube in their own apartment without him knowing about it since being back. He’s almost definitely been using this while he was away. Only, he knows from years of experience that Koutarou has never used lube to jerk off. Has always preferred a simple lick of the hand, or has leaked enough precum to power a dam and hasn’t needed it.

Which means that if he wasn’t using it to jerk off, and he wasn't using it with someone else…

He drops the pile of laundry he’s balancing in his other hand and just stares into the empty space in front of him.

“Ah…” 


He decides that a direct approach is probably not the best course of action in this situation. If Koutarou hasn’t told him that he’s curious about bottoming, then there’s probably a reason for it. Either that, or Akaashi has drawn all the wrong conclusions and the lube and his hesitance and the fact that he came the second Akaashi put his hands near his ass are all just convenient coincidences. Highly unlikely, but it’s always better to be safe than sorry.

Granted, it’s not easy to keep this new information to himself, especially when he goes to bed that night and all he can think about as he rolls over to his side, Koutarou already making his usual array of sleeping noises next to him, is his boyfriend with his fingers buried deep inside himself as he (hopefully) imagines Akaashi fucking him.

He puts a stop to that train of thought immediately, or else he may be tempted to wake Koutarou up and suggest that they do precisely that. But he wants to go about this properly. He wants to be sure.

He tries to think back to all their years together, if there had ever been any signs to suggest that Koutarou had wanted them to try it that way but had never had a chance to ask. Or maybe Akaashi had never given him an opportunity, never asked him if what they’d been doing was working for him. Everything they’ve ever wanted to try has always been brought up with relative ease up until now, with any disastrous attempts simply laughed off and forgotten. Akaashi recalls in painful detail Koutarou’s bright idea of fucking in the bathtub, which was certainly not built for that sort of exertion. Both of them had ended up with a terrible leg cramp that was in instant mood killer, worse than any cold shower.

The next day, he takes as many opportunities as he possibly can without appearing suspicious, to touch Koutarou’s ass. A research mission of sorts. 

He taps it lightly when he asks him to move out of the way of the cutlery draw while they make breakfast. He accidentally brushes it as he leans across to pick his keys up on their way out of the house. He takes a little extra risk and actually lays his entire palm on it when they cuddle later that night during an episode of whatever TV show they’re into right now, Akaashi mostly sitting upright but slouched, Koutarou draped across the couch and snuggled into his side. He mostly rests his hand on his ass, but occasionally he’ll smooth his palm over the denim while he shifts and lets out a content sigh as he takes in Koutatou’s shampoo and the softness of his hoodie. 

He hides his smirk by biting his bottom lip when he feels Koutarou tense under his hand, the way he has all day from Akaashi’s admittedly cruel, teasing touches. Time to move to phase two. 

He slides the tip of his nose into Koutarou’s hair and nuzzles him in what he hopes is an indication that he’d be very happy if they transitioned from the couch up to their loft. Beautifully perceptive as usual, Koutarou lifts his head and smiles like the sun as he stretches to take Akaashi’s mouth, clearly very happy with where this might be headed. 

“You smell so good, Keiji,” he murmurs against his mouth, licking into him like he’s his favourite dessert. 

“So do you,” Akaashi sighs, because he really, really does. Earthy and sharp. It’s delicious.

He has all the right tools to make Akaashi’s resolve fold like a stack of cards. He always has. And not just his spine-tingling masculine smell, his body and his handsome jaw, his muscles that are more than strong enough to pin and bruise him if they wanted to, but never do unless he asks. It’s also his ridiculous optimism, no matter the setbacks, the way that he’s ready to charge forward at any opportunity, to fight, to play, to laugh and eat life raw. And all the while with his hand in Akaashi’s, fingers laced, pulse beating against his hand, because no matter what he charges into with his stupidly kind heart, he wants Akaashi right there by his side. It makes Akaashi want to give him everything. Every dream he’s ever had, whether it be Akaashi cheering him on for the rest of his career or buying him the food-scented candles he’s become obsessed with lately. His wants and needs in bed are no exception. If he wants Akaashi to do something for him in their most intimate moments, then he wants to give him all of it and he wants it to be an experience that dreams are made of. 

He gives Koutarou a cheeky bite to his top lip as he pulls back far enough to breathe, in what he hopes is an inviting tone, “What do you wanna do?”

He ducks his head to Koutarou’s neck and gives him teasing little pecks that should be enough to get him hard if he isn’t already, but not distracting enough that he won’t answer the question. 

“W-wanna fuck,” he whimpers into Akaashi’s temple. He’s almost certain he feels the tension in his neck as he tries to get the words out. 

Akaashi hums against his pulse and gives him a little nip before sitting them up and taking Koutarou’s face in his hands. “Glad to hear it,” he says and licks into his mouth in a way that’s probably a little too dirty for so early in their foreplay, but the thought of possibly getting to fuck his boyfriend tonight more than enough to speed things up for him. 

“Anything—in—particular—?” he whispers in between kisses, audible and wet as they break apart for each word. 

“Just want you,” he whines, curling his fingers into the fabric of Akaashi’s shirt. 

He tries not to sigh in disappointment. So Koutarou isn’t up for telling what he wants tonight. That’s okay. He’ll just have to find a more direct way to get him to come clean. 

Akaashi joins their lips together again, but by some non-verbal miscommunication, they both move to get off the couch at the same time and their legs get tangled, sending them rolling straight onto the floor with a dull thump.

Both of them let out a loud wince and then stare at each other, doe-eyed and grimacing in total silence at what they know must be coming. Ten seconds later, they hear a tap from the apartment beneath them in protest. 

The sound makes both of them dissolve into barely restrained fits of giggles, constrained only by their palms. As their laughter gets progressively louder, they both attempt to shush the other, breathless and naughty as though they’re back in high school. 

“Oh my god,” Akaashi wheezes once he has control of himself and gives Koutarou a peck on the lips, heart fluttering when he sees his eyes go wide and his cheeks redden. “Love you,” he says. 

Koutarou grins and shivers, probably involuntarily, all the way up to the tips of his hair. Akaashi smiles as he watches it twitch.

“Race you up to the loft?” Koutarou says, grinning.

“I’d like you alive, so no. You go up first.” He taps him on the thigh to get him moving, making sure he doesn’t get any other bright ideas like carrying Akaashi up the ladder and killing them both.

Eventually, and with a sizable pout, he does move to climb up first. Akaashi can tell he’s only half hard when he stands up, probably thanks to their near altercation with their neighbours. That’s fine, he’ll soon see to that once they’re upstairs. 

As he watches Koutarou climb up the ladder, he has a nerve pinching urge to crane his neck and bite him on his gorgeous round ass, even if it’s through his clothes. He almost does it, if he wasn’t half convinced it would make him lose his balance and fall to the floor. 

He doesn’t get to touch Koutarou’s ass that night, nor does he get to bite it like he apparently wants to. Instead, he puts Koutarou on his back and rides him, sitting up as best he can with the limited ceiling height. It’s not a position they go for very often for this precise reason; too many knocks to the head when things get a little frenzied and heated, but it makes a very specific kind of arousal burn in his gut to see Koutarou on his back for him, usually blushed and whining, hands gripping his own hair or Akaashi’s waist or whatever fatty part of his hip and legs he can find. 

It makes him wonder if this is what he’d look like while having Akaashi inside him. If he’d be just as overwhelmed or even more so. If he’d whisper Keiji—Keiji—Keiji interspersed with fuck, babe— (that one still makes his cheeks heat, even after all this time) that makes him roll his hips deeper and faster. 

He lowers his body so that his arms are bracketing Koutarou’s face and their eyes are centimeters apart, and that’s how he comes. Watching Koutarou bite his lip and imagine that he’s not working himself over his cock in a maddening, heat-inducing rhythm, but that he’s got Koutarou stretched around him, that he can feel each wet clench against him as he fucks him slow and long to the best orgasm of his life.


He has an important deadline coming up at work in the days following, and sex is forced to become a distant memory until he’s remotely awake and de-stressed enough to think about getting an erection. 

Koutarou is amazing with him as he always is at times like this, running him baths every evening to save him time, cooking what few meals he knows how to and always checking in to make sure Akaashi is taking short regular breaks to spare his back and eyes. 

At the end of each night when it really is stupid to try and stay up any longer, he lays Akaashi on his stomach and rubs his back for him, sometimes through his shirt, sometimes with a bit of oil on bare skin. It makes his sleep as deep and as satisfying as is humanly possible and he can’t even imagine getting by during these stressful weeks without Koutarou there. It makes him realise how wrong he was to assume that he was the one taking care of Koutarou those years that they were at school together. That perhaps his carefree approach to life came at the right place and right time to balance out his own obsessive qualities.

On the Friday evening, when he finally logs out of his computer after sending the last of his work off, Akaashi extends his arms and legs and gives a long, drawn-out whine as he stretches his muscles. The sound alerts his ever-curious boyfriend, who pops his head out from the barrier around the loft where he’d disappeared to watch a movie on his tablet, allowing Akaashi the run of the downstairs, filling it with stress and frantic typing. 

“You done?” he calls with a clear optimism that makes Akaashi’s heart melt. 

“Freedom is mine,” he sighs as he feels his stretch to the very tips of his fingertips. 

Koutarou is by his side so quickly that he’s positive he had to have flown downstairs to get to him. Akaashi smiles madly as he feels arms loop around his neck and he finds himself with a half lap full of Koutarou, pecks and kisses on the side of his face. 

“Well done, babe” he chirps with another quick peck. “I knew you’d get it all done. I didn’t start any new episodes without you. Wanna watch?”

Akaashi reaches up a hand to play with a stray hair around Koutarou’s ear where he must have been laying on his side while up in the loft. “I’m impressed,” he smirks. “You usually try to sneak at least one episode in without me.”

“Meeeeee?!” he gapes, the high pitch of his voice ringing in Akaashi’s ears. 

He smiles and lets himself be held for a moment, before looking right at Koutarou as he murmurs, “Why don't we watch an episode now and call it a night, hmm?”

Koutarou lights up like a bulb at the implication and Akaashi doesn’t miss the delighted sparkle in his eyes when he squeaks, “Or you know… we could go upstairs right now…”

Akaashi laughs. “Well, how could I refuse such a romantic offer…”

Oh, is that how it is?” He sees the change in Koutarou’s eyes; they become fierce and focused in ways he’s not used to seeing on him outside of an athletic environment. “Keiji…” he purrs as he places a long, indulgent kiss to his throat. Just the one. It licks fire right up his spine. “Can I take you upstairs, get you naked and make love to you all night long? It’s been so long…”

“It-it’s been a week…” Akaashi whimpers, grasping at his last attempts to pretend like Koutarou’s suave voice doesn’t do it for him every single time, even when he’s talking as though he was written in a trashy romance novel. 

Koutrou smiles against his neck and murmurs, “Really, though, you’re not too tired or anything?”

Akaashi’s heart stutters and he moves Koutarou’s head up from his neck so he can look at him properly. “Never for you,” he says. “I always want you, Kou. You know that, right?” He gives him a pointed look that he hopes to god penetrates him with the understanding he needs to just tell Akaashi what he wants from him. “No matter what, I’m always gonna want you.”

They make out for long, lazy minutes, enjoying the luxury of riling each other up again, even though it’s just been a few days without sex. Koutarou’s hands are all over him, under his shirt, against his thighs, in his hair. He feels fondness tug at his memory of how clumsy they both used to be at this. Akaashi with his nervous inexperience and Koutarou with his ever present enthusiasm that had caused more than one embarrassing sticky makeout session and several failed first times that were too eager, too excitable, Koutarou the very definition of a puppy let out of the pen and chasing the high of his hormones and his feelings all at once. He’d wondered about it in the last few days with no intimate touches to distract him, but perhaps it makes sense that Koutarou’s new appreciation for bottoming has only just sprouted recently. In the early days, he’d been led by very few rational thoughts when it came to sex and the main one that tended to guide him was making sure that his dick was as close to Akaashi as possible at all times. 

He giggles against Koutarou’s mouth.

“You okay?”

“Just thinking about our first time,” he smiles. “How we thought there was such a thing as too much lube.”

“Keeeeeijiiiii,” Koutarou whines against his chest, heat flaming in his cheeks. “I don’t wanna think about that. I never meant to hurt you.”

“Hey, hey…” he coos. “We were teenagers, Kou. Cut yourself some slack, yeah?”

Koutarou nods, his hair tickling Akaashi’s nose as he does so. 

“But I’m pretty good now, right?” he asks hopefully.

Akaashi smiles. “You’re the best I’ve ever had,” he says, deadpan with eyes unblinking. Sarcasm comes far too easy when he's around Koutarou 

Koutarou frowns and purses his lips. “I’m the only one you’ve ever had, silly,” he grumbles, faking displeasement about the thought of Akaashi having any other pretend men to compare him to. He doesn’t really have a jealous bone in his body, but he does enjoy pouting and Akaashi very much enjoys looking at it. “C’mere,” he says, standing them up and taking Akaashi by the hand and leading him to the ladder. “I’m gonna make you forget all about shit me from when I was 17.”

Akaashi laughs all the way to the loft, wishing Koutarou knew how very much he doesn’t want to forget the 17-year-old and 16-year-old versions of themselves and how grateful he is to those two boys for what they both have now. 

Unfortunately for him, Koutarou’s insistence on proving himself a worthy lover in competition of his own teenage years means that it’s not necessarily the right time to bring up a change of plan in the bedroom. 

Akaashi is far from complaining though once Koutarou gets his mouth around his dick. He lays Aaashi back on the futon, keeps his hands wandering and teasing as he gives him long, luxurious sucks from base to tip, dismantling him with a fixed stare that manages to look both dirty and intrigued at the same time. His eyes have always been intense, but they’re never more beautiful than when his mouth is full and stretched around a hard cock, spit everywhere, hungry for Akaashi like he is for everything else. 

He fingers him so thoroughly that Akaashi wants to cry. He’s always so terrified to hurt him in any way that isn’t intentional - they’re certainly no strangers to the fun they can have with a slap here and a pinch there and Koutarou’s raw strength pinning him down as he fucks the living daylights out of him, but when it comes to prep, he’s always so caring, so diligent. 

He gets a little impatient by the time he slips the head of his cock inside and sets a regular, excited rhythm that ensures Akaashi’s prostate is well and truly seen to after so much attention from his fingers earlier. 

God— ” he whispers. “Making me feel so good—Kou—”

Koutarou whines into his neck, making Akaashi arch his back in pleasure at how receptive he is to his praise. It’s a part of their dynamic that had naturally carried over into the bedroom pretty quickly. They’ve never taken it as far as they possibly could do, but Akaashi would be lying if he wasn’t curious about the ways in which he might be able to make Koutarou fall apart with the right set of words. 

Keiji,” he moans brokenly. 

“Yeah— Ah.” He digs his fingers into Koutarou’s thick waist as he shifts slightly, the change causing Koutarou’s dick to slide across his prostate more directly and their nipples to rub together back and forth as they move. “Oh fuck …” he whispers. 

He recalls this very position just a couple of weeks ago. How the simple touch to Koutarou’s ass had transformed him like an electric shock. Akaashi wasn’t planning on making a try for it, but maybe he’s being driven slowly insane himself from the feel of warm, punchy breaths on his neck, the teasing rub of his cock against Koutarou’s belly where they’re pressed together just close enough. 

“You feel—so good—” he pants, legs spreading in total abandonment of pride. “So good— I wanna—make you—feel good too—”

Yeah—”

“—What do you want?” he breaths in one long low exhale, already feeling his own hands slide downwards. 

Koutarou whines and wriggles on top of him as he continues to thrust as evenly as he can. Akaashi attaches his lips to his neck, sucks and whispers, “tell me…”

“I…” he mewls, almost scared, but Akaashi can tell he’s fine. He’s not retreating. 

He takes a leap of faith, taking all his years of practice in reading his boyfriend and the last couple of weeks of clues, and slides one hand to his ass, keeping the other one threaded in his gorgeous thick hair.

“You want this?” he says, his voice more of a rumble than he’d expected. Koutarou gasps, but doesn’t say a word. Predictably, his hips start moving faster of their own accord. 

The level of need and want that Koutarou clearly has for this, that just hands on his cheeks send him into such a frenzy, makes Akaashi brave enough to whisper, at precisely the same time as he slides his hand that little bit inward to the curve of his cheek, pulling it to the side slightly, “you want me here?”

Keiji— ” he wheezes, high pitched and desperate.

That’s all Akaashi needs to hear to make his final judgement call. He takes his other hand out of Koutarou’s hair and slides it down his body, making sure to touch as much skin as he can on his way to his ass. He pulls one cheek apart and without giving himself the time to talk himself out of it, he presses a pad of a middle finger from his other hand against Koutarou’s hole, gently and tentatively, but letting him know it’s there on purpose. It’s there because Akaashi meant to touch him there. 

The animal sound that comes out of him causes Akaashi to rip the hand away that’s holding Koutatou’s cheek apart and clamp his palm awkwardly over his mouth as best he can from his angle. His finger is now trapped there, deliciously pillowed between those tight, fleshy cheeks, the world’s most willing prisoner. 

He’s losing his grip on reality, can’t fully process that he’s actually touching Koutarou’s hole and his finger presses lightly again on pure animal instinct, like his muscle memory has already learnt what a mind-numbingly arousing reaction he’ll get if he keeps his finger there. 

This time, he actively feels the shift in the ring of muscle as Koutarou’s body clenches to either try and pull something in or keep something out. Judging by the twitching cock in his own hole and Koutarou’s pained little Ah’s against his palm, spit dripping all down his wrist, he’s happy to bet on it being the former.

“Oh sweetheart, that’s it, god, that’s it, isn’t it?” he murmurs, his own voice coming out high and unrecognisable as he shakes in Koutarou’s arms. As though he’s the one being touched like this. “Want me i-insde?”

Ke-Keiji...” it comes out almost like a breathy wheeze than anything resembling his normal voice. 

He sounds more gone, more destroyed than he’s ever known him. And just from a finger to his rim. Just from Akaashi rubbing the pad of his middle finger across that tiny part of him that no one has ever touched before. What will he be like if he lets Akaashi put his fingers inside him? When he’s stroking and rubbing and making his cock dribble over his stomach like he wants? What will he be like when Akaashi presses his cock into him and shows him how good it can feel to have a man open your body in such a vulnerable, deep way. 

He comes, unexpected and hard, to the mental image of Koutarou’s arched back and his muscled arms clinging to Akaashi’s back as his hole sucks him in deeper than any fingers will ever be able to get. 

“Fu-uuuuuuck… ” he chokes, clenching down and somehow finding it in him to pulse his finger against Koutarou’s hole in tiny little bursts that he knows will make the muscles there feel empty, unstretched, unloved. It’s a horrid tease, but it does the job. Koutarou’s body clenches along with his hole, tight enough that the very tip of Akaashi’s finger feels like it’s being kissed. Like it’s very welcome there and should please continue taking Koutarou apart. 

He comes inside Akaashi, with no thought to his noise and thank god Akaashi still has an iron grip over his mouth, even though it’s mostly due to riding out his own orgasm as opposed to any rational thought. His own mouth is busy biting into Koutarou’s shoulder to prevent his own moans from drowning them both. 

He feels them both come down slow and steady as their breathing evens out and the heat under their skin starts to cool. Akaashi realises after a minute or so that his finger is still touching Koutarou’s hole even though the cute little spasms have subsided now. Reluctantly, he pulls his finger free and drags the tips of his fingers - one decidedly warmer and softer than the others - in a teasing, feather light line up Koutarou’s spine to tangle both his hands in his hair.

It’s pure heaven, plain and simple.

“I think we need to have a little chat…” Akaashi whispers, but makes sure to keep the smile in his voice. Koutarou is always so sensitive to the idea of having done something wrong and that’s the last thing he wants. 

He does, however, grumble into Akaashi’s neck, embarrassed. 

“Come on, up with you,” he encourages them to detangle and sit up. It’s dark up in their loft, but he can tell Koutarou is blushing, mostly by the slump of his shoulders than actually seeing it on his face. “Let’s get cleaned up a little and then we’ll cuddle and talk, okay?”


“So… how long have you wanted to… you know…” 

He’s not uncomfortable discussing it, not even in the slightest. But he’s only human and it doesn't matter how long they’ve been together, whatever number of ways they’ve made each other come over the years, there’s still that tiny clawing of shyness in his gut when it comes to just saying it outright while looking Koutarou dead in the eye without the darkness or his neck or a fog of arousal to hide under. Whispering dirty things into an ear while having pleasure clawing up your spine is not the same as having a conversation like this in the metaphorical light of day and in the afterglow no less. 

Koutarou fidgets where he’s sitting opposite him, both of their legs crossed. It’s the perfect stance for a conversation. “Ummm, maybe like… two months?”

Akaashi raises his eyebrows. That’s… longer than he’d expected. 

“You see, um… Kuroo, he…” Akaashi closes his eyes and smiles. Of course Kuroo had something to do with this. It was, after all, partially thanks to him that they even got together in the end. “He said that he and Kenma, uh…” he looks to the side. “Well, Kuroo said he really liked it when Kenma did it to him recently. He asked if I’d ever done it before and I said I… hadn’t…”

He looks so flustered, so perfectly adorable that Akaashi wants to squeeze the life right out of him. But not before they get to the bottom of this.

“God, sweetheart, why didn’t you say anything? Are you… were you worried about it hurting, or…” it’s a big conclusion to jump to, but he’ll try anything to get some answers after days of wondering. And he knows from experience that fingers are not the same as taking someone’s entire dick. 

“No, no, nothing like that, I uh… actually…” 

Akaashi is almost certain he knows what’s coming next. “Have you ever, uh…” he treads carefully, not wanting to embarrass Koutarou by admitting he found out just how much he’d been enjoying himself while he was away. Nearly a whole tube of lube’s worth of enjoyment. “Were you curious? Have you tried doing anything by yourself?”

Koutarou looks to the side and mumbles. 

“What was that?”

“While I was in Rio, I uh…. Well you see, I had a hotel room to myself and it was sorta on my mind... a lot… because Kuroo said it was like the best thing he’s ever felt, or at least once he got into it, so I got curious and I was by myself and I missed you loads and it was gonna be a whole two weeks, and one thing led to another…”

It comes out in a mumbled, blushy string of words with very little pause for thought. The way that words can only do if they’ve been festering for some amount of time. What Akaashi doesn’t expect, even though he really should by now, is the pained whine he hears next and witnessing Koutarou slamming his face into his own palms as though they’ll hide his entire body.

He can barely make out the mumbled jumble that Koutarou is emitting from his freak out, but he thinks it sounds something like please don’t be mad at me.

“Why would I be mad at you, silly?”

Koutarou’s head pops up out of his hands like a meerkat looking for danger, but his eyes look as vacant as always. 

“Well… I just…” Akaashi stays quiet, giving him the freedom to mull over his words. “I didn’t want you to think that I didn’t… like having sex with you… or that like… I thought it would be better this way or something…”

Big-hearted idiot. Akaashi could strangle him if he didn’t love him so much. 

“I would never, ever be upset with you for wanting to try something new in the bedroom, god please don’t ever think that, Koutarou.”

“I guess I kinda knew that deep down but like…”

Akaashi reaches over and takes one large hand in his. He feels how quickly Koutarou’s pulse is beating and he gives him his most understanding and patient stare as he whispers, “It’s okay, tell me.”

“It’s just… well, we’ve always done it this way… you’ve never… you’ve never said you wanted to switch things up…” To his credit, he’s right, Akaashi also hasn’t ever really given topping much thought. It will go down as one of his most shameful missteps of his youth. “We’ve just… it’s been good this way, right? You always seem to love it and I love that you love it and honestly, I…” his voice becomes softer now, like it’s truly coming from some uncharted territory. “I thought maybe it would be a bit… weird… you know, ‘cause I’m bigger, I thought maybe you wouldn’t…”

Akaashi grips Koutarou’s fingers tighter as though he could squeeze every single thought like that out of his head for good. His boyfriend really has a natural talent for cultivating the most ridiculous problems where there are none. He also, admittedly, has a sizable ego, harmless though it may be, and Akaashi supposes he should have seen it coming that the big goon would have thought he shouldn’t bottom because of his size. He’s only surprised that he thought Akaashi might ever judge him for it.

“Sweetheart…” he whispers, but Koutarou is continuing before he can say another word.

“Sex with you is like… one of my favourite things ever… like, besides volleyball and… I don't know, food, maybe. It’s just… it literally feels like the most freaking amazing thing on the planet. I just… I didn’t wanna screw it up by asking for something that might make it weird. What if… you didn’t like it…” 

“Alright, come on, come here.” He says it gently, but there’s no discussion in his tone. He leans against the back wall of the loft, and motions for Koutarou to join him in a cuddle. He goes without a second thought, and Akaashi opens his arms, waiting for that delightful weight as always.

Koutarou drapes himself on Akaashi like a dead weight, half on his front, half on his side, one leg slightly hitched up across his lap, his arms wrapped around Akaashi’s middle and his head resting against his heart. Exactly where it should be. 

In this position, Akaashi is the one holding him, one arm cradling his back, the other one coming across to stroke his biceps. Akaashi is the one in the position to kiss his hair and make sure he feels cradled and loved. And that’s precisely why he asked him to come over here.

“When I hold you like this,” he murmurs, “does it ever feel wrong? Or weird?”

“God, no,” Koutarou mumbles into his pyjama top. 

“Well then,” Akaashi says into his hair. “What about when I kiss you? Or when you’re going down on me? Or when I hold your hand?”

“I love all of those things,” he mutters sweetly, barely audible.

“Then why would you ever think I wouldn’t be completely in love with the idea of fucking you? Of being with you that way?” It’s far easier to say it like that when they’re in a relaxed, intimate position like this, as opposed to sitting as though in a job interview. “I don’t care about how different we look, whether you’re stronger than me, whether I’m a bit smaller, none of that should matter. All we need is you and me.”

Koutarou whimpers and hides his face in Akaashi’s chest, wriggling to get closer. He’s either overwhelmed emotionally or getting horny. It’s hard to tell with him sometimes.

“Is it… is it something you actually want to do with me? Or was it just something you fantasised about?” Because he has to know, just so that he’s covered all bases of anything they might have gotten their wires crossed over. “Both are okay, by the way,” he adds just for good measure.

“I wanna do it,” Koutarou mumbles, arms tightening around Akaashi like a koala bear. 

“Well then in that case, we will,” Akaashi smiles into his hair. 

He nearly gets a nosebleed when Koutarou’s head springs up in an angle that can’t be comfortable for his neck, but Akaashi doesn’t think it was a voluntary action.

“Right now?!” He’s equal parts excited and terrified by the prospect by the sounds of it.

“No, not right now you absolute menace,” he giggles, encouraging his head back down before he breaks his neck. “I want us to do this properly, make sure you’re enjoying yourself and I can’t do that right now. You wore me out,” he adds in a low murmur just to feel Koutarou squirm. “We can give it a go over the weekend, yeah? Tomorrow? We won’t make any plans, we’ll take a bath together, I’ll make sure that you’re nice and relaxed, no deadlines, no training in the morning…” he pauses to try and think of a delicate way to say the next part, “we won’t do anything until you’re completely comfortable, we’ll make sure you use the bathroom—”

“K-Keiji…” he feels Koutarou’s entire body vibrate and jiggle with his laughter. Ice sufficiently broken then.

“Hey, no, it’s all part of it!” he says, getting swept up in Koutarou’s giggles. “My point is…” he slides down and manoeuvres them so that they’re lying side by side facing each other. “I promise, it’ll be everything you’ve wanted, okay? I’ll take care of you.”

Koutarou’s face contorts and his body gives an adorable little shake as though it’s been possessed by a jack in the box. Before he knows it, Akaashi’s face is being grabbed and Koutarou is gifting him with great, big, smacking kisses all over it. On his forehead, his nose, his cheeks, his chin. It makes him curl up on himself and squeak far too loud for how late it’s getting. He finishes his assault with a big loud peck on the mouth and catapults himself into Akaashi’s arms, even though they’re basically lying nose to nose at this point. 

“I love you,” he says. “I’m gonna be the best bottom you’ve ever seen.”

Akaashi doesn’t know if he wants to launch him off the side of the loft or marry him on the spot. 

“I never doubted it,” he says through repressed laughter. “I love you too.”

Chapter Text

There’s a subtle, sexy energy to the air the next day, following them around while they attend to their regular routine. As much as Akaashi knows they would both love to just wake up and spend the entire day losing themselves in each other’s bodies, they’re not teenagers anymore and it’s not until the evening that they have a chance to spend some time together.

But somehow, it becomes a strange, extended form of foreplay. It’s not often that they schedule sex. They’ve never really needed to before, it’s hardly something that is difficult to come by for two men in a happy relationship and at their sexual peak. But knowing that they’re getting sex tonight seems to make both their skin simmer just a little as they clean up the apartment, do the laundry and run errands around the city. They text each other throughout the day; Koutarou sends him a truly hilarious range of emojis regarding what they’re going to do later and it warms both Akaashi’s cheeks as well as his heart. 

They watch a movie on the couch, neither of them particularly interested in breaking whatever flirty dance they’ve gotten themselves into. They’re hardly old, just a few years into their relationship, but it makes Akaashi feel like he’s in high school again, waiting for Koutarou to text him, to slide his fingers in between his, carefully tucked away from prying eyes as he leans his hands on a bench at the Izakaya.

It’s only a matter of time before their cuddling transitions to lazy and loving strokes of the arm, to the leg. It then evolves into something less loving and more purposeful; the hope to tease and excite, rather than the touches of companionship. 

Akaashi doesn’t know which one of them initiates the kiss. It doesn’t really matter. Their mouths find each other with no effort at all and all it takes is a couple clever licks of the tongue before he feels the familiar shivers run up his arms. 

Not many people would assume that Koutarou can tease or take his time in bed, but he is nothing if not a perfectionist. It had surprised Akaashi too the first time he’d been on the receiving end of one of his boyfriend’s gentler moods as opposed to the giggly, loud and awkward sex he’d been used to. If the slow slide of his mouth and the gentle press of his hands is any indication, it won’t be an issue to convince him that they should take it slow tonight. Akaashi wants this to be as memorable as Koutarou does. 

Just as their making out starts to become less casual and more focused on foreplay, he pulls back for a moment with a loud sigh. “Wait a second,” he whispers, smiling at the way that Koutarou chases his lips like a man hypnotised. 

He picks up his phone from the shelving unit next to them and scrolls through it, nearly dropping it when Koutarou noses at his neck, conveniently forgetting the Japanese words for wait a second and doing his very best to ensure Akaashi needs to buy a new phone. 

He finally picks a playlist that he thinks will work; a smooth, gentle, jazzy collection of music that isn’t intrusive enough to distract them, but that will allow them to feel a little more comfortable to be vocal with each other. And he needs Koutarou to be vocal with him if he’s going to have any idea how to please him when they’ve never done it this way before. 

He quickly scans the playlist to make sure that all the songs are instrumentals. He still recalls the first time they fucked to music and Koutarou had started humming the lyrics. Akaashi hadn’t realised what it was at first, seeing as his cock had been stuffed into Koutarou’s mouth and the vibrations were doing wonders for him. But as soon as they’d started fucking, Koutarou had started mumbling the lyrics under his breath, seemingly without meaning to. Akaashi had put a stop to fucking to any kind of lyrical music from then on. 

He pairs his phone with their wireless speaker and Koutarou smirks at his genius idea, before taking his mouth yet again. The phone barely makes it back onto the shelf alive with the shiver that runs through him at the slow, deep kiss that he gets planted with. Koutarou really excels at so many things and kissing has been one of them for as long as he can remember.

They make out for long, lazy minutes on the couch. It’s the kind of luxury they sometimes afford themselves, but not often. More commonly, Akaashi just prefers warming up in the loft, finds the disconnect a little too jarring between getting hot and bothered on the couch with Koutarou’s big hands sliding up his shirt and teasing, before having to break apart and find their composure to climb up the deathtrap ladder. 

Koutarou weighs a lot more than him - probably too much to have him comfortably in his lap - but tonight is about making sure he feels as comfortable as possible. So when he manoeuvres them so they’re sitting upright, and puts Koutarou on his thighs, Akaashi only moans his appreciation into his boyfriend’s mouth. Honestly, it does feel amazing to have the heavy press of muscle resting against him, knowing that body is going to hopefully be bucking, writhing and wriggling from his touch tonight. 

He sighs into his mouth and teases the skin under his shirt, then rubs his hands over the material, varying the pressure, gently using his nails now and then, getting Koutarou increasingly riled up if his punchy nasal breaths are anything to go by. Not that he’s any less affected himself. He’s already half hard just from feeling the twitch in Koutarou’s thighs every time he licks the roof of his mouth, the way that he moans from every tickle of Akaashi’s fingernails on his ribs. 

He senses the perfect opportunity to test whether or not they’re ready to move on and whispers, “you feel so good, Kou. I could touch you all night…”

It gets the desired reaction.

Koutarou melts against him and Akaashi smiles against his neck at how well it’s going already. Koutarou isn’t hesitant or nervous; he’s eager and pliant and they’ve only just started. 

Akaashi feels him fidget as he indulgently rubs his hands up and down his arm muscles. “You okay?” he murmurs. 

“I, uh….” Koutarou lets out an embarrassed chuckle and he peers at the bathroom out of the corner of his eye. 

“Ahh,” Akaashi sighs, smiling. “Off you go then. I’ll run the bath when you’re done, yeah?”

Koutarou’s eyes light up at the prospect. “We’re really gonna take a bath together?”

They don’t get to do it very often; the tub isn’t very big and it’s just a much more pleasant experience if they use it one at a time, but this is the definition of the special circumstance. 

While Koutarou is in the bathroom, Akaashi makes quick work of turning off the TV, making sure his phone is plugged into a charger, and then climbs up to the loft to put the bottle of lube and some condoms within arms reach for later. They haven’t really used condoms regularly for quite some time now, especially since they both stopped being too embarrassed to admit that they kind of enjoyed the messy part of sex. But on the days when they’re tired, busy, or just can’t be bothered to deal with the cleanup, they’re a great back up. If his intentions turn out in his favour tonight, Akaashi thinks Koutarou will be too exhausted to even consider cleaning up. Condoms it is. 

He knocks on the bathroom door and finds Koutarou already showered but with his hair dry, just tiny little pieces sticking out from the hairspray where the water must have caught them. He looks so adorable that it’s difficult to look right at him. Akaashi sometimes wonders if there’s a single part of Koutarou that couldn’t make him fall more in love with him. He doesn’t know if it’s normal to still technically be crushing on your long-term partner, but he tries not to question it. Especially since Koutarou is literally standing there, naked as the day he was born, and it’s his baby hairs made wet by the shower that make Akaashi lose his mind rather than the miles of naked skin. 

Akaashi takes a quick shower himself, trying to hide his smirk at the fact that Koutarou is clearly still crushing after every part of him if his lingering eyes are anything to go by. He runs the bath and sits back with his knees up as it fills, motioning for Koutarou to come join him. He goes like a puppy, eager to be held and petted and stroked. And he’s going to get every single one of those things. 

Akaashi spends a truly ridiculous amount of time fawning over Koutarou, first washing his hair (because baby hairs aren’t enough for him tonight, he needs Koutarou’s hair down and falling into his eyes as he falls apart for him), massaging his head and ensuring that every touch is fuelled with promise. He gently scratches at his scalp, earning involuntary little hums from Koutarou every few seconds. 

He lets himself get lost in the sensuality of the moment, lets the soft, sexy music from next door filter through the space between them as he drops sensual kisses to Koutarou’s shoulder where he’s sitting in Akaashi’s arms, back to chest. He keeps his hands as wandering and as devious as he knows how, teasing within an inch of his life, slowly increasing the heat with every stroke and rub across his skin. 

He runs the very tips of his fingers up and down Koutatou’s arms, feeling the goose pimples appear, despite the warmth of the water. He kisses and licks the back of his neck, making sure to make each kiss or suck as loud as possible, feeling the lewdness of the sound in his bones as it echoes through the bathroom. Koutarou seems to like it too, because his body twitches that little bit more with each teasing suckle to his skin. 

He continues to place kisses on his back and shoulders as his hands tickle their way around Koutarou’s front. His back is so thick, so solid, that it makes Akaashi want to sink his teeth into it and never let go. He doesn’t, purely because he wants to make this a slow build rather than a sprint, but god is it tempting. That’s one of the most rewarding things about Koutarou being built so solidly; there’s so much to grab, there’s no part of him that feels fragile to touch or as though he could be broken. It’s a strange contrast to think that someone with such a fragile heart could have such a steel cage for a body. 

His hands travel to Koutarou’s nipples and if Akaashi wasn’t hard before, the sounds of Koutarou’s sped up breathing would have gotten him there immediately. 

He smiles sweetly against the back of Koutarou’s neck as he rubs at his nipples - slowly, gently, but with enough pressure that he feels Koutarou squirming and shifting, the water making quiet wet noises on the side of the tub. When he peers over Koutarou’s shoulder, he sees the head of his cock peeking out through the water, tempting and delicious.

He kisses up to Koutarou’s ear and breathes hot and low, all the while pressing his fingertips into his nipples, “that feel good?”

Koutarou whimpers, a small, desperate sound in the bottom of his throat. “Yes…”

Akaashi takes his earlobe into his mouth, moaning around it so that Koutarou knows how good it makes him feel to have him wet and large and desperate in his arms. He starts to fidget even more, hips rocking up in a way that has to be involuntary; there’s nothing for him to rub up against. 

Akaashi leaves his nipples, feeling his own cock twitch at how much harder they are than before, and lightly touches Koutarou’s ribs, making him giggle. His laughs have been one of Akaashi’s favourite things about him from the day they first met, but hearing him laugh when he’s turned on, a little crack in his voice, the pitch a little higher, is music to Akaashi’s ears. 

“That tickle?” he teases, knowing full well he could find all his ticklish spots while blind. 

Koutarou giggles again and turns his head to kiss a part of Akaashi’s shoulder. He’s getting needy now, not just desperate. Needs to feel as close as possible. The kiss turns into a gasp when Akaashi’s hands dip under the water and start dancing around the V in his hips, the tops of his thighs, making it very clear that he won’t be going anywhere near his cock. 

He sneaks his fingers to the cleft of Koutarou’s ass and presses against his hole, his own hips bucking against Koutarou’s back at how it winks and clenches at the feel of a finger touching him there. Just like last night. 

Koutarou blurts out a throaty ha sound, hips rolling deliciously into the touch. Akaashi’s free hand comes back to toy with his nipples, this time with more precision, gently pinching and tweaking them between his fingers. Instead of just pressing against his hole like he did last night, he massages the muscle with the pads of two fingers, back and forth, feeling how confused but excited it is to have him there. 

He moans softly against Koutarou’s neck, feeling nervous for the very first time tonight. He knows Koutarou’s body pretty much as well as his own by now, but that doesn’t mean he knows how he’ll like to be fucked. This is brand new territory for them and what works for Akaashi is of no guarantee to work on him. He tries to let the nerves settle and instead, enjoy the newness of it, bask in the fact that they still have fresh and new ways to enjoy each other. That they can be in their twenties and still feel that rush of unfamiliarity as though it’s their first time all over again. Instead of letting himself feel nervous, he concentrates on just how lucky he is that Koutarou trusts him with this and the fact that they have the space, the freedom and the experience to test out what works best. They’re not teenagers anymore and he’s aware that, despite his lack of acquaintance with Koutarou’s ass, he knows enough by now to at least give him a memorable, meaningful fuck.

It certainly helps calm his nerves when he feels just how hungry Koutarou’s hole seems to be for his fingers, how it’s literally begging him to put something inside. How pliant and effortlessly turned on Koutarou is getting from having his ass played with. God, he can’t wait to be inside him. 

“What did you do? When you were alone?” he whispers, his own breathing becoming more and more unstable as he feels Koutarou’s chest hitch with each press and drag against his hole. He wonders if Koutarou secretly bought a toy while he was away, if he’s ever used one in their apartment, embarrassed and flushed from the thought of Akaashi catching him. His cock leaks into the bathwater.

“W-what?” he asks, dazed, in his own world.

“How many fingers?”

Koutarou turns his head again, even though Akaashi can’t even see the face he’s making. “T-two,” he whimpers. 

Akaashi chuckles against his skin. Of course he only had the patience to work up to two. He wants to tease him for his eagerness, but he’s not willing to risk making Koutarou embarrassed. 

However, he can’t help but coo in his ear, “just two, mmm?” he kisses the part of his bicep that he can reach, makes his way back up to his ear just to make sure the words shiver all the way down Koutarou’s spine, “I guess we’ll have to work up to more then, mmm?”

The near-silent, choked off sound that he gets in return is almost enough to get rid of the rest of his nerves. They’re going to be just fine. 


After getting Koutarou suitably riled up, Akaashi eventually moves things along and suggests they get out of the tub. Mostly because the water has started to cool down, but also because Koutarou is definitely in need of some proper attention now that Akaashi has spent the best part of twenty minutes caressing all his most intimate, secret spots. 

They towel each other off and Akaashi takes extra care with rubbing the fabric of the towel all over Koutarou’s body. 

He dries his hair and nearly feels his heart stop when he takes the towel away to find him a little dizzy and vacant, a lopsided smile and soft, puppy dog eyes that look ten times sweeter with his bangs haphazardly strewn across his forehead. He makes Koutarou stand there as he towels his back, his arms, kneels down to dry his thighs and legs. 

He keeps his eyes on the task in front of him, only looking up once. He nearly loses it on the spot when he sees Koutarou staring at him with utter devotion. Without meaning to, he leans in and kisses his cock, just once, under the head. Koutarou gives a full body shiver and Akaashi is certain he sees tears forming in his eyes. 

Getting up to bed for sex is never an ideal situation with the ladder involved and they usually do it fully clothed for that reason. As much as Akaashi sometimes salivates over the sight of Koutarou’s body, there’s nothing particularly sexy about watching a naked man, aroused with his cock hard, stumbling up a ladder. 

Once they make it upstairs, Akaashi wastes no time in kissing him as soon as possible. Holding him in the tub had been heavenly, but it was also twenty minutes that he hadn’t been able to easily reach his mouth. He rectifies that pretty quickly. 

He swoops in when they’re both still resting on their knees, cupping the back of Koutarou’s head and starting the kiss open-mouthed and on a long sigh drawn from somewhere deep in his chest; the sort of kiss he thinks he sees on the covers of romance novels in his favourite bookstore. Koutarou responds perfectly, sliding his broad palms up Akaashi’s chest and holding onto his shoulders. They’ve had so many kisses over the years that it’s sometimes hard to remember the noteworthy ones. But in the moment, he always appreciates the various ways in which kissing Koutarou is able to make him swoon, even if he’s the one technically taking the lead. 

He keeps his hand on the back Koutarou’s head as he shifts his weight forward, gently laying him down so he’s flat on his back, never once taking his lips away. 

As ridiculous as it seems, a part of him wishes they’d gotten dressed after the bath. One of his favourite aspects of sex is the fun they can have with teasing and feeling the thrum of arousal build while clothes are still on; hands travelling under shirts as they smirk against each other’s mouths, palms warming on thick denim as they massage the muscle underneath, the thrill of getting their underwear nice and wet, first because of their own precum and later through their mouths when they’re desperate to tease the other, sucking indulgent kisses through the fabric of their briefs. 

Instead, he just continues his gentle, teasing assault on his body as best he can without having a shirt to slide his hands under. He pulls his mouth away from Koutarou’s, kissing a long, indulgent line down his neck. He always mourns the loss of his mouth, but there’s something to be said for being able to hear his moans and hitches of breath, unrestricted and free. 

He kisses down to his chest, where he spends several minutes paying attention to his nipples. He starts by running his tongue across just his pecs, smiling at the feel of his chest raising and lowering, faster and faster. If he looked up now, he knows for a fact that Koutarou’s cheeks would be bright red at not only the feel of his mouth, but also how sexual he knows it looks to see someone’s tongue on your body like that.

He slowly licks his way to his nipples and takes one into his mouth, creating the kind of suction he knows Koutarou likes and softly moaning around it. 

“Keiji…” Koutarou whines, but it’s caught in the back of his throat - Akaashi can tell he’s being mindful of his volume. 

He moves between one nipple and the other relatively frequently, having one in his mouth and one gently pinched and rolled between his fingers. He’s mindful of not making them sensitive to the point of pain and the easiest way to do that is to not spend too long in one place. Each time his mouth moves, he feels a small buck from Koutarou’s hips at the sensation. He can feel how wet the tip of his cock is already where it’s making a bit of a mess over the inside of one of Akaashi’s thighs. 

Eventually, he stops sucking completely; there are other places he needs to visit. 

He gives one final nibble to one of his pecs and starts kissing his way down his body; just soft, barely there brushes of his lips that he knows from experience are the best and the worst sensation on the planet. Predictably, it makes Koutarou’s body gently arch into wherever his lips end up landing next; his ribs, down the side of his waist, his belly button, the V of his hips. Each torturous kiss draws out a new, breathless sound from underneath him. Sometimes he even gets a giggle if his kiss turns ticklish. Sometimes he gets a whine if instead of kissing, he just drags the wetness of his bottom lip across the area.

Eventually, he makes it to the spot where his hips meet his thigh. 

Koutarou isn’t a particularly hairy person in the first place, but his thighs have always been pretty smooth. Whether it’s by nature, or by his love of those ridiculous, sexy knee sleeves he still insists on wearing even now, Akaashi doesn’t know. What he does know is that this patch of skin, right between his hips all the way to his knees, is one of Akaashi’s favourite parts on his body. 

It’s a part that only he really ever gets to see. His thighs are almost always covered. Only his eyes get to see them in their full, unrestricted glory. Only he gets to bite them, lick them, suck on them. He’s not a particularly possessive person, but his heart does skip a beat at the thought of something being kept just for him to enjoy. Koutarou has done wonders for removing any guilt he’s felt over the things he sometimes thinks about in bed. He just lets him feel. 

He licks his lips and moans under his breath at the thought of all this being hidden under those sleeves every single day. When they were still in high school, he would always fantasise about biting the skin there till it bruised purple, but never had the courage to ask for it out loud. These days, that’s not so much of a problem.

He licks the groove where Koutarou’s hips meet his thigh and then attaches his lips in one gentle suck, just to warm him up. He hears a tiny shocked gasp from above him, but he’s already moving to his next destination. He kisses to his inner thigh, gorgeous, sensitive, a little softer than the perfected hard muscles of his quads. 

He peppers the soft, hairless skin with tiny little nibbles, just to bring the blood to the surface and then turns them into short, sharp sucking kisses that make Koutarou’s entire leg twitch and his voice jump in a staccato rhythm. Once he’s satisfied, he licks a long, probably outrageous-looking stripe up the inside of his thigh and moans at the next thought that crosses his mind. 

“Next—time—,” he murmurs between kisses, “we should do this with your knee sleeves on.”

He dares to look up and feels his breath catch at how blushed and turned on Koutarou looks already, how his hair is drying the tiniest bit wavy. It makes him look like a heartthrob in a boyband, only one that is disgustingly debauched. Akaashi could bottle that sight. 

“Y-yeah?” 

“Mmm hmm.” Akaashi keeps eye contact this time when he moves to the other thigh and licks up the inside. 

He imagines rolling the sleeves down a little, sucking at the exposed skin and then snapping the elastic back into place to hear the choked-off gasp that he knows he’d get in return. How Koutarou would mewl for him as the material of the sleeve would rub against all the tiny marks Akaashi would leave. “But not tonight,” he sighs, “tonight, I wanna see all of you.” 

He sees Koutarou swallow and nod, chest still heaving. “But first…” he murmurs, “I wanna—” 

He opens his mouth and bites into his thigh properly now. Not a nibble, not a mean little suckle to get his cock leaking, but a real, committed, hickey-making bite that finally gets Koutarou’s back arching and a shocked, tortured Ah escaping his mouth. 

“You’re so hot,” Akaashi whispers, as he admires the bruise he left, but he’s not even confident if Koutarou heard him. 

He slowly sits up, letting his eyes wander over his boyfriend, taking in the wreck he’s already making of him and how much more he wants to give him. Everything about Koutarou is eager, unfiltered and enthusiastic in bed. He doesn’t know how to do life any other way. And it’s that open, unbridled charm that dizzies Akaashi’s head every time. How he looks at him the way he is now. As though Akaashi could make him come with his eyes on him alone. 

Akaashi shifts so he’s crouching between Koutarou’s spread thighs and just lets his hands wander. He moves the backs of his fingers in smooth, fluid motions from the V of his hips, all the way up his ribcage, down his sides and dips between his legs, only to continue the pattern over and over again. He switches from the backs of his fingers to his fingernails, the lightest pressure possible, making sure it’s soft as a feather and just glides up and down Koutarou’s body. 

The sight is mesmerising. 

He shifts and wriggles, both arching into the caresses and trying to arch away from it all at once. His body moves like water, never jerking, only shifting of its own accord, blushed and gorgeous and he’s letting out breathy, flustered moans, open and sweet and utterly trusting. It makes Akaashi want to tease every single human emotion out of him. Makes him want to lean over and lick up the precum that’s dripping into Koutarou’s belly button whilst making eye contact. 

Keiji, lemme touch you,” he whines.

Akaashi smiles, sliding his nails down to his thighs again, lightly scraping at the marks he’s left there. “You’ve been waiting for this for a while, let me play with you,” he whispers, even though he knows he’s being borderline cruel. 

He wonders if he’s going a little too far when Koutarou whimpers, “Keiji… wanna suck you off, please.”

His voice breaks on the plea as though he’s genuinely on the verge of tears. He’s barely been able to touch Akaashi all evening and he’s possibly the most tactile person in the universe, always the one climbing on top of another human regardless of size. 

Akaashi takes pity on him and says, “shhhh, alright, alright sweetheart,” and comes back down to lay on his side next to him, kissing him soft and sweet. 

He’s extra careful to pay attention to Koutarou’s cues tonight and the last thing he wants is to overdo it. He wants to drag out Koutarou’s pleasure and play with him to the point where his body can’t fight or escape from the sensations. But he doesn’t want to drown him in it either. Just enough to ensure he’s willing and unafraid of what’s to come, but not so much as to send him into a haze. He wants him to still be present and engaged with what’s being done to him, rather than just collapse under the overwhelming feeling of pressure and slickness, full and dull and sharp and precise all at the same time. There’ll be plenty of occasions for making Koutarou go limp as a ragdoll as Akaashi makes him cry real tears (and god, that’s not something he even realised he wanted before until now) but for today, he wants his body alive.

It’s a fine line that Akaashi’s not even sure he’s experienced enough to walk yet. He’s only ever been on the receiving end of this kind of attention, after all. But no one knows Koutarou better than he does. He may not have every single one of his secrets figured out yet, but if there’s anyone capable of finding the sweet spot for how he’ll enjoy being fucked the most, it’s Akaashi. 

Koutarou breaks the kiss and shimmies down, presumably to get at Akaashi’s dick like he wanted. Akaashi laughs softly, but it soon turns into a low, open moan when he feels his lips licking the precum from his slit. 

“Oh god,” he sighs, touching Koutarou’s flat, straight hair, going absolutely crazy for the feel of it in his fingers and barely paying attention to the odd position they’ve found themselves in; Akaashi on his side, Koutarou at dick level, not even having bothered to put him on his back- the very definition of a one track mind. 

He allows himself to get sidetracked for only a minute or so before he finds the strength to choke in a croaky, broken voice, “I-I’ve got an idea… can you—”

He encourages Koutarou’s mouth off him as gently as he can and strokes his cheek, cock dribbling at the site of Koutarou’s mouth already a little red and disgustingly spit and precum wet from the short blowjob.

He gently manoeuvres them so that he himself is lying on his back, and encourages Koutarou to lay on top of him, getting them into a comfortable 69, Koutarou face to face with his dick like he wanted and Akaashi able to let his hands roam just like he wanted. 

“You happy down there, sweetheart?” he asks as he pets the backs of Koutarou’s thighs, feeling them shiver under his touch. 

Koutarou nods, but doesn’t say anything. Akaashi doesn’t often get to see him shy in bed, but then again Koutarou has never been seconds away from having his ass played with either. Akaashi wonders how many other sides of each other they’re yet to discover. 

He waits for Koutarou to get to work indulging himself in his dick before he starts getting lost in his own plans. He needs to work up some sort of immunity to Koutarou’s wicked mouth first, slurping and sucking on him without a hint of shame. 

Akaashi moans softly into the back of his thighs, and once he simmers down to a low thrum of arousal rather than sharp, distracting sensations as Koutarou tongues the head of his dick, he starts gently scratching his nails across the backs of Koutarou’s thighs. 

He pets him and soothes him, bringing his hands up to smooth over his cheeks, feeling Koutarou’s wrecked little moan around his dick. Ever so slowly, he palms his way inward, watching for Koutarou’s reactions, feeling the way his skin heats beneath his palms. As he rubs across his hole for the second time that night, he feels a drop of precum from Koutarou’s cock drip onto his belly. 

He pulls one cheek apart, just slightly, and feels that same pride, that razor sharp heat claw in his belly at the sight of that hole up close for the very first time. That secret, sensitive little spot that’s brought them to this moment. He massages two fingers over it and feels his own cock drip at not only the feel, but the sight of it moving and twitching instinctively. He could very easily get addicted to this. 

Koutarou remains surprisingly diligent around his dick, but he’s getting sloppier now, having to pull off every few seconds to heave and whimper as he gets toyed with by the pads of Akaashi’s fingers. 

Akaashi starts murmuring before he even realises it; words that are only dug up in their most intimate moments, words of praise and adoration that make Koutarou putty in his hands in minutes. 

“God, Kou, look at you,” he rasps, “you want it so bad, sweetheart.” He gives his fingers a quick lick and goes back to his task, pressing against his perineum this time, warming up Koutarou’s prostate from the outside. He’s curious exactly how he’s going to respond to direct stimulation. He moves between rubbing at his whole and rubbing at the skin just behind it. Both give Akaashi reactions worthy of a wet dream. “How have we gone so long without taking care of this, hmm?”

Koutarou slides his mouth off his dick with a loud, toe-curling pop. “Sorry,” he whimpers.

Akaashi smiles. “Hey, that wasn’t a criticism, silly.” He kisses one asscheek, giving it a testing nibble. Koutarou is just slowly pumping his cock at this point, Akaashi can feel his hot breaths on his thigh. It suits him just fine, he needs to last for as long as possible.

“Keiji, I want…”

“I know what you want,” he says, one hand coming up to rub at his perineum, the other playing with his hole. As if Koutarou has ever been able to hide what he wants from him, even by accident. “You’re not getting it yet.”

“Keiji—”

“—No.”

Koutarou’s head slams into his thigh, his fist tightening around his cock.

He doesn’t normally have it in him to deny Koutarou anything in bed. Whether it's to suck harder, to look at him, to hold his hand (a personal favourite of both of theirs and a request that Koutarou only makes when he’s at his most vulnerable and needy.) But somehow, he finds it in him to resist against the temptation of Koutarou literally being the most responsive he’s ever been during sex, making bitten off whimpers he’s only ever dreamed of. 

“So mean,” Koutarou whines, but he seems fine. Can’t help but bring the dramatic flair to everything.

“Not mean, I love you so much,” Akaashi chuckles. “Want to make you crazy for it,” he says lower, more promising. “That alright with you?” Koutarou chokes on a sound and Akaashi smiles into his thigh. “That’s what I thought.” 

He stares at the slight shine that his wetted fingers have made on the skin of his hole and he can’t resist asking anymore. It’s been on his mind all evening and he’s sure Koutarou will melt in his arms from it and—“Can I eat you out?”

He feels Koutatou’s mouth open against his thigh and it’s almost like he can see it. Slack and shocked and probably drooling. He feels him nod and hears him whimper. 

It’s all Akaashi needs to open his gorgeous, fat cheeks apart with both hands and kiss his perineum. He does it again and again and again, alternating between kisses and licks and when he ascertains that Koutarou is used to it, isn’t shaking or wiggling as much, he presses a closed-mouthed kiss to his hole. He’s pretty sure if he were 16 again he would have come on the spot from feeling that flutter against his lips rather than just his fingers.

“Oh my god,” he hears against his cock. Koutarou has gone back to attempting a blowjob as though he thinks he’ll be able to concentrate with what Akaashi has planned for him. It’s adorable, really. But he’s nothing if not ready to give Koutarou everything, so he lets him play. 

He licks a broad stripe up his hole and feels it trying to cling to his tongue. He’s going to need a miracle if he’s going to survive this. He can’t even imagine how sensitive his rim must be right now. He doesn’t think they’ve ever taken it this far with Akaashi bottoming and he’s not even sure he’d have it in him to survive such treatment. 

He presses his tongue harder, harder, until he finally buries his head in between his cheeks and uses his hole as though it’s a mouth, licking, mouthing, dragging everything he has against him and feeling his stomach flip at the feeling of it relaxing and going more and more pliant with every flick and press of his tongue. 

Koutarou is beyond words; nails digging into his thigh, moans that are getting caught in his throat, before he tries to silence himself. It’s no use. His noises only come out as sexy little whines through his nose, involuntarily leaving him as he shoves the air out. 

When he feels a definitive give in the muscle, Akaashi rolls his tongue as though he’s eating an ice cream cone, hard. Hard enough that it starts to penetrate on the second or third push and finally slips in. 

Koutarou tries to buck so hard that Akaashi has to keep an iron grip on his ass to keep him where he wants him. And where he wants him is losing his mind on his tongue.

He feels dizzy from the heat inside, can’t wrap his head around how much hotter he’s going to feel around his cock. That he’s going to have his cock pressed here. Tonight. 

He pulls back with a lewd, wet gasp that only comes from having either kissed or given oral sex for far too long without a proper deep breath. 

“God, why have we never done this before, we’re both so stupid,” he rasps against his skin, diving back in almost immediately. 

It’s so much softer than his first attempt, so much more eager to give and bend under Akaashi’s tongue. He sets his jaw and licks into him in long, unhurried presses, not particularly sure if he’s doing it correctly, but mimicking what he’s had done to him multiple times. 

He plays with him like it’s his job. He goes between eating him out and pulsing his fingers against his hole, flicking his tongue and then finally sucking on the rim. That earns him an outright broken squeak and a shove back against his face. He shouldn’t be surprised really. Koutarou’s body has made no effort to keep it a secret from him how sensitive his rim is. 

It’s the rubbing that gets him the most frenzied and impatient, though. He’s good and pliant when Akaashi has his tongue inside him, but immediately tries moving back the second all he’s getting are teasing touches. Akaashi grins, feeling powerful in a way he’s never experienced before in bed when, especially when he feels Koutarou try to impale himself on the tips of his fingers again.

“Not yet, sweetheart,” he mutters. 

When?” Koutarou whines, so desperate, so, so desperate. 

“When I think you’re ready,” is all he tells him. 

He feels Koutarou’s hand speed up around him and he’s not actually sure if it’s out of mindless frustration or some ulterior motive to get Akaashi to hurry up. Either way, he has to put a stop to it, or his fingers and tongue are all Koutarou is going to get tonight.

“Kou, take your hand away for a second, oh my god…” he pants in a hurry. He feels his own cock twitch, begging for some real attention, begging to be buried inside a gorgeous, round ass. But not yet. 

Akaashi’s head drops back onto the pillow and he sighs, long and deep in an effort to cool down. “Way too good at that,” he mumbles. He can feel how wet his own cock is. He needs to distract Koutarou with something other than his dick.

“Tell me what you did when you were in Rio,” he says between long, deep breaths. “What did you think about when you did this to yourself?”

“You…” Koutarou sighs.

“Yeah?” He goes back to rubbing and licking between his fingers, around them, sucking, nibbling. “What did you think about us doing?”

Press “Anything—” Suck. “Everything, god, I don’t know—” Lick.

He’s so wet now, just from his mouth, that every sound and every touch is audible in the small space around them. He’s ready for more. “Want me to put my fingers in you?”

He feels his hole wink at the question, more than enough of an answer. 

He reaches to his right whilst flicking his tongue against the rim in quick, pointed movements, just to make sure he doesn’t disturb the mood “Please,” Koutarou wheezes in the meantime.

He opens the bottle as quietly as he can and coats his hand as thoroughly as possible, keeping one thumb pressed to the rim, circling it in soothing patterns.

He doesn’t tease with his lubed up fingers any more than to simply check for the give there is now. Once he feels the pressure ease to the pleasant, soft feeling there was before, he slides one finger in, relieved but not all that surprised, that it seems to go in with no discomfort. This isn’t the first time, after all, that Koutarou has had a finger in him.

He leans in to lick around the one finger and Koutarou wriggles into the touch, whining through his nose. He’s tight, but not unpleasantly so. 

Akaashi feels his attempt to mouth at his cock and he bucks into the touch involuntarily.

 “Ah—D-Don’t worry about that, sweetheart, just feel me in you.”

He takes the advice and flops his head back down onto Akaashi’s thigh, allowing him a clear head to get back to licking around his finger. Akaashi feels the moment he gets used to it and smirks. “Does that feel good?”

“Yes…” he groans, shifting around like he doesn't know which way is up or which way he’ll get the most pleasure. 

Akaashi reaches for the lube with one hand. “You want another one?” he asks, already clicking open the bottle before he hears Koutarou’s hissed “Yesss.”

He drips lube directly onto his hole this time and thrusts his finger in and out a couple of times to spread it nicely, before pouring it onto a second finger. He has to pull his index finger out slightly in order to get a good angle and comes back with his middle one, pressing in gently. 

He doesn’t have a chance to go as slow as he’d like when Koutatou’s hole practically eats him up. He’s so tight that Akaashi is petrified for a second that he’s hurt him, but no. He’s just that eager for it. He hears Koutarou sigh loudly into his leg as his body tries to yield and accommodate him. Akaashi doesn’t know how he’s ever going to fit his cock into that small, perfect space, no matter how hungry Koutarou is for it.  

He’s transfixed, practically salivating at the sight of two fingers up to the second knuckle. He starts to slowly thrust them in and out and chokes out, “God Kou, you’re just—” sucking him up. His ass is quite literally sucking on him, is what he wants to say, but he’s too embarrassed. His personal brand of bedroom talk doesn’t usually veer towards the outright lewd, mostly just sweet praises and bitten off versions of Koutarou’s name. But there’s no other way he can describe it. Koutarou’s hole is the hungriest thing he’s ever seen. 

He leans in and licks around two fingers this time, tasting lube and being as liberal with his spit as possible. He wants him messy. 

When Koutarou stops fidgeting and starts rocking back onto Akaashi’s hand, having finally learnt what feels good, having finally found a sensation and a rhythm that gets him going without direct help from Akaashi, he loses it. 

He needs to see his face, his red cheeks, his glassy eyes, his hard nipples and bruised thighs and he needs to see them now.

“God, c’mere, c’mere…” he whimpers, trying not to die at the pained sound he hears from Koutarou when he’s forced to remove his fingers. 

“Keiji—”

He makes quick work of awkwardly moving them so that they’re both sitting up and he doesn’t even get a good look at Koutarou before he kisses his soft, sweet mouth. If he couldn’t already hear that he’d been biting his lip, then the feel of it swollen and plump on his mouth would have confirmed it. 

He reaches down to gently tease his hole - he can’t help it - earning him a tiny whimper which he catches on his tongue. He eats it as eagerly as he’d eaten Koutarou’s ass, as eagerly as Koutarou had eaten his fingers. 

He changes their position and encourages Koutarou to lie back, his head on the pillow, the same way that he’s done for Akaashi so many times at this point. He has a good view of his face now as well as the rest of him. All of his skin and muscle and his sweaty face, hair starting to stick to his forehead, just a little bit. He doesn't understand how someone like him can just go about the world existing like this. Akaashi is the luckiest man in the world.

“You… are so gorgeous…” he sighs, absentmindedly running a hand up and down his calf. “I... don’t tell you enough, do I? I’ll tell you more…”

Koutarou bites his lip and breathes, heavy as lead, “you do—you already do…”

“I mean it, Kou, you’re the most gorgeous guy I’ve ever seen in my life. You look… your arms… your chest… your legs…” 

He takes one of his legs, hooks it over his shoulder and kisses his calf like it’s something precious, then stares at that gorgeous space between his legs. He keeps the leg over his shoulder, spreading the other one a little wider where it’s flat on the bed, and lays on his stomach, surveying his handiwork like it’s a map of the world. 

He touches Koutarou’s hole with two fingers. “Your ass…” before opening his mouth like he’s about to claim a kiss and dives right back in, moaning when his lips and tongue make contact with the supple, lubed up mess that is his hole. 

Koutarou yelps, but catches the sound before it gets too loud, using his excess energy to grab Akaashi’s hair with one hand. 

His tongue slides in so easily now, even after their short break. It’s going better than he ever would have dreamt. He pulls back completely, just to look at the wreck he’s making of the man above him, and puts himself right back where he belongs. 

He notices the way Koutarou’s hips jerk more at the initial press of his tongue. It makes his blood rush around his body at the thought that he might have unlocked at least one of his likes already. He tests the theory by reapplying lube to his fingers again and sliding straight in with two.

Koutarou’s back arches and the hand in Akaashi’s hair snaps down to the futon to grab at it like a lifeline, the leg over his shoulder slowly slipping as Koutarou loses his grip on things like physics, gravity or anything besides feeling full. 

“Am I hurting you?” Akaashi asks in a rush, just to be sure. He pulls out almost all the way and presses in again, this time twisting his two fingers in a corkscrew motion, lovingly forcing the muscles open.

Nooo… ” Koutarou whines, his head shaking back and forth on the pillow. 

Akaashi pets his thigh and shushes him, easing him down to reality. “Eaaasy, sweetheart.” 

He adds a third finger, feeling enough give in the muscles to warrant that slightly bigger stretch. “Theeere we go…” he coos, delighting in the way all three of them are accepted by Koutarou’s body. 

“How does that feel? That’s the most you’ve had, yeah?” He’s probably being too careful with him if he’s honest, but he can’t help it. It might as well be a part of his DNA to worry about Koutarou, to be attuned to anything that makes him unhappy or causes him discomfort. He’d rather be too thorough and feel stupid about it than the alternative. 

Koutarou is oblivious to his worries, twisting and moving on the futon like a snake, confused and shaken to the core by the thickness of three fingers inside him, twisting, pressing.  He gives it to him in long, measures movements of his fingers, his entire wrist moving, rather than just rocking his hand against his ass. “You like that, don’t you?” Akaashi murmurs, receiving just deep, heaving breaths in return. 

Akaashi watches and studies the lines of his body, the jerky, shocked little movements it makes every time he pulls out and twists back in again. He’s biting his lip, his muscles locked up in a state of tense arousal. 

Akaashi knows the feeling.

It’s because his body is craving the intrusion but hasn’t taught itself how to properly accept it yet. He’s too excited, lip bitten to shreds, shallow breaths coming out through his nose rather than deep ones through his mouth, and his entire body a livewire ready to trip at the right touch. Not that it’s not intoxicating and ridiculously sexy, but Akaashi wants more. 

He knows from his own experience that this is just the first stage of getting fucked and if Koutarou looks this wound up, he’s probably still unknowingly fighting for a little bit of control. Akaashi wants to strip all of it, make sure his boyfriend enjoys the bliss that comes with staring at your partner with a slack, open mouth and feeling your nerve endings only reacting to someone else’s touch rather than your own anticipation. 

They’ve still got a ways to go and Akaashi is going to enjoy every minute of it.

He decides it’s time to test his theory. “Tell me which you like more, okay?” 

When he thinks he has Koutarou’s full attention, he pulls three fingers almost all the way out, just to the tips, before pressing them back in in a fluid motion “This?” Koutarou’s mouth opens wide, wet and desperate. 

This time he keeps his fingers inside and just rolls them, deep and unrelenting, finally finding his prostate, nice and excited from all the exterior attention it got earlier. “Or this…” Koutarou arches up at that - how could he not - and whimpers pitifully when Akaashi strokes him from the inside. 

To his credit, he manages to speak actual words and says, voice high and almost unrecognisable, “B-both… oh god… but the second one, it’s like… it’s like I might…”

Well, they don’t want that. As much as he’d love to experiment with Koutarou’s potential for multiple orgasms, now is not the time for that. If he comes now and ends up feeling too sensitive to be fucked, it’ll all be for nothing and Akaashi will have a grumpy, sad heap of a boyfriend to deal with.

“Okay, so this then?” He goes back to the first movement and makes sure he gets it right, this time pulling three fingers out entirely. He gulps at the way Koutarou’s rim winks around nothing, and he immediately presses all three inside again, gently but firmly. 

He knows he’s hit the spot when Koutarou gasps up to the ceiling and lets out a string of “oh god, oh god..

Akaashi can’t help but smirk to himself. Of course Koutarou would respond best to the sensation of the stretch as opposed to the deep grind. It’s probably his personal way of measuring achievement. Or maybe he has a little bit of a taste for pain. He certainly wouldn't be unique in that sense; most of the athletes they used to play with would delight in the feeling of sore muscles and aching hands after a good game. 

Now that he’s figured that out, he fingers him just like that; long, merciless pulls and drags of his fingers, pulling nearly all the way out, before pressing back in. He’s starting to get Koutarou where he wants him, feeling his hips start to roll gently and languidly rather than in sharp little jerks and sees his breathing even out after a while. 

He tries the last thing that he knows always works to make Koutarou melt into the bed. They’re usually whispered low and adoring in his ear, but this time, he says it low, rumbled and full of promise, staring at Koutarou from above, his wrist moving with ease in between his legs. 

“You’re doing so amazing, Kou. Wanted something inside you for so long, haven’t you? It is what you thought? My fingers deep inside you?”

“B-Beter… better…”

Akaashi’s heart stutters. And it’s ridiculously unfair how even blissed out and fucked out, Koutarou has the sappiest, stupidest effect on him when he’s got three fingers buried in him. “I can’t believe how lucky I am… I’m so lucky, fuck …” He touches Koutarou’s leg, just to ground himself. “Taking my fingers so well, you’re so perfect, so perfect.”

And that does the trick. 

Koutarou’s hole completely gives around him, all the remaining resistance turning into a pull that just wants something more. He melts against the futon and sighs, eyelashes fluttering as he closes his eyes, giving himself over to everything. 

Akaashi can’t believe he’s been this patient already. Or maybe he just loves being fingered that much and forgot there was more to come.

“Kou, can I take my fingers out?” he whispers, not wanting to disturb the serene state he’s put him in.

Noooooo.

Akaashi laughs a little as he says, “Shh, shhhh,” petting at his belly. “You want something else, sweetie?” 

Koutarou’s eyes blink open comically fast considering how turned on and out of it he is. Akaashi wants to scoop him into his arms, pet his hair and never stop loving him. But right now, he wants to make him come more.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, don’t look so worried.” He gently takes his fingers out, purposefully not looking at the wreck he’s probably left in his wake and reaches for the lube and condom he’d left out earlier.

He leans over Koutarou, mindful not to touch his cock with any part of his body. He looks into his eyes and kisses him slow and sweet, before whispering against his mouth, “I’ll give you everything you want.”

He opens the condom and tries to put it on as quickly as possible, though it’s difficult with Koutarou looking at him like that and also gently rolling his hips up at nothing, already missing his fingers. It nearly makes him growl.

“You’re making me want to finger you again… till you come all over yourself…” Koutarou whines his approval. “I’m not going to though…” He lubes up his cock, biting his lip at the feel of a hand around it for the first time in what feels like hours. 

Koutarou seems to get the memo that the situation is about to change, because he tries to turn over onto his stomach, but Akaashi puts a hand on him.

“No,” Akaashi tells him with no hint of question in his voice. “I want to see you. Come lie on your back for me, c’mere.”

Koutarou blinks at him in adorable confusion. “Won’t it be better for you like this? You can see… I mean, it looks hotter for you like this, right?”

Sometimes Akaashi wants to lovingly strangle him for the way his brain works. As though he could ever imagine that Akaashi would want to see anything but his reactions and be able to kiss him when they do this for the first time. 

He lays him back on his back where he belongs and climbs over him. “The only thing I want to see,” he murmurs, bringing his face close to Koutarou’s and stroking his cheek as he looks into his eyes, “is your face and your eyes. I want to look into your eyes as I’m fucking you and I want to see your gorgeous face when you come because you’ve got me inside you, like you’ve been waiting for for so long.”

Koutarou’s eyelashes flutter and the tops of his cheeks blush as he whimpers, “oh my god, why is that so hot…”

Akaashi smiles. He adores him. He brings his lips to Koutarou’s ear and continues to smile when he says, “because we’re in love, that’s why. I’m stupid in love with you and I want to fuck you nice and slow, and if you ask me, there’s nothing sexier than that.”

Koutarou mewls. “You’re right,” he says, hiding his face in Akaashi’s shoulder. He can feel the smile against his skin. “Being in love with you is the sexiest thing ever.”

Akaashi smiles and looks down at Koutarou’s splayed legs and hard, pink cock and licks his lips. Not now. 

He needs more access than he currently has like this, so he gently asks Koutarou to bend his legs just a little so he can press his forearms into the crooks of his knees, opening him up a little more. His ass is a thing of beauty, but he nearly groans in frustration when he realises he still won’t be able to get in without a little assistance. 

“Might need your help here…” he breaths, a light chuckle in his voice. “Can you… just hold yourself open a bit… that’s it…”

He feels Koutarou’s hands come down to part his own cheeks, allowing Akaashi enough room to settle the tip of his cock against his hole for the first time ever. He looks up from what he’s doing to stare at Koutarou’s reaction; desperately excited, if a little startled that this is actually happening and not just a fantasy in a hotel room in Rio. 

He rubs his cockhead against the rim, feeling the excitement at the prospect of being finally filled. He wants him as relaxed as earlier on his fingers though, so he rocks the head back and forth to remind the muscles to let him in.

It does the trick and just before he’s ready to push in, he comes down onto his forearms, right up to Koutarou’s face and murmurs, “hey…” makes sure Koutarou is looking at him, unfocused and almost beyond words, before sighing, “love you, okay?”

At those words, he feels his cock kissed and pulled in the tiniest bit by Koutarou’s ass and he chokes out a gasp of his own along with him. This man, so much stronger than him in so many ways, lying there adoring him, letting Akaashi worship him, trusting him to feed his cock into his tight, willing body. 

He feels his chest tighten and he inches in as slowly as he can, fighting through the fog of arousal to keep an eye on Koutarou’s face. He needn’t have worried. He looks like he’s in heaven. Eyes closed, mouth slack, tongue almost limp in his mouth, deep audible breaths leaving his body. 

It’s tight. Wonderfully tight, pleasantly tight and if Koutarou’s face is anything to go by, it feels just as amazing for him. It’s what Akaashi wanted for him from the start. To see that blush go all the way down to his chest, to see his pupils dilate as each ring of muscle grows accustomed to being penetrated, to feel his body sing with the sensation of being fucked. He’s not even loud, which is the most curious thing about it. The only sound in the apartment, apart from the low, sexy music, is their breathing.

If he’s honest, Akaashi doesn’t ever think he himself has ever looked like this during sex. He loves having Koutarou inside him, but Koutarou looks as though he’s drunk. And the way it’s making Akaashi feel to have his cock engulfed, snug and warm in his ass, the way it’s making it go to his head, having Koutarou beneath him like this, makes him wonder if they’ve really never understood the potential of sex all along.

He hadn’t even considered the possibility that there could have been something missing from their sex life. Not when it was already so fulfilling, and it is.  

But this is different. 

This is meeting some fundamental base need that had previously gone entirely untapped, like it was missing even though neither of them had known it. 

Koutarou had known it. 

Not for very long, granted, and maybe not in a way that he understood how to put into words. But his body at least, had known it. Had craved it this way. 

Akaashi thanks his lucky stars and his boyfriend and that stupid bottle of lube he found in their bedroom for leading them here, because god knows how long it might have taken them otherwise. It’s already long overdue.

He bottoms out after a series of shallow, gentle rocks that tease the muscle open until he’s right up to his balls. It’s only then that Koutarou’s silence starts to concern him. He manages to ask, between bitten off groans as his hole clenches around his dick, “talk to me, Kou, you okay?” 

A pause, terrifying and years long, until, “you feel… you…”

If it’s anything like Akaashi feels, then the word he’s probably looking for is whole. “Good?” he asks, rocking his hips in tiny, shallow thrusts, just to get him used to the feel of his entire dick moving inside of him.

“I…”

He rolls his hips a little more, less of a thrust and more of a smooth, fluid motion that sends Koutarou’s head back, exposing his sharp, kissable jaw. 

Akaashi licks it, before rasping, “It’s full, right? Presses all those deep places?”

“Keiji…” he wheezes, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he catches his breath. “Is it… is it good for you… I…”

He’s so cute. He’s so breathtakingly cute that it makes Akaashi want to tear his heart out. “God, come here…” 

He puts both arms under Koutarou’s back so he’s actually holding him now, clinging to his skin while pressed deep inside of him. 

He tries to mimic more of his fingering technique earlier, pulling out as much as he can in this position, before pushing back in. He’s not used to moving his hips this way and he’s starting to lose his composure and he can feel Koutarou’s cock every now and then against his belly which just reminds him of how into this he is. 

“You feel unreal, fucking unreal,” he groans reassuringly. “Trying so hard not to come already, you’re— perfect around me— perfect… want to make you feel— so good…” 

He can feel Koutarou’s breathy ha ha ha’s against his skin and the beat of his heart and how much heat he’s giving off. Akaashi groans, but this time in frustration. He’s not hitting the angle he wants and he’s not able to recreate that magic rhythm that made Koutarou sing around his fingers. He mourns the feeling of having Koutarou wrapped in his arms as he slowly sits up, but he needs to aim for a different angle.

Koutarou goes wild beneath him. “No, no, no, no, don’t stop, don’t stop—”

And fuck he needs to calm down. He needs to calm down right the fuck now, or else he’s going to come in two seconds flat. The sound of Koutarou’s whiny voice, pitched high and desperate, begging him to keep fucking him, is possibly the hottest thing that Akaashi has ever heard in his life. It almost feels like he’s not worthy to see something so carnal, so open and raw, just for him. Koutarou’s open, wet hole spread around his cock and his thighs trembling in need and his entire body probably close to tears.

“Sweetheart…” It comes from somewhere deep inside him, honey-sweet and gentle, “I am nowhere near done with you…”

The clench against his cock is all he needs to know about how Koutarou feels about that. 

He moves so he’s mostly sitting up, resting on the fronts of his calves rather than leaning over him on his knees, never once sliding out of that perfect heat. Koutarou’s legs are a splayed out mess, useless and limp. Akaashi takes one of them and puts it back over his shoulder like he had when he ate him out and gives his calf a hard, sucking bite, just to feel his overly sensitive body jerk from the sharp stimulation. 

With this leverage, he can finally do what he’s wanted to since he bottomed out inside of him. He keeps eye contact with Koutarou as he pulls almost all the way out, so his cockhead is kissing the edge of his rim, and slides back in. And again. And again. Making him, forcing him to feel that stretch that he now knows he’s starving for.

“Fuck— fuck— ” Koutarou chokes. Akaashi isn’t in any better state. He’s giving off punched, short sounds from deep in his throat as his dick is literally choked by his boyfriend’s ass. 

Ah— that feels…” Koutarou groans on a particularly deep grind. 

“Like that?” Akaashi purrs. 

Yes.”

It’s a gorgeous, maddening rhythm, the sounds of the slick, soppy, tacky noises coming from Koutarou’s hole, the sound of Akaashi’s thighs and balls tapping his skin and cheeks, the smell of Koutarou’s precum that’s covering his heaving belly, the wrinkles in the sheets where Koutarou’s clinging to them, entire fistfuls. 

It’s Koutarou’s hair, in his eyes and wild, messy from his frantic thrashing against the pillow. 

It’s the sounds, varied and unexpected, that come from both their mouths. A symphony of whimpers, groans, some bitten off and surprisingly high, and some pulled from the deepest recesses of their soul, low and able to shake their floorboards. 

They’re not even going particularly hard or fast, but Akaashi knows this much from experience that they don’t need to for it to be mind-blowing. All they need is the right angle, the right strokes, the perfect pace for the moment. He’s meticulous with taking Koutarou apart right there on their futon as he was with sending him his favourite toss all those years ago. 

Koutarou’s sex addled babbling continues throughout all of it. He’s probably not even really talking to him, just expending some of that pleasure that his body doesn’t know what to do with, but Akaashi drinks it in, lets it go to his dick and fuel his thrusts with every word that he hears. “So good, so good, don’t stop, don’t stop, oh god please—” he moans, as though Akaashi could even think of stopping. Even in the middle of an earthquake. Even at the end of the world.

Kou— ” he rasps, fingernails digging into his calf as he keeps his other hand firmly on Koutarou’s other leg, keeping him spread, open and filthy. 

“—can we—can we—” Koutarou begs.

“—Anything, anything you want—”

He’s losing it. There’s no way they can carry on for much longer. Each slap against Koutarou’s ass feels like it’s the beginning of the end.

“Hold my… I…”

Akaashi folds like a stack of cards at the request. The one request he’s been hoping he’d hear all night.

He drops Koutarou’s leg to the sheets, taps both his thighs apart as far as he can and blankets his body with his, needing that closeness towards the end just as much as he does. 

He takes Koutarou’s arms, gently encourages them away from the sheets, places them above his head and presses. He links their fingers together, softly, tenderly, and feels Koutarou’s muscles relax into a state of bliss as he does. 

In the end, sometimes that’s the best part about sex. The touch of fingertips, the chaste peck of the lips. Love, intimacy, tenderness, connection. It’s the foundation their relationship was built on from the very beginning.

He stares into Koutarou’s eyes and whispers, laboured and uneven between each thrust, “I love you… so… much…”

“I love you—I love you—” he echoes. Like he has from the beginning. 

He has to kiss him. He’s starving for it. Koutarou’s mouth is waiting, open, responsive and as sloppy as can be expected when they’re both fucked out and beyond any sense of human emotion.

“You ready to come?” Akaashi asks, very aware of the fact that Koutarou is the hardest he’s ever felt him, rubbing against his belly in a dangerous friction that won’t last very long.

Yeah …”

“Yeah? You gonna let me see you?”

Keiji—

He doesn’t want to shock him into orgasm, though. Everything about tonight has been slow, building and drowning them like a beach wave rather than a sudden downpour. He wants to make this orgasm build in the same way, wants Koutarou to feel it coming and bask in the inescapable momentum of it. 

He does it the only way he knows how; stops his long thrusts and instead, grinds, trying desperately to avoid direct, head-on contact with his prostate and praying that he’s able to angle his cock so it’s more of a gentle glide. 

As soon as he hears the higher pitched hiccuping sounds and feels that hole twitch harder and harder with each grind, he assumes he’s found the right position. “You’re close,” he whispers. 

“Yeah…” Koutarou sighs, holding onto Akaashi’s fingers with as much energy as he can muster. 

“You need my hand?”

“I don’t know… I don—Keiji…”

It’s a cruel question really. Of course he doesn’t know which way is up. He’s never had a cock inside him. God, he’s never had someone inside him. Akaashi will always be the one who did this to him first, just like Koutarou was for him so long ago. 

“Shhhhh, gonna touch you, okay?”

He untangles one of his hands from Koutarou’s grasp and slides it between them, grasping him as gently as he can. 

They last five more perfect, bone shaking thrusts when Koutarou comes. 

Like Akaashi hoped, he comes long, and in waves that seem to only get stronger with each second. He comes so hard that Akaashi can barely thrust to fuck him through it, is forced to simply pulse against his prostate. He comes so loud that it nearly shocks Akaashi, the first hint of a cry this loud all night. It forces him to take his other hand out of Koutarou’s hold and place it tenderly over his mouth to drown some of it, but still letting him cry out as much as he wants, tears in his eyes, body pulsing and shaking as Akaashi feels his own eyes fill with tears, his lips pressed slack against Koutarou’s forehead, like he’s trying soothe him.

In the end, what makes Akaashi come is the muffled, low, desperate sound of Koutarou’s voice beneath his fingers as he utters just one word; one word that Akaashi has never heard him use, in bed or otherwise. “Baby,” he whimpers, broken and undone. 

When Akaashi comes down from his orgasm, he’s aware of his entire body shivering, but he can’t pinpoint if it’s because of him or Koutarou. He remembers to take his hand away from what is now Koutarou’s slowly softening dick and has some presence of mind to wipe it on the sheets. They can wash them tomorrow.

When he opens his eyes, he sees what can only be described as heaven. Koutarou blinking in all directions, dazed, overwhelmed and utterly, utterly in love. 

Akaashi drops his face and kisses his forehead, then both his eyelids, feeling salty evidence of at least some tears. He kisses down his nose and his cheeks, before settling on his mouth. It’s barely a kiss, more a press, a greeting, a thank you. It’s perfect. 

He feels Koutarou wrap his arms around his back and he allows his entire weight to lower onto his body, not even sure how he kept himself up all this time. He lays his head on Koutarou’s heaving chest and tries to control the tremors in his body. He feels a hand in his hair, on his sweaty back, and realises that Koutarou is comforting him. His heart stutters at the gesture, the irony not lost on him at the sudden role reversal. He hadn’t even realised how deeply affected he was until his entire body makes him want to sob at Koutarou simply petting his hair. 

They say nothing for long, drawn out minutes. There’s nothing they could tell each other that they haven’t already ten times over with their bodies just now.

“Sweetheart…” Akaashi whispers finally.

“Mmmm…”

“Need to… pull out.”

“Mmmm.”

It’s only when he sits up, arms and legs trembling, ties off the condom and looks back down, that he notices he wasn’t the only one overwhelmed.

“Kou, you’re shaking…”

Koutarou smiles up at him, the laziest, happiest, dopiest smile he’s possibly ever seen. “Th’best kinda shakes, babe.”

“You sure?”

“Mmmmm, s’like after a practice… m’egs feel like jelly, I can’t walk properly after…”

He chuckles, suitably convinced. And also a little shell shocked that he’s literally fucked his boyfriend past words. On his first try. “If you’re sure.”

“That was… freaking amazing…” Koutarou sighs, making half assed attempts at grabbing some part of Akaashi. “Any chance we can like… do that all the time?”

Akaashi is pretty sure he could never get fucked again and still consider it a happy life as long as they keep doing that. “Any time you want. I mean that,” he murmurs, stroking Koutarou’s trembling arm. He doesn’t know how he’s still alive after an orgasm like that. 

“S’never been like that… I mean… M’right, aren’t I? Has it ever been…”

He’s never been more grateful for his boyfriend’s perceptiveness. “No, no it hasn’t.”

“You know why that is right?” Akaashi leaves him a pause to answer. “‘Cause y’the best top in the world n’i’m the best bottom.”

He laughs, because what else is he to expect. In the end, it’s always going to be about being the best at something. He can certainly relate, though. If tonight is any indication, Akaashi has unlocked a secret part of himself that has become obsessed with the idea of being the best at spending hours learning the secrets of Koutarou’s body that they still have yet to discover.

They make a poor attempt at clean up, using whatever cloth happens to be up in the loft. Akaashi thanks his past self for using the condom, because nothing would have dragged him downstairs to deal with the remanence of that. 

They get under the covers, and Koutarou shifts onto his side in an unspoken demand to be the little spoon. 

“You feeling a little sore?” Akaashi murmurs into his ear, arms wrapping around him. 

“Not sure yet…” he mumbles into his pillow. “But I don't mind if I do. It’ll remind me of what you did and it’ll make me love you even more.”

“You’re an idiot,” he says, smiling against his back and not admitting to the way the butterflies just attacked his stomach. “Let me know in the morning, okay? And I'll run you a warm bath.”

A moment passes, before Koutarou says, voice thick with trouble, “looks like we’ll have to uh… keep working the muscle.” 

Akaashi lets out a surprised laugh through pursed lips. “Oh god…”

“Till it’s used to the intrusion,” Koutarou continues. 

“You really never want me to top you again?” Akaashi doesn’t even try to keep the laugh out of his voice.

“Keeeeijiiiiii…”

That voice. It makes Akaashi want to do stupid, crazy things, reckless things that he’s never been known for. It makes him want to pick Koutarou up off the couch and dance around with him in the kitchen to a ridiculous song. It makes him want to get Koutarou screaming in the bedroom for hours on end, making him look up at him with adoring and vulnerable eyes for nights on end. Makes him want to drive to the pet store and buy something; an owl, a rabbit, a guinea pig, something to look after that’s theirs. It makes him want to kiss Koutarou on top of a mountain, under water, discover the world, find out all its secrets as well as their own. It makes him want unspeakable things that he knows he’s going to have to find the courage to put into words one day. Something akin to, Please don’t ever leave my side, please always want to sleep next to me, please spend the rest of your life with me, please always want me as much as you do right now, I want you so much. 

Instead, he just mumbles, voice suddenly thick, into Koutarou’s back, “Don’t forget we have to pay our bills tomorrow.”

But Koutrou is already peacefully asleep.