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Keiji gently pushes Bokuto down onto his back, and he follows the motion willingly.

The unbridled trust sends a hazy, warm rush to his head. He almost feels dizzy with it, and he places a firm hand on Bokuto’s knee to coax his legs open, settling between the older boy’s parted thighs.

Another heated rush washes over him, this time arousal, and he unconsciously licks his lips as he gazes at the sight below him. Bokuto looks just as enticing as it feels to press him down with only his weight.

Keiji feels lucky to be able to see Bokuto like this, spread out gorgeously beneath him. He tells him, because he knows that he needs to hear it. “You’re beautiful, Bokuto-san.”

Immediately, Bokuto erupts into red. He flails his hands and sputters adorably at the compliment. “Gahh! You’re making me feel embarrassed!” 

It was intriguing to see the differences between Bokuto in and outside the bedroom (or the locker room, in this case). While he readily accepted praise—basked in it, even—he was quite shy behind closed doors. 

Keiji found that he liked that notion. 

Perhaps it was because a majority of compliments are exclusively directed towards Bokuto’s volleyball skills. Keiji strives to change that. 

He murmurs another compliment, and Bokuto flushes prettily again. He winds his arms around Keiji’s neck and hides his burning face into his shoulder. 

Keiji notes with fascination that the tips of Bokuto’s ears are tinged with red. Cute. 

He kisses the sensitive spot under Bokuto’s ear, smiling secretly at the squirm he receives, and whispers, low and honeyed, “Well, you make me want to do embarrassing things to you.”

As a demonstration, Keiji slides his hands underneath Bokuto’s shirt and skims over the other’s toned stomach. The muscles jump under his touch, and his gut twists delightedly at the reaction. 

He slowly removes the shirt, making sure to drag his blunt nails over Bokuto’s abs. Bokuto arches his back, begging for more with his entire body, but Keiji draws his hands away as soon as the shirt is gone. 

“Akaashiiii,” Bokuto whines, high-pitched and needy. Keiji’s dick stirs with interest, and he has to breathe through his nose to maintain self-control. “Hurry up.”

“Be good,” Keiji chastises, and he moves onto Bokuto’s shorts at his impatient huff. Christ, he has such a plump ass. 

Keiji smooths a palm over it, relishing in Bokuto’s pleased gasp, and his upperclassman pushes subconsciously into Keiji’s touch. Again, Keiji withdraws. 

When he glances at him, Bokuto has jutted his lower lip into a pout and is wiggling impatiently underneath him. “Akaashi, stop teasing…”

“I apologize, Bokuto-san, but I can’t resist.”

He pointedly hooks his fingers under Bokuto’s knee pad and draws the fabric downwards to reveal pale, smooth skin. Brushing a kiss against the side of Bokuto’s knee, he holds eye contact and says, “Your reactions are cute.” 

Bokuto grumbles frustratedly before opening his mouth to give a sharp retort—which is exactly when Keiji decides to swiftly remove Bokuto’s boxers and rest a thumb against his upperclassman’s hole. 

Bokuto breathes out explosively, his hips twitching as a soft ‘ah’ escapes from his lips. He brushes against the fluttering pucker, and Bokuto’s hand shoots to his wrist, thighs clamping down on his arm to effectively stop Keiji from stroking his hole. 

At his quirked eyebrow, Bokuto chews anxiously at his bottom lip and averts his gaze, protesting half-heartedly. “A-Akaashi, I like you and all, but we’re in public.”

Ah, of course he would worry about that. Keiji hums in acknowledgment. “Don't worry. I double checked that everyone left. We’re alone.”

Bokuto’s eyes light up, the uncertainty dissipating as if it were never there. His thighs ease their grip on Keiji’s arm, and Keiji takes the chance to teasingly dip his thumb into Bokuto’s entrance. “That means—nnh—I can yell all I want.” 

“Yes. I want to hear you.” Keiji hides another smile and presses an endeared kiss to his nose, before sitting back to shuck off his own shirt and undergarments.

Bokuto watches him, almost trancelike, and he feels slightly insecure. He’s seen him shirtless already, but somehow it’s different in this scenario. He ignores the feeling in lieu of rummaging in his open locker and retrieving the necessary supplies. 

Bokuto snorts at the bottle of lube and condoms, but despite the facade of indifference, Keiji can still hear the tacit lack of confidence. “Do you always have that stuff lying around?”

Keiji uncaps the bottle and dribbles a generous amount of lube over his fingers. As he rubs to warm it, he says, “I like to be prepared in advance.” 

Bokuto is uncharacteristically quiet. It’s not a good observation. After a while, he asks, “Were you hoping for someone else?”

Keiji huffs, because that’s absurd; it’s always been Bokuto. “No. Only you.” 

It's clearly the right answer. Bokuto simply gives him a toothy grin of approval, before he braces an ankle on Keiji’s shoulder. 

“Are you ready?” Keiji asks, even though he knows that Bokuto is. He wants to hear it from the bicolored boy himself, that he wants it as much as he does. 

Bokuto wiggles his foot impatiently. “Been ready.”

Keiji nips his bare thigh, and Bokuto opens his mouth to give another pouty comment, but Keiji inserts a long, slender finger into his entrance. The slide is clean, slick, and met with little resistance. 

Bokuto’s eyes scrunch up with a low groan, and his hands fly to Keiji’s forearms, squeezing at the muscle harshly. 

Keiji pauses to rub comfortingly at Bokuto’s calf. “Are you alright?” 

He feels Bokuto clench around his finger, and he glances over to see that Bokuto’s lips are slightly parted. He’s already panting into the air with only the first finger. “M’okay. Feels...weird.”

Keiji frowns. “Do you want to stop?”

Bokuto’s eyes snap open, and he almost sits up with how incredulous he is. Keiji’s unoccupied hand clamps down on his hip to keep him still. “No. Keep going.”

“Bossy,” Keiji jokes, before he pumps his finger at a steady pace, humming at the walls pulsing around him. He adds another finger, scissoring and pushing at the loose muscles to accommodate something bigger. 

Arousal pools into his stomach at Bokuto’s heavy breathing, and it beautifully hitches when Keiji spreads his fingers apart. 

Bokuto moans, a sound Keiji wishes he could hear forever, and the back of his head thumps against the bench as his legs fall further apart under Keiji’s ministrations. 

“More, more,” Bokuto begs, and if his body language wasn’t any indication of his desperation, his voice is now. “C’mon.” 

“Of course.” Keiji adds a third finger and wedges it inside. Bokuto makes a choking sound; Keiji’s fingers are practically sucked in, his knuckles bumping against the rim of Bokuto’s asshole. 

He crooks his fingers, putting direct pressure onto Bokuto’s prostate. A chill runs down his spine when Bokuto cries out in pleasure, nails biting harshly into Keiji’s biceps. 

F-Fuck, Akaashi—”

Bokuto grinds desperately against his hand, trying to fuck himself on his fingers, but Keiji merely drags them out and wipes them on his discarded shirt. 

Bokuto whines, his hole clenching around nothing, and he reaches for Keiji’s hand. “No, no, don’t stop, I—!”

They've barely started, and Bokuto already looks wrecked. There are tears collecting in the corners of his eyes, hair more wild than before, face flushed a pretty color. 

He feels cruel, not giving Bokuto what he wants. Keiji gingerly cradles his cheek with a palm. He kisses him sweetly, chaste, an apology. “Don’t worry, Bokuto-san. There’s more to come.”

Bokuto sniffles, but he’s no longer attempting to grab Keiji’s hand. “Okay.”

With that, Keiji tears the condom open with his teeth, just for show. It has the intended effect: Bokuto gazes at him with a heady almost dazed expression. 

It’s not until he rolls it on that it hits him, that he’s actually going to fuck Bokuto. 

Keiji sinks slowly, inch by inch, into Bokuto’s entrance until their thighs are pressed flush against each other. His eyes search Bokuto’s, seeking for any pain, but there’s only bliss.

Bokuto’s mouth drops open when Keiji bottoms out, and his upperclassman lets out a rumbling moan. “Ohhh, Akaashi...that’s so good. You feel good inside me.”

Keiji pants into Bokuto’s ear. He tries to keep his composure, but it’s difficult when Bokuto’s deliciously warm and silky walls are tightly clenching around the length of him. “You’re taking me well, Bokuto-san.”

“Uhhh...haah...” Bokuto’s hands roam everywhere, like he doesn’t know where to put them, and Keiji laces their fingers together. He drapes over Bokuto’s body with his own again, pressing their intertwined hands against the bench. 

Keiji is buried in deep, can feel where they’re connected, and it’s hot, it’s so good—

In the guise of waiting for Bokuto to adjust to his size, Keiji tries not to blow his load. He mouths at the juncture of Bokuto’s neck and shoulder, pressing wet kisses to the skin as a distraction. 

Bokuto squeezes their hands, and Keiji takes it as a sign to continue. He places one last kiss before he says, hoarsely, “I’m going to move now.”

When he peers over at Bokuto’s face, the elder is smiling goofily. “You better.”

With that, Keiji withdraws halfway before slamming back in. The effect is instantaneous: Bokuto is shameless, moaning openly and half-forming Keiji’s name. His face is pure ecstasy. “Oh, fuck…”

The heat around his cock is delicious. Nothing immediately comes to mind that can compare. He can’t think of anything when it feels like Bokuto is trying to wring the orgasm out of him. 

The sounds are lewd, squelching as skin slaps against skin. There’s a layer of sweat coating them, the air musky with the smell of sex. He sensually rolls his hips, measured, controlled, even though all he wants to do is fuck him without mercy. 

He wants it to be as good for Bokuto as it is for him, for him to remember it and hopefully want more.

His cock hits Bokuto’s prostate, and a scream rips out of Bokuto, his spine straightening. He murmurs, more to himself than to Bokuto, “There, is it?” 

When he changes the angle of his thrusts to hit it again, Bokuto full on sobs. His legs tighten almost painfully around Keiji’s waist, keeping him locked in place. “Aka—Keiji, again! Please, please, please—”

Keiji’s eyes widen for a fraction at his given name, before he smiles. How could he deny him, when he said his name so sweetly? “Of course.”

He complies, his body jolting with the force of his thrusts. Through the haze of his mind, he snakes a hand around to grip Bokuto’s cock, and that’s all it takes.

Bokuto locks up, and his orgasm is loud and entirely him. He shouts, cum spurting all over his chest and stomach.

Keiji can’t look away. He’s beautiful. 

“That’s it. You’re wonderful.”

Keiji fucks him through it, murmuring more praises and giving gentle kisses to his jaw, cheeks, forehead. He can feel his own orgasm building up. His thrusts are less controlled and are becoming more erratic as he chases release.

Bokuto gazes at him with a happy, sated smile, and that’s what tips him over the edge. He exhales through his mouth with a breathy ‘haaah,’ muffling the sound against Bokuto’s neck. 

Bokuto runs a soothing hand through Keiji’s hair as he spills heavily into the condom, and they remain panting in that position until they catch their breaths. 

Unsurprisingly, Bokuto is the first to break the silence. “Keiji?”

Keiji blinks, before he shifts to gaze down at Bokuto. “Yes?” 

His cheeks are red, and he looks at Keiji was so much unadulterated love that it makes his chest hurt. “That was hot.”

“Yes, I enjoyed it.” Keiji kisses him because the adoration is too much, too overbearing to handle. “Did you?”

“I cummed so hard I saw white. Hell yeah I did!”

“Good. That’s good.” Keiji laughs, shaking his head at how ridiculous Bokuto is. After a moment, he asks in an almost timid tone, “Is it safe to assume you would like to do this again in the future?”

“With you! Yeah!” Bokuto exclaims, his entire body wriggling with enthusiasm. Then, he adds like an afterthought, “As much as possible.”

Keiji nods, relieved. “I’m glad.”

Without warning, Bokuto drags Keiji down into a hug, and the change in position overstimulates Keiji’s sensitive cock. “I like you a lot. Like, a lot a lot.”

Keiji returns the hug with a crooked smile. “So do I.”

It could even be love.

Once it feels like he won’t cum for the second time, he says, “Koutarou, I need to pull out.”

Bokuto makes a displeased noise and nuzzles his cheek affectionately against Keiji’s. “Mmm, later. Can we stay like this for a bit?”

Keiji sighs, because Bokuto’s got him wrapped around his finger. “We can.”