Cute

by Ivyfics (ivyfics)

Chapter 7: Brownie Points

Summary:

Kuroo brings their foreheads together, following the lean of their bodies, bent over him. His breathing is labored but the glint in his eyes is all predator. "I have enough brownie points in the bank to make-up for fooling around with one of my students in the library, right?"

Notes:

None of you crossed your fingers.

 

It takes a week.

⧫⧫⧫⧫

Monday

He thinks about the kiss in the days leading up to seeing Kuroo again. A lot. More than he should, honestly. About the kiss and the kisses, about his hand on Kei's back, about his tone as he cupped Kei's cheek, about how he thinks Kei is cute when he is beyond logical thought. Keiji seems to be unaffected by it, going about his routine without spending moments letting his eyes be lost, gaze falling to his hands, in between each line and curve across his palms. Kei tries shifting his thoughts to all the ways he can express his opinions when he sees Kuroo next. Shaking him by the shirt. Standing in front of him and screeching like a banshee. That sort of thing.

⧫⧫⧫⧫

Tuesday

He catches Keiji in the kitchen, eyes anchored to his designated cup. They've all been bought at different times, yet when Keiji hangs them in the hooks on the wall above the counter, they make a set. White and yellow and black and shiny porcelain, all mismatched shapes, some with a wide mouth and another with a bend to it's arm that makes a circle instead of an oval. Keiji's is mostly white, with a line of black on the rim and a yellow arm. It has a wider mouth than a base, a curve sloping until it looks like the ones used for tea parties filled with high hairs and gloves and tiny crustless sandwiches. Keiji stares, scrying the hot steam, peering into the dark water with tinges of red made by the stronger brew he prefers. The jar of floral honey used only for sweetening tea is open next to the cup. A drop of it dribbles on the rim, inching it's way down the side. After a moment, before it runs thick over itself and spills on the counter, Keiji swipes it up with a finger. Brings it to his lips.

⧫⧫⧫⧫

Wednesday

Kei does not get a mid-week date.

He's a brat about it, obviously. He would keep his disappointment to himself but he's gone feral from it all. The (lack of) orgasms, the (missing) kiss. He haunts their empty apartment with brooding steps. He texts Kuroo as much—meaning, he sends a text full of entitlement and demands to know why he is being deprived of such a a fundamental part of his week.

Kuroo responds by calling him instead of texting back, saying, sorry, someone got sick so I'm covering, I want to see you too, in a voice that makes Kei have to sit down to be able to talk back to him. Kei answers: It's fine. It's not. I'm going to go to the cafe with Bokuto. He won't, seeing as Koutarou is having an in-office day. And I'm going to get an americano. He hangs up.

He regrets texting and answering the call and admitting to Kuroo in verbal and audible words that he's soooooooo into him that he's going to self-flagellate by drinking diluted bitter water at not being able to meet.

The kiss has him on uneven ground.

Kuroo's change in attitude has him losing all the balance he thought he had. He doesn't know what is right and what is left and what is too much and what is better left unsaid anymore. He gets ready while being irritated at no one and everyone in an empty apartment, fuming under his breath as he puts his shoes on by stomping his feet into them and tightening the laces too tight. He gets a notification that reads «Do not drink the punishment water».

Kei ignores him.

He spends the walk there trying his best to stay mad, fighting the benefits of fresh air and sunlight. He arrives at the cafe to find a familiar face behind the till, the attendant that is there most days. A cute redhead with bangs who shamelessly flirts with Kuroo every chance she gets. She's nice to Kei and makes good drinks so Kei does not care about over the counter flirtations.

It's not like Kuroo is his boyfriend anyway.

She smiles at him in greeting and wouldn't you know it, it seems Kei has become a regular.

"Hey!"

"Hello—"

"Pick-up order for Tsukishima, right?"

Before Kei can say, Excuse me? she hands him a sweet drink. He knows it's sweet because there is caramel drizzled on the sides. Iced. Topped with whipped cream. It takes herculean effort to not scream as she hands it to him, seeing as she is only doing her job and is not involved in devious schemes made by missing tutors.

Kei says thank you and stuffs an ancient bill into the tip jar on the counter.

He starts making his way outside before turning back to the counter. He orders an americano to go. A hot one, to boot. Let him think Kei is sweltering. Yes. The idea puts a smile on Kei's face for the first time that day. He walks past the sliding door to the patio even if the inside seating is empty. He settles in the bench by the corner and stages a beautiful shot of his to-go cup on the metal table against the blooming backdrop.

He sends the picture without caption.

Kuroo of course, ignores his tantrum completely.

Damn him.

Kuroo (4:28pm)

»Did you like the new flavor?

(4:28pm)

I don't know what you're talking about«

Kuroo (4:28pm)

»It sounded like you might but it has cloves

»How do you feel about cloves

(4:29pm)

I do not think about spices«

Kuroo (4:32pm)

»I agree, clove during summer is a choice

»It's a warm spice but chai has cloves so I thought it might work

»but I think it's one of those transitional drinks

Kei is supposed to get a date today.

He is sitting on a bench meant for two, alone, sipping his drink and staring into a phone instead of at Kuroo's face. No one is speaking to him or at him—both things Kuroo is guilty of. How else is he meant to assure himself Kuroo has time to relax , pray tell, if Kei is not physically present to certify it. Kuroo is meant to be in the seat next to him, spreading his legs too wide so that their thighs touch and getting at least an hour of R-and-R surrounded by greenery and fresh air.

He calls Kuroo expecting for it to go to voicemail or be declined.

Kuroo picks up.

Kei leans back on the bench. For a greeting he uses, "You owe me a coffee," even though Kuroo has already bought him one today.

The agreement comes easy. Kuroo's voice hums, distracted, "I am in your debt."

There is a jumble of sound behind him. Voices echoed, doors sliding. Kei knows he is juggling a million things and here he is, taking up time. He can't help himself. "I didn't like the clove," Kei complains, holding his face.

Is he a child?

"No?" Kuroo sounds genuinely disappointed. He moves somewhere quieter, the sounds in the back muffled. Two separate doors shutting sound out before he continues. "Why not?"

Instead of saying the flavor profiles didn't match, it wasn't sweet enough, it doesn't taste the same without you here, Kei tells him, "I miss you."

It has only been four days.

Which, oops, but at this point it not like he can hide it.

"I'm—"

Kei cuts him off before he can apologize for being competent enough to be reliable in sticky situations. Kei likes that about him. He just wishes it didn't put so many things on his plate. "I know you're busy." If I can wear a sex toy to go see him, I can tell him how I'm feeling. Look at Keiji. Look at Koutarou. I can be brave. Kei still has to fight the words and the heating of his neck at speaking his feelings out loud. "I wanted to tell you. In case you didn't already know."

It takes Kuroo a second. "I miss you, too." Kei hears the bitten lip, the smothered smile. "In case you didn't know."

"You sound tired," Kei says, looking to the distance. Impolite, he self-lectures, rude. Kuroo won't take it the wrong way, he hopes.

"I am," Kuroo half-laughs, half-sighs. "There's a lot of moving parts."

"Don't—"don't overwork yourself for people who don't give a shit about you. Kei swallows. Kuroo currently lives a different season of life than he does. There's no telling your new(ish) job to ease up. Kei is lucky enough to not have to worry about those things yet. Or ever, if he chooses not to. He thinks about what can he do as he is right now. He's thought about it a lot. "You don't have to bring notes to me anymore."

The answer is a weak,"Okay," after heavy silence.

Shit.

"Don't misunderstand me." It's not about the notes. They haven't gotten this far for them to still be playing that. It is a point of connection. Some insight. A love letter, he thinks, looking up to the sun until he can't anymore, blinking quickly. "I still want them but they take time to make. Rest instead."

"Tsukki."

"Don't lie to me and say they don't," Kei huffs. "It takes me forever to read through them and you might be brain boy but I'd rather you not sound like you're about to collapse."

"I'm not about to—"

"And I want proof."

Silence.

"If you let me keep my questions," Kuroo bargains, "I will."

Kei calls him out. "You're so nosey."

It is concession and Kuroo knows it because he launches into, "Tell me about your day?"

Kei considers the truth. I spent a great part of a beautiful, sunny summer day stewing about not being able to see you. He sips the drink, mixing the whipped cream into the bottom. "The cafe attendant has a crush on you."

"No, she doesn't."

"Has she slipped you her number yet?"

Kei knows she has. This cafe doesn't have a pick-up order system. Kei slurps the ice through the straw. She gave it to you and you used it to buy me coffee.

Kuroo chokes on nothing. "That's not, you—you know, I—"

⧫⧫⧫⧫

Thursday

Koutarou comes home from the gym worked up—which is the opposite of what he goes to the gym for. He has his routines and every step of them is important to his state of mind. Baking makes him focused, jogging clears his head, gym time makes him happy and bubbly and burns off energy so he can manage a night's sleep.

In cases like this, Kei would fuck him until he's gone boneless. Back when he did that sort of thing. Well, Kei would be fucked until they are both boneless but, you know, semantics. Kei does not track him with a frown to see just what is happening.

(He does.)

When he's spent over eight minutes staring out of a window without saying a single word, Kei has had enough. He sneaks behind him, terribly, with loud provoking steps and the exaggerate swish of moving fabric, to check if there is anything worth viewing and sees nothing but roofs. They're high enough that they don't have neighbors' windows to look in to, them being the taller building in an older part of town still not infected with the need for looming shapes seeking to pierce the sky. It makes for quieter nights, for windows greeting sunlight with wide arms, a landscape for gazes lost.

Kei pokes his side. When he turns, still silent, Kei asks. "Why are you?"

"Uh." Koutarou thinks about it, still traversing the overlaying gray of roofs. "Sperm meets egg?"

"No," Kei narrows his eyes. "Why?" He pokes his side again, this time hitting rib and making him flinch.

Koutarou pouts, wrong in all sorts of ways. He brings Kei in for a hug, gripping him tight. Kei runs his hands over his sides to barely meet behind his shoulder blades. He speaks to Kei's nape. "Kuroo was very cute today at the gym."

Of course.

"He should be shot." Kei will personally take aim if he makes Koutarou sad. Tension is good. It is manageable. This is not.

Kei is dragged into a sway. They stand in front of the window as Koutarou does his best to crush him, readjusting his off-beat tempo. His hips keep the click of a metronome, swinging side to side, their limbs grabbed together a pendulum. Kei will not let go first.

"Your back has gotten bigger," Kei comments, squeezing the flesh his hands hold on to.

He's bigger all over. Thighs and arms more muscled. Tits that jiggle when he walks. He's put in the work to grow and shape his body and boy does it show. Koutarou makes a grunt of agreement. "Need it to lift you guys."

"Lift with your knees, not your back," Kei warns.

Koutarou sighs again, this time into his neck. He lets some of his weight rest on Kei, who takes it willingly even if he feels like Atlas, holding up the heavens.

"You're the best."

"I'm going to tattle to Keiji that you said that."

That finally gets Kei a big laugh.

Part one complete. Now for part two…

Kei slides one of his hands from his back, to his abs, down to cup where he's been hard against Kei's hip."What's this?"

"Ah, Tsukki."

Kei chuckles, a little mocking. "That cute, huh?"

He nods into Kei's neck, moving his arms from his waist to around his neck to give Kei room. Kei pulls him out of his sweats to work him over with both of his hand wrapped around his length. He doesn't rush it. All he has to go by is Koutarou's breaths and his grunts, little sounds Kei hears because he's so close. Koutarou pulls away to find his mouth and fuse their lips together as Kei brings him over, broken moan escaping into the air Kei breathes.

Kei keeps going.

Koutarou's sounds grow deeper. His forehead meets Kei's shoulder, mouth now open in a pant. Kei brings him over again as he spurts hot all over Kei's hands.

⧫⧫⧫⧫

Friday

It is brutal. Koutarou wakes early in the morning with a similar look as the day before. Kei plans painful ways to make Kuroo pay for it even before he's gotten past groggy. Koutarou slinks over from Keiji to him, big eyes sad and pleading. He can't help himself and with a simple just a little bit, just to taste you, he eats Kei out without letting him come until Kei almost stoops to begging for the one thing he isn't allowed.

Kei offers his ass in exchange for being plugged

This really has to be the last time. He’s—well, he wants attention. He's desperate to be touched, willing to go through with it even though he knows its going to be unbearable. Kuroo seems so inclined to give in to him when Kei is doing what he shouldn't.

Keiji disagrees with it:

Last time he had to help you out of there, I'm not comfortable with it, if you want to in the house that is one thing but you have to be safe above everything else, my name is Keiji and this is my reasonable speech and my listing of items of why you trust me to be in charge of these situations and why I'm saying this can wait for us to figure things out with Kuroo and I love you and you can't refute me without looking like a little baby bitch and I have your best interest at heart, and if it's this bad lets forget about it and let me make you come, okay? No, Kei, that doesn't mean he won, not everything has to fall under the strange competition you guys have, can you set aside your crazy for one second—

They compromise on the smallest anal plug in their collection, something Kei hasn't worn since the beginning of their relationship. Bokuto opens him up with his tongue and then his length, working into him slowly. All of Keiji's previous training is not forsaken and Kei manages to fit him without trouble, spit and generously slick fingers easing the way.

Kei cannot set aside his crazy for one singular second so he doesn't take Keiji up on his offer. No, Kei will win. He will prevail. This is a battle with Kuroo; psychological warfare of the sexually charged variety. You want to touch me and here I am, ready. Let's see who beats who, your need to hold back or my need to make you forego all the things in your head telling you that you should.

Mostly, he goads Keiji into taking out his frustrations about Kei's stubbornness. There aren't a lot of chances for getting Keiji to have a bone to pick to with him, and he gets Keiji's version of an angry fuck before he brings out a plug with a heart-shaped pink jewel capping the base. The pink is Keiji's idea, to match the color of your cunt, said in a voice meant to be a taunt. His eyes are hungry so it doesn't land as he'd like.

Even if Kuroo does nothing, even if Kei is able to handle it perfectly, it is already worth it.

⧫⧫

Kei arrives to the glass cages that line the fourth floor of the east wing of the library worked up. He takes the stairs to earn time to center himself, determined to be as steady as a rock. He will prevail. He will win. He will kick Kuroo's ass all the way to—no, reel it back, no ass kicking, affection and the such. It will not be difficult, he can already tell.

This size of plug isn't a challenge. Kei doesn't stop to think what that might say about him.

They're dab-smack in the middle of the long hallway of study rooms this time and Kuroo already waits, back turned as Kei's makes his way closer. Beyond any challenge, any brewing competition between them, Kei is excited to see him. His stomach flips. It has nothing to do with the deranged habit he has acquired and all to do with the fact that he gets to see Kuroo today.

Kei gets to listen to him, and to spur him into giving Kei attention, sitting closer that is necessary and wasting time. Gets to provoke him and maybe today, since Kei's wits are about him, he'll peeve Kuroo enough to make that wrinkle on his brow show.

He's so—

Kei stops mid way, further back than Kuroo's line of sight just in case he chooses that moment to turn, suddenly nervous. His hand goes to his chest on reflex, as if by touch alone he could will his system into calming. They've seen each other million times by now. Kuroo is assuredly another part of his life. This is routine. His heart shouldn't be trying to run on ahead of his body. His hands should be steady.

And still.

Kei takes a deep breath before resuming his walk. He counts his steps in his head to settle his nerves, one two three four five six seven eight—

Kuroo doesn't hear him open the door. Kei stands there a moment, gathering whatever acuity he can find, tracing the silhouette of Kuroo's broad back, making sure his voice won't wobble, before calling out, “Hey.”

Kuroo turns entirely too fast. His back cracks audibly from the motion. Kei has both such speed for such an old man and is your skeleton okay, grandpa teed up before his tongue twists on itself at the way Kuroo's gaze falls on him.

He takes one look at Kei and smiles. His whole face lights up with an odd grin, one Kei hasn't seen before. There is something about it that draws Kei's eyes beyond the way Kuroo usually does. It brings back Kei's racing heart and somehow it settles behind his throat, pressing on it until he has to wrestle against the ache warning of tears with a shallow inhale and exhale.

It makes Kei's teeth gnash. He lets go of the door and shuffles in, trying to shake the feeling. He makes sure to keep his back to Kuroo. A moment is all he needs. Two, maybe, to get back in the groove so that he is not subjected to crying for no reason and then having to admit to Kuroo that he is crying because you smiled at me like you love me.

Kuroo has other plans.

He moves with inaudible steps. He places his chin on Kei’s shoulder, managing even through Kei's startled jump. His hands circle around Kei's waist, crossing right over his bellybutton, sticking Kei's upper back to his chest. Kei is surrounded by him. By his scent in the air, by the strength of his arms as they surround him, the weight of him on his shoulder.

"Hi," he whispers right next to Kei's ear. His hair brushes the side of Kei's jaw, impossibly softer than it looks, feathering touches over sensitive skin.

Two octaves' worth of surprise show in Kei's voice. "Kuroo?"

He turns Kei around by the waist. He keeps the distance the same, even as Kei leans back to be able to meet his eyes. The smile hasn't faded and from it spring his words, like the flowers in April, like the strong-beating summer sun high in the sky, already at its apex,“My question.”

It is more than one. Kei hears them all. Kuroo doesn't open his mouth to ask them.

Is this okay? Are you sure? Do you want me to stop?

Kei hangs on tight to his arm with both hands to keep him from stopping now that he's so close. Kuroo seems amused by his reaction, leaning in to whisper in Kei's ear again. Kei expects sweet nothings, declarations of undying love, shy schoolboy confessions.

Not, “Are you wearing one right now?”

Kuroo never talks about it. Not directly. Not openly. He doesn't—this is so much touching for him. So much everything for them. Kei knows they've gotten closer but he didn't realize they were here. He finds it is not strange to feel solid limbs under him, around him, Kuroo's skin not a stranger just met. They fall into this sort of embrace old friends, Kei's grip finding holds as if he's worn them into rock as he climbs.

“Kei?”

Oh. That is—new. Everything about this is new, even in its alien familiarity. With thunderous recognition, Kei comes to the conclusion that it is happening. It's actually happening. Now that it's here, he's all scatter-brained. Kei manages a nod and nothing else, eyes as big as saucers, before planting his gaze on Kuroo's chest instead of his face. He didn't actually think it would happen. He's not prepared. He has no defenses for this.

Oh shit, it's actually happening.

Kuroo chooses that moment to tilt his chin up, bringing their gazes back to each other. It is quite unfair, Kei thinks, that Kuroo does not allow him the same courtesy of letting him hide as Kei has extended to him.

“Why?”

That is more than one question. Kei’s clears his throat. He mirrors Kuroo, keeping to low voices even within these four walls. Their faces are so close. Kei’s lips are dry and he wets them on instinct, even though it's a terrible habit that only makes things worse. Kuroo follows the movement. Something simmers deep in Kei's belly at Kuroo's focus on him, finally looking, finally looking back, finally—

Kei whispers, "Because."

He breaks before he can continue the thought, a rush of excitement interrupting his speech. Kei huffs, incredulous, eyes resting on the side of Kuroo's face before he brings them back up, the answer obvious. A smile cracks at the tension. It interrupts his sentence, and Kuroo returns it ipso facto, aware of why it it is contagious. A moment of levity in between the heating air between them. A landing before the climb.

Kei tries again.

“I'm waiting for you to do something about it.”

It seems answer enough. He releases Kei's waist from his hold, giving half a step back as much as Kei's hands allow him. “Give me a second.” 

Kei pulls on his arm, stopping him. Not even a kiss right now? Seriously? "Kuroo, shut up. Get back here," he reproaches, fed up with this pulling away business. He is right there. Just take this ache away from his chest already.

"Glass walls," he reminds Kei. His lips curve in a somewhat mocking edge, as if it is Kei who is being an unreasonable twat. Like his lack of patience is a lack of virtue and not a result of Kuroo's specific brand of provocation. Like Kei is losing. Kuroo comes close. Closer. Stops when his breath hits Kei's lips to say, "We're pushing it."

Fuck! Kei is losing. He is losing and he is losing it. He can't contain it, nostrils flaring. His grip on Kuroo's arm tightens before Kei releases him with an angry push. "You are the worst," he spews, hot, reactive ire rising to warm the back of his neck, mixing with the explosive reaction to Kuroo's body, "the scum of the earth."

Kuroo's eyes squint in joy, immediate. "Yeah?"

Kei has to grapple with Kuroo's happiness abating his anger. He cannot be whipped for three people. One of them is going to have to bend. "I hate your guts." He crosses his arms between them, furious at the crack of his composure. "And your hands, and your stupid mouth."

Kuroo uncrosses Kei's arms, closing the minute gap Kei puts between them. It seems like he fills that gap entirely, looking so slightly up at Kei, bigger than the room they're in and the world outside these walls. The sun, shining. His fingers wrap around Kei's and bring them down to the sides of his thighs. They hold strong, keeping him from closing up again.

"Don't stop now. What else?"

Kei thinks of all the other things he likes about him that he never says. "You are too smart for your own good." You're kind to people like me, who can't say things normally. "Your hair is a nightmare come to life." I can't believe how charming you are. "Your cologne is too strong." You're so dependable.

"Ouch, claws are out," Kuroo jests, lips climbing higher and higher in obvious delight. He breathes out, composing himself. He can't quite manage it and his words have to bend around it. "I think you're so beautiful that it distracts from how amazing you are."

Kei has to choke down his rage. Damn him. Damn the glass walls and this game they play and the rose-colored glasses Kuroo looks at him through. His fingers curl up in Kuroo's hands, short manicured nails hooking on whatever flesh they can find."If you don't get me somewhere you can kiss me—"

Kuroo has the gall to laugh, an easy thing falling from his lips. Is this how he's always wanted to do it? Is this the sound he endlessly smothered as he made himself pull away instead?

"Sorry." He goes for the corner of Kei's lips, right at the edge where he can't make the distinction between mouth and cheek. It is a quick meeting of lips on skin, nothing more. "You go so entirely pink when you're angry, I couldn't help myself."

Oh, he's—he's beautiful, too, standing too close to be appropriate for tutor and student. Crossing all and every line. Teasing. Brushing away the grit he's been sprinkling between the cogs. Kei feels pressure on his sternum. He takes his hands back with a hard tug. "You will rue the day."

"Of course," Kuroo chuckles, head shaking. He grabs both of their forgotten bags and hoists them, recapturing Kei's hand in his. "Let's go."

Kei lets himself be led without paying attention to the route. He leaves it all in Kuroo's hands as he ruminates on the feel of reciprocity—or the road to it. He considers just how dangerous a man has emerged now that Kuroo is seemingly over the denial of his desires. Perhaps it is good that there are three of them so Kei can toss him their way before he combusts from the direct onslaught.

He hears his name and looks back, suddenly aware that they are almost at the bend before the elevators. Osamu calls out to him again, hand raised. Before Kei can think of how to politely slink away from any small talk, Kuroo's other hand comes around his arm, blocking Osamu's view with his body between them.

Kuroo gives Osamu a wide, practiced, placating smile. “Sorry, it's urgent." He waves goodbye before leading them around the curve. When they arrive at the elevator doors he presses the button with too much force.

Kei raises an eyebrow at him in question. Remembers he's supposed to be pissed off and adds some attitude to it. He can't hold it very long.

Kuroo waits until they are inside the elevator, doors shut, and alone. He tilts his chest Kei's way. Would you look at that, the wrinkle has made an appearance. His lips twist, miffed, as he looks at Kei with a frown.“Didn’t I tell you? You shouldn’t show that face to just anyone.” He grabs Kei's chin with his free hand once again."Definitely not to the guy that keeps chatting you up."

He noticed?

Kei narrows his eyes at him, shaking his hand off. “You are not just anyone." He really could not care less who looks at him, as anyone with eyes can tell exactly what is going on between him and Kuroo. "For who do you think I'm here like this?"

Kuroo runs his hand through his hair, increasingly agitated. This is so precious to Kei, who has spent their entire time together scheming ways to make him so with pitying results. Who knew all he needed was to make him jealous with Osamu. Kuroo presses the button down with a hard slam of his knuckle. The move makes Kei bite down a smirk. It must sting.

"What does that mean?"

Kei rolls his eyes. He presents it as a meaningless fact instead of the single cause of miserable days.“They haven't let me orgasm at all,” he sighs, performing, looking to the impeccable nail beds of his hand not held and back to Kuroo, delivering the words with a straight face. “It has to be you.”

Kuroo slams the back of his head on the elevator wall. Hard. He barely feels it, Kei presumes, with that plume of hair to cushion the impact. The initial fall drags him forward before Kuroo lets go of Kei to bring both of his hands to his face, ears bright red. He groans, “Oh, fuck me.”

And for the first time since Kuroo came into his life Kei says what he thinks: "No, no, fuck me first." At Kuroo's responding glare he adds, "You can go second."

Kuroo slams his head against the shiny elevator wall one more time, looking up to the plastic box of light on the ceiling. A small taste of retribution for Kei, who has pleaded with the sky many times over this man most unknowable.

The doors open.

Kuroo straightens, making to go out before he turns on his heel to face Kei, blocking the entrance. He struggles with getting the words out at first, then shoots them out so they run over each other in severe grievance. “I’ve been really good. An upstanding citizen, wouldn’t you say?”

Yes?

He doesn’t give Kei a chance to answer. He recaptures Kei's hand and pulls him forward, dragging him behind as a horse to a cart, pace faster than the low profile Kei assumed they were keeping.

Kuroo, have you lost your mind? Have I lost it?

In the grand scheme of things, he has been good. He is professor perfect, ever so respectful and willing to lend a hand. Attentive and interested in what Kei thinks or feels—half of that is the attraction between them. The other half is just who Kuroo is.

Kuroo steers them this way and the other. He does not, as Kei expects, make a beeline for the way to the main entrance. He leads them up a set of stairs Kei has no knowledge of, guiding them through a long, silent corridor they traverse with loud footsteps. It is only when Kuroo pushes past a heavy door that Kei realizes they've crossed wings into the administrative part of the building. As they make their way through the second floor hallways, Kuroo espouses, “I teach children. I help old ladies cross the road. I give up my seat on the bus if needed.”

Kei has no answers for him, only questions, the most present one being where they hell are we going?

A left and two rights and Kei catches a glimpse of known land. A stretch of hallway that ends in a stairway exit. Said exit flows into the open-air terrace of the inner courtyard, scattered with chairs and tables with parasols.

Surely, brainiac Kuroo has not brought him to a concurred shortcut to the terrace where everyone smokes so they can make out. Surely not. They make their way down the corridor but instead of leaving through the exit, they stop at a door across from it. An inconspicuous door that seemingly materialized in front of them. It is painted the same color as the walls and Kei, regardless of having had used the shortcut before, could not tell you there was a door there, much less what kind of room lies beyond it.

Kuroo pats his pockets, letting go of Kei's hand to scour through his wallet. He pulls out a key card and presses it against a same-colored box next to the door handle. A light flashes blue followed by a beep and the sound of a lock.

What the—

He pulls Kei into the room with a hard tug. The door doesn't close fully before Kuroo is on him, slamming him against the wall, hungry lips devouring his with an intensity Kei didn't know he possessed. The thud of their bags thrown to the floor distracts him and it takes him a second before he gives as good as he gets, a treacled sliding of tongues, his hands crawling up that hard body before settling to grab at whatever fabric he can grasp of Kuroo's shirt, then pulling, yanking it up to free it from it's tuck and sliding his fingers directly on warm flesh.

Kuroo lets out a barely-heard moan at the contact and Kei burns up in the sound, in the way Kuroo's breath stutters and he has to break from eating Kei alive just to get his lungs to work right, the way he can't wait and dives in again, hand secure around Kei's neck, thumb on his pulse. How he noses into Kei's space and pushes closer, closer, until Kei is pinned and at mercy of Kuroo's mouth against his, of his arm banding around Kei's waist.

Kuroo lets the hunger he's so used to repressing rise to the surface, the hand starting at Kei's neck dragging over every contour of his body, slowly, palm splayed, until it ends on his ass, squeezing the flesh hard through the fabric and pulling their hips together. He tugs with such force, he makes Kei's weight shift so his back ends pressed to the wall while his hips are against Kuroo's.

It makes Kuroo take half his weight and he does so without a blink. Kuroo pulls away from the kiss.

Kei fights himself not to chase, even as he complains, his voice strung out. "Kuroo—"

Kuroo brings their foreheads together, following the lean of their bodies, bent over him. His breathing is labored but the glint in his eyes is all predator. "I have enough brownie points in the bank to make-up for fooling around with one of my students in the library, right?"

His thigh settles in between Kei's, finding his center. Kuroo pulls him in, using the hand on his ass to drag him over it, making him effectively hump it. Kei chokes. He nods. Uh-huh. Brownie points. A whole tray.

"I know I'm not just anyone," Kuroo speaks into his lips, now parted in soundless moans,“you look at me like that.” He laughs, humorless. "Even if you're trying to drive me crazy showing up like this."

"Kuroo, I'm—" Kei grinds on him, unashamed, seeking relief from the pulsing ache ever-growing.

"No wonder you look so desperate. You need it so bad, don't you?"

He feels Kuroo's hard bulge against him and reaches between them to cup him. Kei feels the heat bleeding. He throbs against Kei's palm and a responding pulse runs through Kei's cunt, a stab of desire making him drip wet inside his underwear. Since Kuroo holds him, Kei reaches for his own pants, unbuttoning them. Kuroo follows and moves his thigh to let them fall down Kei's legs.

The angle makes Kei's pelvis stick out, baring him to their eyes. It's going to be absolute garbage for his back later but for now he's numb to the discomfort with how Kuroo's eyes rove over the display. Kei wore regular briefs instead of the panties. He didn't think he'd need them, honestly, and Keiji was in a punishing mood so he didn't say anything as he helped Kei step into them. The front fabric of his briefs is wet, a darker blue patch starkly visible.

"You poor thing," Kuroo coos.

Kei takes offense at the tone but Kuroo presses his thumb against the patch and grinds it against Kei's dick through the fabric and he's forgiven. Kei's cunt clamps down on nothing, pulse pounding. He's been tackled by desire, from zero to a hundred in a matter of minutes, so unlike how he thought he'd spend today, grabbed by Kuroo and shaken until his reality tilts and spins and bursts in color, folding and unfolding upon themselves like a kaleidoscope.

"I've never," Kuroo says,"so I need some guidance."

Kei freezes, mind racing to make sense of words when he's getting his dick stroked. "At all?"

There is no way Kuroo is a virgin.

Fuck.

He's not desperate enough to take Kuroo's virginity in a library storage room. Is he? Virginity is fake, anyway. No, no. Kei runs his hand through his hair. He like, loves this guy. He should be cherishing him, or something idiotic like that. Not having his first be a quickie in a public place. Even if he wants to curl up in a ball and cry at the thought of stopping now.

Kuroo runs his fingers down the seam of Kei's underwear before stopping over his clothed cunt. He rubs his fingers into the soaked fabric, pushing until it is molded to Kei's skin, the outline of his lips clearly visible. "This is new to me." He smiles, wide and lecherous, eyes scanning Kei's shape. Gone is the proper decorous tutor that keeps his distance.

Has Kuroo ever smiled like that at him before?

"In practice, I've read up on the theory," Kuroo adds.

Kei throws his head back, hitting the wall, aggression choking him. He wants to grab Kuroo by the shoulders and shake him. He's so endeared it makes him rattle. "You're a such a nerd, my god."

"It's called being prepared," Kuroo continues. "Comes in handy—"Kuroo's fingers return to drag over his dick— "for something like this."

Kei likes him so much. "I will destroy you."

"Yeah, probably." Kuroo pulls down Kei's briefs down until they're stretched mid-thigh. Kei tries to spread his legs as wide as he can, impeded by his pants around his ankles. It strikes him that he could be shyer about this amount of exposition. He's too horny to care now, but he's sure he'll blush at himself later.

Kuroo breaks that line of though by dipping his head close to capture Kei's lips with his, his kisses distracting from the tentative touching of bare skin. Kei makes to guide him with his own fingers but finds his mouth falling open instead. Mr.-I've-never-done-this-before is a liar and a cheat and Kei's head falls back, eyes closed at the stimulation on that neglected place. Without the barrier of the fabric the touch is almost too much to bear. Kuroo treats him gently but his fingers are wide and he's not afraid to plunge two inside Kei, sinking them in until the meat of his palm meets Kei's dick, now up at attention.

Kuroo's surprise is marked by a hard exhale. His face is full of wonder when Kei peeks at his face. "I can feel it." He gives a few test intrusions, exploring. Kei can feel him push on the plug, too. It makes Kei shudder but it isn't what he's searching for.

"There. Curl yo—ah," Kei moans as Kuroo puts pressure right where he needs its, hitching his fingers along to a beat only he knows. Kei works his very best in breathing through it, but he can't help the sounds leaking out of him. Kuroo isn't like the other two have been, trying to rend pleasure without fulfillment. Kuroo wants to make him come, finger-fucks him with that end in mind.

One thrust of his fingers has Kei yelping and Kuroo shushes him softly. "Gotta be quiet, Kei. They'll find us if you're too loud."

Fuck him for being perfect. Oh, he's never fucked a cunt before but he's got Kei on the edge in mere moments. It's good, it great, but it's not…Kei needs more to cross the line. He needs to come on something thicker than fingers, even with the added tightness of the plug. He reaches for Kuroo's belt, chest shaking. There's no way that this alone will be enough to sate the gnawing hunger he's been carrying. He's famished so Kuroo better hurry and feed him.

"Get inside me." He fumbles with Kuroo's slacks, hands still numb from getting so close to his first orgasm in days. Have belts always been this hard to open? Why did Kuroo have to wear a fucking belt today?

They're a picture. Hard and wet, arms stretched across each other to get at their pants—or lack thereof in Kei's case. Kuroo grins, peering down at Kei failing to open his slacks. "You really want me, don't you."

No, no, no. He knows that tone. He's too overwhelmed to start this. Kei freezes, finding Kuroo looking at him with that stupid kind of grin on his face. "One sweet fuck. One." That is all he asks. They won't always be, he knows, but this—he can't banter his way into an orgasm today. "We can go after each other for the rest."

Something in Kei's face—the horror of consistently not being allowed orgasms, probably— shines through. Kuroo must take pity on him, who would in other circumstances never admit to not being up to the task of making each other a little mad, asking for sweetness. For reprieve. For Kuroo to please just get on with it already.

"'Kay."

Kuroo pulls out from Kei's body before he kisses him, pouring himself into Kei's mouth, cupping his face with his hands. When the kiss breaks Kuroo goes for his cheek, then the edge of his jaw, lower, until he—after months of toiling with heavy feelings and wanting him—sets his open mouth on the marks under Kei's jaw and sucks a new one into his skin.

Kei's breath hitches. He asked for sweet but he gets more than what he bargained for, seemingly being gifted all that he's wanted since Kuroo walked in to shake-up his life. He's—Kei has thought of this moment compulsively. Being tossed and folded and bent and rapid hands tearing at his pants and fast fucks against walls or desks or as a display of lascivity framed by glass walls. A race to fulfill that need between them, that chemistry.

This means more to him, maybe.

It means more that when Kei is in front of him, asking to be fucked, to be filled, wet, made a thing of pleasure, Kuroo steals a bruise into his skin before anything else. Treats him with careful hands that don't rush, with glides over his skin that don't take but that linger, savoring. Kisses him crooked with a smile on his lips that does not budge, enjoying every move.

Like this is something precious to him. Like he's not giving in to temptation but finally allowing himself to taste.

"Kuroo."

Kuroo returns to his mouth, sharing the taste of longing with him.

Between kisses, Kei manages the belt. The slacks. He pulls on the band of Kuroo's boxers to find a heavy uncut cock between his legs. Kei can't wait anymore. He takes it in hand to guide him in, stroking to fully pull the skin back, revealing a ruddy wet tip. Kuroo leaks precum like a faucet on Kei's fingers and he has to bite down every teasing comment that comes to mind, filing it away for later. He will revisit this, specially if it turns out it is a recurrent thing.

Kei looks down at where their bodies press against each other. Some other occasion will arise for him to take his time teasing Kuroo's hardness in his palm, to run his tongue over the veins. To find out what makes him tick and take him apart. Now he presses their tips together, letting out a hard breath at the contact. He doesn't need to get Kuroo wet, but he rubs them together anyway. For the visuals of it. For the lewdness. It is an awkward pose for him, that with his pants around his legs and his underwear around his thighs—and what is with his boyfriends and fucking him with his clothes on?

"Hold on."

Kuroo takes himself back and takes a step away from him. Before Kei can react, he gets yanked by the hips to straighten up, turned around and pushed into the wall, hands coming to brace on instinct. Kuroo steps closer, cock resting now on his ass. It is easier to maneuver like this when clothed, even if he's deprived of looking at Kuroo's face.

He more than makes up for it. His feverish exhale warms the back of Kei's neck, looming behind him. His hands settle on Kei's waist, squeezing before sliding down to spread his cheeks. Kuroo's fingers press on the base of plug, now on display for him. "Great view." Kei feels the buttons of his shirt against his clothed back, hair tickling his ears as Kuroo leans in to whisper, "Who?"

Kei's face burns scarlet, wetness seeping, arousal heavy between his legs. He'd forgotten the plug for a moment. You see, something must of gotten crossed when he was being made; all his appetite was allocated to carnal desire instead of sustenance. He has to stand, ass out, cunt wet, and admit to Kuroo, who is about to plow him (hopefully) against the wall, in a corner of a dim storage room of a public building, that this would be his third of the day.

Kei talks facing the wall. Kuroo is getting a great view of his cunt drooling from the dream of coming, as shiny and blushed as the jewel above it. He tries not sound as obscene as he feels when he answers. “Bokuto, then Akaashi.” 

He fails.

Kei's earlier plea must have worked because instead of mocking him for his unrelenting need for dick, as Kei would do if the roles were reversed, Kuroo only spreads his cheeks further apart to get a better look at the plug seated inside him.“Is that how it usually goes?”

Kei's head hangs between his hitched shoulders, arms holding his weight, palms spread wide against the faded eggshell paint of the wall. “Keiji likes to go second," he says in an unsteady voice, "when it’s messy.”

Kuroo's breath in his ears resounds, growing larger until it is all Kei can hear. He is cocooned in it, in the strong grip of Kuroo's hands around his ass, in his hardness rested against where Kei wants it, his broad back covering Kei's. He wishes they were naked so they could be skin to skin, so he could feel Kuroo's heartbeat against his back, feel his tits press against it.

Kuroo's voice drops into the underworld, flame and fire, wisping around Kei's throat and eating up all the oxygen the room, "Lets leave him a mess then."

Kei can't catch the sound that bubbles up, exhaled through his nose. Thank all the heavens and all the gods, he's a freak, he's into sloppy seconds, he's into me and my boyfriend and my other boyfriend and he's—

Kuroo kisses the column of his neck. "Where do you want it?"

Kei reaches to grasp at the hardness against him. For now he lines them up, getting Kuroo in between his lips, pressing Kuroo's glans against the entrance to his cunt and letting it catch. The angle makes way for him without much effort. Kuroo pushes into him until slowly until he's buried in Kei's body.

He relishes the stretch.

Kuroo rests his forehead on Kei's nape, exhaling into it with a curse. "Fuck, you're—Sucking me in."

Kei closes his eyes, trying to keep his cool instead of outright begging with please hurry.

"Can you take more of me?"

More? More. Kei clenches his teeth. Hot and smart and funny and has a big dick—Kei hates him so bad. Soooo bad. Refrains from trying to rile him up saying, yeah you're big but Kou is bigger and he fucks me so hard, don't make me ask, I can take you—He throws one of his hands back to grab at Kuroo's hair, yanking.

"All of it."

Kuroo answers him with a hard thrust, stuffing him.

Air is punched out of him, back arching involuntarily. His mouth fills with drool. This is exactly what he needed. He's so full. Full enough to have his cunt grip and squeeze on something as he works an orgasm out. The plug adds to the fullness, not enough to be mind-shattering on its own but making its presence felt now. Kuroo gives a tentative thrust, then another, until he gains confidence enough that Kei is not going to break and starts to build a rhythm between them.

Kei misses being able to read his face. What expression does he wear, now that they are connected, flesh to flesh?

Kuroo must be a savant because he nails the pace Kei likes without direction. Just when Kei thinks of asking for more, his thrusts gain power. Kei spreads his fingers on the wall to brace as Kuroo goes harder, his wide hand coming under Kei's shirt to grip his waist to help stabilize him. His hand is scorching under the fabric and it feels like Kei is burning from these instances of contact; his waist, in between his legs where he and Kuroo meet, his cheeks as they feel the burn of friction against Kuroo's clothed body. His heart.

His ribcage swells with emotion. Kuroo grips him tighter. He's as close as he'll ever be, inside him, holding him steady. They'll find pleasure together now and it doesn't matter that Kei can't see him because he can feel him, and next time, Kei can scarcely believe it but there will be a a next time, next time, Kei will make sure they're face to face. He takes one hand off the wall to bring it over Kuroo's around his waist, needing the touch.

Kuroo picks that emotional moment, that thawing of Kei's sensitive nature, to ruin his life. He changes his angle slightly and Kei lets out a startled cry in response.

He feels himself tighten on Kuroo inside him, feels the drag of his cunt as Kuroo pulls his hardness, refusing the release, even if just to grab impulse. Kuroo decides oh, that sounds like it feels good, I should focus that spot and make his legs turn to mush, and goes to town. It is all Kei can do to stay on his feet. His hand slaps back on the wall to not fall against it, trembling limbs fighting gravity and a direct attack to his g-spot. His molars grind with the effort of restraining the keens he wants to let out.

Kuroo presses closer with another hard thrust. He runs his sweaty forehead on the side of Kei's face. "Like that?"

Kei can't believe him in that moment. Fucking him beyond words and asking like that, like he has no idea what he's doing while he unravels Kei where he stands. One sweet fuck, he chants in his mind. One. No attitude, no bitching. Kei nods. He's right there, he's right on the very edge, riding that line, he just can't.

His voice is desperate even to his own ears. "So close."

"Come on." Kuroo's hand travels to Kei's dick, hard and swollen, to stroke as he thrusts. "Give it to me, yeah?"

He wants to so bad, his body just needs to remember how to get there again. He's gotten used to holding back his orgasms when they fuck him that now he can't stop the way his body braces and fights against it. He closes his eyes and tries, shit, who knows, meditating his way into letting his body come. Kuroo keeps at it. Kei will kiss him for it later. He's doing everything right, it's Kei's body that just won't quit! He's strung-up, left to float forever in the moment just before an earth-shattering orgasm, levitating over it, grasping it with the very tip of his fingers but unable it pull it out from within him.

In that space, tuned in to his body, eyes shut, Kei hears someone. Far, muffled, faint in the distance. His already fast beating heart accelerates to a gallop, eyes springing wide open to find the texture of the wall between his hands. He is a mix of feelings, his abdomen tight from the sex and now turning in on itself at that voice ringing out closer than before.

The situation that he has placed himself in hits Kei then:

They're fucking in a room separated from people by a single flimsy door; stacks of boxes, papers and old chairs are the only thing keeping their cries and grunts from echoing all around the room. Kuroo is inside Kei's bare cunt, pistoning his hips as a voice—a group of voices, now accompanied by silhouettes blurry against the frosted window of said flimsy door—talk right outside, close enough for Kei to understand their conversation and this motherfucker is not stopping.

Kei bites his lip to hold in the sound but there's no biting down on the wet squelches coming from their joined bodies, louder as Kuroo picks up the pace again, filthy noises rising between them to hopefully not travel to where others can clue in to what is happening behind closed doors.

Kei strains to whisper, "Kuroo."

"Don't want people to hear?" Kuroo chuckles against his skin. "What did you expect, showing up here like this?"

Kei's hands curl into fists against the wall. Barely swallows down his moans. He's not going to make it. "I can't be quiet," he hisses, desperate. Please, let him be quiet.

Kuroo doesn't stop.

One of his hands covers Kei’s mouth to muffle his sounds. When Kei doesn't protest the move, Kuroo presses harder against his lips, crushing their bodies together, grinding up into Kei at an angle. His other hand comes back to stroke his dick. Kei rests his head back on Kuroo's shoulder, leaning against him instead of the wall. Trusting him to take all of Kei's shaky form. Trusting him with a lot more than that.

His eyes grow wider and wider as he reads Kuroo's intentions in their meeting gaze, Kei's face looking back his way. He wants Kei to come right now, with people right outside.

"Got tighter now." Kuroo uses the hand over his mouth to guide Kei's face to have a better look at him. Lays a kiss on his ear before he whispers, "I can stop." His breath comes out in restrained heaves, sex crawling over his voice. He grinds up into Kei's cunt. "Wait for them to leave." Grind. "But you don't want that, do you? You've been waiting so long for it and you're so close, baby. I can feel it." Grind. "You want to, you just have to let go. Don't worry about who is there. It's just you and me here."

The up and down of Kei's chest goes wild. He wants to. God, he wants to. He's right there.

"You and me." He bites Kei's earlobe before he whispers, “Come on, Tsukki. Let me have it. Let go."

Kei does. He is piqued at the way his body seems to fight him but surrenders to Kuroo's plea, following the rhythm of Kuroo jerking him with his fingers. Eyes falling shut, he shatters, creaming around Kuroo inside him. Clamping around the plug. Finally. After an eternity of waiting, finally. After seconds and minutes and days and weeks, finally. After temptation fails and instead affection wins out, finally.

It takes all he has in him to ride it out. He clamps down and from Kuroo's mouth a curse crashes out, too loud, wetter sounds ringing out as Kuroo takes him through it with short, hard thrusts. It feels like one bleeds into two, for how long it goes. He feeds on Kuroo's muffled curses against his shoulder, feeling Kei come on him, cunt milking him for what he is worth. Kei bites down his moans into Kuroo’s palm, as Kuroo's arm crawls across his body to hold him tight so that every jerk of his hips is sliding him up and down the hardness deep in him.

Everything fades away leaving only them, in the dark, in the void that beckons him when he closes his eyes at night, when he takes his glasses off and sets them aside and sinks to watch the inside of his eyelids, when it's just the two of them then, a mirage in the blackwaters of shared sheets where Kei swims to meet him not him, only now it is him; bodies crushed together in horrible manner, belt slapping skin and thighs strangled by rolled elastic, aching unused muscles firing up to shake off the rust growing, muffled voices and a strong hold that cages him as he dissolves with pained, high-pitched moans bitten into skin.

Kei lives there forever. For only a moment.

After, when he returns to his body, becomes sentient again, Kei blinks and blinks and blinks. He doesn't know up from down for what feels like a long while, secure in Kuroo's now still embrace. He notices his hands have wrapped around Kuroo's arm, holding on for dear life. It takes herculean effort to unwrap them. He doesn't want to. He wants to stay like this and if they were in a bed instead of in a random supply room, he would keep his hold on Kuroo's arms and miscellaneous appendages as he napped.

Kuroo breathes out into his ear. "Good?"

Great. Fantastic. Insane. It feels like his brain just hard rebooted. Kei nods.

Kuroo takes his hand, now sporting a few teeth indents, away from Kei's face. Takes Kei's safety with his other arm.

He falls forward, arms catching before he hits the wall. His legs tremble but Kuroo gets a good grip on his hips, stopping him from toppling over entirely. He sucks in as much air as he can through his mouth. Kei is still processing what just happened to him. This is their first time? He's—when was the last time he came that hard?

"Shit, I'm going to—let me pull out."

Kuroo leans back to separate them, leaving Kei empty.

Kei twists at his waist, looking back, leaving one hand against the wall for support. He reaches for Kuroo's cock. It juts out hard and slick with his cum, shiny wet and head red. He strokes it once, twice, over the sound of Kuroo hissing, before he leads it back into his cunt.

"Kei—"

Kei's voice is ruined. He has to swallow to let the words out correctly. They still come out shaky. "Weren't you making a mess?"

They haven't made it this far for Kuroo to not come inside him.

Kuroo's answer is to thrust into him to the hilt. He shudders at the feeling, so sensitive after coming. How he missed it, that first thrust stretching his walls after they've spasmed and convulsed. Kuroo grabs the back of his neck. He takes that wide hand of his with his thick fingers smeared with Kei's slick and wraps them around his nape in a secure hold, his other hand finding a home over Kei's on the wall.

God, the way he holds him now. Strong bands wrapping around Kei's form. Kei is taller than him even if he is slimmer but he feels small with Kuroo over him, leering and looming over his shoulder. Kei makes sure to back up his ass against Kuroo's clothed hips, just to better nestle his cock inside him. He has a feeling he's going to need to work every muscle to keep up with Kuroo's encore, chasing his own release.

He slams his hips into Kei, louder than before, harder, cursing Kei out under his breath, calling him a string of names that only serve to make Kei enjoy the fucking more. Yeah, he's desperate and so evil baby and so fucking wet and sweetheart you drive me crazy and all the things Kuroo calls him and says to him with an increasingly whinier and whinier voice, like he can't really believe it.

He really hopes the people outside have moved on.

Kei wants to throw his hands up in victory. He wants to call Keiji and Koutarou and tell them all about how the sex is better than they ever thought it would be. Wants for Kuroo to fill his cunt up with his come. Wants to hear him moan Kei's name as he does it.

He bites down on Kei’s shoulder, a litany of Tsukki baby so good coming made a dampened sound, teeth set to his shirt to muffle his moans as he spills inside Kei with hard, offbeat thrusts. He sounds so desperate, like he's the one being fucked, even as he spills his come into Kei's body.

Kuroo lays his head there, panting, breathing real air for the first time in months. Kei wonders if his inhales feel lighter too; if he's standing on water or on air or over nothing; if he floats forever only tethered by the palm he shifted from Kei's nape to his chest, over his heart, crushing Kei to him; if he feels like he's had a homecoming; if he's in his own forever for a moment.

Kuroo sighs at last. He shakes himself off of his lethargy. He slides his hands down Kei's front before turning him around by the hips to kiss him. Now Kei takes advantage of satiety to give in to all the little touches he's catalogued away. That is how his cheeks feel like when he cups them. How he smiles into the kiss when Kei gives up in the name of spent stamina and hangs his arms around Kuroo's neck for him to deal with holding Kei up. That is how he takes the weight, willingly.

Kei feels his cunt start to drip Kuroo's load down his thigh. He looks down between them to see the mess and Kuroo, unable to help himself, follows suit. His eyes snap back up to Kei's in a panic. He bursts out between their lips, alarmed, “I need to calm down.”

Kei reaches down to spread himself, drunk on sex, on this, on them, giving Kuroo a better look. "Is this doing it for you?" he teases, leaning his hips forward to put himself of display. There's so much of it. A mess indeed. "Like seeing it leak out?"

"We said one sweet fuck," Kuroo fights back, weakly, eyes trained in between Kei's legs. "That is—damn it—not sweet, that is—hellfire—"

Sure, because making Kei come when there are people around is sweet. Still. Kei is on top of the world. Angels singing, global warming eradicated, world peace, the whole nine yards. He takes pity on Kuroo and pulls his briefs back up to cover himself. "So your head doesn't explode."

"Somehow that is worse," Kuroo swallows, words pained. He lifts Kei's chin (This is his thing isn't it? His move. Kei can't wait to exploit this knowledge) and kisses him."Wanted to do that forever ago."

The orgasm to end an era has sanded down Kei's edges for now, so he only says back, "Took you long enough."

Kei then puts Kuroo back soft into his pants and zips him up. His legs are still weak with effort and he needs at last five more minutes before he's steady enough to try to get off this wall completely. They keep kissing. Kuroo can't seem to stop. He leans away and then back in, thinking better of if. Kuroo kisses him again before bending to pull his pants up and buttoning them in between licking his tongue. It is like they are magnets, unable to stay away from each other's lips now that they are allowed to, coming together and breaking apart in bouts.

He’s enjoying Kuroo's gradual leaning into him, into the wall, pressing his weight on Kei, when Kuroo's bag lets out a loud shrill. It is ice water to the senses. Kuroo steps back from their little bubble with annoyance. His face is all irritation. "Fucking phone."

Kei reaches for him. This is such a great wall, they shouldn't leave. Kei is going to make a plaque for it. "Don't pick up."

"It's the kid." Kuroo sets his fists over his eyes, exasperated. "I hate him so bad." He looks—well, he looks like he just had good sex, lidded eyes and sweaty mussed hair. Fucked up shirt and undone belt. Worn out. Kei is sure he doesn't fare any better, wet underwear and fresh hickies included.

"Drop him in a sewer."

Kuroo laughs, stretching. "The dean is on the board at the center, so I might lose my job if I do that. Both of them." Kuroo gives him a smile, resigned. "And I might be sent to sleep with the fishes."

Kei can't help the sentiment, even if his usual shroud of apathy is wrapping around him again. This is a monumental occasion. Kei can be sappier than usual. “I can wait.”

Kuroo hesitates, ultimately offering his hand to pull Kei away from his magic wall. "I don't want him near you."

Kei would call him out for being jealous with Osamu and now this but the kid's vibes are so rancid that Kei knows exactly what he means by that, so he accepts Kuroo's gesture.

"Besides, you can't be comfortable right now. Or at least you won't be. You look sleepy." Kuroo tightens the grip around his hand. Brings it to his chest, beating wildly, for Kei to feel. "And I won't be able to focus if I know you're around. They're waiting for you by now. I’m walking you out, just give me a minute to put myself together. And you," he laughs, looking Kei over. Kuroo kisses his hand before releasing it. “I want to see who I get today.”

⧫⧫

When Kuroo does lead them outside, still letting Kei drag behind him, he makes way to what has becomes their pickup spot, the underpass only a little ways away from arches that mark the main entrance. Keiji waits there, in the same stretch of wall. As they come closer, he puts his phone away with a worried expression.

“You guys are late.”

He then sees their held hands. Kei's face. Kuroo's ineffective attempt at making them look less like they just had a quickie in a storage room. Keiji gives them as big of a smile as he is ever going to give before he schools his face to something less obvious.

“Well," Keiji says, tone laced with implication,"that’s quite an expression you two have.”

Kei says, "The curse has been broken, witch," with equal amounts of implication.

Kuroo's ears go up in flames. The phone rings again. Kuroo doesn't have to look to know who, he only swallows and lets go of Kei's hand. “I have to go.”

Kuroo always says it first. 

He doesn't seem inclined this time so Kei prompts him,“See you Friday?”

Sooner, probably, most likely, absolutely, since Kei has unfinished business with him, as do the other two, including a very long overdue conversation and a sweet caffeinated monstrosity, and more kissing and hopefully more sex, but Friday for sure.

Kuroo hems. He haws. He gives Kei neither yes nor no. There is trouble in his eyes, so different to the looks they shared earlier. How could be build up all this thinking in the space between the locked room on the second floor with the magic wall and just outside the main entrance, Kei doesn't know. It is quite a skill. He must have both him and Keiji beat for Overthinking Extraordinaire.

What he does give Kei is a kiss. Short. All the sweet they didn't manage between them before. It reassures Kei only until Kuroo follows it up with, “We’ll talk about it.”

What the hell might he mean now?

He leaves Kei to stand in front of Keiji. He starts, gathering breath to say something, and stops, hesitating, not meeting Keiji's face but rather directing his gaze to the floor just behind him.

Keiji catches his attention with a hand on his forearm. He speaks gentler than Kei expects, reassuring, a little playful, giving Kuroo's arm a squeeze as he says, "Don't worry too much."

It is successful in catching Kuroo's attention and holding it. He stares at Keiji intensely, a kind of surprised that Keiji has a read on him, Kei guesses, and then laughs self-deprecatingly. "Just enough." He closes the distance between them with two small steps. "Don't know how to do anything else," Kuroo breathes out. He leans forward and gives Keiji the smallest kiss ever known to man. A little peck, head tilted to the side, lowering himself quickly.

Timid, as if not sure if he's going to be well received. It is an awful look on him, Kei will admit. He much prefers his irritating cockiness to this hesitance.

Keiji doesn't let him back away when he starts to. He buries his hand in Kuroo's hair like there is a place reserved for him there and gives Kuroo a not so small kiss. The sight still makes all the slumbering butterflies in Kei's stomach revive. It's nice, seeing Keiji happy, seeing Kuroo lose some of the stiffness he's built up between an orgasm with Kei and a conversation with Keiji. More than nice seeing his boyfriend and his sort-of-boyfriend getting along, maybe getting more than along sooner than Kei thinks. He and Kuroo are maybe a sure thing. He doesn't know where the others stand yet, exactly.

Kuroo pulls away, eyes still closed. Keiji lets him this time, but keep his hand on the back of his neck. A short leash before he can run off. "Akaashi," Kuroo whines. He darts a glance at Kei, frown deepening. As if complaining to Keiji is the most commonplace thing to him, he continues, "People keep staring at him up there. I don't like it.”

Keiji finds this so entertaining that he gives Kuroo another kiss. He's having the time of his life right now by the looks of it. "All right. We'll keep him to ourselves from now on."

Oh. Kei took Kuroo's words to mean something else before. He blushes now. You'd think sleeping with the guy would make him immune.

Kuroo sighs into Keiji's mouth and this time he is allowed to leave. "Get home safe. Text me." The last part he directs at Kei with a pointed look before turning and heading back inside with wide steps.

They both watch him leave.

“Finally found a flaw with your Mr. Perfect,” Keiji says,“He’s possessive.” 

For all of Akaashi’s moonlighting as a pythoness, there is one thing that divine wisdom has not been made him aware of, one detail that his all-seeing-eye has not captured: Kuroo is full of flaws. 

He’s petty, his jokes don’t land, he’s lame, he’s legitimately a nerd, he’s too straight-laced, he works too much, he likes riling people up, his smile can be creepy, he makes Kei want to tear his hair out. He’s possessive. The list goes on. It is an unending number of bad traits and incompatible descriptors that would—and should—have made Kei’s feelings die down to nothing a long time ago.

That is why he is professor perfect.

They don’t matter at all.

No amount of flaws are ever flaws to Kei, nothing to dissuade his heart from hoping to see him. No amount of discouragement is enough for him to gain some sense and stop creating risky situations that land Kuroo’s eyes on him. Every part of him wants to scream look at me when they’re together. The glint in his eye while making Kei orgasm in a public place is a high he’ll be chasing whenever they are together. 

If he knew all those days ago that he'd have to take the long route to get to him, Kei would do it again. If they still have a session next week, Kei will do something, anything, to break up that charming illusion, to scuff up that polished put-together exterior Kuroo carries around, until that raw look is back in his eyes, breaking Kei into little pieces. 

“Keiji,” he complains, mimicking Kuroo's earlier tone. He’s slimy inside his pants. Every step is torture. Kei swallows. He doesn't know what to do. He's—he wants to go see him again right now.

Keiji lets out a laugh, not unkind. "Tell me about it."

⧫⧫

After coming home to tender love and attention and getting cleaned out in the shower by Bokuto, who is just beside himself at the orgasm embargo being lifted, Kei recounts the happenings of the afternoon under their sheets and low lighting.

Koutarou pushes into Kei's space, asking for details upon details. When Kei is done, he mutters, pouting, "I wanna kiss him again."

Same.

Wait.

Kei sits up. Rotates to look at him, slowly, trying to recount all the thing he knows. "You didn't say that you kissed him."

Koutarou looks away, caught. "It was yesterday." He hold his hands up. "You were going crazy, I feared for my life. For his life, too, if you let out all of your rage on him."

Kei can admit he's had a terrible short fuse the last couple of days so he nods and lays back down. That answers, at least in some part, his curiosity at where they stand with Kuroo. Not that that is at all clear with him and Kei. No. They have to talk about it.

Kei frets silently as they two wind down to sleep. Keiji turns the lamp off and seeing as Kei is still going in circles doesn't tetris himself against Kei's body. He’s sandwiched between them, looking up at the obscured ceiling. Not even being in the middle can slow his thoughts. Mulling over the events of the day. There’s giddiness with the worry. Regardless of what Kuroo throws at him, what obstacle comes next, Kei knows what he kisses like. What he sounds like in the throes of coming, how sweet his quick tongue tastes when he's chasing Kei for a kiss.

He knows that the tidal wave that has buffeted his psyche has not hit him alone. Only when his phone lights up and he sees Kuroo's name in incoming messages does he remember.

Kuroo T (11:51pm)

»Did the two of you get home

(11:51pm)

Yes«

Kuroo T (11:51pm)

»And you didn't text me because….

Is it okay to say Bokuto was cleaning me up, and then we got distracted talking about you now?

(11:52pm)

I forgot«

Kuroo T (11:52pm)

»Tsukki.

He has so many questions. Do you regret it? Delete. Do you like me? Delete. Do you like us? Delete. Are you freaking out? Delete.  I'm freaking out. Delete.

(11:52pm)

Are we still on for Friday?«

 

Kuroo T (11:52pm)

»I don’t think we should be

Kei wants to throw a punch. Or curse. Two impulses foreign to him in a life before Kuroo. He puts his phone down and sends a psychic string of insults Kuroo's way before picking it back up.

What are we? Delete. Go fuck yourself Kuroo you were so into it. Delete. Wasn’t that a confession you asshole. Delete. I think I love you. Delete. 

(11:59pm)

What do you mean?«

(Saturday)

 

Kuroo T (12:02am)

»We should talk about this in person

Kei presses his phone against his chest. He wishes he could chuck it against the wall but he’s above those violent gestures. The image of having to disassemble their positions to retrieve the device and do the walk of shame back into to bed just to re-read the messages is enough to have him gripping it painfully. 

“If you hated me would you have sex with me?” He asks out loud with a vulnerability he only allows in this space. With the lights off. It doesn't matter that it is a silly question or that his voice sounds insecure in the dark room. "Actually, if you hated me would you pound me against a wall and call me baby?"

Koutarou is almost asleep. His hair is still damp to the touch from their shower, soft, falling on the pillow without any product to spike it. He answers with his eyes closed, crushing Kei to his chest, a reflex of sleep. “I would never hate you.” 

Cute. Not helpful at all, seeing as it doesn't answer the question, but cute.“But if you did.”

“Not possible,” Bokuto mumbles.

“I would. You’re hot,” Keiji’s voice snakes out, irritated. At who or what, Kei doesn't know. He hopes it's not him. “He doesn’t hate you. He's obsessed with you. We'll strap him down to a chair and get straight answers tomorrow.” Keiji's hand shoots out to find his and give him a reassuring squeeze before snaking back.

Not him then. Kei relaxes. Maybe Kuroo, which Kei supports. Kei flips to his side so he can continue to be annoyed by Kuroo’s terrible ideas. He debates giving up but sends off a message. It will keep him up anyway.

(12:05am)

How come you’re the only one allowed to ask questions?«

Kuroo (12:08am)

»We got lucky but today was a close call

»I technically still work for the university

»What if you get in trouble?

»I can tell the dean to eat it but he'll just throw us under the bus

» you still have to graduate

 

(12:09am)

Is that why you didn’t you let me kiss you that time?«

 

Kuroo T (12:09am)

»Yes

Kuroo T (12:10am)

»No

(12:12am)

I thought you didn’t want me to kiss you «

 

Kuroo T (12:14am)

»You’re smarter than that

»Are you guys in bed?

(12:14am)

They are «

Kei huffs, if it weren't Kuroo he'd take that as a what are you wearing wink wink. It's not, Kei knows, so it's a deflection.

Kei freezes.

Unless—

Kei extricates himself from the bed and tiptoes to the couch before calling him. When Kuroo picks up the first words out of his mouth are, "Did you want to come over?"

Silence.

(Which Kei has learned means yes, but insert reason only Kuroo understands and makes no sense to any other mortals.)

Kuroo changes the subject instead. “How come you’re not asleep yet but they are?”

Oh, Kei is on to him. I see you, you want to be here but don't want to be a bother. “I wonder why that would be. It couldn't possibly be me trying to figure a particular someone out.” It easier to maneuver the conversation back to the things Kei wants to know when he can read Kuroo's expression for answers. "Come over."

"It's past midnight."

"Okay, old man. Is it time for your porridge?"

"They're asleep."

It's not that doesn't want to. It's that he thinks he shouldn't. Kei pulls out the only thing he thinks could work. "I'll let Akaashi go after you full-throttle. He mentioned something about strapping you to a chair."

And Kuroo has learned some things, because Kei can tell he recognizes it as the threat it is. "No need to go nuclear. I am," he coughs, "like three minutes away."

Kei is feeling benevolent so he doesn't point out that he must have already been on his way here, and what would he have done if Kei had just agreed with him instead of pressing, huh? He says, "I'm by the door, just come up," and ends the call.

Instead of ringing the doorbell or knocking, he texts:

Kuroo T (12:25am)

»Let me in.

How considerate. Kei throws the door open.

"Kuroo." Kei is stunned. "What in the world?"

Before him is Kuroo, still in the clothes he was wearing earlier. Disheveled. Shirt untucked and face tired. It is the cut on his nose, crusted across the bridge, and the faintest outline of a bruise by his jaw that shocks Kei. This is not how he left him.

"So," Kuroo starts, wry smile showing, hands in his front pockets, still on the other side of the door, "the kid got into a fight."

Kei pulls him in by the arm, closing the door behind them. "And you helped him?"

"The fight was with me." Kuroo looks into the distance, to the now dark windows. He muses, mostly to himself it seems, "At least Bokuto is jacked. Akaashi has probably killed a man before."

What?

"Are you concussed?"

"Officially no, according to the university health center, where I was dragged by his bodyguard after he pulled me off the kid."

Kei corrals him into sitting on the couch. He heads to the freezer and pulls out a small ice pack, a round packet of green gel frozen solid. It came with Keiji's skincare and is more manageable that Bokuto's, meant to ice injuries.

He settles next to Kuroo and offers the pack for his nose. "Pulled you off?"

"I'm not going to take a free hit." Kuroo takes it and presses it gingerly to the center of his face, grimacing at the contact. His hair did not survive a middle of the day romp and a fight, wild in every direction. His collar has a single drop of blood on the corner, minuscule, but it makes it more real and less like Kuroo is telling him a story. Kuroo frowns. "He has terrible form. Weak hands." It rings like constructive critique, like Kuroo is assessing him in order to give him feedback rather than a dis.

And Kei bets Kuroo's form is immaculate and he could have been a martial artist if he chose. "Of course."

"He has a bunch of rings, and that's what caught me." His shoulders slump against the backrest."What a mess, Tsukki."

This is a ridiculous end to the day. "Eventful day for you, at the very least."

Kuroo shoots him a look, part unfocused, a conspiratorial mix of can you believe this and what a loser, right? before sighing. “What is happening again?”

Many things. The undefined status of everything related to Kei; the unfinished business with Akaashi; the unkissed tragedy that is Bokuto. But first—

Kei reaches out between them, fingertips ghosting over the cut. "Why?"

"Being a dick."

"Why?"

Kuroo shrugs.

Kei crawls into his lap. Carefully. Trying not to jostle Kuroo's hold on the ice pack. He straddles Kuroo's thighs but keeps a respectful distance between them. "I'm not going to drop this," Kei tells him, because Kuroo has said a lot of things but not why and it feels like he's done so intentionally, so there must be something there. "And you're a gossip so you're dying to tell me anyway."

Kuroo sighs again, defeated. He doesn't have the juice to put up much of a fight so he doesn't try. Kei appreciates the surrender. He leans his head back, like he's so done with it all, letting the hand holding the ice pack fall to the side. "You know that he's been trying to find ways to needle me so I'll quit on him instead of bailing and losing out on daddy's money." Another sigh. "He noticed."

"Noticed what?"

Kuroo raises an eyebrow.

Oh. He noticed. He noticed they were otherwise occupied and that is why Kuroo was late. Great. Wonderful.

Kuroo runs his cold fingers down Kei's arm, calling forth goosebumps and hard nipples. "He asked me if he could have a turn so I told him to fuck off. He's not used to being told to fuck off." He leans his head back on the couch."Or to be hit back when he starts lobbing punches," Kuroo bites out. "It's fair to say I don't think I'll have a job as his tutor anymore. Or a job at all."

He must be exhausted from having to deal with it. Kei is feeling some vindication at his judgment being correct."You should have told him to fuck off before it got to this."

"Y'know," Kuroo laughs, low at first and then increasing in intensity until the sound is manic, like that is the singular funniest thing he has ever heard. Shit, maybe the doctors at the health center are quacks and he is concussed. He shakes his head, which Kei tries to stop seeing as a head injury is most likely, clearing his throat to continue. Kuroo lets him hold his head still. "I wasn’t meant to be your tutor that day. I had already informed that I was quitting so I had no credentials in the system. Iwaizumi had a date, so he asked for a favor.”

That’s not—is it? Did Kei get the tutor right and they switched? 

"I asked you to let me make the reservations because I had no idea how I was going to show up." Kuroo speaks to him now instead of to the ceiling. "You get to override so many things if you have a dean-provided login. Turns out it is really easy to make block reservations when you're tutoring the dean's kid and get illegal T.A.S Portal privileges," Kuroo confesses. "You even get to have access to otherwise locked doors."

For me? All of it. To be close to me. To see me. Kei leans back, hands shifting to grip Kuroo's thighs for balance. "You are obsessed with me."

Kuroo's hand shoots out to grab his arm, making sure he doesn't fall—and oh, shit, he is obsessed. "Pretty much," Kuroo agrees. "I was obvious. Did you not know already?"

Not really. More recently, perhaps. Kei spent a lot of their time together thinking that if he made one wrong move Kuroo's interest would dissipate. If he pushes. If he asks. Accepting a second job from hell doesn't sound like wavering interest. That is not wishy-washy behavior. That isn't unsure about them behavior. That is deranged crush behavior, something Kei is very familiar with—which all leads Kei to think, what the fuck were we waiting for, if you liked me that much and I liked you that much.

He scoots closer to turn that respectful distance into a disrespectful one. "It took you months to tell me because…"

Kuroo hesitates. How horrid. The sight makes Kei's stomach pitch not because he thinks things will go sideways but because it feels wrong between them. Kuroo shouldn't be hesitant, ever, and not with Kei. “I’ve never had feelings for someone already in a relationship,” Kuroo says, confirming one of Keiji's theories. “If I ever found out they were with someone I would back off right away. Everything I felt would die without me even trying. All or nothing. I’m…”

Kei knows. He’s devoted. A cliché romantic of the highest caliber. If Kei were an idiot, if he was the same jaded jackass that didn't know about love, if he was the same person he was a few years and an entire relationship ago, he’d say pathetically so, but Kei knows better now than to trample on precious gifts he's been given.

“I don’t know how to handle that. I don’t know how to share. It doesn’t make sense to me.” Kuroo lets out a shaky breath, looking past Kei rather than at him. “Me, who has believed in one true love. In soulmates." His words have a mocking color, self-aimed. Kei doesn't think there should be.“Don’t think of his smile or how he wants to throttle you half the time or the jokes or how he looks at you because he’s taken.” He looks at Kei, and the color deepens."Isn’t it insulting? Tsukki, I don’t understand how you can be in love with two people at once but let me kiss you. That’s awful. ”

He sounds angrier on Kei’s behalf than what Kei feels, and isn’t that just who Kuroo is? 

Kei has given it a lot thought since his conversation with Akiteru. In the subsequent conversations with Yamaguchi. In searching for the afterimage of his own thinking and endless cursing many months ago. Wasn't it him in the not-so-distant past that almost lost it trying to turn and twist the pieces of one two three in his mind so they fit? He gets where kuroo is coming from, and there is no reproach from him.“It’s not for everyone,” he says, and thinks I hope it is for you.

He cups Kei's cheek now. He's unable to stop touching him here and there, thighs spreading wider so Kei settles comfortable on his lap. That ache from when he entered the glass cages earlier returns. Kuroo's tone lightens, keeping it matter-of-fact, “I couldn't stop wanting to be around you, so we could just be friends and that would be that. Friends don’t have complicated feelings.”

“Kuroo,” Kei says, holding back barb wire in his throat,“I don’t think we can be friends.”

“No kidding,” he chuckles. Kuroo pulls him closer for a close-mouthed kiss, seeing Kei struggle with his emotions. It is meant to be comfort and Kei takes it as such, regaining composure. Kuroo's hand finds the hickies, one fresher than the rest, and presses on it. “I thought these were a warning. I figured they noticed I was nuts about you and wanted me to back off.”

The opposite, actually.

“Imagine my surprise when Bokuto invites me to work out together and instead of kicking my ass he just talks about how besotted he is with the two of you.” Kuroo gives him a fond look. It is one Kei has sported many times before when talking about Koutarou.“I started asking you questions so I could understand. Who am I to say that what the three of you have doesn't work when it obviously does. Even if I can’t do it.”

"Can’t you?"

Kuroo stops for a moment. Kei lets him work through it. “I was scared." Stops. "Am scared," he laughs, like the idea of it is silly. Like he's lesser for it.

It doesn't suit him. Not being scared, although Kei has a hard time seeing those two ideas overlap, but the continuous self-judgment of his character. Kei doesn't think him lesser for it—that amount of hypocrisy is even beyond him. Kuroo is sly. Cunning. Able to run circles around anyone. Afraid of Kei? Or afraid of his own feelings? Kei steals his move and presses his fingers under his chin. "Of what?"

"I’m the one who is intruding on a relationship that already exists.” 

It is not intruding if he is invited, but Kei doesn't interrupt him to clarify.

"My brain has worked in a different way my entire life. What if I got mad at them for sharing you? At you? What right would I have?" Kuroo eyes dart to Kei's lips, softening."That's why I didn't kiss you that time. Or every other time I have thought about it before today."

"When else?"

Kuroo pretends to think about it, head tilting. "How many days ago did we meet?" He waits for Kei to give him an exasperated look before continuing. He swallows, face growing pained. “Not just you. You first, but then the three of you. I didn't know what the fuck to do with that.”

Kei sucks on his teeth. "I'm sorry to inform you but what you did with that is date three people."

Kuroo laughs, like Kei intended. He brings his arms under Kei to hoist him up and reposition him. They stay there, helping to hold him. “So maybe I get it a little more. Kind of the way I worry about all of you, you guys love each other like that." Kuroo looks down, then up with amusement. "It’s not weird if I get upset when people hit on Bokuto at the gym because he’s your boyfriend and you’re my friend and I care about you both. And yeah, I’m right there and we went there together but it’s not like I have a right to tell people to piss off.”

Kei kisses him. Because he can. Because he wants to. Because it seems like Kuroo wants him to.

"You do," Kei says to his lips, "have the right." You just need to know that you have it.

Kuroo continues, "If seeing Akaashi makes my heart beat out of my ass it’s because your boyfriend is beautiful and I want to make a good impression. Or at least not make a fool out of myself. Or try to be able to look at him in the face, at least.”His voice breaks. “And because I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that he’s real.” 

Should Kei warn him that that feeling doesn’t go away?

“I thought I’d see you with them and—"and Kuroo knows the game too because see is full of all sorts of implications—"That it would make me jealous and bitter. That I'd resent either one or all of us. "

"Does it?"

"I think of you three together while I'm off by myself and I do get envious," Kuroo whispers. "I want to be there too, because it feels like we're all in on the same secret."

He has an inkling on what might have shown him that. How does Keiji manage it? Being all-knowing.

"I don't think that how we feel about you is exactly a secret." Kei knows that they have shown him. That Bokuto sends a million hearts in his good morning text and bakes the things Kuroo likes to eat and discards the ones he doesn't, that Keiji asks how did you sleep and makes lists of things that are the type he likes to read. And Kei, well, Kei has been very obviously obsessed about him, too. He pushes Kuroo's hair back, trying the futile endeavor of taming it enough to stay off his face. "How I feel."

Oh, we're the same.

He meets Kei’s eyes, unencumbered by his signature strands covering them. There is something Kei is beginning to identify as fear. That icy rope Kei is so familiar with, the one wound so tightly around one's neck, stopping any steps forward. Making you too afraid to shake things up. To Change. To Dance. How much more afraid would Kei be if he was the one looking in? How scared if he had no one to grip him tightly at night when he speaks insecure words into the dark instead of letting them fester inside him and have them respond he doesn't hate you and I never would and prop-up his feet and his heart?

Kei wants to find those words for him. To melt that rope that doesn't let him move forward. If Kuroo gives them a chance they'll have more time to learn about each other. Kei will become adept at knowing exactly how to look at him or what to say to assuage his worries. What to respond to words thrown only in dark rooms.

Only if Kuroo lets him. Only if he wants to.

But Kuroo is brave. He doesn't have them or surety and still he grabs on to all of it, shattering that ice into a million glittering pieces gone as soon as they hit the ground and taking a leap anyway. He looks into Kei's waiting eyes and answers, “I know,” in a low but certain voice. "I promised myself I wouldn’t do anything with half-hearted feelings because those could hurt me. Hurt you.” He glances at the shut door leading to the bedroom.“Hurt all of us. I really don’t want that.” He smiles now, warmer. “Even if you were hell-bent on trying to take away my sanity with your antics.”

“Akaashi came up with that.”

“Yeah, sure, hammer the nail into the coffin.”

Hammer your nail into my—no. Serious conversation.

“Today,” Kei asks,“were those half-hearted feelings?”

He'd like to know where they stand.

The wrinkle in Kuroo's brow pops, much to Kei's delight. “No, that was me wanting to keep that Miya bastard from putting his greedy eyes on you. That was for me." Kuroo huffs, rolling his eyes, a gesture so stolen from Kei that he can't help but laugh at seeing it on Kuroo's face. "He shouldn't get to see you like that. He keeps hitting on you, don't think I don't notice it."

Possessive, Keiji said. Kei should mind. He should. Should set him straight. "He doesn't look at me that way," Kei lies. It's good to be contrarian. A casualty of seducing Kuroo out of his fear. Too bad Osamu never had a shot.

Kuroo scoffs, aware of his ruse. "If that's how you want to play it."

Kei sets his hands on Kuroo's shoulders. He leans in to whisper, "You're hard."

"You're on top of me." Kuroo grinds up, finally, after all the little motions Kei has been making against him, bulge hard between Kei's legs. "Trying to make me hard."

"And succeeding. For once."

"For once, sure."

And it would be simple to pull him out of those slacks and into himself again. Ride it out, sweet in true form this time, quiet not for necessity but to keep the thrall of the hour. Kei runs his hands down his front. "Stay tonight."

Kuroo drops him, taking his arms back and running them through his hair. "This is going to suck to sleep in."

Kei is sure he means the clothes and not his hard-on. It's time he got acquainted with the perks. Kei gets off of him. Watches him rearrange himself in his slacks before saying,"That's what Bokuto's clothes are for. Come on, I'm sure we'll continue this heart to heart in the morning."

Keiji and Koutarou will still have questions. And answers.

"Is it really okay?" Kuroo looks around, unsure. "I can take the couch."

If they wake up and find you out here they'll be sad.

"Kuroo," Kei grabs his hand and pulls him up. "Bed."

⧫⧫⧫⧫

In the dark, Kei ushers him into the on-suite bathroom with a change of clothes. He includes every piece of sleepwear he can think of, just in case. He's not trying to push him into their usual midnight activities from the get-go and Kuroo can choose to wear either all of it or nothing if he likes.

Kei crawls in on the outside of Koutarou, who feels the bed dip and asks, drowsy, “Where did you go?” 

“Was talking to Kuroo.”

“Good talk?” 

Yes. He shares a tidbit he knows Koutarou will like, putting his head on his shoulder while his eyes adjust to the lack of light. “He doesn’t like it when people hit on you at the gym.”

“Good." His voice is ladened with sleep, and he turns to face Kei. "He should hit on me instead.”

Koutarou reaches for him and brings him under his arm. He then laughs into Kei's shoulder.

"What?"

He opens his eyes now, halfway, to tell Kei, "He's hit-on all the time there."

"Really?"

"Maybe he didn't notice."

"Yeah." Kei whispers into Koutarou's ear, "Make room."

There is rustling and another dip, now on Koutarou's other side. Kei's sight in the dark is shittier than everyone else's but he still manages to catch the figure of a big shirt and bare legs.

"I did notice, I just wasn't interested."

Koutarou drowns another laugh, turning his face away from Kei's shoulder. Let Kuroo's heart suffer through the most devastating thing they have to offer: Koutarou with his hair soft and down on his forehead, golden eyes half-open, turning to him with a diaphanous voice, asking, hoping, "Am I dreaming again?"

Kuroo seems to be tongue-tied so he doesn't answer.

Koutarou turns to him fully, leaving Kei at his back."You're wearing my shirt. Good dream, I like this one." Koutarou reaches out to touch him, expecting the ephemeral form of fantasy, and finds a solid body waiting for him.

He frowns. Turning back to Kei, he asks,"Pinch me."

Kei reaches over to twist his nipple.

He tightens the hands that holds on to Kuroo's front.

Kuroo whispers, shaky. "Bokuto."

Koutarou answers back, just as tumultuous, "Not a dream," before moving to loom over Kuroo.

He's guided by his hands instead of just his eyes, finding Kuroo's face with his fingers before kissing him. Being kissed by Koutarou is being trapped in an undercurrent, especially the first few times before you’ve learned to brace yourself for it. It hits you, full force, and leaves you unsteady and gasping for air. No choice but to be swept away by it.

Kuroo positively melts against him with a sigh. He's a puddle in their sheets, in Kei's spot, right before they break apart. He ends up blinking slowly, dazed, giving Koutarou the chance to swoop back in. On the other end of the bed, a pale arm reaches for him. Kei knows it is meant for him and when its glide over Kuroo's front elicits a deep sound from his chest and those fingers find Kuroo's hardness, they stop.

Keiji speaks up, full of somnolent alarm."Where did your—" He springs up as if he's been jolted, reaching for the bedside lamp, squinting against the light when it blinds all of their shadow-adjusted eyes.

Koutarou reels back to look at the light and gives Keiji space to see who he was feeling up.

"You're not Kei."

Kuroo looks up at him, blinking watery eyes against the light. "I'm not."

"You're here."

"I am."

Keiji's eyes bounce violently between all of them before bending and sealing Kuroo's mouths in a kiss.

They've all put Kei through hell. Collective revenge is so much sweeter when it's something they all want.

Keiji pulls away. He bites Kuroo's red, slick lips before he asks,"Why is your nose cut?"

Kei speaks up then. Kuroo looks a bit dumbfounded for answers. "Got into a fight to defend my honor from a delinquent."

Keiji grabs Kuroo's limp hand and licks his knuckles, tongue wide. "How chivalrous."

Kuroo makes a choked sound. His eyes are blown wide and mostly pupil black. Koutarou grabs his ankle and Kuroo makes room for him automatically. Koutarou scoots until they are dick to dick, both of them hard in their boxers. "Knew he was a bottom," Koutarou says, "see how easy he spread for me."

"You—" Kuroo looks to Kei, surrounded by the other two, saying you knew! you got me hard and dropped me here!

Kei told him he could go second. He didn't strictly intend for it to go this way but Kuroo did come to bed almost naked. Big borrowed shirt and little tight underwear. Kei gave him so many options. Call it retribution. He's so enjoying watching him lose his mind.

Koutarou pushes Kuroo's shirt, revealing his toned body. They are a sight, both of them sculpted, even if Koutarou is thicker everywhere. He pushes up, up, until he pulls it off entirely. With access to his bare torso, Bokuto lifts Kuroo's arm. On his ribs rest ink, feathers falling as if left behind by a bird flying past. Small enough to be hidden by his arm and up enough Kei didn't see them when he had his hands under his shirt.

"Knew I had seen something," Koutarou says, excited. He runs his fingers over them, over Kuroo's ribs, barely touching. Kei sees Kuroo's dick jump at the contact. His abdomen contracts at every pass, every breath deeper. "Must have hurt like hell in that spot." Koutarou notices, too, and falls deeper into the look he gets when he about to eat one of them up. Kuroo is in for it now. "Like a little pain?"

"Good thing, right?" Kuroo looks down between them. At the size of Koutarou's bulge. "Crazy," he swallows, but something changes in face. Less letting the water carry him away. He grinds his hips into Koutarou's."You have a hard time hiding that thing?"

Bokuto nods. He surges over Kuroo, placing one hand to the side of his head. "Going to hide it in you." The other the uses to grab Kuroo through the fabric, squeezing. "Do you want that, Tetsu?"

Kuroo takes to the touch trembling, breaths shaking his thorax. Each little touch Koutarou dispenses is magnified. They travel like invisible silk all over his body. It is such a departure to how he was with Kei earlier. There is something else between them. Another conversation Kei isn't privy to, another look of understanding he doesn't know the meaning of.

Kei is fascinated by them. How they talk to each other, with so much trust behind it. They're—Kei's heart jumps. They have it too, that thing that Kei holds in his chest every time he and Kuroo look at each other, their own version of it, but recognizable enough to Kei that he can see it between them.

It is punctuated by how Kuroo calls out to Koutarou. Touching without touching, his voice unraveling to something wavering. "Kou."

"Yeah," Koutarou says, gravelly. "Tell me, babe." He kisses Kuroo's cheek, waiting. Stroking him over fabric.

Kuroo's face turns, their noses bumping. They share a kiss, one that ends with Kuroo mouthing I want it.

Koutarou takes Kuroo's boxers off with haste. Kuroo does leak like that all the time, apparently. From his tip flow clear pearls of precome, now leaving a shiny trail over his tan skin. He has a tan line so short, matching his itty-bitty-skin-tight boxers, that Kei wonder just when is he naked enough to get that impression on his skin. Kei sees him hard on his hip while Koutarou strokes him, patiently working him up, making Kuroo whimper and give little jolts trying to suppress his writhing.

"Tetsu—"Koutarou brings one of his finger to Kuroo's tip, smearing the fluid there before bringing it to his mouth to taste him—"You're wet."

Kuroo's breath punches out, the whole top half of his body red, embarrassed. "Kou, c'mon."

Koutarou releases him, making to rid himself of his own underwear. "Kinda like Kei gets. Wet all over." He gets his heavy length over Kuroo's, enveloping them together with both hands. Kuroo's leaking smooths the strokes and Koutarou smiles at the sight, gripping tight and slow to watch it come up and get over both of them. "You got a taste of it today. Did you like it?"

"He did," Keiji answers. He's been quiet so far. Looking. Surveying them with eyes that take every detail in. Studying Kuroo, most likely, to then be able to push him better. Further. To his breaking point. His hand is over his own tenting shorts. "You should have seen them right after."

"Akaashi," Kuroo complains.

"He was wet then, too," Kei joins in with a snicker, "didn't know who was wetter, him or me."

"Tsukki!" Kuroo slams his fists on to the bed at one hard tug from Koutarou. He's flushed beautifully, sweat starting to bead. "So not only did I get punched, I'm being ganged up on."

"Sorry," Koutarou grins, unapologetic, "you're too cute."

Kei sees Koutarou's hands release them and travel to Kuroo's outer thigh. He knows that grip. Before Kuroo can be put ass up, regardless of how much he'd enjoy seeing it bounce, Kei tells Bokuto,"Don't flip him." There's something building in Kuroo's eyes, a desperation starting to break through. Next time is here. "I want to look."

Kuroo shivers. His cock bobs where it rests on his abdomen, making a mess. "Shit. I'm already—"

Keiji takes some of his recent purchases out of his bedside drawer. A fresh bottle of lube, and a cock ring. He tosses it to Koutarou who catches it easily. "Not yet," Keiji says. "We're just getting started with you."

Kuroo eeks when Koutarou spreads him wider, going to work in opening him up. He's lost all of his cool. This isn't the figure people whisper about and admire, this is Kuroo unraveled by three hungry stares, hunting for chinks in his armor, wanting to get him naked down to nothing.

Koutarou calls out,"Pass me a rubber." They don't wear them between them but they use them on toys, so there's always some around.

"Actually," Kuroo rushes to stop him. He wets his lips. "Can we—I'm okay without."

"Sure?"

"Yeah," Kuroo sighs. "Want to feel you in me."

Koutarou hitches Kuroo's hips higher. If Kuroo feels any shyness, his cock doesn't show it, tip wet and almost purple. Koutarou kneels in front of him, pressing the blunt head of his dick to Kuroo's entrance, pushing in slowly. Kuroo gasps but steadies his breath before they spiral out of control. It's slow going with Koutarou, always.

"You're opening up so well."

"Been practicing," Kuroo sucks down a breath to work through the stretch. When Koutarou stills, as far in as he dares, Kuroo grins. "Thought I'd need it."

Keiji chuckles, not taking it seriously. "Smart, aren't you?"

Kuroo looks Keiji's way, starting a string of banter that will drive them all crazy when Koutarou thrusts one more inch in. Kuroo moans, wantonly, broken, head thrown back. Before he recovers, Koutarou grabs Kuroo's hips and twists him so he's on his side. He tries another thrust and sinks in deeper. "There we go."

Kuroo looks to Kei, face strained, asking, "How?" How can you take it?

"How does it feel?" Kei finally bites his adam's apple, bending over him, setting his teeth around it and sucking. It moves under his tongue when Kuroo swallows his spit before he can choke on it. "Like he's here, right?"

Koutarou is fucking into him in short thrusts, getting him used to the girth before letting loose and riding Kuroo hard. He lifts a leg to his chest to get closer, his other hand coming around Kuroo's length.

"Ah."

"You've got it, Tetsu." Koutarou encourages, ever the cheerleader. "You feel good around me, babe."

"Kou." He grabs Koutarou's thighs, anchoring him. Koutarou stops, concerned. He shouldn't be because Kuroo squeezes the meat of his thighs hard and demands,"More."

Koutarou reads his face, grins, and starts fucking into him in earnest, shaking the bed with the power he's putting behind him.Every thrust is a powerful slap of skin on skin, booming claps mixed with sounds that come out of Kuroo akin to sobs and yes yes yes Kou.

"Would have fucked you sooner if I knew you were so good for it, Tetsu. Not even a bit of trouble taking me."

Koutarou pulls out entirely, leaving Kuroo empty.

"Kou," Kuroo objects, indignant.

"Shh." Koutarou stops him. "Fuck. Yeah, Tetsu. Look at you." He spreads his cheeks to take a look at his rim, red with the fucking it's taking, starting to gape. Bokuto lubes himself up. "Going to go slow, so take all of it." Kuroo starts to protest at slow but Koutarou just laughs, "I'll fuck you good, babe, don't worry."

Koutarou inches inside him again, pushing past the point where Kuroo was taking him, sinking entirely inside. Kuroo takes choppy breaths at the stretch, audible haahs escaping his mouth. Still, he smiles at Koutarou, stupid, drunk, and says,"That all you got?"

Kei can't say a single thing. He's enthralled, his own arousal taking a backseat at his need to not miss anything between them. Keiji and Kei share a look above them. An understanding. Kei moves away, giving Keiji room to slide in and take himself out. He kneels by Kuroo's head.

Kuroo sees him. His cock, hard, by Kuroo's face. Looks up to him. Opens his mouth.

Well. Keiji has never been one to turn an open mouth down. He taps it on Kuroo's tongue before sliding the cockhead back and forth on it. He grabs Kuroo's hair to guide him and lets Kuroo suck him off sloppy, bobbing his head, muffling his cries at Koutarou's renewed thrusting. Spit drools past his lips, slurping sounds following, and every so often he pulls away to moan, catching his breath before letting Keiji's grip on his hair lead him back to a hard cock on his tongue.

Keiji comes on his lips. They're swollen and spit slick before he pulls of out of Kuroo's mouth. He drips over them, some of his come rolling down Kuroo's jaw, Kuroo looking up at him as he does, achingly so, tongue darting out to gather whatever might be left of his tip and then sucking the head back into his mouth. When Keiji pulls away, Koutarou bends and kisses it off, tongue licking over the excess drippage, up to his lips. He grabs Kuroo's jaw, thumb pressing on the bruise, to open it and dip Keiji's come inside.

It's filthy. Kuroo moans like he's been fed ambrosia, hand going to his own cock to grasp the root.

Koutarou comes like that, sucking the taste of Keiji from Kuroo's mouth.

Kei feel like he's been electrocuted. He knew they'd would be good together but they're a painting of sex, of carnality. When Koutarou pulls out he spreads Kuroo's cheeks to check his come is all in there and a restlessness bubbles in Kei gut at the sight.

"Can I?" Kuroo pleads to the open air, stroking his straining hardness.

Koutarou turns to Keiji, satisfied, "Bet you loved that."

Before Keiji can decide Kuroo's fate, Kei intervenes. "My turn." He was planning on being a voyeur tonight. He's sore. He's had every one of them inside him today already. That was before. He wore a plug for the better part of the day, been spread open. He's ready so he straddles Kuroo's form, letting his hard cock settle between his lips. He rubs his cunt on him as he demands, "Lube."

Instead of it being handed to him, fingers reach for his behind. They spread his cheeks and swipe some over his entrance, working him open again with gentle hands. Keiji, then, since Bokuto would be three deep already. He gives in easy. In the meantime, Kei reaches for Kuroo, first fondling his sack to tease him, then pulling the cockring off. He's not trying to stretch this out, no, but Kuroo looks so good under him. Sweaty, lips puffy, eyes heavy and desperate. Kei's (Bokuto's) shirt covers their joined bodies and Kuroo lifts it to see how his cock splits the lips of his cunt open wide to accommodate him.

"Take it off."

"I don't know." Kei teases. "I like what I'm wearing."

"You're sweating." Kuroo starts directing his hips, doing his part in rubbing them one against the other. "Aren't you warm?"Another directed glide between his lips make their dicks bump together. Kei shudders. Kuroo asks, a little desperate. "Let me see us, Kei."

Kei lifts the shirt slowly, revealing them to Kuroo. Now free, Kuroo's thumb presses his cockead deeper into Kei's spread lips, frotting them together. He catches on his cunt's hole a few times but doesn't sink in, waiting for what Kei wants to give him.

Keiji deems him ready with a light smack of his ass and Kei repositions to line them up. He sinks on Kuroo's cock again today, only this time in his ass, dropping on him slowly until he is seated. "I get tired easily," Kei tells him, "and it's been a long day, so you'll have to all the work if you want to come."

If Kei has had a long day, Kuroo has had a longer one. He thinks Kuroo will plead. Will direct Kei's hip to a lazy pace and get off like that. Will beg for Kei to bounce on him. Kei underestimates him. Kuroo grabs on to his hips and fucks into him like a beast, chasing. Kei doesn't do anything other than cry out and grip onto Kuroo's shoulder as he thrusts up into Kei.

Koutarou lays beside them, hand on his cock, jerking languidly. Every so often he interrupts Kuroo to kiss him, delaying his single-minded endeavor. Keiji appears on the other side. He brushes Kei's hair back with loving hands, whispering encouragement into his ear, devil talk of you've wanted this for so long, how does it feel? and Koutarou can't take his eyes off of you and you're doing good, Kei, just hang on and let him fuck his come into you and He's going so hard, isn't it great?

Kuroo slams up into him, and Kei moans, unable to help himself.

"Tsukki, sweetheart," Kuroo calls out to him, voice still wrecked from blowing Keiji, invigorated but panting with effort, "you're hot enough inside to melt."

"Fuck you," Kei cries, overwhelmed.

Kuroo kisses him, offering,"Whenever you want."

"Weren't you about to come?"

Kuroo laughs, that manic tinge back into the chorus. "And end this so soon?"

"Fuck," Koutarou calls out. He moans as he strokes himself, hard once more."Let me go again."

Kei feels the fresh breeze of relief. His savior.

Kuroo stops. "What?"

"Koutarou usually comes twice. His libido is quite large," Keiji tells him, capturing his attention in an instant. Kei sees when the gears turn in his head, realizing that Keiji hasn't obliterated all of them out of choice rather than ability.

Kuroo looks up at Kei, shell-shocked. He blinks. "Twice."

Always. Keiji adopts Keiji's tone, imparting facts. "He fucked me in the morning so he needed a break between them, usually he doesn't pull out."

"Tetsu, can I?" Koutarou noses into his cheek.

Kuroo looks between them. He starts to take his hands off Kei. "Do you want—"

Ah, No. He has misunderstood. He thinks Koutarou wants him to give Kei up.

"Both ends is good. A lot, but good." Kei tells him. He wraps his hands around Kuroo's neck, giving him a peck before whispering into his ear, pulling him into a little bubble with just them two in the middle of the wolves, "But you can get off with me and we'll take care of him if it's too much."

"No," Kuroo whispers back,"I want—"

Kei can't help the smirk. They're all greedy here, not one of them wants to let any of it pass by. "Yes?"

Keiji pats Kuroo's cheek, grabbing his attention. His eyes are sharp."You'll help him out, won't you. You're still open."

"Yeah," Kuroo breathes out, louder. He turns to Koutarou, "Come at me."

"Gonna come in you." Koutarou starts to move. "Again."

Kuroo laughs, shoulders shaking. He still looks exhausted but there's levity in his flushed cheeks. Kei grabs them, looking at him. He has a front row seat for this part. Kei saves his features to memory as Koutarou sinks that thick cock into him again, dick jumping inside Kei in response. His jaw slackens, eyes fluttering closed, hanging on to Kei's hips. His mouth parts and Kei sucks on his lips. He's drunk again, pupils black under Kei, staring up at him like if he takes his eyes away for just a second, he'll float away and away.

He's so different when he's bottoming, so much softer. Kei has to find out if it's a Koutarou thing or if Kei can put those hearts in his eyes, too. It is Koutarou who sets the pace now, his thrust fucking into Kuroo making him fuck into Kei. He doesn't encore his previous round, going at them with vigor but without jostling them so hard that their teeth knock into each other. It gives Kuroo chance to kiss Kei breathless, to explore his mouth, sounds of pleasure resounding in the distance from one to the other.

Until Keiji.

He slides his fingers against Kei's dick. He lets Bokuto do the work there, too, not setting a pace but complimenting his, leading him closer and closer to climax. Between the three of them Kei breaks, coming on Kuroo again. This time he doesn't manage to hang on and Kei pulsing around him drives him to climax, too, with teeth-aching sounds so sweet that Kei swallows down them greedily before they can escape.

Kei raises himself off of Kuroo. Throws himself to side to breathe, completely done.

There is still Koutarou, and he takes Kei's place above Kuroo, sucking the taste of his orgasm into his mouth before asking, "Want me to pull out?"

Kuroo shakes his head. "No, keep going, you can—fuck!"

Koutarou laughs, "Yeah, I can," and reams him hard, chasing his release in Kuroo's body.

"Kou," Kuroo hisses, fucking back, egging him on. They fall back into their own world again, meeting thrust with thrust even as Kuroo's arms start to shake with overstimulation. It's like watching Olympians grapple, glistening in sweat instead of oil, hard muscle and soft gazes thrown at each tother, a violent sort of dance that mesmerizes their audience of two. Koutarou grabs Kuroo's waist and presses down, groaning as he comes with Kuroo's name on his tongue for the second time.

 

⧫⧫⧫⧫

"We're together, right?"

"Questions?" Kuroo voice is nebulous, trying to land after being sent so far, far away. It is a feeling Kei knows well. "Me?"

Koutarou holds on to him, letting Kuroo rest over his chest. They've resumed proper places and Kei finds himself again in the middle, only now he is sandwiched between Kuroo, who is half on top of Bokuto, and Keiji, who now wraps an arm around Kei's body. The room has simmered drown from the debauchery, the soiled sheets in a lump on the floor to be tomorrow's laundry.

They had to resort to the ugly spare to have something to sleep in, but Koutarou took upon himself the task of clean up. That is why he can come as many times he wants, really.

"Dude."

"You just left me brainless," Kuroo asks, slow. "You want me to think?"

"No. No thinking."

"Done enough of that," Keiji mutters behind him.

"Tell me how you feel."

Kuroo doesn't answer immediately. Maybe he won't. Maybe they aren't.

Maybe he doesn't have brain capacity to answer.

“I'm still terrified," he says into Koutarou's chest after a while.

Koutarou's voice is gentle. "That's okay."

"I really like you," Kuroo continues."Like, a lot. Like, a lot a lot."

"Yeah, man! Me too."

Keiji speaks up this time. "Same here."

"Sure," Kei adds.

Kuroo is adrift now, his voice another rustle of the sheets. "Like so much."

Koutarou hums. He pushes Kuroo's hair back. Kei would tell him it is useless, but it's more to have his hands on Kuroo than to have any real effect, he bets. "So we're together."

After a moment, Kuroo nods. "We're together."

"Yes!"

⧫⧫⧫⧫

Kei feels a shift near him that breaks him from superficial sleep and he spreads his legs without thinking, giving Keiji room to settle between them. "Keiji?"

"Just getting a pillow from the floor."

"Oh." He would welcome him if it was otherwise but they've really gone hard in the past twenty-four to thirty-six hours. More than anything, he'd be impressed.

Keiji pushes his leg out of the way and rests his weight cradled by Kei's hips.

"Hm?"

Thinner than a whisper, the way they've trained to speak in the wee hours when there's more than one someone in their bed, Keiji clarifies. "Not passing this up."

Of course. It isn't long before their chests stick together thanks to the temperature. "Too hot for this."

"Don't care."Keiji nuzzles him."Thank you," he breathes out.

"For what?"

"You made this happen."

And he thinks about how he had a musing, a thought, two-some years ago on that lonely table on the second floor of the library about one Akaashi Keiji, beautiful and reaching out against all the logic Kei was cognizant of. About how if he hadn't come up to Kei; if he wasn't open enough to see past his repellence; if he wasn't patient enough to wait to for Kei to get on board; if he hadn't showed up and stayed and made Kei show up and stay even when he had no hopes of ever being together as they waited. And waited. And waited—

If Keiji hadn't given him that, Kei wouldn't have known how to be patient for Kuroo now, how to let him come to them, how to see past Kei's own fright and hear the fear that plagues him and say we've figured it out once before, we'll do it again, what is one more body in this heart of mine?

He wouldn't have been able to wait. And wait. And wait.

Kei hums in agreement, more vibration than sound, audible to where Keiji's chest lays on his. Surely, Keiji knows, and what he means is Kei's part in dragging Kuroo into their bed so they could finally put their hands on him.

Keiji climbs, hiking Kei's leg higher on his waist. It's a good thing he's flexible. Keiji's cheek finds a place in Kei's clavicle. It cannot be comfortable for him, who is used to the meat of Koutarou's plentiful chest. He seems to melt into Kei's frame, weight growing heavier.

"You still have your glasses on."

"Leave them."

"He's not going to disappear," Keiji kisses under his jaw, "Kou has a good grip on him." His heart beats strongest there, where marked skin lives, his pulse dulling its frequency as he fights the call of sleep. Is that why Keiji picked there, of all places. Or was it Koutarou who picked first and Keiji has just been keeping it alive?

Kei still reaches out a hand to splay on Kuroo's back. A point of connection. Assurance he won't dissolve into dark water and leave Kei gasping for air as he sleeps. That he'll be there in the morning.

Kei loves him. In the midst of all the cloudy labels and feelings, Kei knows he loves him.

He feels the expansion of Kuroo's breath against his palm. The rhythm of his heart again his fingertips. Right there, next to him, tangled limbs and heated bodies in the fray of summer nights.

He fits. A stretch of an arm away, here.

⧫⧫⧫⧫

Four big bodies in a bed does not make for a serene night of sleep. Kei turns. He tosses. Not usual for him but he expects Koutarou to catch him as he does on nights where his body can't shake the restlessness. A different pair of arms wrap around him, soft feathers tickling his collarbone. Kei pries an eye open to see what has crawled into bed with them and is met with a forest of black. Hot skin turned bronze by the sun, dulled by the dark.

Kuroo hums into his skin, eyes blinking open. Barely, only half-way, heavy with the dreams he's broken out of. He's close enough that Kei could see him even without the hard plastic digging into his ear. Kei's tossing and turning has left him higher on the bed, and as Kuroo takes stock of their positions, his wrapped arms settle around his waist, as if keeping him from floating away by their hold alone.

Kuroo focuses on him. Deems the distance between them unacceptable and drags Kei down with a pull of his arms until they're facing each other. "Glasses," he whispers, inaudible to anyone but Kei. He reaches for them with one hot hand, setting them aside somewhere. He lets them sink into the void that rises up to engulf them. Folds Kei back up into his arms and presses against him tight, kissing his collarbone. His neck. Under his jaw.

Kei can't see him anymore, neither by the sharpness of his sight nor by his closed lids. He is correct. It is too hot for this, hotter, with the burning coal that is Kuroo all around him. Bokuto throws a jerky arm over Kuroo and the very tip of his fingers hits Kei thigh. He burrows closer when Keiji's knee digs into his back. Manages a deep breath, already off the bed and suspended in the air, when he feels a pair of familiar palms settle between his shoulder blades.

Notes:

Happy Early Birthday Kuroo, you get to top and bottom.

They're finally together! Yay!

We're still not done! *Rubs hands together* I still have things in store for them before I move on to the kuroo POV oneshot, which is next on the list. As always, updates over on twitter and bluesky.

Thank you all for sticking with me through updating the chapters, it's been a while since I did a multichap and it has taken longer than I thought it would (this was supposed to be a summer fic lmao)

Notes:

im @ivyfics everywhere if u wanna follow along

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of That Guy