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“Hinata could definitely jump that high!”
“I’ve been workin’ with Shouyou-kun and I know that he can only jump to 4 centimeters below that! We just measured yesterday!”
Several members of the MSBY Black Jackals had gone out to a bar on a night off, enjoying a break in the constant practice and preparation for upcoming games. After a few hours, almost everyone had left. Bokuto Koutarou had gone home to his husband Akaashi Keiji, Meian Shuugo had excused himself to meet his girlfriend, and Hinata Shouyou had claimed that he wanted to get plenty of rest before practice the next day.
Only Miya Atsumu and, surprisingly, Sakusa Kiyoomi remained to watch the volleyball match that was being broadcast on the television and to argue about the abilities of their teammates. They were sitting together in a booth, leaning on the glossy wooden table.
“He jumps higher during a match and you know it,” Kiyoomi said, taking a sip of his drink. The mask he usually wore over his mouth and nose rested by his elbow, removed soon after his first glass of dark liquor arrived.
“Yeah, but we can’t measure those leaps!” Atsumu retorted.
“There’s special software that can.”
“Do ya happen ta have access ta that, Omi? Didn’t know ya had such cool connections,” Atsumu teased. He finished off his beer and signalled to the waitress for another.
He hadn’t expected to have so much fun hanging out with Kiyoomi. They bickered so much that Meian yelled at them at least once per practice, usually more than that. They were both competitive and quick-witted, leading to ridiculous banter and bets that entertained the whole team.
Kiyoomi rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to respond when something near the bar’s entrance caught his eye. He froze for a moment, then sucked in a sharp breath.
“Oh my god,” he muttered. He kept his voice low. “Miya, listen, I need you to do something and not ask questions. I’ll buy your next drink.”
“Sounds like a shit deal, Omi,” Atsumu replied, bringing his new beer to his lips.
“I’ll owe you a favor.”
“That’s a bit better,” Atsumu said slowly, grinning.
“Please, Atsumu.” The blond started at Kiyoomi’s use of his given name, the smile dropping from his face in shock. The other man’s dark eyes were trained on his face, panic obvious within them. “You know me. I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t important.”
“Alright, Omi. Don’t worry, I’ll help ya. Whadda ya need me ta do?”
Kiyoomi took a deep breath, as if preparing himself for an overwhelming obstacle. His fingers fluttered nervously across his forehead, brushing over the two moles above his right eyebrow. He pushed his black curls out of his eyes and dropped his hands to his lap. Then he leaned closer to Atsumu and mumbled a request that practically short-circuited the blond’s brain.
“Pretend to be my boyfriend.”
What?! Atsumu thought, blinking. He hadn’t expected that, not in a million years. His mouth opened, gaping like a fish, and his brow furrowed in confusion.
“Just for the night,” Kiyoomi said vehemently. “I swear.”
“I mean... Omi... how do I even—” Atsumu stammered.
“If it were possible to just sneak out, I would, but it seems a confrontation is unavoidable,” Kiyoomi muttered rapidly. “Just follow my lead.”
“Hey! Kiyo!” A deep voice interrupted and Atsumu turned to examine an approaching couple. Two well-dressed men stopped at the table, both looking at Kiyoomi. One was smaller, with curly brown hair, while the other appeared to be even taller than Kiyoomi, with dark red hair and bright eyes.
“How are you, Kiyo?” The red-haired man said in the same deep voice from a moment prior. “It’s been over a year since we last saw you.”
“Akui,” Kiyoomi greeted him curtly, almost spitting his name. He glanced at the shorter man and greeted him with less venom in his voice. “Hikaru.”
Akui smiled, obviously enjoying Kiyoomi’s discomfort. He turned to look Atsumu up and down, raising an eyebrow at the jeans and leather jacket that he’d thrown on. They fit him well, but they were nowhere near the quality of the clothing the other two wore. Their expensive style was similar to Kiyoomi’s, Atsumu realized.
“And who might you be?”
“Miya Atsumu, nice ta meet ya.” He reached out to shake both of their hands as they introduced themselves, then he leaned back against the vinyl seat beside Kiyoomi.
“Incredible hair. Did you do it yourself? I’ve never seen anyone wear that color on their head on purpose.”
This guy is testing my patience already. Atsumu narrowed his eyes, but he wasn’t given a chance to answer before Akui turned back to Kiyoomi.
“Nice to see you befriending someone like this. The old Kiyoomi I knew in college wouldn’t have stooped to spending time with anyone in this IQ bracket.”
Oh, fuck this guy! Atsumu shifted, but before he could leap across the table to punch the man, Kiyoomi rested a hand on the blond’s forearm. His strong grip made the man go still.
“Atsumu is incredibly clever and intelligent,” he said calmly. “I would prefer it if you didn’t insult my boyfriend like that.”
“Oh, so this is what you finally downgraded to after me?” Akui smirked.
I’m gonna kill him. Atsumu fumed.
“Akui, don’t be so rude!” Hikaru smacked him on the arm.
“I’m just teasing, hun, I’m sorry,” he replied, attempting to placate the shorter man. The glance he sent back at Kiyoomi indicated the falseness behind his words, though. “How about I buy a round as an apology?”
As he seemed to do regularly, Akui didn’t wait for a response, sliding into the booth with them and calling for the waitress. Hikaru reluctantly sat as well, sighing at his abrasive companion.
Atsumu shuffled closer to Kiyoomi, who still had his long fingers wrapped around his forearm, seemingly unwilling to let go. Their legs were pressed together, but the dark-haired man didn’t even seem to notice. His entire focus was on the jerk sitting just a few feet away. At least Atsumu was between the two of them.
So, they dated? In college? Atsumu wondered. His mind raced, trying to find a course of action. He leaned toward Kiyoomi to whisper in his ear.
“As yer boyfriend, can I touch ya? I won’t do anythin’ too crazy. I just wanna make this asshole jealous,” he breathed. After a beat, Kiyoomi gave a small nod and finally released Atsumu’s arm, dropping the hand to his lap while his other fidgeted with his drink. Atsumu scooted closer so that their shoulders were rubbing against one another.
Akui passed two brightly colored shots to each of them once the tray was set on the table, then raised a glass and gestured for them to follow suit.
“To friends, both new and old,” he said, smirking. They all tossed back first one shot, then the other.
“How long have you two been together?” Hikaru asked.
“Four months,” Kiyoomi answered quickly. Atsumu nodded in agreement.
“Still in the honeymoon phase, though, ‘cause I just can’t get enough o’ this guy,” Atsumu chuckled, leaning into Kiyoomi’s shoulder and putting one hand on the taller man’s chest. He heard Kiyoomi give a small, exasperated sigh, but barrelled on. “We met through volleyball.”
“I nearly forgot your obsession with that accursed sport.” Akui rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe what you gave up to play professionally.”
“Ain’t a fan, I guess?” Atsumu asked, hating the man more with each word.
“Of course not. It’s ridiculous. I have significantly more important things to focus on.”
How did Omi even tolerate this guy? Atsumu grumbled to himself.
“We work in international finance, which keeps us pretty busy,” Hikaru cut in while Akui ordered the two of them more drinks. “That’s how Akui and I met, actually. We both work for his father’s company.”
Atsumu sipped his beer while Kiyoomi politely asked Hikaru how his career had been going. He couldn’t stop glancing at Akui, wondering how he’d managed to get the beautiful, untouchable Sakusa Kiyoomi to date him when he was such an asshole.
“Actually, I just got promoted today,” Hikaru said, blushing. That caught Atsumu’s attention and drew his gaze back to the friendly brunette just as Akui commented.
“Just happens to be on our two-year anniversary, too,” he said. “We had a nice dinner nearby and then came here for drinks.”
The hand that had been in Kiyoomi’s lap was suddenly grabbing at Atsumu’s knee, knuckles white as his nails dug into the denim. Atsumu leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table, leaping to distract Akui and Hikaru before they could notice that Kiyoomi was distressed.
“Hey! Congrats Hikaru!” Atsumu shouted. He laughed loudly and signalled to the waitress. “Shouldn’t we be celebratin’ a bit more, then? I’ll buy us another round.”
They toasted to Hikaru and drank the dark-colored shots, then Atsumu turned to Kiyoomi with a brilliant idea.
“Ah, Omi, ya got a bit on yer face.” He gently swiped at the corner of the taller man’s mouth with his thumb, then stretched his neck to plant a quick peck on his cheek. “I gotcha, babe.”
Hope that wasn’t overstepping, Atsumu thought worriedly.
Kiyoomi was looking at him as if trying to decipher a difficult puzzle. He reached up to touch the spot where Atsumu’s lips had brushed his face, wondering at how the contact hadn’t made him itch with annoyance and discomfort the way contact with another person usually did. It hadn’t been uncomfortable at all; it had actually been sort of nice — soft and comforting and the tiniest bit exciting. It made him want to test it, push that boundary.
Kiyoomi reached out and grabbed Atsumu’s chin, stopping him from turning away. He pulled the blond’s surprised face back to his own and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.
Warm, Kiyoomi thought, consumed by the gentle pressure that Atsumu responded with. It was only for a moment, but in that moment, he forgot everything else. The only thing that existed was the man in front of him. How can one touch feel like everything?
A few seconds later, he released Atsumu and hurriedly lifted his drink to his lips in an attempt to hide the pink flush that was coloring his pale cheeks, hoping that the others attributed it to the alcohol.
It took Atsumu a few seconds to collect himself, his mind spinning from the unexpected affection. He’d never seen Kiyoomi touch people, much less do anything like that, so he could hardly believe that it had happened to him of all people. The only explanation was that he was really getting into character, trying to make the act as convincing as possible.
When he turned back to the other two, Atsumu was delighted to see Akui staring at them in shock. The red-haired man cleared his throat and gave a small laugh.
“Kiyo gets more affectionate when he’s drunk, so be careful,” Akui warned, his voice light, but his eyes flashing with something darker.
Is that why he never drinks much around us? Atsumu wondered. Aloud, he responded quickly. “Oh, I know it! Secretly loves cuddles, don’t he?”
Kiyoomi’s arm snaked around Atsumu’s shoulders, surprising him nearly as much as the man’s next words.
“Only for you, pumpkin,” he said with a smirk.
Atsumu rolled his eyes and tried to suppress a groan. One of their most recent arguments had been about pet names, after Bokuto had excitedly listed all of the stupid, gushy ones that he called his husband on a regular basis. Kiyoomi had hated most of them, obviously, but had been amused that one of the ones he didn’t mind got on Atsumu’s nerves so thoroughly that Meian had had to yell at the blond to run laps to calm down. Jokes about the pet name matching his hair and birth month abounded, driving Atsumu up the wall for several days until the team was distracted by some other shenanigans.
“Ain’t he adorable,” he grunted, reaching up to grab Kiyoomi’s face in one hand, squishing his cheeks. Kiyoomi narrowed his eyes, as if challenging him.
Of all the things to turn into a competition… Atsumu thought.
“If you want to see adorable, you should see Atsumu’s wild bedhead,” Kiyoomi said, raising an eyebrow. The implication — that Kiyoomi had seen Atsumu first thing in the morning — made the blond’s stomach do a flip.
“Well, tell me how ya get yer hair ta stay so perfect all the damn time,” he shot back.
It was interesting how easily they slipped into their usual banter, with flirting and compliments instead of insults and quips. The teasing and competition remained, spurring them on. A few drinks later, Kiyoomi was leaning his head on Atsumu’s shoulder.
“You always were a lightweight, Kiyo,” Akui snickered.
“Yeah, well that’s the sign that we should probably get goin’,” Atsumu said, looping an arm around Kiyoomi’s waist and helping him stand. He felt the soft buzz of alcohol in his veins as well, making lights seem brighter and the air seem warmer.
“We’ll wait for a taxi with you,” Akui offered, shooing Hikaru out of the booth and standing as well, leading the way toward the bar’s door.
“Nah, I live right around the corner, so we’ll manage,” Atsumu replied, starting slightly when Kiyoomi draped an arm around his shoulders again.
“Even better, we’ll walk with you, then grab a cab.”
Atsumu huffed, but couldn’t think of an argument. He kept his arm around Kiyoomi to support him as they wobbled toward Atsumu’s apartment, trying not to think about how comfortably his hand was resting on the taller man’s hip. However, when he stumbled over a crack in the sidewalk, he found the arm around his shoulders steadying him instead, making him wonder if Kiyoomi was as intoxicated as he was acting.
“Alright, nice meetin’ ya! Bye!” Atsumu rushed out when they reached his building.
“We should do this again sometime!” Akui called out as the door closed behind them. Atsumu grumbled angrily in the elevator, stomping to his apartment door and making his way inside before remembering that he had the other man in tow.
“Oops, sorry Omi,” he said, dropping his arm. He bent to take off his shoes, then moved toward the kitchen. “If ya wanna stay the night, I don’t mind. I know ya live on the other side o’ the city an’ ya can’t drive right now an’ ya don’t like cabs much ‘cause they’re so gross.”
There had been a few occasions when Kiyoomi (and a few others) had slept over at Atsumu’s apartment, since it was close to the bars they frequented as well as the MSBY facility where they practiced. It had a spare bedroom and a large couch, plus a welcoming host who kept a surprisingly clean living space that even passed Kiyoomi’s inspection.
Atsumu heard his guest remove his shoes and shuffle toward him. When he turned around, Kiyoomi was standing so close that it made him jump.
“Woah! Omi, what’re ya—” Atsumu’s question was cut off by the feeling of Kiyoomi’s fingers travelling along his jaw then pressing under his chin to lift his face. Their noses were mere inches apart.
“Let’s keep pretending,” the taller man murmured. “I want to forget about him.”
“How drunk’re ya, Omi?” Atsumu asked breathlessly.
“I’m sober enough to know how terrible of a decision this is and assure you that you’re not taking advantage of me,” he replied, lifting the blond’s chin higher and brushing his lips down his exposed throat. “Just barely drunk enough to do it anyway. Just for the night.”
Their lips crashed together and the warmth that had been flickering between them earlier bloomed into a furious heat that travelled across their skin like wildfire. Atsumu’s hands found their way to Kiyoomi’s waist while Kiyoomi’s hands held the blond’s face. When they separated, gasping for breath, Atsumu took the opportunity to pull the taller man toward his bedroom.
Kiyoomi let his coat drop to the floor, then pulled the leather jacket off of Atsumu’s shoulders. The man’s t-shirt followed his leather jacket, then Atsumu cursed and fumbled with the buttons of Kiyoomi’s shirt while his neck was attacked with lips and teeth. He huffed, finally pulling the clothing back to reveal pale skin speckled with dark moles.
I’ll kiss all of ‘em, Atsumu thought, knocking Kiyoomi back onto the bed to do just that. He could hear the man groaning beneath his lips, long fingers tangling in bleached hair as he crawled down Kiyoomi’s chest and stomach. When he dragged his teeth along the skin just above the man’s belt, Kiyoomi gasped.
Within seconds, the belt was unclasped and his pants were sliding off his hips and onto the floor. Atsumu tugged at the waistband of Kiyoomi’s tight boxer briefs with his teeth, dragging his nose into the groove between his leg and his abdomen. His cheek brushed the bulge beneath the fabric. Kiyoomi’s fingers tightened in Atsumu’s blond hair and pulled him back up to his face, crawling on his hands and knees over him.
“Make me forget him completely, Atsumu,” he growled, capturing the blond’s lower lip between his teeth and tugging on it, making him moan. “Now.”
“Sure, babe,” Atsumu gasped, reeling from hearing his given name on Kiyoomi’s lips, in that tone. “I’m on it.”
When Kiyoomi released his hair, he scrambled to remove the rest of their clothing, marvelling at the beauty of the man draped across his bed. He knelt between Kiyoomi’s legs, hands running up his pale thighs to his waist. His hands moved down the man’s stomach toward his groin, causing another noise to slip from Kiyoomi’s lips.
Pretty. The word passed through Atsumu’s mind as he trailed his fingers up Kiyoomi’s cock, long and pale like he was. He wrapped his hand around it and revelled in the way the man reacted, moaning and reaching up to grab the pillow above his head. Atsumu swiped his fingers through his mouth before allowing his other hand to travel lower, circling until he received a glare and a sharp nod. He pressed one saliva-slick finger inside, moving both hands slowly at first. He sped up, then inserted a second finger. Kiyoomi’s grunts and whines had his own excitement growing until he couldn’t bear it. Atsumu climbed off the bed, the sudden loss of his hands causing Kiyoomi to grumble.
“Gotta get a condom, babe,” the blond chuckled, digging through his nightstand. He rolled it on and spread lube across the surface with a few quick strokes, then returned to his place between Kiyoomi’s legs. Kiyoomi trailed one foot up Atsumu’s leg and rubbed at his hip.
He leaned forward, placing one hand on either side of Kiyoomi and looking down to stare into his eyes. A mixture of desire and desperation swirled within them, an expression that he’d never seen on the man’s face before.
“Ya sure ‘bout this, Omi?” Atsumu whispered. The foot that was up on his hip wrapped around his backside and pulled him closer.
“Fuck me already,” Kiyoomi huffed with a smirk, reaching up to intertwine his fingers behind Atsumu’s neck. “What’s wrong, pumpkin? You scared?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Atsumu grunted, lips curling into a smile as he pushed Kiyoomi’s legs up toward his chest and slowly pressed forward into him. They both gasped, clinging to each other until Atsumu’s hips were flush against Kiyoomi’s pale ass. After a moment, he started thrusting, slowly at first and steadily increasing his speed. Kiyoomi’s nails dug into Atsumu’s shoulders and neck, carving deep, red scratches. Pants and grunts filled the blond’s ears and mind until nothing else mattered. He moaned as well, moving even faster when he felt the pleasure building deep within him.
Atsumu balanced on one hand, reaching down with the other to grab Kiyoomi’s cock again. He moved his hand in time with his thrusts, causing the man to grasp at the blankets beneath him while strangled moans flew from his throat.
Atsumu had always enjoyed having an effect on Kiyoomi, but to have this particular effect, that was something different entirely. It was thrilling to watch the reserved man thrash and whine with pleasure because of him.
The pleasure continued to build in them both, coiling tight like a spring. Atsumu leaned down so that his lips brushed Kiyoomi’s ear.
“Who’re ya thinkin’ ‘bout, Omi?”
“You,” Kiyoomi gasped.
“Not some asshole who ain’t worth yer time?”
“No, only you!”
“Who?” Atsumu growled, thrusting even faster and harder than before and watching the way the man’s eyes widened and his panting sped up just before his reply.
“Ah— Atsumu!” Kiyoomi called out his name as he came, arching his back and shuddering. The sight had Atsumu following suit, biting down on Kiyoomi’s shoulder as the wave of pleasure washed over him and drove a groan from between his teeth. He collapsed on top of Kiyoomi with a heavy sigh, brushing his neck and jaw with tiny kisses.
Despite how his muscles begged him for rest, Atsumu rose a moment later, rustling around and returning to the bed with a warm washcloth to clean Kiyoomi, who watched him with sleepy, half-lidded eyes. After pulling on some sweatpants and helping the other man into a pair, he got him to drink half of a sports drink before he coaxed him under the blankets. Kiyoomi burrowed into Atsumu’s arms, head on the blond’s broad chest. His dark curls tickled Atsumu’s chin and nose, making him grin and press a quick kiss to the top of his head.
“Pretendin’ a bit longer?” Atsumu murmured. As sleep washed over him, he heard Kiyoomi’s mumbled response and held him a little tighter.
“Just for the night.”
~~~~~
The next morning, Atsumu woke up alone. He reached for his phone to check the time and found several text messages from Kiyoomi.
Omi-Omi:
> I locked your door when I left and put the key under the mat.
> I’ll grant you another favor if you never mention last night to anyone, including me, ever again.
> If you do tell anyone, I’ll destroy you.
Atsumu let his phone fall to his chest and let out a small puff of air, a sigh soft enough that it hardly disturbed the silence in the apartment. He reached one hand up to run his fingers through his hair, then let his arm fall to the pillow above his head.
How did that happen? He wondered. Actually, I don’t even care. That was some o’ the best sex o’ my life.
He rose from the bed and started getting ready for practice when he realized with horror that he would have to actually see and interact with Kiyoomi at practice as if nothing had happened between them.
“Should I call out sick?” Atsumu mumbled to himself, though he was already shaking his head. Missing practice would kill him more than dealing with Kiyoomi would. He’d just have to keep his mouth shut… somehow.
When he entered the MSBY locker room, he gave a small sigh of relief that only Hinata was there. The short, orange-haired man lived only a couple blocks from the facility and often arrived early to train on his own before practice.
“What’s up, Shouyou-kun?” Atsumu greeted him with a grin.
“Hey Tsumu! I beat my run time this morning on the treadmill!”
“Don’t get so tired that ya can’t spike, yeah?”
“I can always spike,” Hinata scoffed.
Atsumu laughed and ruffled his hair on his way to his locker, setting his bag down and pulling off his shirt.
“Hey, what happened?”
“Huh? Whadda ya mean?” Atsumu asked, turning to glance at Hinata. The shorter man stood on his toes, running his fingers across the backs of Atsumu’s shoulders with a quizzical expression on his face. The blond craned his neck, then blushed furiously when he realized what Hinata was talking about.
“Looks like you got all scratched up.”
“Oh, uh, just a guy. From the bar. Last night.” Atsumu stumbled over his words, trying to fumble through a fib that was convincing enough to get Hinata to stop asking questions.
Of course, because simplicity was a concept unknown to Atsumu’s life, he looked up to find Kiyoomi standing in the doorway. It was obvious he’d heard the short, awkward exchange from the way his dark eyes burned into Atsumu’s brown ones. He seemed to be waiting to see if Atsumu would reveal the truth or try to stick to his clumsy lie.
“Damn! You said I’d get to be your wingman next time!” Hinata whined, drawing Atsumu’s attention back to him. The blond plastered on a smile and shrugged.
“Sorry, Sho-kun. That’s what happens when ya leave early.”
The rest of the team showed up over the next few minutes, turning the previously quiet room into a center of chaos as they all changed. Practice went quickly, surprisingly smooth and focused due to how subdued both Kiyoomi and Atsumu were in their interactions. It seemed they were both working hard to avoid any awkwardness — though they did so by interacting as little as possible. Meian praised them all, though he gave the two of them subtle, suspicious looks.
When they were all back in the locker room, Atsumu’s fake romp was brought up again.
“Did I hear that Tsum-Tsum got laid?” Bokuto laughed. “That must have been why practice went so well, eh?”
There were several seconds of silence while the rest of the team tried to understand his thought process. Finally, Hinata came to their rescue.
“What do you mean?” he asked, brow furrowed in confusion.
“Oh! People play volleyball better if they had sex the night before,” Bokuto replied. He said it with such conviction, as if it was an indisputable fact.
“You have no proof of that,” Kiyoomi cut in from the other side of the locker room, eyes narrowed at the boisterous man.
“Where’s the scientific data, Bo-kun? Gotta see some charts!” Atsumu snickered, falling into the habit of bantering more easily when he couldn’t see Kiyoomi’s face.
“I didn't know you could read,” Kiyoomi shot back, apparently falling into the same routine.
“Nah, it’s just something Akaashi and I figured out,” Bokuto interrupted. “I play better at practices and home matches when I sleep with ‘Kaashi the night before.”
The team continued ribbing Bokuto about his methods, but a few nights later, Atsumu couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d said. They had a match the next day and he wondered if he should try to test his teammate’s theory. Usually, he went to sleep early so that he could get plenty of rest, but he wasn’t tired in the least. He flipped through a dating app restlessly, even considered going to a bar, but eventually just plopped on the couch.
Before he could stop himself, he was thinking about Kiyoomi. The smooth, milky skin, the noises that sent shivers up his spine, the look on his face when he was crying out Atsumu’s name. It was the best sex he’d had in a long time.
He pulled out his phone, typing a message several times before hitting the send button. The response came a few minutes later.
Atsumu:
ready for the match tmrw? <
Omi-Omi:
> Of course. I’m always ready.
Atsumu hesitated before sending the next message.
Atsumu:
could be MORE ready… Bokuto style ;) <
It was a while before Kiyoomi responded. Atsumu had tossed his phone aside and tried to distract himself with a television drama he found while flipping through the channels. He scrambled for the device when he heard the notification chime several times, trying to keep a casual tone to his messages as he responded, despite his racing heart.
Omi-Omi:
> Absolutely not.
> Are you insane?
> Did you strike out with every other person in the city?
Atsumu:
c’mon what’s the harm? it’s just sex <
i kno u enjoyed it <
u still owe me a couple favors lol <
Omi-Omi:
> I cannot believe you would think that I would agree to this.
> You want to use your favors for this?
Atsumu:
u don’t wanna play better tmrw? <
Several minutes passed before he responded again.
Omi-Omi:
> I have several conditions.
The words sent a thrill through Atsumu. He could hardly believe that it was happening, sending a reply on autopilot and receiving a list a few minutes later.
Atsumu:
ok, what r they? <
Omi-Omi:
> This means nothing. It’s just sex.
> Neither of us will mention this to anyone.
> I will top this time.
The last one made his stomach flip, imagining the roles reversed. Atsumu had been on both sides, with many different partners, but it seemed different to envision Kiyoomi there. He answered quickly.
Atsumu:
agreed <
my safe word is banana <
A few seconds later, he received another response that sent a shiver down his spine.
Omi-Omi:
> I’m on my way. Take a shower.
Yes, sir! He chuckled to himself as he leaped to clean up the few pieces of clutter around his apartment and hop into the shower for a thorough scrub. Just as he finished pulling on a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, there was a knock at his door.
“Hey, Omi!” He greeted the man as he pulled the door open.
“Your hair is wet,” Kiyoomi commented as he stepped inside and slid off his shoes. He set a bag down just inside the entryway.
“Duh, I just showered, like ya told me.”
“Good.”
“Ya didn’t make me shower last time,” Atsumu teased.
“Last time was different. Heat of the moment. I’m sure you have plenty of experience with that.” Kiyoomi took a few steps toward the bedroom, pausing to glance over his shoulder when Atsumu remained where he was. “Are we going to do this?”
“Damn, Omi, not even some small talk? Straight ta business?”
“Why not?”
Atsumu couldn’t think of a response, so he just shrugged and followed. He watched Kiyoomi remove his jacket and set it on top of the dresser, jumping a little when he turned.
“What are you doing?”
“I dunno. I’ve never been in this situation before.”
“Do you have to be drunk to come on to someone?”
“I wasn’t drunk,” Atsumu argued, but his voice faltered when Kiyoomi stepped closer and looked down at him over his mask.
“Then what’s your excuse?”
“Heat o’ the moment,” he chuckled nervously.
Kiyoomi hooked a finger in one strap of his mask and pulled it off his face, using his other hand to grasp Atsumu’s jaw and drag him into a kiss. When his lips parted slightly, Kiyoomi’s tongue slipped between them, twisting with his.
“Enough heat for you to get your ass in gear?” Kiyoomi snapped when they pulled apart.
“Absolutely,” Atsumu replied with a grin, pulling off his t-shirt in one quick motion. “We gonna pretend ta be boyfriends again or’re ya just gonna fuck me?”
“Haven’t decided yet,” Kiyoomi said, shoving him so that he tumbled onto his back on the bed. He propped himself up on his elbows to watch the taller man set his mask aside, then slowly peel off his shirt and pants. He tried to suppress a whine when he took the time to carefully fold them and set them on top of his jacket. Finally, Kiyoomi turned back to him, a predatory hunger in his eyes that made Atsumu shiver with excitement.
“Took ya long enough,” he teased as Kiyoomi climbed onto the bed in just his tight-fitting boxer briefs. Long fingers crept up Atsumu’s chest and wrapped around his throat, squeezing just enough to push him down and hold him in place without cutting off his air.
“Why are you so annoying?”
“Force o’ habit,” Atsumu grunted, trying to continue the banter despite how the hand at his neck was distracting him. “Have ya decided yet? I gotta know if I’m s’pposed ta act all sweet ‘r if I can bug ya s’more.”
“Hm… Sweet Atsumu? What’s that like?” Kiyoomi asked with a smirk.
“I was sweet last time! Ya seemed ta like it plenty then.”
“You’re not supposed to mention that night and now you’ve done so a few times,” Kiyoomi growled, leaning closer. “Seems you’re a bit of a brat, aren’t you?”
“What’re ya gonna do ‘bout it, Omi-Omi?” Atsumu asked, a challenge in his eyes and a playful grin on his lips.
Kiyoomi’s dark eyes narrowed slightly, making Atsumu gulp nervously. The hand he had around Atsumu’s throat slid upward, pushing his jaw higher. Kiyoomi waited a brief moment and then descended on the tan skin of the man’s exposed neck, lips and teeth drawing moans from him.
“Maybe I’ll leave more marks that you’ll have to explain in the locker room,” he said as he moved down to nibble and suck at the blond’s shoulder and collarbone. His free hand plucked at Atsumu’s nipple, making him gasp. “Maybe I’ll just be cruel to you until you behave.”
“What’ll I get if I behave?” Atsumu asked, voice low.
The hand that was tugging and twisting at Atsumu’s nipples travelled lower, grabbing at the bulge that was making itself obvious through his sweatpants. Atsumu closed his eyes and groaned loudly.
“Exactly what you want,” Kiyoomi told him, rubbing his own bulge against Atsumu’s leg. He gave a sharp bite to the man’s shoulder, making him gasp again. “You’re the one who texted me.”
Atsumu whined and shifted his hips, trying to get more friction against the man’s hand, panting when it slipped into his sweatpants and wrapped around his cock. His own hands fumbled against Kiyoomi’s back and neck, digging into his pale skin as the man’s tongue swirled around first one nipple, then the other.
Atsumu whined again when the man climbed off of him, hands and mouth disappearing.
“So needy,” Kiyoomi mused, standing beside the bed. In a few swift motions, he pulled the sweatpants off of Atsumu and dropped them on the floor. He took a moment to admire him while he still had his eyes closed tight. His muscles rippled under tanned skin, body trembling and shifting as he awaited Kiyoomi’s touch.
Atsumu yelped when Kiyoomi flipped him over onto his stomach, though he barely had time to be surprised. Strong, pale hands grabbed his hips and pulled him up onto his hands and knees.
After rummaging through Atsumu’s nightstand, Kiyoomi knelt behind him and leaned forward over his back to whisper in his ear.
“I’ve decided that I’ll just fuck you,” he said softly, biting Atsumu’s earlobe as he slipped a lubed finger inside him. Atsumu groaned and tried to push his ass back, but Kiyoomi held him still with the hand that was still on his hip. He pumped his finger slowly, then added a second until the blond was panting and moaning. He looked over his shoulder at Kiyoomi, eyes wide.
“Omi,” he whined. “Fuck me already. C’mon, please.”
“Shit, I kinda like it when you beg,” Kiyoomi grunted. He removed his fingers and pulled down his boxer briefs to roll a condom on. He lined himself up and paused, just barely touching Atsumu with the tip. “Keep begging, pumpkin.”
“You’re the worst,” the blond growled, glaring over his shoulder at the man.
“You knew that when you texted me. You knew when you agreed to my terms.” Kiyoomi twitched his hips forward, just enough to annoy Atsumu and make him wiggle his ass in an attempt to move backward. The hand on his hip prevented him from gaining the relief he so desperately wanted. “Now beg for me, Atsumu.”
To his credit, Atsumu held out for nearly a minute, during which Kiyoomi lazily trailed small kisses and nibbles along his spine.
“Dammit,” he finally muttered, fists clenched in the blanket beneath him. “Omi, please fuck me. C’mon, I fucked ya an’ now I want ya ta fuck me, too. Please, Omi, I’ll do just ‘bout anythin’ if ya just hurry up an’ do it already. I'm dyin' here.”
Anything? Kiyoomi was intrigued by the prideful, esteemed Miya Atsumu begging for his least favorite teammate to take him from behind. He’d never admit it, especially to the man himself, but it thrilled him to be the one whose name he was calling out and begging for. Knowing that Atsumu could have almost anyone he desired and to have him for this night, this moment, it was exhilarating.
In one smooth thrust, Kiyoomi pushed completely into Atsumu, burying himself to the hilt. They moaned in unison, then he held Atsumu’s hips as he thrusted in slow and deep strokes. When the blond arched his back, Kiyoomi reached out and grasped a handful of the man’s bleached locks, pulling him up until his hands were hardly on the bed anymore. Before long, Atsumu was whining again.
“Faster, Omi,” he pleaded. Kiyoomi obliged, grunting with each thrust as the warmth in him reached a peak and crested. He heard Atsumu cry out, clenching around him and coming just as he did. They rode out the wave of pleasure together and then collapsed on the bed side by side.
“Good thing I’ve got more blankets,” Atsumu remarked, voice tinged with sleepiness.
“And a shower. I’m going first, though.” Kiyoomi glanced at him. “I’ve seen how long your showers usually are in the locker room.”
“I like ta enjoy the hot water! Sue me!” Atsumu stuck out his tongue, making Kiyoomi roll his eyes. He climbed off the bed, retrieving his bag from the entryway before slipping into the bathroom to clean up. Atsumu chuckled to himself as he wiped himself off and changed the bedding that they’d soiled.
When Kiyoomi exited the bathroom, Atsumu passed by him and took his own shower. When he came out again, the dark-haired man was gone.
~~~~~
Atsumu had pushed his disappointment to the back of his mind and focused on the match the next day. He felt more relaxed, more clear-headed, more eager to play. Each serve was clean and strong, each set felt perfectly calculated and confident.
It was easy to see that Kiyoomi was at the top of his game as well, scoring so many points that Hinata was even pouting a bit, though his mood could hardly be dampered when they won the match.
Afterward, they all went out to dinner to celebrate. Atsumu pulled his phone from his pocket and held it under the table, sending a quick message and watching for a reaction from Kiyoomi, who was sitting at the other end of the table, as far in the corner as possible.
Atsumu:
guess Bo’s theory is right, eh? <
He watched Kiyoomi glance at his phone, furrow his brow, and flash a glare in his direction. A moment of typing and then Atsumu’s phone buzzed in his hand.
Omi-Omi:
> We can hardly attribute it to that after just one match.
Atsumu smirked and sent a reply.
Atsumu:
just sayin that to get me in bed again? ;) <
He watched Kiyoomi roll his eyes. A quick reply arrived a moment later.
Omi-Omi:
> You wish.
"What's wrong?" Hinata asked Kiyoomi, cocking his head to one side.
"Nothing, just a guy."
"A boyfriend?" Hinata asked curiously.
"I don't date." He said it so quickly, like a rehearsed mantra. Atsumu didn't like the way it made his chest feel colder to hear those words, even though he'd always known Kiyoomi felt that way. He'd said it many times before, but this time Hinata pressed him for an explanation.
"Why don't you date? It's so fun!" His loud voice cut through conversations so that several people glanced over. Kiyoomi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Finding someone worth dating is already a struggle, especially with our busy schedule. It's a complete waste of time. Plus, what's the point of going through all of that when 90 percent of relationships end in heartbreak? I'd rather focus on volleyball."
"Just find someone who's as obsessed with volleyball as you!" Hinata chuckled, missing the way Kiyoomi's eyes flicked toward Atsumu for the briefest of moments. "That's what I did, with Tobio!"
Kiyoomi sighed in relief when someone asked after the Adler's player and Hinata got distracted telling a story of a flubbed quick attack he had teased the man about recently. He didn't notice a pair of soft brown eyes watching him thoughtfully.
~~~~~
Several days passed with the two of them resuming their bickering at practice. They spent time together but never alone, only when other teammates were there. It wasn’t until the evening before the next match that the topic of sex was broached again, this time by Kiyoomi.
He paced in his apartment, tapping his fingers against his forehead.
This is stupid… There’s no way I’ll stoop to that… He’s probably just going to sleep with someone else. It’s not like he struggles to get a date. The thoughts kept spinning in his mind, eyes sliding to the sleek, black cell phone that sat on the marble counter of his kitchen island. He paused, tapping his foot and biting at his bottom lip.
It was good with Atsumu. It was comfortable and it was easy and it didn’t make Kiyoomi want to push him away and claw his skin off his bones. Atsumu had proven himself to be worth the internal struggle that Kiyoomi had every time he considered that he had shared a bed with his setter.
Perhaps I can just reach out and test the waters, he thought, picking up his phone. He could send a message under the guise of checking in.
Kiyoomi:
I hope you’re not drinking yourself to death the night before a match. I heard you talking to Hinata about possibly going to a bar. <
He didn’t have to wait long for a response. Atsumu sent several messages in quick succession.
The Annoying Miya:
> we only had 1 beer each while we talked abt quick attacks for tmrw bc Sho’s worried abt that new combo
> u jealous I’m drinkin w/someone else Omi? ;P
> don’t worry i was missin u too
> just got home
Kiyoomi rolled his eyes. The stupid setter joked so much, how was he supposed to know when the man was serious? He decided to try poking just a little deeper.
Kiyoomi:
Did you finally give Hinata the chance to be a wingman? It’s rude to be texting if you have a guest there with you. <
The Annoying Miya:
> nah, wasn’t feelin anyone there
Kiyoomi:
Is that code for striking out with all of them? <
The Annoying Miya:
> i get the strange sense u doubt my flirting abilities
> i’m deeply wounded
Kiyoomi:
I’ve never seen you in action. <
The Annoying Miya:
> that’s not true
Kiyoomi:
That night we pretended doesn’t count. <
We were putting on an act. <
The Annoying Miya:
> that means i havn’t seen u in action either
> wonder wat flirty Omi is like ;)
Kiyoomi:
You’ll never see it. <
The Annoying Miya:
> wat if we pretend again?
The question stopped Kiyoomi in his tracks, staring at the screen. It glowed in the semi-darkness of the twilight evening.
Was that an invitation? Or more teasing? He hesitated before slowly and deliberately typing a response.
Kiyoomi:
Do you want to pretend again? Sleep together again? If it did make us play better, it might be worth it. <
He waited impatiently, resuming his pacing and fidgeting with his phone, sure that Atsumu would call him crazy and tell him to go to sleep instead.
The Annoying Miya:
> just for the night
> for science, u know, so that we play better
> we can keep usin ur rules from before bout not tellin anyone
Kiyoomi’s stomach did a flip when he saw the words that he’d used on the screen like that.
Right, he told himself. It’s not a big deal. We’re doing this to play better.
He ignored how false it sounded in his own head, glad to be interrupted by another gut-wrenching message.
The Annoying Miya:
> got a few of my own conditions tho
Kiyoomi:
Oh? What might those be? <
The Annoying Miya:
> u gotta actually treat me like i’m ur bf
> just once
> even tho we’r just sleepin together
> i wanna see what that’s like lol
Kiyoomi:
You’re ridiculous. <
Fine. <
Is that all, Miya? <
The Annoying Miya:
> oh u gotta call me by my first name
> n bring food bc i’m hungry!
Kiyoomi:
Fine, but I’m choosing since I’m buying. <
Take a shower. <
It wasn’t until several minutes later, on his way to a small, clean sushi place that he knew, that he realized what he’d agreed to. He sighed. At least he knew that he could trust Atsumu to keep it to himself.
~~~~~
A knock at the door had Atsumu leaping to his feet. He put a hand to his chest, trying to slow his racing heart.
Relax, stupid! It’s just Omi! He berated himself, wondering why it felt like a high school date all over again. He opened the door, holding it so that Kiyoomi could step inside. The tall man took off his shoes and dropped his bag beside them, just as he’d done before. He lifted a plastic bag that was in his other hand.
“Whaddya bring me?” Atsumu asked excitedly.
“I brought sushi for us,” Kiyoomi said, emphasizing that it was for both of them with a glare. “I know how much you like fatty tuna and I know a clean, reputable place that has a good selection.”
“Aw, how thoughtful, babe.” Atsumu took the bag and whirled toward the living room to set it on the coffee table before striding into the kitchen. “Make yerself at home, I’mma grab drinks.”
“Just water for me.” As he moved toward the couch, Kiyoomi was glad that he hadn’t removed his mask yet. Hearing Atsumu call him “babe” was affecting him more than he’d like to admit and he only hoped that the cloth over his face hid most of the pink that he could feel on his cheeks. He took a deep breath before removing it and setting it beside the bag of food.
After setting their glasses down on the table, Atsumu turned on an old volleyball match and set about scarfing down the sushi rolls that were placed in front of him.
“Why do you always eat so fast?” Kiyoomi asked, raising an eyebrow as he consumed his sushi rolls at a more moderate pace.
“Oh, that’s ‘cause o’ Samu,” the blond replied. He squinted at the thought of his twin brother. “We always used ta see who could finish eatin’ first an’ try ta steal the other’s food. Sometimes we’d even nab each other’s desserts.”
“No one is going to steal your food now.”
“I know that! It’s just a habit now. I can’t help it. If I eat too slow, I’ll get a stomach ache.” Atsumu set down his chopsticks and leaned back against the large pillows that he had at one end of the couch. He stretched his legs out, bare feet almost touching the other man’s hip.
“I’m surprised you don’t choke,” Kiyoomi mused. He realized his mistake as soon as he saw the wicked grin on Atsumu’s face.
“Choke? I could choke on somethin’ if ya let me,” the blond quipped. Kiyoomi fought the blush creeping up his neck.
“Your own tongue? Then I might get some peace and quiet.”
“Is this how ya treat all yer boyfriends, Omi?” Atsumu pouted.
“Yes,” Kiyoomi lied, taking a sip of water. “I don’t know what you expected.”
“C’mon, Omi, ya said ya would pretend!”
“Be careful what you wish for, Miya,” Kiyoomi said, voice low. He set his chopsticks down and turned to Atsumu, eyes flashing with something dark and dangerous that made the blond’s breath catch in his throat. He watched with wide eyes as the dark-haired man crept closer, crawling on his hands and knees over him until their faces were only inches apart.
“Yer s’pposed ta call me Atsumu,” he said breathlessly.
“Oh, I must have forgotten,” Kiyoomi said, with the air of someone who hadn’t forgotten at all. He lifted one hand to brush his fingertips down Atsumu’s face, from his temple to his jaw, then ran his thumb across the man’s bottom lip. “I’ll have to make it up to you, pumpkin.”
Just as the setter groaned at the pet name, Kiyoomi pressed a kiss to his lips, more sensual than when they'd kissed before. He lowered his hips so that he was straddling the man’s lap, pulling a different groan from his throat. He held Atsumu’s face in both hands as he kissed him deeply, tongue sliding between his lips.
“Ya taste like eel,” Atsumu gasped when they finally pulled apart for a moment.
“Are you seriously complaining right now?” Kiyoomi asked, mouth moving down to bite roughly at the side of his neck, nibbling his way to the collarbone. “How am I supposed to be nice to you when you’re so annoying?”
“I thought ya liked a challenge, Omi-Omi?” he teased. He gasped and flailed a bit as Kiyoomi rolled, sitting upright on the couch and pulling Atsumu onto his lap. Kiyoomi’s teeth found their way to his neck again, hands on his back and waist.
Atsumu pulled free, leaning back just enough to tug his shirt up over his head and toss it aside. Sauksa watched him, hands resting almost possessively on the blond man’s hips. On the surface, his face had the same cold expression as it usually did, but his dark eyes were swirling with desire.
“That I do.” He pulled his own shirt off and flung it to the floor, then pulled Atsumu down into another kiss, one hand at his waist and one at the back of his neck. The blond grinded against him, hips moving expertly as his fingers grasped at Kiyoomi’s back before sliding up to tangle in the hair at the back of his head. Kiyoomi’s mind was consumed with how unexpectedly soft Astumu’s hands and lips were, warm where they touched his skin.
Within minutes, they had pulled off their pants (Kiyoomi retrieving a condom from his pocket before they were tossed across the room) and Atsumu had climbed back into Kiyoomi’s lap, facing him with a knee on either side of his hips. His hands rested on the man’s shoulders as they kissed again, Kiyoomi’s hands resting on his hips, where they were before. Atsumu lowered himself slowly, easing his way down until he was fully seated on Kiyoomi’s lap. He was panting, face flushed and lips parted and eyes fluttering until they were almost closed.
God, he’s beautiful. Kiyoomi couldn’t help the thought from slipping across his mind. He shook his head, but he couldn’t stop staring at the man with golden hair and golden-brown eyes that were now gazing into his with such glowing force that it knocked the air from his lungs.
They moved together, moaning with pleasure. Their hands traced arms and chests and cheeks, fingers tugging at nipples and hair and lips. They kissed wherever they could reach, sucking and licking and nipping at smooth skin and taut muscles. It wasn’t long before they were grasping each other tightly, embracing the wave that crashed over them together.
Afterward, they toppled over on the couch, gasping. Kiyoomi couldn’t take his eyes off of Atsumu, his messy blond hair hanging over his forehead and his lips curled into a playful smile.
“Hey, ya still got some sushi left, Omi!” He reached over and grabbed a piece, popping it into his mouth. He grabbed another, holding it out to the other man. “Wanna piece?”
“Did you have to touch my food with your hands, you animal?”
“I’ll just eat it all, then.”
“No, give it to me.” Kiyoomi grabbed his wrist and pulled Atsumu’s hand so that he could snatch the piece of sushi with his teeth. For just a moment, Atsumu’s fingertips lingered on the man’s lips, then he pulled away. He fed Kiyoomi the rest of the sushi, occasionally taking a piece for himself, despite the man’s muttering.
At the bottom of the bag, beneath the trays of sushi, Atsumu found a small tray of cookies. He gasped, grabbing them and sitting up. Kiyoomi’s arms lay draped around his waist.
“Ya brought dessert an’ ya didn’t tell me!” he said accusingly, though he was still smiling.
“You were focused on other things, remember?”
“Still! Ya shoulda mentioned it!”
“I’ll try to keep in mind that cookies are higher priority than sex for you.”
“These’re snickerdoodle cookies! That’s completely different!”
~~~~~
Their next game was an away game. Kiyoomi and Atsumu both had roommates — Bokuto and Hinata respectively — so they were unable to visit each other for a pre-game romp. Neither seemed willing to broach the subject, though they fidgeted and squirmed in their separate hotel rooms, occasionally glancing at their phones.
It was obvious during the game that they weren’t playing their best. Atsumu’s sets were slightly off, making him more and more agitated as the game continued. Kiyoomi’s spikes seemed too hard and just a bit frantic, as if his pent-up energy was getting away from him. Neither could manage to serve as well as they were used to, causing a severe disadvantage with the loss of their usual service aces.
The team was quiet and subdued at dinner later that night, stewing angrily after losing the match. Despite the rest of the team working hard to make up for Kiyoomi’s and Atsumu’s slumps, the Black Jackals hadn’t been able to pull even one set from the grasp of their opponents.
Atsumu pushed his food around his plate the entire meal, glaring at it without speaking. If he’d looked up, he would have seen Kiyoomi glancing at him every few seconds, lips pursed and brow furrowed.
The next day, the bus ride home was quiet and tense as well. The team had been on a short winning streak, so the loss had been a painful blow to their pride. Unlike most of the team’s bus rides, Atsumu was not snoozing against the window, instead bent over and scowling at his feet. When they arrived back at the MSBY facility, he shrugged past Meian and walked all the way to his apartment with his head down.
He spent only a few minutes in his apartment, feeling like a wild animal trapped in a cage. He slipped out again, walking quickly without caring where his feet carried him. When he looked up, he realized he was at the same bar where he and Kiyoomi had pretended to be dating. With a sigh, Atsumu sat down at the bartop.
A few drinks later, he felt the presence of someone sitting down beside him, despite the wealth of empty barstools. He didn’t look up, hoping the tall figure would get the hint and move away. The uncomfortable tension was still thrumming beneath his skin, nerves like frayed wires threatening to shock anyone who came too close.
“Still pouting, Miya?”
Fuckin’ hell. Atsumu groaned at the familiar voice, leaning forward to rest his forehead on the wooden bartop. Of all the people to find him here, why did it have to be him?
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
Atsumu lifted his head to glare at Kiyoomi, then grumbled and downed the rest of his cocktail, signalling for another one.
“You’re lucky we don’t have practice tomorrow,” Kiyoomi commented.
“Plenty o’ time fer future Tsumu ta deal with the hangover,” Atsumu said.
“You should drink some water.”
“Jeez, Omi,” the blond groaned. “Whadda ya doin’ here? I wanna drink in peace.”
“Then you should have stayed home.” Kiyoomi nodded in thanks to the bartender, who set a glass of dark liquor in front of him, then raised an eyebrow at Atsumu while he sipped his drink.
“Didn’t think anyone’d be here,” Atsumu mumbled, turning the glass in his hands. “‘Specially not you.”
They sat quietly with their drinks, in easier companionship than either of them expected.
“I hate when we lose.” Atsumu said the phrase so quietly that Kiyoomi almost thought he’d imagined it, especially since the same words had been circling his own mind.
“Me, too.”
“It’s my fault.” Barely a whisper, Kiyoomi might have doubted his ears if he hadn’t seen the blond’s lips moving.
“That’s bullshit.”
“Such language, Omi,” Atsumu commented, a hint of sarcasm leaking back into his voice before he frowned again.
“I played as badly as you, so I’m not going to let you take all of the blame. Not to mention, that team was already ranked higher than us, so the likelihood of us winning was slim to begin with.”
“Whatever.” It came out as a low growl, disbelief clear in the solitary word. He kept fidgeting with his glass, leg shaking with nervous energy. Kiyoomi stared at him, considering, then pulled a handful of bills from his wallet and dropped them on the bartop.
“Come on.” He stood, grabbing Atsumu by the back of the collar and dragging him toward the door.
“What the hell, Omi?” Atsumu shouted, struggling against the taller man’s hold. His limbs flailed clumsily as he tried to keep from stumbling along the sidewalk.
“You’re not going to drown in self-pity,” Kiyoomi grunted.
“Watch me,” Atsumu shot back.
“No.”
“No? What’s that s'pposed ta mean?”
“No.” Kiyoomi pulled him onto an elevator and pushed a button as he released his hold on the man’s jacket, finally giving Atsumu a chance to look around and realize that they were in his apartment building. “I’m not going to watch you do that.”
Atsumu turned with a snarky reply on the tip of his tongue to find Kiyoomi looming over him. He took a step back, his breath catching in his throat when the taller man followed. He swallowed thickly when Kiyoomi pressed even closer, pushing him against the wall of the elevator.
“What’re ya doin’?” he gasped.
“Do you want me to stop?” Kiyoomi asked, face hovering inches away. His eyes were dark and confident. “Or do you want to get some of that tense, angry, fidgety energy out?”
Atsumu shivered, fingers twitching as he hesitated. This wasn’t preparation for a game. This was different — not necessarily a romantic gesture, but still different.
“Let me help you, you prideful idiot,” Kiyoomi murmured, nuzzling ever so gently at the soft skin beneath Atsumu’s jaw, trailing his lips to the spot behind his ear. “It’s just sex.”
Atsumu reached up, putting his hands on either side of Kiyoomi’s face and dragging him so that their mouths could crash together in a frantic, hungry kiss. Kiyoomi’s arms found their way around Atsumu’s waist, embracing him and pulling their bodies even closer to one another. They kissed deeper, tongues tangling together chaotically.
When the elevator dinged and the doors opened, they stumbled down the hall to Atsumu’s apartment. They kicked off their shoes, then Atsumu leaped at Kiyoomi, pushing him against the wall.
“How d’ya like it?” he hissed. Kiyoomi just smirked.
“Is that the best you got, Miya?”
Atsumu responded by slipping one hand through the man's midnight curls and pulling his head back. He bit the side of Kiyoomi's neck, kissing roughly at the pale skin while his other hand found its way to the firm ass that he'd admired more often than he cared to admit.
The breathy noises that were coming from Kiyoomi had Atsumu’s mind racing, considering where to drag the man to next when he suddenly realized a problem. He deliberated for a minute while he worked his way up and down each side of Kiyoomi’s neck.
With a sudden burst of inspiration, Atsumu pulled Kiyoomi away from the wall and slipped both hands under his ass to lift him. He automatically grasped at Atsumu’s shoulders to keep himself from falling, legs wrapping around the blond’s waist.
“Miya, if you drop me, I swear to god—”
“Just trust me, Omi,” Atsumu grunted.
“I’m too heavy.”
“Bull, we’re basically the same weight an’ I’m pretty strong.”
Kiyoomi rolled his eyes, but didn’t complain, instead wrapping his arms around Atsumu’s neck. He raised his eyebrows when they passed by the couch and the bed, giving a small, breathy chuckle when the blond stepped into the master bathroom.
“Heat o’ the moment’s great an’ all, but it ain’t gonna make up fer the workout I did this mornin’ ‘fore the bus ride. I’m all sweaty an’ grimy,” Atsumu mumbled, setting Kiyoomi on the bathroom counter and nibbling at his neck again.
“Your dirty talk needs some work,” Kiyoomi replied, scrunching his nose.
“I’m tryin’ ta be considerate here, you dick.” Atsumu pulled off his jacket and let it fall to the floor. “So, ‘re ya gettin’ in the shower with me ‘r not?”
Kiyoomi slipped out of his clothes, somehow feeling more exposed than when they'd been in the bedroom or the living room. He folded them neatly and set them aside, turning to find Atsumu already standing under the hot running water. There was just enough space for him to step into the shower and pull the glass door closed, eyes travelling down the well-formed muscles of Atsumu's back to his nice, round ass to his thick thighs. He took pride in his appearance and it paid off, making it obvious why he had so many fangirls and dates all the time.
When Kiyoomi's gaze made its way back up the man's body, he found brown eyes watching him with amusement.
"Like whatcha see?" Atsumu asked with a smirk, twisting to face him.
"Could be worse. I suppose it'll have to do."
"Yer expression was tellin' another story, Omi. I know I’m hot."
Kiyoomi narrowed his eyes and leaned over Atsumu, putting his hands on the smooth, cool tiles above his head.
"You’re talking too much," he said. "Hurry up and wash."
"Eager today, ain't ya, Omi?" Atsumu replied, reaching for a ridiculously bright pink loofah and some body wash.
"Well, you're not the only one with leftover tension from that game." Kiyoomi leaned even closer, causing the blond to blush.
"Ah, so it ain't about helpin' me, like ya said?"
"Two birds, one stone," Kiyoomi murmured, finally closing the distance between them.
Steam floated around them in soft curls, enveloping them as their lips met again. Fingers slipped across soap-slick skin, tracing curves of muscle and fumbling to pull each other closer. The hot water was nothing compared to the sparks between them, a blaze beneath their skin that could only be satiated by the touch of the other.
Kiyoomi’s hands moved back to the wall to brace himself. Atsumu pulled him closer, then slipped under one of his arms to stand behind him. His chest was firm against the taller man’s back, arms reaching around to slide up and down his chest and abdomen, pinching his nipples with each pass. He peppered small kisses and nibbles along his shoulders and up the back of his neck. Kiyoomi shifted so that his elbows were resting against the tiles, head dropping between his biceps.
He could feel Atsumu’s cock against his ass, sending a thrill of excitement through him each time the blond shifted. If he wasn’t so desperate for the man, Kiyoomi would have been annoyed with himself. As it was, he couldn’t help the moans that slipped from his lips, small gasps interrupting them each time Atsumu bit at one of his shoulders. One of his hands slid between their bodies, tracing up and down Kiyoomi’s spine. The dark-haired man hardly heard the shower door open and close or the crinkle of the condom wrapper.
Kiyoomi’s mind was consumed with Atumu’s fingertips, his lips, the touch of him that somehow felt different than any other human touch had before. He’d tolerated a lot in the past and found a handful of people who didn’t make him itch and burn when they brushed against him, but he’d never encountered someone whose touch he yearned for so desperately. He’d never wanted to feel so close to someone that he lost where one of them ended and the other began.
Atsumu grabbed Kiyoomi’s hips tightly and pushed into him; there was only warmth and fullness and pleasure. He braced himself against the wall and groaned, moving his hips back in time with Atsumu’s thrusts so that the blond could hit deeper and harder. A chorus of rapid panting and rumbling moans mixed with the thundering water washing over them. They kept moving until they felt that familiar peak, then leaped over it together.
After Atsumu pulled away to toss the condom in the trash, Kiyoomi turned around, leaning back against the tiles. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back with a heavy sigh. He was more relaxed than he’d been in… well, since they had sex before the previous game.
Atsumu gazed at him quietly, eyes roving over the milky skin and pausing on each dark freckle. Kiyoomi was leaner than him, but still toned from how hard he worked. The man had a graceful sort of beauty that could take his breath away sometimes, plus confidence and strength that the blond found inspiring — not that he would ever admit it.
A soft touch made Kiyoomi start, eyes snapping open. Atsumu held out a yellow loofah.
“Water’s gonna get cold soon, so we gotta hurry if ya wanna clean up.”
Kiyoomi stared for a moment, then reached instead for the pink loofah hanging from its hook.
“Hey, wait! Omi, that one’s mine!”
“I know.” Kiyoomi drizzled some of the vanilla body wash that Atsumu had used before onto the loofah and started dragging it in small circles across Atsumu’s chest. The blond watched breathlessly, frozen and unable to tear his eyes from the intense look on Kiyoomi’s face as he gently scrubbed his body. “It’ll go faster this way.”
Kiyoomi looked pointedly at the loofah in Atsumu’s hand and the blond raised his eyebrows.
Omi’d let me wash him? He cleared his throat and tried to focus so that he didn’t stutter in front of the other man.
“Ya got a preference fer the body wash? As ya can see, I got a lot o’ options.”
“This one.” Kiyoomi pointed to one of the bottles on the shelf.
“Yer full o’ surprises, Omi,” Atsumu chuckled, grabbing the bottle of lavender-scented body wash. Kiyoomi turned Atsumu around so that he could scrub the man’s tanned back and so that he wouldn’t see the blush that was surely coloring his pale cheeks. He noticed that the blond was significantly more relaxed, his shoulders drooping softly while small yawns betrayed how badly he’d slept the previous night.
When Atsumu turned around, he reached out, hesitating before pulling the loofah across the man’s smooth, ivory skin. He tried to copy Kiyoomi’s small circular movements, working his way methodically along every inch of his body.
So are you, Kiyoomi thought, amused at the blond’s focus and care. As before, he marvelled at how the brush of their bodies against one another had none of the discomfort that he was used to. He could relax, enjoying the feel of the loofah and Atsumu’s surprisingly gentle hands sliding across his tired muscles.
Just as Atsumu finished washing his back, kneeling to scrub his legs, the water started to turn lukewarm. They just managed to rinse the suds from their bodies before it turned cold, then dried themselves off.
“I wish I’d known to bring a change of clothes,” Kiyoomi muttered to himself, fiddling with his folded outfit that he’d worn for the entire bus ride. He really hated the feeling of soiled clothing on clean skin, but he didn’t have another option.
“As much as I might like seein’ ya squirm, Omi, I could probably let ya borrow some clothes,” Atsumu offered.
“With your sense of fashion?”
“Alright, just wear yer bus outfit then.”
“Wait!” Kiyoomi groaned, considering for a moment longer before finally giving in. “Fine.”
Atsumu grinned as he strode into his bedroom, a towel hanging low around his waist. He dug through his drawers and handed a pair of black sweatpants and a gray t-shirt to Kiyoomi, who was just glad that they weren’t as ostentatiously colored as he’d expected. He pulled them on, then looked down and raised an eyebrow.
“‘I may be wrong but I doubt it’?” Kiyoomi asked.
“I thought it suited ya,” Atsumu laughed, putting on a similar set of clothes and padding out to the kitchen. He pulled out a few pans and started digging through the refrigerator. “Ya hungry? I’m starvin’!”
“That’s what happens when you just pick at your food, you idiot. You did it at dinner last night and breakfast this morning at the hotel and you probably skipped lunch,” Kiyoomi listed them on his fingers.
“Since when ‘ve ya cared so much ‘bout my eatin’ habits, Omi?” Atsumu set several things on the counter and stuck out his tongue, then turned on the stove.
“It’s not a secret that you do that when you’re upset,” Kiyoomi grumbled.
“Well, I’mma make somethin’ an’ ya can stay if ya want. I’m a pretty good cook.” He stirred some vegetables in one pan, then dropped some pasta noodles into a pot of boiling water, humming quietly to himself.
I should get going… but that smells delicious. Kiyoomi’s stomach rumbled, announcing itself to them both. He sighed and leaned against the counter, watching Atsumu work with confidence that surprised him.
“Where did you learn to cook?”
“Ah, Samu an’ I used ta take turns — one cookin’ an’ the other cleanin’ — cause our mom worked late a bunch. Obviously we competed a lot ta see who could make the better food, so we got pretty good at it.” Atsumu waved a spoon. “It’s why Samu’s onigiri place’s so popular. It’s always been his favorite thing ta make.”
He scooped pasta and vegetables onto two plates, handing one to Kiyoomi and leading the way to the couch.
“Do you ever eat at your table?”
“Yeah, sometimes, but I wanna watch somethin’ an’ relax,” Atsumu replied, turning on a volleyball game. By the time Kiyoomi sat beside him, he was already scarfing down his food. He set his plate down on the coffee table and sat back, watching the game while his guest continued to eat. Occasional glances in Kiyoomi’s direction devolved to bouts of staring.
“What are you looking at?” Kiyoomi asked.
“Just makin’ sure ya liked it.”
“Fishing for compliments, Miya?”
“Knowin’ yer happy is the only compliment I need, sweetheart,” Atsumu said dramatically, flopping over on the couch. Kiyoomi looked down incredulously at where the blond’s head rested just beside his hip.
"Oh my god, did you just use a line from that cheesy new romance film? That’s so lame."
"Listen, there was nothin' else on an' I didn’t— Wait!" Atsumu paused, then slowly grinned. "The only way ya'd know that is if ya saw it yerself."
"I…" Kiyoomi scrambled for an excuse, then sighed. "I like to turn on romcoms while I cook or clean. They provide good background noise that I don't care about."
"Ya care enough ta remember lines!" Atsumu teased. He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “So, ya know how ta cook, too? I didn’t know that.”
“Somewhat,” Kiyoomi mumbled, setting his plate on the coffee table and leaning one elbow on the armrest, chin resting in his hand as he scowled at the television. “I can’t believe these two teams are so evenly matched.”
“It’s cause o’ the new libero on that team,” Atsumu said, rolling onto his side and pointing.
They continued discussing the game, occasionally leaning forward excitedly or falling back against the cushions groaning, depending on the plays. At one point near the end of the match, Kiyoomi looked down and was startled to find Atsumu’s head resting in his lap, his fingers unconsciously running through the bleached hair. He paused, gazing at the man’s sleeping face, wondering how he could look so vulnerable, so relaxed. He chuckled when Atsumu’s mouth dropped open to let out a loud snore, head nuzzling slightly into Kiyoomi’s hand.
I’ll stay just a little while longer, he thought, continuing to brush his fingers through the golden hair. He was so focused on Atsumu’s face that when he finally looked up, he realized he had completely missed the end of the match.
~~~~~
When Atsumu woke to dawn sunlight filtering through the living room window, he was disoriented, blinking at his surroundings.
This ain’t my bedroom. When he glanced around, he realized he was still on the couch in his living room. Oh, I musta fallen asleep during the volleyball game last night.
He rubbed his eyes, then moved to run his fingers through his hair and nearly leaped out of his skin when they brushed another hand. Atsumu craned his neck to look up, eyes widening when he saw Kiyoomi. He was twisted slightly, head pillowed on a bent arm on the couch’s armrest while his other hand rested on top of Atsumu’s head. He realized that his head was resting on the man’s lap, eyes widening even further as a bright red flush crept up his neck and warmed his cheeks.
Did he stay here all night? Atsumu wondered. He reached up to touch Kiyoomi’s hand again, gently untangling the long fingers from his hair. He lifted his head slowly and turned to face him, doing his best to not disturb the man. Atsumu examined his face, searching for any sign that he was close to waking, but instead he found himself entranced by the soft expression on Kiyoomi’s face.
He’d never seen him like this. In the early morning light, he had a statuesque kind of beauty, like he’d been sculpted by careful hands to exhibit the peaceful slumber draped over him.
Atsumu’s eyes moved down to the pale hand that was resting lightly in both of his. His thumb traced the man’s knuckles, circling a dark freckle on the side of his ring finger and another on his wrist. He lifted the hand, brushing his lips across the small black dots, wishing he could do the same to the twin moles above Kiyoomi’s eyebrow.
Ever so slowly, he set Kiyoomi’s hand down and stood. Atsumu closed the blinds so that the light wouldn’t bother the other man, then moved into the kitchen to start the coffee maker.
He was pouring himself a mug of coffee when he felt a breath on the back of his ear, a low voice making him jump slightly.
“Hope you made enough for me, too,” the voice grumbled. Kiyoomi’s hands rested on the counter on either side of Atsumu’s hips, his chest just a hair’s breadth from the blond’s back.
“Y-yeah!” Atsumu stammered. “O’ course I did! I’m a good host!”
“Does a good host fall asleep on top of their guests?” His voice was still drowsy and groggy, though there was a hint of unfiltered humor that made Atsumu huff out a small, breathy laugh.
“Ya shoulda woke me up, Omi!” Atsumu reached up to pull another mug from the cabinet and pour some coffee into it.
“Hm… maybe.” He leaned forward to rest his chin on Atsumu’s shoulder and pointed at the small dish on the counter. He was warm against the blond’s back, warming his heart and making him blush again. “Cream and sugar for me.”
“Yeah, ya like a bunch o’ sugar but only a splash o’ milk, right?”
“That’s right,” Kiyoomi replied, trying to hide his surprise. Most people assumed he liked black coffee for some reason, but of course Atsumu had noticed. He was observant like that.
Atsumu took a step toward the refrigerator to retrieve the milk, smiling when Kiyoomi moved with him so that they didn’t have to separate. When he held out the mug so that Kiyoomi could take it, however, they finally pulled apart. They leaned against opposite counters and sipped at their coffee, glancing at one another.
On the one hand, Atsumu wanted to ask Kiyoomi what they were doing, how serious it was, how many more times they were going to make excuses to have sex. He was terrified of chasing the man away with such a cliche conversation, though. Kiyoomi had made it perfectly clear that he didn’t date, so asking him questions like that could make Atsumu seem clingy and desperate. It might make Kiyoomi decide that he wanted to stop.
The blond definitely didn’t want that. He was enjoying their… whatever this was.
Atsumu let out a small huff.
Adorable. Kiyoomi groaned internally at himself. He couldn’t let himself get too emotional about it. Atsumu was well-known for his rapid-fire dating life and myriad of partners.
He knew that it was possible that Atsumu could want to stop at any moment. It was probably lucky that the man had accepted him this long without getting bored and moving on to someone new, someone more like him. So he was going to work hard to make sure that the blond kept him around, kept wanting him, kept sending those not-so-subtle, fond glances his way.
“‘Re ya staying fer breakfast?”
After a moment of consideration, Kiyoomi gave a nod and moved toward the refrigerator, rummaging through it.
“Sure, as long as you let me help cook this time. I can make eggs.”
~~~~~
Kiyoomi shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, tugging at the tie around his neck. He was trying unsuccessfully to pay attention to the women who were chattering in his ear, but the most interesting thing about them was the expensive gowns they were wearing. He nodded along to give them the sense he was listening, then glanced around the small banquet hall that had been rented for the event.
The Black Jackals were scattered around the room, all wearing the same fine black suits, gold button-down shirts, and black ties. They were all doing their best to entertain the guests — wealthy sponsors and fans who had paid for the opportunity to mingle with the team.
Most of the team members were so outgoing that they had no trouble charming the guests. Hinata and Bokuto were obvious favorites, though Coach Foster was trying to make sure that all of the team members were kept busy.
Kiyoomi suppressed a sigh. He hated crowds and parties, but the event had been deemed unavoidably mandatory. If only his anxiety wasn't through the roof.
Unfortunately, people continued to approach him, invading his personal space and asking rude questions. Several women tried to flirt with him, even going so far as to reach out to touch his arm or hand. The contact made him itch, even through his clothing and gloves.
Just when he felt like he might snap, he felt the soft brush of fingertips on his back. This touch was different, though — it was familiar, comforting, and warm. The touch moved higher and Atsumu draped his arm around Kiyoomi’s shoulders, sliding between the taller man and the women who had been bothering him.
“Hey, Omi! Just the guy we need! I was gettin’ some questions ‘bout stats an’ yer way better at rememberin’ all the numbers.”
“Of course, Miya.” Kiyoomi’s response was only a half-second late and softer than any of their teammates would have expected, but none of them were around to comment. He quickly delved into the lists of numerical stats that he’d memorized for each of the Black Jackals, pausing to compare some when one of the guests had a question.
Whenever anxiety made his breathing quicken and his heart race, he felt Atsumu's fingertips brush his back. A few times, the blond subtly pressed his hip against Kiyoomi's. Luckily, it would appear to anyone else like part of the man's usual expressive movements.
Kiyoomi appreciated the support, touched when he realized that Atsumu had no intention of moving away. A different sort of unease started building in his mind, however.
Any time one of the women tried to get Kiyoomi’s attention or attempted to flirt, Atsumu deftly intercepted them and flirted with them instead. Despite how relieved and grateful he was, Kiyoomi found himself sipping at his champagne more often, trying to wash down the cold claws of jealousy that were climbing up his throat.
He should be flirting with me. The thought was dark and low, rumbling through his head like thunder. He did a quick scan of the room, then interrupted Atsumu in the middle of describing how beach volleyball was different from regular volleyball to a man who had clearly never played either.
“I’m deeply sorry, I must drag Miya away for a quick, private exchange. Team business. You understand?” He knew that it was abrupt, but the high society people would be quickly distracted by other players. The guests nodded and Kiyoomi smiled graciously at them through his mask. “I promise to return him to you shortly.”
Atsumu was still blinking in confusion as Kiyoomi dragged him as calmly as possible toward the nearest exit, pausing to glance down the hallway before pulling him quickly into the bathroom and locking the door.
“Omi, what’re ya—”
“Shut up!” Kiyoomi grabbed him by his tie and pulled him into a kiss. Atsumu didn’t argue, instead responding by resting his hands lightly on the taller man’s shoulders. When they paused to gasp for breath, the blond raised an eyebrow.
“Gonna explain yerself, Omi?” he asked.
“Those women were getting on my nerves.”
“Oh, yeah! They’re really tryin’ ta get with ya, aren’t they?” Atsumu chuckled.
“No, that’s not why.”
“Whadda ya… Oh!” The laugh died down and his eyes got wider as he realized what Kiyoomi meant, then he grinned. “Ya got jealous that I was flirtin’ with ‘em?”
Kiyoomi just grumbled, pressing against him and kissing him again.
“Ain’t we gonna get caught?”
“The rest of the team is in the banquet hall. If we hurry…” Kiyoomi trailed off, fiddling with Atsumu’s tie and giving a small huff. “The way they were looking at you was just…”
“Don’t worry, princess,” Atsumu told him in a low, rumbling voice as he nuzzled under the man’s sharp jawline. “I only got eyes fer ya anyway.”
Kiyoomi moaned softly, grabbing Atsumu’s belt to pull him closer and grind their hips together. That thought was intoxicating — that he was the center of Atsumu’s attention, consuming his focus despite the myriad of beautiful things around him. To have those golden eyes trained on him, it made Kiyoomi dizzy with excitement.
He fumbled with their belts and pants while Atsumu continued to nuzzle him and kiss at every inch of skin that he could reach. The waistbands were pushed down just enough to free their cocks.
Kiyoomi’s long fingers wrapped around both of them, his eager strokes creating a delicious friction that had them panting. His other hand slipped under Atsumu’s button-down shirt, sliding it up so that he could tweak the pink nipples beneath it.
“Ah— Fuck, ya drive me crazy,” Atsumu grunted. He pushed his own hands underneath Kiyoomi’s shirt, sliding them up his sides and trying to pull their bodies even closer to one another.
“Kiss me,” Kiyoomi whined.
Their lips crashed together clumsily, both of them rushed and desperate, not to mention distracted by the pleasure of their cocks being pressed together and stroked rapidly by Kiyoomi’s skilled hand. He squeezed them tighter, twisting his wrist.
Need more! Kiyoomi thought frantically. He tore away from the kiss and dropped to his knees, mouthing at Atsumu’s leaking cock as saliva pooled on his tongue.
The blond groaned, leaning his head back against the door. When Kiyoomi took the short, thick cock into his mouth, Atsumu's head snapped up. He threaded his fingers roughly through Kiyoomi’s midnight curls.
The wing spiker’s pupils were blown wide with lust, moaning at the sting in his scalp. He looked up at Atsumu through his lashes, wordlessly begging for more.
“Omi…” Atsumu moaned, gritting his teeth as he slowly pushed into Kiyoomi’s small mouth and the man started bobbing his head. “Yer gonna be the death o’ me.”
After an experimental thrust elicited a soft moan from the dark-haired man, Atsumu used his grip on the dark locks to hold his head while he fucked into his mouth.
“So fuckin’ wet an’ hot, baby,” the blond grunted. “Ah— Takin’ me so well— Holy shit!”
Kiyoomi reached down to stroke his own cock while he hollowed his cheeks and sucked hard. His other hand slid up the backside of Atsumu’s thigh to grab a handful of his ass, squeezing it and trying to pull him closer.
“Omi, wait! ‘M close!” Atsumu hissed, sounding worried. Kiyoomi looked up at him and furrowed his brow, shoving himself forward until his nose was pressed against the smooth, tanned abdomen. He swallowed around the cock that filled his mouth, thick and heavy, and a victorious thrill ran through him when he felt thick ropes of cum shoot down his throat. He stroked himself faster, moaning as he caught his own release in his hand.
Atsumu gently pulled his softening cock out of Kiyoomi’s mouth, whispering praise. Kiyoomi sighed, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Atsumu’s muscular thigh.
“We should get back before people notice that we’re gone,” he murmured, forcing himself to pull away from Atsumu. As he stood, he caught the blond staring at him for a moment before his expression changed to a smirk.
“Whatta place ta start a rumor, eh?” Atsumu joked.
A few minutes later, the two of them were cleaned up, redressed, and back in the venue with the guests. Aside from a curious look from Foster, no one seemed to have noticed their short absence.
Any fears that Kiyoomi had about facing the remainder of the event alone were quickly swept away. Atsumu didn’t leave his side for the rest of the night.
~~~~~
The next week was busy, packed with so much practice that the team barely had the energy to joke around in the locker room each evening. Kiyoomi and Atsumu bantered as usual, if not more so. They seemed to be more in sync when on the court, despite the jabs they sent each other’s way whenever they had the chance.
They refrained from messaging each other, though, partly due to exhaustion and partly to see who would give in to their desires first. Everything always had to be a competition.
The day before their next game, practice ended early so that they could rest and prepare. Kiyoomi could practically feel Atsumu’s eyes burning holes through the metal lockers and into the back of his head, so obvious was the excitement emanating from him. He sighed, just hoping that no one else would notice the blond’s behavior. He’d hardly gotten into his car and pulled off his mask when he received a text message, smirking as he typed out a reply.
The Annoying Miya:
> any plans for the night?
Kiyoomi:
Eager, aren’t we? <
Does this mean I win our little stand-off? <
The Annoying Miya:
> hey! everyone’s been tired ok
> do u wanna come over or not?
Kiyoomi:
Are you walking? I’ll probably beat you there. <
Kiyoomi considered for a moment, then sent another message.
Kiyoomi:
You can ride with me. <
The Annoying Miya:
> 0.o u feelin ok Omi?
> u never let anyone in ur car
Kiyoomi:
I’ll let you walk, if you prefer. <
The Annoying Miya:
> WAIT
> be there in a sec
Less than a minute later, Atsumu was settling into the passenger seat of the sleek black vehicle, looking around with awe while Kiyoomi checked to see if any of their teammates were nearby to witness them leaving together. Luckily, the parking lot was still empty.
“Is this brand new?” Atsumu asked.
“No, I just take care of it and keep it clean.” He pulled on his driving gloves and drove smoothly out of the parking space. “Put your seatbelt on.”
Just as Atsumu clicked the seatbelt into place, Kiyoomi pulled onto the road and the blond was suddenly very grateful for the safety reminder. He gripped the door handle as the car swerved through lanes of traffic, Kiyoomi fearlessly slipping into spaces that looked altogether too small and cutting people off without a backward glance.
“Maybe I will walk next time,” Atsumu mumbled to himself.
When they finally arrived at the small underground parking lot for his apartment building, Atsumu sighed in relief, then led the way to the elevator.
“Of all the things fer ya to be shit at, I didn’t expect drivin’ ta be one of ‘em,” he chuckled.
“I’m not a bad driver, I’m just an aggressive one.”
“Sure, sure, Omi. An’ I’m a natural blond!”
“I can’t imagine that your driving would be any better.”
“I like walkin’ everywhere!” Atsumu protested. “It forces me ta slow down a bit an’ if it’s too far, I can use the subway.”
“Ah, so you are a bad driver, but you don’t want to admit it,” Kiyoomi said as they reached Atsumu’s apartment. The blond huffed as he unlocked the door and stepped inside, kicking his shoes off before dropping his bag by the kitchen table.
“Remind me why I invited ya over ‘gain,” he muttered. Firm hands gripped his shoulders and spun him around, pulling him close before he had time to regain his balance. He found himself clutching the front of Kiyoomi’s shirt as their mouths crashed together, then he was lost in the feeling of being consumed in the best way.
Kiyoomi’s fingers slid up the back of his skull to tangle in his hair just like the morning when he’d woken in the man’s lap. With a sharp tug, Kiyoomi pulled his head back and broke away from him mid-kiss.
“Isn’t this why?” he asked, biting his way down Atsumu’s neck and making him groan.
“Mighta been,” he mumbled in response. “Maybe I just wanted ta tease ya.”
“You think you can tease me?” Kiyoomi laughed. “Your self-control is significantly worse than mine.”
“Not when ya get all aggressive an’ stuff,” Atsumu said, grinning.
“Complaining again?”
“Didn’t say I didn’t like it.”
“Good to know.” Kiyoomi suddenly slipped his hands under Atsumu’s ass and lifted him, just as he himself had been lifted the previous time he’d been in the man’s apartment. He took a few steps and dropped the blond so that he was laying on the couch, a startled grunt knocked from him on the impact.
“If ya wanted to get rough, ya coulda just said so, Omi,” Atsumu said. “I already told ya my safe word. What’s yers?”
“Sassafras.”
“Weird. Mine’s banana, in case ya don’t remember.” Kiyoomi didn’t tell him that he did, indeed, remember, just raising an eyebrow as the blond kept talking. “It’s ‘cause an ex told me once that it can be understood in pretty much any situation, even through a gag ‘r whatever. I guess ‘sassafras’ is kinda like that, huh?”
“Don’t you ever shut up?” Kiyoomi leaned over him, hand circling his throat carefully. He remembered how it had affected the setter before.
It hardly cut off his air, more so providing a firm pressure that got Atsumu’s heart racing. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to move, even if he really wanted to.
“Why don’tcha make me?” Atsumu responded breathlessly, smirking despite the blush that colored his cheeks.
“Haven’t you learned this by now?” Kiyoomi growled, biting down at the spot where Atsumu’s neck met his shoulder and making the blond moan. “That I don’t back down from a challenge?”
Kiyoomi pulled Atsumu’s shirt over his head, his hands and mouth traveling over every inch of skin that he could reach. He tweaked the man’s nipples, traced the outlines of his muscles, then pushed his arms up over his head and pinned them against the armrest of the couch. The long fingers of one hand wrapped around both of his wrists.
“Feisty, Omi. Ya wanna move ta the bedroom ‘r fuck right here?”
“How are you still talking?”
“I don’t wanna make it too easy fer ya,” Atsumu grunted.
“Maybe I’ll just gag you.”
“Kinky.” He could tell that Atsumu was trying to joke, but he felt the man shiver beneath him as he laughed shakily.
“Oh? Seems like you might enjoy that.” Kiyoomi reached his free hand up, sticking two long fingers into Atsumu’s mouth and pressing down on his tongue while his thumb pushed into the bottom of his jaw. The blond let out a low moan. “Does it excite you? Being forced to keep quiet, for once? Not being able to speak until I let you?”
The low moan turned to a loud groan, brown eyes looking up at Kiyoomi with a mixture of longing, adoration, and excitement that had his own desire rising within him and making his pants feel tighter.
“You seem to like dirty talk, too. I’ll keep that in mind, pumpkin.” He held Atsumu where he was as he looked around thoughtfully. “You wouldn’t happen to own a gag, would you?”
“No,” the blond said raggedly when the other man released his mouth. When Kiyoomi looked around again and furrowed his brow, Atsumu couldn’t help a small whine from slipping out as he shifted his hips. Kiyoomi smirked, hovering over him so that the blond couldn’t reach him to gain relief for the growing bulge in his pants.
“Eager, aren’t we?” Kiyoomi asked, sticking his fingers back in Atsumu’s mouth and grabbing his jaw like before. He leaned close and whispered in his ear. “You just wanted part of me in your mouth again, didn’t you?”
Atsumu groaned again, nodding.
Kiyoomi shifted on the couch so that he was sitting up with his legs spread wide. Instead of pulling Atsumu onto his lap, as he had before, he released him completely and pushed him down so that he was kneeling between his feet.
“Remember when you said you could choke on something if I let you?” Kiyoomi asked with a grin, undoing his belt and unbuttoning his pants. He pulled up his shirt, then leaned back against the cushions and gave a pointed look. When Atsumu reached for the zipper, Kiyoomi slapped his hands away and gave a curt command. “Mouth only.”
Atsumu leaned forward, clumsily grasping at the zipper with his teeth, feeling his lips and chin brushing against the bulge beneath it. After a moment of fumbling, he managed to pull the waistband of Kiyoomi’s boxers down as well, gasping slightly when the man’s cock sprang up.
He glanced up to see Kiyoomi watching him with a blank, indiscernible look that sent a shiver down his spine. He turned his attention back to the task before him and licked his lips, hoping that he could measure up to whatever expectations the pale beauty had for him.
When Atsumu’s hot, wet tongue slid up his cock, it took everything in Kiyoomi to keep himself from bending the man over and fucking him immediately. Atsumu repeated the motion a few times and Kiyoomi thought he’d gained some control, but then warm lips closed around him and he groaned.
“Fuck, Atsumu,” he grunted, moaning as the blond’s head bobbed steadily, tongue curling and flicking and pressing just right. Kiyoomi reached out to grasp at his hair, trying to drag him closer each time. “Who knew you would look so good with my cock in your mouth?”
He was practically thrusting into Atsumu’s mouth when he felt the tip hit the back of the man’s throat, then felt him expertly take it even deeper.
Kiyoomi’s control snapped.
He pulled Atsumu off of him, then lifted him as he stood. When their clothes were on the floor, Kiyoomi leaned over Atsumu, one hand wrapped around the back of his neck to bend him over the back of the couch.
“Just how rough can I get with you?” he murmured, teeth tugging at Atsumu's ear. He pushed two fingers into the blond’s mouth again, making him groan. “Suck some more.”
Atsumu did as he was told, sucking on the man’s fingers and sliding his tongue between them. After a minute, Kiyoomi pulled them free, nibbling on the blond’s ear again as he pushed one of them into his ass. The second soon followed, pumping in and out. Atsumu panted and moaned with each slick slide of the man’s fingers.
“You sound filthy, moaning for me like that.” He pulled his fingers free and quickly rolled on a condom, pressing into Atsumu with an urgency that had them both gasping. Kiyoomi held himself still for a moment. He slowly pulled out, then snapped his hips forward in one fluid motion that had Atsumu crying out.
He kept snapping his hips in deliberate, deep thrusts, feeling each time Atsumu shouted and clenched around him. He leaned forward and slid one hand underneath the blond, wrapping it around his cock and rubbing it in time with his thrusts and driving even more desperate noises from his throat. The clean hand found its way to Atsumu’s mouth, fingers slipping into it once more to muffle his moans and pull his face to one side. Kiyoomi could see tears brimming in his eyes, pupils wide and full of the pleasure that was overwhelming him.
“Do you let anyone else wreck you like this?” Kiyoomi asked him. Atsumu could barely shake his head in response, making a low noise in the back of his throat that had Kiyoomi thrusting even harder, more frantically. They panted rapidly, groaning as the white-hot pleasure burned through them and they came together.
Before Atsumu could collapse on the couch, Kiyoomi scooped him up and carried him into the bathroom, ignoring his quiet noises of protests. He stepped into the shower, turning on the water and then setting Atsumu down under the hot stream.
The blond winced as he leaned against the tile wall, sending a pang through Kiyoomi’s chest. He gently washed Atsumu with his bright pink loofah, washing himself quickly as well. When they were dry and dressed in more of Atsumu’s seemingly-endless supply of soft sweatpants and goofy t-shirts, they reclined on the couch to watch a movie.
I’m surprised he hasn’t left yet, Atsumu thought, cheek resting on Kiyoomi’s chest. His hand lay beside his face, the other man’s heartbeat steady and comforting beneath his tanned fingertips.
Kiyoomi himself was wondering why he’d chosen to stay rather than retreat to his own apartment. Perhaps it was because neither of them had spoken yet. Something felt unfinished.
“Did I hurt you?” The question was so quiet, so sudden, that it took Atsumu a moment to realize that it came from Kiyoomi rather than the television. He lifted his head to look up at him incredulously.
“What? ‘Course not!” Atsumu assured him. “Might be a bit sore, but I don’t plan on sittin’ much tomorrow anyway.”
“I thought I might have gone too hard,” Kiyoomi mumbled.
“Hey now, I’m tougher than that, Omi!” Atsumu grinned. “It was great! If it was too much, I’dda used my safe word, alright? Don’t worry so much.”
Kiyoomi didn’t look completely convinced, but he didn’t argue either. He only used the arm that was already wrapped around Atsumu’s shoulders to pull the man closer, trying to remind himself that getting too attached would be foolish and detrimental… despite how easy it was turning out to be.
~~~~~
“I don’t get why you care.”
“I dunno, I’m just wonderin’.” Atsumu shrugged, trying to act nonchalant even though he was bursting with curiosity. He’d been trying to figure out how to ask about the asshole that he’d met back when they first started sleeping together.
Sleeping together. Atsumu didn’t know what else to call it. Fuck buddies? Friends with benefits? It didn’t really matter, since neither of them seemed willing to broach the subject of labels and identify whatever was going on between them.
Kiyoomi sighed, rubbing his face and looking up at Atsumu with a suspicious glare. Atsumu tried to suppress a smile. It was hard to take the dark-haired man seriously when he was laying stretched out on the couch with his head on Atsumu’s lap. He hadn’t even protested when Atsumu started carefully trailing his fingers through the midnight curls.
“How do I know you’re not just trying to collect blackmail material?”
“Omi, I can’t believe ya’d think that!” Atsumu widened his eyes and put one hand to his chest in an over-dramatic expression of shock. He let his hand fall onto Kiyoomi’s chest and rolled his eyes. “I figured ya knew by now: anythin’ that happens when we’re…”
He waved his hand between the two of them. Kiyoomi raised an eyebrow.
“Spending time together?”
“Yeah, whenever we’re spendin’ time together, anythin’ we say ‘r do ‘s in confidence.”
Kiyoomi seemed surprised and thoughtful, face softening as he considered Atsumu’s words. Atsumu remained quiet, watching him and wondering how someone could look so beautiful without even trying. The sharp jawline and small, straight nose with delicate lips between them. Dark, expressive eyes with long lashes and that pair of perfect moles above his right eyebrow.
“Ya don’t gotta tell me if ya don’t wanna,” Atsumu told him.
“It’s just… Not a big deal.” Kiyoomi finally said, voice low, turning his head to look away from Atsumu, pretending to watch the sitcom that was playing quietly in the background.
“Alright.” Atsumu went back to running his fingers through Kiyoomi’s hair, careful not to mess up his curls. He scratched his short nails across the man’s scalp, causing him to let out a happy little sigh.
“We met in college,” he said softly after a few minutes, still not meeting Atsumu’s gaze. “Some class about financial management or something. Akui and I were paired up for a presentation. He was a couple years older than me and I had a crush on him, so I was thrilled to spend time alone with him. Afterward, he asked me out to dinner to celebrate our good grade on the project. He charmed me, he got me to lower my defenses, and he kissed me.”
Atsumu made small noises as he listened, trying not to show his displeasure at the thought of that asshole anywhere near Kiyoomi.
“We dated for a while. Looking back, I can see that it was… Akui isn’t… We weren’t right for each other. I wanted too much from him and he was too controlling. He had a temper and I never did anything well enough to make him happy. Every time we came close to breaking up, though, he’d turn so sweet and… I couldn’t seem to leave him.”
He took a shaky breath and Atsumu reached down to squeeze his shoulder comfortingly.
“When the volleyball season started up again, Akui didn’t like it. I’d mentioned playing in high school and college, but… I don’t know, I guess he thought I was done. He told me to quit, to focus on my career more. When I told him that I wanted to play professionally, he blew up at me. I was younger and less sure of myself and it scared me.”
He could feel Kiyoomi tremble a little at the memory, making his blood boil. Atsumu swallowed thickly, trying to keep his breathing steady and his hands gentle, despite how he was starting to wish that he could find Akui and wring his neck.
“He left me, after making me feel like I was worthless and like I wouldn’t amount to anything. I was horribly depressed and would have failed my classes and dropped out of college if not for my cousin.”
“Omi…” Atsumu murmured. No wonder Kiyoomi didn’t want to date. An experience like that was sure to have lasting effects.
“It doesn’t matter now, though,” Kiyoomi said brusquely, taking a deep breath and shaking his head roughly, as if it would knock the bad memories from his head. “I graduated and made it onto one of the best professional teams in the country and I’m happy, so screw that guy.”
Atsumu couldn’t help the way his lips curled up at that.
“Yer happy, huh?”
Kiyoomi turned to look back up at Atsumu with a strange look. He lifted his hand, fingertips ghosting over the surface of Atsumu’s upper arm.
“Yes, I am,” he replied.
~~~~~
A couple weeks later, another away game loomed on the horizon.
"What're we gonna do?" Atsumu fretted, waving an arm. "Last time we lost so bad!"
"We've been practicing plenty and this team isn't ranked as high as the last one," Kiyoomi replied from where he was lying beside him. Atsumu sat up and narrowed his eyes.
"Why're ya so calm, Omi?"
"I'm just tired. Fucking you can be exhausting work."
Atsumu snorted.
"Next time'll be my turn on top so that ya get a break, then, princess."
"What did you just call me?" Kiyoomi rolled over, tackling Atsumu and pinning him down.
"What? After havin' ya call me pumpkin, it's only fair that ya get ta have a dumb pet name, too!"
"So you decided on 'princess'?"
"Seemed fitting," Atsumu replied with a grin, sticking his tongue out. After a moment, he shook his head. "Wait, ya distracted me!"
"It's so hard to do," Kiyoomi said sarcastically.
"Aren't ya nervous ‘bout the game, Omi?"
"Not at all."
A few days later, when they climbed off the bus and Meian announced the hotel room assignments, Atsumu grinned. He wasn't sure how, but he figured Kiyoomi had worked some magic to get the two of them paired up.
"Are you gonna be alright with Omi-san?" Hinata asked worriedly. He was glancing at the taller man, who seemed to be glaring from behind his mask.
"Don't worry Shouyou-kun, it'll be fun ta see how much I can bug him," the blond laughed.
"You already do that enough," Kiyoomi grunted.
"Yeah, but now you'll be stuck with me 'til morning!"
"Maybe I'll just lock you in the closet."
"If it's big enough fer these guns," Atsumu retorted, flexing his arms and puffing his chest.
"Your head is what I'm concerned about."
"Hey!"
"Alright, everyone, there's a gym on the first floor, but don't work yourselves too hard. Make sure to get some rest before tomorrow," Meian called, interrupting the banter and handing out room keys. He eyed Kiyoomi and Atsumu. "Get along."
"Will do, captain!" Atsumu saluted dramatically and marched to the elevator, followed by a glaring Kiyoomi.
"If he kicks you out, you can sleep in the room with me and Shouyou!" Bokuto offered, draping an arm around Hinata's shoulders.
"I'll keep it in mind, but I think I can handle him," Atsumu stage whispered, grinning at how Kiyoomi rolled his eyes.
He waved to Hinata and Bokuto as they parted ways and stepped into separate rooms. As soon as the door closed behind them, Kiyoomi was pushing Atsumu against the wall, shoving his tongue down his throat.
“You think you can handle me?” Kiyoomi growled.
Atsumu grinned, one hand sliding into the small of the taller man’s back while the other found its way to the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in the short hair at the back of his head. He pulled Kiyoomi in for a deep kiss, nipping at his bottom lip and pushing his tongue inside when he gasped.
He hummed, maneuvering Kiyoomi backwards until they were at the foot of one of the beds. Atsumu pulled away from the taller man, easily lifting him and tossing him backward onto the bed.
“Yeah,” Atsumu said with a smirk. “I think I can.”
He pulled off Kiyoomi’s pants and boxers, as well as his own shirt, then crawled onto his belly between the man’s bare legs. He peppered kisses up the sensitive skin of his inner thighs, fingers gripping the soft flesh as he pushed Kiyoomi’s knees up toward his chest.
Atsumu smiled at how strained Kiyoomi’s breathing was, his cock laying heavy and swollen on his abdomen. His hands were grasping the bedspread, eyes locked on Atsumu’s face as his lips travelled across his skin.
“‘S funny how ya talk all big, but get flustered so easy the moment I get a li’l dominant with ya,” Atsumu mumbled.
He sucked a bruise high on the inside of Kiyoomi’s thigh, watching him arch his back and groan. Moving lower, Atsumu paused to gather saliva on his tongue, then slowly swirled it around Kiyoomi’s puckered hole. He pushed the tip of his tongue inside and felt Kiyoomi’s hips buck, tightening his grip to hold him down as he pushed deeper. It was sloppy and wet and hot, driving Kiyoomi mad.
“Atsumu, please,” he whined.
Atsumu sat up, chin shiny with his own saliva. He dragged his fingers across his face, sticking them in his mouth and sucking on them loudly. When he pulled them out, a string of spit stretched between his fingertip and his lip, hypnotizing Kiyoomi until it snapped and he whined again.
“C’mon, princess…” Atsumu slid one finger into his ass, holding his hip with the other hand. “I told ya I can handle ya.”
He slapped Kiyoomi’s hand away when it reached for the reddening, painfully-hard cock that hadn’t gotten any attention yet.
“I said I’m gonna handle ya,” the blond growled, slipping a second finger inside. “I’m gonna take care o’ ya an’ make ya scream an’ make sure ya never question whether ‘r not I can handle ya ever ‘gain.”
He pushed a third finger inside, enjoying the way it made Kiyoomi writhe as he pumped them and curled them to press on his prostate just right. With his free hand, he undid his pants and reached over to dig through his bag for a condom.
“I like a challenge, too, princess.”
Atsumu pulled his fingers out, pausing for a moment to watch Kiyoomi’s hole flutter. He quickly pushed into it, filling it and moaning loudly at the tight heat that overwhelmed every thought in his mind. His hands found their way to Kiyoomi’s narrow waist, pulling him closer with each thrust.
In a sudden burst of inspiration, Atsumu pulled Kiyoomi up so that he was sitting on his lap, then twisted around so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed. Kiyoomi’s legs were wrapped around his waist, arms around his neck.
Atsumu gripped his firm, round ass, using the leverage to move him up and down and forward and back in such a way that they were grinding against one another in a sort of wanton dance of panting bodies, somehow finding a rhythm together amid the music of their moans. Kiyoomi tossed his head back, his cock caught between the close press of their bodies and the skin of his throat caught between Atsumu’s teeth. The song that they made together reached its climax, as did they, coming together as if it had been planned.
After quick showers, they reclined on the clean bed together, slow fingers trailing over warm skin.
“I think we’ll win tomorrow,” Kiyoomi whispered, as if unwilling to completely break the hush that had settled over them.
Atsumu turned his head to smile at him.
“I think yer right.”
~~~~~
To celebrate their victory, the entire team decided to spend the night out in the unfamiliar city, exploring and stopping to drink at their fancy. In one of the bars, Atsumu was sitting with Meian and Bokuto, listening to them discuss the opposing team’s blockers with the occasional comment from his setter’s perspective.
A light hand on his shoulder had him tipping his head back to look at Kiyoomi, standing behind his seat. He gave a small, dopey smile, already tipsy from a few drinks.
“Wassup, Omi?” he asked.
“Do any of you need a refill? Hinata and I are making a trip to the bar.” Kiyoomi jabbed his thumb over his shoulder at the bartender. Meian and Bokuto both asked for beer, simple and easy, though both men seemed preoccupied.
“Surprise me,” Atsumu told him, earning him a curious look from the taller man before he nodded and moved to join Hinata, who was already shouting for several beers for some of the other players.
As they resumed their conversation, Atsumu found his gaze returning to Kiyoomi’s back every few seconds. He must have had a few drinks as well, since he seemed more relaxed in the crowded space. He even leaned his elbows on the bar beside Hinata, listening intently to the smaller man chatter away.
Bokuto managed to finally drag Atsumu’s attention back to the conversation with a question about one of the plays that the other setter had attempted during their match. He was in the middle of explaining it when Hinata appeared beside them, face flushed and eyes wide.
“Omi-san’s in trouble!” he cried, sending panic through Atsumu like an electric shock.
The setter was on his feet and racing toward the bar before Hinata had a chance to give any more details. His eyes immediately sought out the spiker, narrowing when they found Kiyoomi surrounded by three burly men. Atsumu couldn’t see their faces, but he could tell by the low set of Kiyoomi’s brows and the stiffness of his back and shoulders that they weren’t just being friendly. As he got closer, he could hear what they were saying to him.
“—and those bendy moves earned the win, so it’s your fault I lost that money.”
“Maybe we should just scrape that disrespectful glare off his face instead,” the biggest one grumbled, reaching toward Kiyoomi’s face.
It wasn’t until he felt bones breaking beneath his knuckles that Atsumu realized he was punching the closest man in the nose. He stepped between the men and Kiyoomi, lip curled up in a snarl and fist already flying toward another surprised face when two strong arms wrapped around him and pulled him backward.
One arm was over Atsumu’s shoulder, crossing his chest, with the hand fisted in the material of his shirt. The other was wound around his arm, slender fingers grasping his wrist and preventing his attack. He struggled against them, but was yanked back against a firm chest while Meian, Bokuto, Adriah, and Barnes stepped in front of him.
“Atsumu, your hand! Stop!”
Atsumu relaxed when he recognized the voice, belatedly recognizing the hands that were holding him. He let Kiyoomi drag him outside while the others dealt with the antagonists. When the cool night air hit their faces, Kiyoomi finally released him and tore off his mask. The adrenaline was fading from Atsumu’s system, allowing him to feel the sting of his bloody knuckles.
“Ouch,” he muttered with a grimace.
“Why did you do that, you idiot?” Kiyoomi hissed, pulling Atsumu’s shoulders so that he turned to face the taller man. He took the injured hand in both of his, examining it as he blabbered worriedly. “You’re so obsessive about your hands and then you go attack some pigheaded asshole for no reason! What if you broke a bone? We have to take you to the hospital!”
“Wasn’t gonna let ‘im touch ya,” Atsumu grunted quietly, shrugging and flexing his hand. He tried to tell himself that he would have done it for any of his spikers — any of his friends. There was no deeper meaning to his actions, nor the speed with which he leapt to Kiyoomi’s defense. None at all.
Kiyoomi stared at him, mouth hanging open in a tiny “o” as he struggled with a response.
Fortunately, he was saved by the rest of the team emerging from the bar in a chaotic mob, sweeping Atsumu into a whirlwind of worry and care. Kiyoomi took a step closer to the blond, unwilling to be pushed to the outskirts for once. He stuck close to Atsumu’s side all the way to the hospital and back to the hotel, ignoring the confused glances that were sent his way as he ushered the setter into their room.
“I told ya ‘m fine!” Atsumu protested as Kiyoomi fussed over him. His exhaustion was obvious, though, when he yawned and allowed Kiyoomi to coax him into his bed. As his eyes drooped closed, he patted Kiyoomi’s arm with his bandaged hand. “I’d kick anyone’s ass fer ya, Omi, even if it broke my hands ta pieces. I care ‘bout ya an’ ‘m just glad yer safe.”
Kiyoomi watched him drift off to sleep, quietly blinking at the hot, stinging sensation behind his eyes. How could Atsumu say things like that — do things like that — without a second thought?
He’d better be careful, or I might start to think that these feelings aren’t so one-sided.
~~~~~
Kiyoomi was driving across the city to Atsumu’s apartment on a day off, humming along to the radio. Usually, he would have spent the day completing chores that he hadn’t been able to do during the week, but he’d decided to blow them off in order to go see the setter. They’d made tentative plans, so Kiyoomi had decided to pick up some food and surprise him.
It took Atsumu longer than usual to answer the door, sending a spike of anxiety to rip through Kiyoomi. Was I wrong? Is he hanging out with someone else? Crap!
The door opened, Atsumu blinking at Kiyoomi for a moment before giving a small smile. “Sorry, Omi! I got all caught up in a movie an’ lost track o’ time.”
He grimaced a little when Kiyoomi stepped inside to take off his shoes, noticing the television that was definitely off. Atsumu quickly distracted him by exclaiming over the food and carrying it into the kitchen. Kiyoomi followed close behind.
Atsumu started when he turned and found Kiyoomi just inches away.
“How’re ya so quiet? Ya keep sneakin’ up on me!”
“I thought you were more observant than that.”
There was a flash in Atsumu’s eyes, too fast for Kiyoomi to truly comprehend, then the blond was looking away. Kiyoomi gently grasped his chin and lifted it so that he could capture Atsumu’s lips in a soft kiss. He made his way along Atsumu’s jaw and down his neck.
“Hey, Omi?”
Something in Atsumu’s tone made him pause, pulling back a bit. He tried to prepare himself, taking a deep breath and letting his hands rest on Atsumu’s waist. The blond wasn’t meeting his eyes, gaze dancing first one way then the other.
Is this it? Is he going to tell me that he doesn’t want to see me anymore? Has he found someone else who truly makes him happy? Kiyoomi shook his head, working to ignore the worries tumbling through his mind and focus on the man in front of him.
“Are you alright?”
“I, um…” Atsumu looked down at where their bodies were pressed against one another, hands resting on Kiyoomi’s forearms, where they grasped tightly at his sleeves to keep him from moving further away. That was a good sign, at least. “I’m not havin’ such a great day an’ I don’t really feel like sex today.”
“Do you want me to go?”
“No!” Atsumu said, perhaps a little too quickly and a little too loudly, gripping Kiyoomi's arms tighter and finally looking up at his face, though he quickly looked away again. It looked like he’d been crying. He seemed embarrassed, as if it was difficult to get the words out. “I mean, ya don’t hafta leave. Is it alright if we just hang out for a while? I just… I don't really wanna be alone either.”
Kiyoomi gazed at him. He knew how much Atsumu craved the approval of those around him, knew how much he hated to feel like he was disappointing anyone in any regard. He knew the effort it must have taken to ask for this. It made Kiyoomi feel warm inside because it meant that Atsumu trusted him that much.
Tread lightly. Answer carefully. Kiyoomi took another deep breath, another moment to think before he spoke.
“Of course, Atsu. I like spending time with you.” He tried to infuse his words with enough sincerity to communicate that he was really, truly alright with it. In his arms, he felt Atsumu relax.
“Yer sure, Omi? I know it’s not whatcha came over here ta do,” he reached up to run a hand roughly through his bleached hair.
“If I didn’t want to be here, I’d be walking out already.” Kiyoomi cocked his head. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Um… Not really,” Atsumu mumbled, reaching up to rub the back of his neck with one hand. He sighed, obviously frustrated.
After a moment’s consideration, Kiyoomi grabbed the food, then draped an arm around the other man’s shoulders and steered him toward the couch. He dropped the food and grabbed the remote as he plopped down, pulling Atsumu down with him as he reclined back. With a bit of shuffling, they settled in to choose a movie, Atsumu’s head resting on Kiyoomi’s chest and their arms were wrapped around each other.
“Feelin’ cuddly today, Omi?” Atsumu chuckled, but he snuggled closer and held the taller man tightly.
“Shut up and help pick a movie.”
In fact, Kiyoomi hadn’t cuddled with previous partners anywhere near as much as he did with Atsumu, but he’d realized how much the man needed physical affection. Small touches, like a brush of fingertips through his hair or along his lips or across his knuckles, could make him smile for hours. When they were alone, he seemed to always be reaching out to hold Kiyoomi’s hand or rest his fingertips against an arm or leg, sitting as close as possible or resting his head on the man’s shoulder, even sliding his foot up against Kiyoomi’s or letting his gaze linger longer than he meant it to.
Perhaps that was part of the problem. No one had ever been so eager to be close to him, no one had ever wanted him as much as Atsumu seemed to. Kiyoomi knew that his cold demeanor was off-putting to many, but Atsumu understood him. He could see through what most would call rude to laugh at his sarcastic and deadpan jokes, know when he was uncomfortable or excited, and almost read his mind on occasion.
Motoya had once accused Kiyoomi of being mean and detached on purpose, as a sort of test to see who actually cared. After long hours of mulling it over, he’d realized that his cousin had a point. It was like a defense mechanism.
Somehow, though, Atsumu had broken down his walls and invaded his heart so thoroughly that Kiyoomi was no longer sure that he would survive the inevitable end of their fling.
Although… An idea had been tickling at the back of his mind for quite some time, though he kept trying to push it away. He looked down at the man tangled around him and felt his heart swell. What if it doesn’t have to end?
As if he could hear Kiyoomi’s thoughts, Atsumu craned his neck to look up at him.
“What?”
“‘Re ya alright, Omi?”
“I’m fine. Why do you ask?”
“Yer heartbeat,” Atsumu answered, patting Kiyoomi’s chest where his head had been resting. “It sped up all o’ the sudden an’ I wanted ta make sure ya weren’t gettin’ anxious ‘r uncomfortable ‘r somethin’.”
“Oh.” Kiyoomi knew that he could use this moment, say something, explain the real reason his heart was racing. This was a perfect opportunity, with Atsumu watching him with those beautiful golden-brown eyes full of warmth and affection. He could drown in those eyes and die a happy man. “Actually…”
“D’ya want me ta move?” Atsumu started to sit up, but Kiyoomi quickly pulled him back down, wrapping his arms tightly around him.
“No!” Kiyoomi could feel his cheeks turning pink, but he didn’t loosen his grip. “I mean… I was going to say…”
The moment stretched longer. Kiyoomi felt like he was on a precipice, balancing on a razor’s edge and ready to fall.
No, I can’t. It was the slight hoarseness of Atsumu’s voice, the red puffiness around his tired eyes, the way he was trying to hide the slight tremble of exhaustion running through him. He’d said that he had a rough day. It wasn’t the right time to burden him with a confession and force him to deal with Kiyoomi’s emotions. Kiyoomi wanted to take care of Atsumu now. He could wait.
“I’m fine,” Kiyoomi told him with a smile that was as reassuring as he could manage. “I was just thinking about the match next week. We’re playing the Adlers, so it should be exciting.”
The pause that followed his lie was so long that Kiyoomi feared Atsumu would confront him and needle the truth free. His eyes searched Kiyoomi’s face, but eventually he just smiled.
“Yeah, should be a real awesome game. I’m excited ta play ‘gainst Tobio again.”
“Not as excited as Hinata.”
“That kid’s ridiculous!” Atsumu groaned, laughing. He seemed fully distracted from Kiyoomi’s near-confession, chattering about stats and possible strategies that had been discussed at recent practices.
As he listened to Atsumu go on about Hinata and their joint plans to impress Kageyama, he mulled over the idea that he’d almost blurted out.
Do I want a relationship? With Miya Atsumu?
~~~~~
“Alright, everyone settle in,” Meian said, kneeling to set up the movie that they’d chosen, fielding a few teasing remarks about being an old man with a DVD player. He waved them away and plopped into his usual seat on his large sectional couch, left open for him.
It was a team bonding night, made mandatory by the captain so that he could “make sure they weren’t being stupid” on the night before their match against the Adlers.
They’d had these gatherings before, sometimes with drinking and sometimes with board games or card games, though movie nights were common.
Kiyoomi liked to sit at one end of the couch, scrunched up against the armrest. Somehow, Atsumu had slipped into the small space beside him, making him roll his eyes. He didn’t tell the blond to move, though, even when Bokuto’s bulk nearly pushed him into Kiyoomi’s lap.
In the dark room, Kiyoomi let his hands wander, finding their way to Atsumu’s arm. He trailed his fingertips along the man’s skin, watching him glance at Kiyoomi from the corner of his eye. Kiyoomi smirked without turning to look directly at Atsumu, then tucked his hand beneath Atsumu’s arm so that he could draw slow, swirling patterns on his side and his hip.
He found the edge of Atsumu’s shirt, sliding his fingers beneath it and brushing the warm skin. The small gasp that escaped the blond’s lips was ignored by the rest of the team, but it made Kiyoomi huff out a quiet, breathy laugh.
Atsumu was struggling to remain still, especially since he wanted to just climb into Kiyoomi’s lap and let the man touch every inch of him. Perhaps it was the fact that he’d chosen a moment like this — with all of their teammates — where they could be caught. It was dangerous for their tenuous secret and exhilarating enough for his heart to beat faster and for his pants to start feeling uncomfortably restrictive.
Or perhaps it was the knowledge that the gentle drag of Kiyoomi’s skin against his own was a privilege that few had been blessed with. It set sparks flying just below the surface, burning trails of electric brightness like the afterglow of vibrant fireworks in skies nearly as dark as Kiyoomi’s curls.
When the movie finally ended and people began filtering out of Meian’s apartment, Atsumu sighed. Relief would come soon, in one form or another. The captain called out over the din, “Don’t do anythin’ stupid tonight! Get good sleep an’ be at the stadium two hours ‘fore game time!”
Atsumu leaned over to whisper in Kiyoomi’s ear as they slipped their shoes on and waved goodbye to their teammates, “Psst, wanna disobey captain’s orders?”
Kiyoomi’s eyes flashed with mischief, the corners of his mouth curling up before he could hide his expression behind his mask. He waited until they were in the hallway to answer, his response sending a crackle of excitement through Atsumu.
“My place is close. Let’s go there.”
“But ya’ve never let anyone see yer place!” Atsumu stammered, bouncing as he followed Kiyoomi down the street.
“I know.”
When they arrived, Atsumu couldn’t help fluttering around to examine the rooms and decor, asking questions and chattering about small details that he noticed. Kiyoomi saw how excited he was, but he also saw how the setter was careful not to touch anything with his bare hands, even going so far as to avoid stepping on the rug with his sweaty socks.
It made him suddenly eager, striding over to Atsumu with a purposeful set to his shoulders that caused the blond to stumble backward into a wall. A dark blush flooded across his cheeks and down his neck.
“W-what’re ya—Ah!” Atsumu’s words were cut off, morphing into a low groan when Kiyoomi grabbed him by the jaw and pulled him into a bruising kiss. Kiyoomi’s other hand followed the same path it had earlier in the night, twisting and curling before sliding under Atsumu’s t-shirt just as Kiyoomi’s tongue slid into his mouth.
Atsumu practically melted into him, warm and pliant under his touch.
Kiyoomi pulled away, hand moving from smooth jaw to palm at the blond’s stiff cock. He watched Atsumu’s head fall back against the wall, panting as his hips bucked forward seeking more friction.
“Omi…” Atsumu gasped. His pupils were blown wide with desire, staring at the taller man with such genuine want that Kiyoomi couldn’t help grinding his hips forward against Atsumu’s. The blond let out a moan, fisting his hands in Kiyoomi’s shirt and trying to pull him closer.
“I like seeing you all flustered and whiny like this,” Kiyoomi growled, nipping at his exposed throat. “You get all quiet. Each sound and breath and tremble feels more important somehow.”
With a few tugs, Atsumu’s clothes were tossed aside. He stood naked, lips parted and eyes focused so intently on Kiyoomi that it felt like they were the only people on the planet.
Kiyoomi dragged him into the bedroom, pushing him down on the bed and kissing him hungrily. His patience was gone. He wanted Atsumu now. It seemed that Atsumu felt the same way, whispering in his ear as he slid his lubed fingers roughly into his ass.
“Please, Omi,” he begged softly between moans. “Want ya— Ah, fuck— Inside me… Please! Been thinkin’ ‘bout ya— Nngh— All night…”
“I suppose I’ll give you what you want,” Kiyoomi murmured with a smirk, as if he wasn’t just as desperate. “You know how much I like hearing you beg for me. And you were so good at Meian’s place — I was sure you’d do something.”
Atsumu’s brow furrowed in confusion, trying hard to focus through the haze of pleasure. “Then why—”
Whatever he was about to ask was cut off by Kiyoomi pushing his knees up and plunging himself into Atsumu in one smooth thrust. His honey-brown eyes rolled back in his head and he grabbed frantically at the sheets beneath him as Kiyoomi set a ruthless pace, making sure to strike at the perfect angle to have Atsumu writhing.
“Omi, ‘m close already,” Atsumu slurred, his limbs shaking and his eyes closed tightly. His cock was swollen and red, twitching where it lay across his lower abdomen.
Kiyoomi had one hand on Atsumu’s hip and the other on the bed beside the blond’s shoulder. He leaned down and kissed Atsumu, biting the man’s bottom lip and tugging on it.
“Are you going to come untouched for me?” Kiyoomi asked in a low voice, watching how the words made Atsumu flush. He loved being able to have such an effect on the man.
Atsumu whined, “Jus’ fer ya. Please, Omi?”
Kiyoomi kissed him again, then sat up and pounded into him so that he was hitting Atsumu’s prostate with each thrust. Atsumu’s knuckles were white with how tightly he was grasping the sheets, holding himself back right at the edge.
“Come for me, pumpkin.”
With a cry, Atsumu let the pleasure wash over him, his release spreading across his abs in thick spurts. The visual, as well as the clench of Atsumu around him, had Kiyoomi following suit just moments later.
After pulling out and tossing the condom in the trash, Kiyoomi retrieved a warm washcloth to clean up the rest of their mess. He poked at Atsumu’s now-clean stomach, soft and relaxed. The setter squeaked and tried to squirm away.
“Stoppit, ‘m ticklish,” he grumbled.
“Oh, is that so?” Kiyoomi replied, grinning mischievously.
Atsumu’s eyes went wide. “Nope. Not ticklish at all. Who told ya that?”
There was a single second when he thought that Kiyoomi might show him mercy. Then the spiker pounced on him, strong fingers poking and prodding along Atsumu’s ribs, around his hip bones, and in his armpits. When he tickled the blond’s neck, Atsumu grabbed him by the waist and rolled them over, pinning Kiyoomi with his muscular thighs.
They were laughing so hard that they were both shaking against one another. Kiyoomi cupped Atsumu’s soft cheeks as if they were made to fit there and when his thumbs stroked his cheekbones, Atsumu felt warmth blooming in his chest. He couldn’t fathom that he was lucky enough to see this side of Kiyoomi — curls mussed and frizzy, pale skin flushed, laughing uproariously as he continued trying to tickle Atsumu from his new position.
Of course, the tables turned as soon as Atsumu’s fingertips tapped their way down Kiyoomi’s sides.
“Ah! Truce!” Kiyoomi all but shrieked.
“Say I win!” Atsumu crowed, continuing his assault. “Say it, Omi!”
“Fine, you win! Atsu, you win!”
Atsumu laughed, collapsing on the bed beside Kiyoomi. His arms remained around the taller man’s body, just as Kiyoomi’s settled around his shoulders.
“What’d I win?” Atsumu asked playfully, using one fingertip to trace tiny circles around each of the dark moles that were scattered across his perfect body. He grinned at Kiyoomi, who was tapping his chin thoughtfully.
“Cookies.”
“Cookies?” Atsumu repeated.
“Cookies,” Kiyoomi confirmed, standing and pulling on clean boxers and a loose t-shirt. He tossed some clean sweatpants at Atsumu, then walked out to the kitchen and started digging through the refrigerator. He smiled triumphantly when he saw that the blond had followed, wearing only the sweatpants he’d been given.
“Pre-made dough?” Atsumu asked with a chuckle.
Kiyoomi let his smile drop, rolling his eyes. “Fine, I guess you don’t want any. More for me, then.”
“Wait!” Atsumu shouted, still laughing. He wrapped his arms around Kiyoomi’s waist, peeking at the dough’s packaging over the taller man’s shoulder while he turned on the oven. “Omi, ‘re those snickerdoodles?”
“Yeah, you seemed to like them a lot,” Kiyoomi said with a shrug, refusing to meet the blond’s eyes.
“Aw, ya got ‘em just fer me?” Atsumu teased, nuzzling into the pale neck before him and planting soft kisses wherever he could reach.
Kiyoomi squirmed a little, nudging Atsumu with his elbow as he placed the dough on a baking sheet, dividing it into small balls. “Hush.”
It didn’t take long for the cookies to bake and soon the pair were cuddling on the couch, tangled around each other and nibbling on the hot treats.
It felt like a spell had settled around them, like they were in their own little bubble where nothing else mattered. They fed each other bits of cookie, letting their hands linger on one another like they didn’t want to part. They stole quick, playful kisses, nipping and smiling and pulling each other close.
When Kiyoomi led Atsumu to bed again, they slipped under the sheets and snuggled together, their kisses turning slow and languid in the moonlight.
Oh, I’m down bad fer him an’ he doesn’t even know it, Atsumu thought to himself, so completely absorbed in Kiyoomi’s ethereal beauty that he didn’t recognize the expression in the spiker’s eyes.
I have to tell him. Kiyoomi bit his lip, leaning into the gentle brush of Atsumu’s smooth hands on his cheeks. As his eyes drifted closed and sleep claimed him, he made a decision. He told himself firmly, I’m going to tell him that I like him.
~~~~~
Of course, Kiyoomi’s lack of planning and anxious fear of losing Atsumu seemed destined to bite him in the ass. Weeks passed without a confession, despite how his heart raced with every glance, every word, every touch from the blond.
The Black Jackals managed to win the tournament that they were participating in, just barely beating their opponent in the fifth set. The team went out drinking as soon as they returned to Osaka, celebrating their victory. Even Kiyoomi joined in the festivities, laughing and talking excitedly about the triumphant plays that they’d managed, all while stealing glances at the object of his affection and wondering when would be the best moment to reveal his feelings. Nerves kept him from blurting it out, but he could feel the pressure within him, like a levee about to break.
Atsumu could hardly take his eyes off of Kiyoomi. It was like he was glowing, bright and vibrant amid the chaotic team, drawing the setter in so that he was completely unwilling to leave Kiyoomi’s side. He kept reaching out, itching to pull the wing spiker into his side or into his lap, or even just to get a little taste of the warmth that flowed between them. He resisted, just barely, because he knew that Kiyoomi didn’t want anyone to know about them but he remained close.
When the time came for everyone to leave, Atsumu dragged Kiyoomi around the corner to their rideshare car, pulling him into a desperate kiss the moment that they were safe within the vehicle. He’d used up all of his restraint, leaving nothing behind but hunger and eagerness.
They stumbled into Kiyoomi’s apartment, shedding clothes as they made their way into the bedroom.
Kiyoomi lay sprawled out on the bed, illuminated by the moonlight. Atsumu slowed, his lust tempered by a desire to trace every inch of the pale skin before him. Fingertips and lips followed the curves of Kiyoomi’s muscles and long limbs. He kissed every mole, the locations burned into his mind from their nights together.
It was so tender and sweet that it brought tears to Kiyoomi’s eyes, the breath stolen from his lungs at the way this golden man was worshipping him.
Atsumu could feel each shivering breath that Kiyoomi took. He could feel those beautiful hands sliding along his arms, his shoulders, his back. When Kiyoomi pulled him up and kissed him deeply, with more emotion than he’d ever felt, a fragile piece of hope bloomed in his heart.
The eagerness returned; he wanted to be closer to Kiyoomi — as close as he could possibly be.
Without breaking their kiss, Atsumu reached out and fumbled for the lube that he knew resided in Kiyoomi’s nightstand. He let one hand drift downward, lubed fingers circling Kiyoomi’s hole lightly before sliding inside. He pumped them languidly, scissoring them and opening Kiyoomi up with the same care as when his fingers were sliding across Kiyoomi’s skin. He wanted to take his time, though the squirming man beneath him didn’t seem to agree.
Kiyoomi broke away from Atsumu’s lips, panting and whining, “Please, Atsu… I need you!”
“O’ course, baby,” Atsumu whispered, unwilling to break the spell that seemed to have fallen over them. Everything was brighter, more vibrant.
When he reached for a condom, Kiyoomi grasped his wrist. He looked nervous, refusing to meet Atsumu’s eyes.
“Can we…” He didn’t finish his question, just stared at Atsumu’s hand, held in the air by his own.
“What is it, Omi? ‘Re ya alright?”
“I want…” Kiyoomi trailed off again, swallowing thickly.
“Ya gotta speak up, babe,” Atsumu coaxed gently.
“I want to feel you, Atsu,” Kiyoomi whispered. He finally looked up, nearly knocking Atsumu over with the intensity of his gaze. “Would you be comfortable with not wearing a condom?”
Atsumu was stunned for a moment, then leaned down to kiss the worry from the wing spiker’s face. He pressed their foreheads together and sighed happily, “O’ course, Omi. I’d do anythin’ fer ya. An’ trust me, I wanna do this.”
Kiyoomi smiled, sliding his hand up from Atsumu’s wrist so that he could interlock their fingers together. He gasped at the sudden emptiness when Atsumu pulled his fingers free, but it was only seconds later that he was groaning at the stretch of the blond’s cock thrusting slowly into him.
When Atsumu’s hips hit Kiyoomi’s ass, he dropped his head onto the pale shoulder below him and moaned softly. He could feel the tight heat of the man so much more intensely. From the way that Kiyoomi was already trembling, he could tell that his experience was just as powerful.
As they moved in tandem, their lips crashed together again in a frantic kiss, voices and breaths swirling into a brilliant cacophony.
Amid the slapping of their skin and the blissful noises from their throats, Kiyoomi heard his own voice calling out and saying the very words that had been tumbling around in his head for weeks — probably longer.
“I want you to be mine,” he cried. Atsumu immediately stilled, prompting the deluge of emotional words that Kiyoomi had been holding back to flood forth. He couldn’t tell if he was whispering or shouting, he only knew that he was speaking directly from his heart. “I don’t want to pretend anymore. I don’t want to just sleep with you and pretend I don’t like you because I do. I like you. I don’t want to lose you to someone else. I want to date you and I want you to be mine.”
Kiyoomi’s mouth snapped shut and he covered his face with his hands, hiding from the silence that was hovering around him like a dark cloud.
Why isn’t Atsumu saying anything?
“Omi…” Atsumu gingerly pulled Kiyoomi’s hands away from his eyes, softly kissing each knuckle before pressing them to his own face. He leaned down to kiss Kiyoomi’s lips with the same gentleness.
Kiyoomi closed his eyes, trying to prepare himself for whatever Atsumu might say. He didn’t know if he’d be able to bear rejection.
He didn’t expect to hear Atsumu laughing, though.
His eyes shot open, meeting golden-brown ones that were so full of warmth and fondness that they immediately melted the glare that had been half-formed on Kiyoomi’s face.
“Omi, the feelin’s mutual,” Atsumu chuckled, gasping for breath. “I wanna date ya so bad, but I never thought I’d have a chance ta truly be with ya, so I was just tryin’ ta enjoy every moment ya’d lemme have.”
Kiyoomi huffed out breathy, disbelieving giggles that dissolved into howling laughter, which only got Atsumu laughing again, too. They held each other, shaking and clutching each other for support.
“How are we so stupid?” Kiyoomi snickered, shaking his head.
“Pining idiots,” Atsumu replied with a shrug, leaning on his elbows. He looked down at where they were still joined, cheeks turning bright red.
“What?” Kiyoomi asked.
“Should we… stop?” Atsumu asked hesitantly. “Ta talk ‘r somethin’?”
Kiyoomi grinned, playfulness fully restored with the soothing of the anxious energy that had been like a crackling burr in his brain. “Finish what you started, pumpkin. We can talk later in the tub.”
“O’ course, princess,” Atsumu said sweetly, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
He sat up, drawing back and snapping his hips forward, drawing a moan from Kiyoomi that had him trying to pull the man closer with each thrust. There was a new sense of depth and connection now — their bond was stronger, their hearts overflowing with the emotions that they’d both been holding back.
They’d learned one another’s bodies so well that it felt as if they’d been molded to fit together, their pleasure amplified by the touch of the one that they yearned for so desperately. Where before there had been wildfire and fireworks, the connection was running even deeper, like roiling magma that was affecting them to their cores.
Kiyoomi reached out, grasping at Atsumu’s arms and shoulders to pull himself up and into the blond’s lap, bouncing as Atsumu thrusted up into him. Skin coated in sweat and lube and pre-come slid together, limbs tangling as the pair tried to get even closer within the crashing ocean of rapturous pleasure that was a hair’s breadth from overwhelming them.
He twisted his fingers in soft, platinum locks and used the leverage to drag Atsumu face to his own. When their lips connected, it was like the sun itself was pressed flat between their skin, burning so bright and hot that they were drowning in it.
“Atsu!” Kiyoomi cried out, mouth moving against Atsumu’s.
“Omi…” Atsumu moaned back. His arms were so tight around Kiyoomi’s waist that the wing spiker could hardly breathe, but air was the last thing on either of their minds. Kiyoomi shifted, grinding down on Atsumu’s cock in such a way that both men were gasping, teetering on the knife’s edge together for a brief moment before Atsumu tumbled over it. The coiled tension within him snapped and he gave one final thrust upward into Kiyoomi as he came, biting down on Kiyoomi’s bottom lip.
The feeling of Atsumu’s release inside him made him dizzy. Kiyoomi came so hard that his vision went white, body shaking and tensing with such ferocity that he thought he might shatter. It was the best orgasm of his life, by far.
Somehow, Atsumu managed to get them both into Kiyoomi’s enormous bathtub, holding the dark-haired man against his broad chest as they soaked in the hot water and soft afterglow.
“Omi-Omi!” Atsumu murmured in a sing-song voice, tapping his aquiline nose and watching it scrunch under his fingertip. “Ya said ya like me!”
Kiyoomi looked up at him with narrowed eyes. “So did you.”
“Well, yeah,” Atsumu conceded. “But ya said it first!”
“Finally,” Kiyoomi said softly, nuzzling into Atsumu’s chest.
Atsumu kissed the damp, midnight curls, smiling so wide that his cheeks hurt. “So, does this mean I get ta call ya my boyfriend?”
Kiyoomi hummed happily at the word. He lifted his head, giving Atsumu a glimpse at the impish grin on his face.
“Think you can keep it to yourself for just a bit longer?”
Atsumu sighed dramatically, chuckling when Kiyoomi kissed his face, sprinkling pecks across his cheeks and jaw. “Yeah, I think I can manage as long as I’m gettin’ extra kisses like this.”
“Good!” Kiyoomi smirked. “I have the perfect idea for how to tell everyone.”
“Oh?”
“They’ll never see it coming.”
~~~~~
Atsumu was practically vibrating with excitement. It had only been a few days since the best night of his life — Kiyoomi confessing to him after celebrating a tournament win. His dreams were coming true faster than he could keep up and it made his heart beat so fast he feared it would burst from his ribcage.
The door to the now-crowded bar opened again, more volleyball players pouring in. At this point, most of the MSBY Black Jackals were there, along with several members of the Schweiden Adlers and the EJP Raijin. There were even a few others — Atsumu’s brother and old high school teammates among them.
Kiyoomi had planned carefully so that everyone they cared about would be there, framing the event as a fun reunion celebrating the end of the season. Now he was standing beside Atsumu, eyes shining as he watched all of their friends mingling. As soon as he made sure that everyone had arrived, Kiyoomi nudged the blond, who stepped up onto the small stage at the back of the bar. A smattering of cheers and applause greeting him.
“Hey! Let’s start the karaoke, huh?” Atsumu said as he adjusted the microphone to his height, smiling so widely that his cheeks hurt. “‘M gonna go first an’ anyone else can sign up on the sheet at the bar.”
A few people rushed to follow his directions (Bokuto, Hinata, and Motoya among them), though most seemed to need a bit more liquid courage to face the lyric screen.
Of course, no one knew that Kiyoomi had beaten everyone to the punch.
The music started, loud enough to guide Atsumu and the audience without being overwhelming. Kiyoomi listened closely, trying to place the song. They’d agreed to keep their song choices a secret and he was curious to see what Atsumu had selected.
Barely glancing at the lines on the screen, Atsumu let the words tumble from his lips in a surprisingly smooth voice, brimming with the warmth and confidence that the man was known for.
“I hear a lot about sinners
Don't think that I'll be a saint
But I might go down to the river, uh
'Cause the way that the sky opens up when we touch
Yeah, it's makin' me say”
Kiyoomi recognized the Justin Bieber song, rolling his eyes and shaking his head when Atsumu started taking liberties with the lyrics. It sounded similar enough to the original lyrics that the most reaction he got was confused looks from a few of their friends.
“That the way you hold me, Omi, Omi, Omi, Omi
Feels so holy, holy, holy, holy, holy
On God
Runnin' to the altar like a track star
Can't wait another second
'Cause the way you hold me, Omi, Omi, Omi, Omi
Feels so holy”
Hearing that the word “altar” made Kiyoomi’s imagination run wild, suddenly considering a concept that hadn’t even crossed his mind in years — marriage.
“I don't do well with the drama
And no, I can't stand it bein' fake
No, no, no, no, no, no-no-no
I don't believe in nirvana
But the way that we love in the night gave me life
Baby, I can't explain
That the way you hold me, Omi, Omi, Omi, Omi
Feels so holy, holy, holy, holy, holy
On God
Runnin' to the altar like a track star
Can't wait another second
'Cause the way you hold me, Omi, Omi, Omi, Omi
Feels so holy”
Atsumu was a great performer, swaying to the music and engaging the audience. Kiyoomi could see his eyes flicking over to him throughout the song, though, as if he was trying not to stare at the object of his affection.
“They say we’re too young and
The pimps and the players say, "Don't go crushin'"
Wise men say, "Fools rush in"
But I don't know (ah-ah, ah, ah)
They say we're too young and
The pimps and the players say, "Don't go crushin'"
Wise men say, "Fools rush in"
But I don't know”
Kiyoomi chuckled at Atsumu’s attempt to rap, though the blond was laughing as well, having fun with it. He shuffled through the crowd until he was right in front of the stage.
“'Cause the way you hold me, Omi, Omi, Omi, Omi
Feels so holy, holy, holy, holy, holy
On God
Runnin' to the altar like a track star
Can't wait another second
On God
Runnin' to the altar like a track star
Can't wait another second
On God
Runnin' to the altar like a track star
Can't wait another second”
As the last few lines of the song slowed down, Atsumu’s ad-libbed lyrics were suddenly starkly obvious. Golden-brown eyes finally settled on Kiyoomi’s dark ones, shining with such adoration that no one could mistake his meaning.
“'Cause the way you hold me, Omi, Omi, Omi, Omi
Feels so holy.”
Kiyoomi’s heart was trying to leap from his chest, thumping so hard that he could feel the beat in his skull. He was glad that his mask was hiding the bulk of his grin, since he didn’t want to give away their plan until he’d done his song.
Before anyone else could step forward to go next, Atsumi pointed at Kiyoomi. “Yer turn!”
They traded places while whispers and mumbled exclamations of surprise echoed through the audience.
Kiyoomi took a deep breath before removing his mask and tucking it in his pocket. He watched the screen, waiting for the Kat Dahlia song that had been stuck in his head for over a month (off and on) to scroll across the bright canvas.
His voice started out soft and uncertain.
“Time's been ticking, hearts are running
Think that Cupid's up to something
You ask me how I feel, I say nothing”
As the song began to pick up, Kiyoomi shoved his nerves to the furthest corner of his mind and tried to sing more confidently.
“But lately colors seems so bright
And the stars light up the night
My feet, they feel so light
I'm ignoring all the signs
I keep on frontin'
Yeah, I stay bluffin'
I keep you wondering
Keep you hunting for my lovin'
But I crave us hugging
Yeah, I stay stubborn
'Cause I can't admit that you got all the strings
And know just how tug 'em”
Kiyoomi had resisted looking at Atsumu — or anyone really — for the first part of the song. As the chorus slid into view, he couldn’t help letting his gaze skip over everyone else to land on the man he was truly singing to.
“I think I'm in love again
I think I'm in love again
I didn't think it could be true
Let alone that it would be you
I think I'm in love again”
Atsumu’s song had been a bit more subtle, even with Kiyoomi’s nickname in it. This, though, was crystal clear. Atsumu was practically floating, basking in the lyrics and the beautiful eyes that expressed how genuine the words were.
“My heart's pacing
I'm confused, I'm dazing
I saw something I never seen in you, it's got me shaking
I must be hallucinating
I hear it happens, I'm just saying
Babe, I'm just saying
Someone give me some paper
Someone give me some crayons
I'm feeling like a child
I need something to play on
I'm trying hard to trust you
When you say give me your hand
Baby, I'm falling
I hope you catch me when I land”
At the long, wobbly “land,” Kiyoomi reached out to grab the microphone and pull it to his face, belting it out at full volume. Distantly, he heard whoops and cheers. He’d been told he had a good voice, low and velvety, but he’d never had the courage to perform like this.
“I think I'm in love again
Oh, yeah, yeah
I think I'm in love again
Oh
I didn't think it could be true
Let alone that it would be you
I think I'm in love again”
The song shifted and Kiyoomi chanced a glance around the bar at the rest of the audience. There were mostly stunned expressions, though he saw Motoya grinning excitedly and a teammate of his recording the performance with his phone. A few of the Black Jackals had knowing smiles on their faces, but then Kiyoomi’s attention was back on the screen.
“In my dreams, you're the Dutch and I'm the Dutchess
And your blunts are always loose
So I'm in charge of rolling Dutches
And we gettin' so high
We always get the munchies
And we go for early brunches
That turn into late lunches
And we ain't got a label
We're just rolling with the punches
I make fun of your belly
And tell you to do some crunches
And you say "yeah, well your ass jiggles
Go and do some lunges"
I say "fuck you"
While I'm thinking of you as my husband”
Kiyoomi was smirking at how accurate the lyrics were, remembering some of their teasing that had been remarkably similar. Atsumu was wracked by a shuddering breath, taking his own turn imagining flowers and rings and candlelight and lifelong love.
“I think I'm in love
I think I'm in love again
Baby, I think I'm in love again
I think I'm in love again
Oh”
Just before the last chorus, Kiyoomi reached out to Atsumu, grabbing his hand and pulling him on-stage.
“I didn't think it could be true
Let alone that it would be you
I think I'm in love again
I think I'm in love again.”
As the last line ended, their lips met in a passionate kiss. Everything faded away — the roaring cheers and shouted questions from their friends, the fading notes of the song — everything except each other.
When they finally came up for air, they were wrapped in each other’s arms, grinning at each other.
“I love you,” Kiyoomi whispered, infusing the words with as much emotion as he could, eyes stinging with unshed tears.
“Omi…” Atsumu buried his blushing face in Kiyoomi’s neck, suddenly shy. “I love ya, too.”
After their confessions and official announcement of their relationship, Atsumu and Kiyoomi spent the rest of the night fielding a myriad of questions and teasing jokes. Osamu smacked his brother, admonishing him for keeping it a secret, while Motoya loudly told Kiyoomi how he suspected it all along. A few of the Jackals revealed their own suspicions as well, laughing at the hints they’d picked up on.
The entire time, Atsumu kept turning and kissing Kiyoomi on the lips or the cheek or the temple. Kiyoomi smiled the whole time, watching the blond excitedly tell everyone about that first night, when Kiyoomi had said “just for the night” without a clue about how his actions would set in motion the greatest thing in his life.
~~~~~
By the time the next season started, the pair had found a new apartment — a place to share and embark on a new adventure together.
Team practices were filled with their usual competitiveness and banter, though the sexual tension was undenyable now (often embraced with flirty quips in place of the sharp insults). Soft, lingering touches and quick, stolen kisses were commonplace, too, amid the playful slaps and shoves.
“Ya know, it doesn’t feel as life-alterin’ as I expected,” Atsumu commented one day when they were finishing up with stretching after practice. They were sitting on the floor together, hands resting on each other’s thighs as they discussed dinner plans.
“What do you mean?” Kiyoomi asked, narrowing his eyes.
“I dunno.” Atsumu shrugged, grinning at his boyfriend. “It’s just less like the rom-coms where people’s lives ‘re all different an’ wild after they get together. I ain’t sayin’ it’s a bad thing, either, ‘cause I love what we have! It feels comfortable an’ right, like destiny.”
Destiny… Kiyoomi smiled at the thought. Perhaps.
Maybe they had their own gravity pulling them into one another, their own energy pulsing between them. Maybe it was always meant to be. Or maybe it was an accident, life tossing them together and letting them figure out how to love. It didn’t really matter. Nothing mattered because they were together, finally and completely.