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Bokuto is restless this morning.
That’s the conclusion Akaashi draws as he watches Bokuto dash around the court indiscriminately demanding tosses left and right, with the rest of the exasperated Fukurodani team already at a loss for how to respond.
This particular practice session has him standing off-court, steadily analysing a few team plays. Which means he can’t calm Bokuto down, can’t pull him aside and remind him to breathe slowly, nor alter his strategy to make the most of Bokuto’s excess energy. It’s made worse by the fact that the rest of the team is trying to train up one of the new setters this weekend, a timid first year starting to look entirely overwhelmed by Bokuto’s enthusiasm, if the nervous fumbles and stuttered apologies are anything to go by.
“Akaashi, why don’t you toss to me?” Bokuto complains, even as he trudges back to retake his position at the far side of the court. “I wanna spike properly- haven’t done anything decent today. I'm gonna get rusty.”
“That’s not the point of today’s exercise,” Akaashi tells him, crossing his arms.
Their coach casts them a warning glance, but even he knows better than to tell Bokuto off - not if they want him to stay in enough of a good mood to keep playing. Another toss come his way, and Bokuto slams it down half-heartedly, more in frustration than actual enthusiasm. He glares after the ball as it rolls to the other side of the court.
It's going to put Bokuto into a sulk if this goes on for much longer. The thought has Akaashi pursing his lips.
Hanging up high in its cage along the gymnasium wall, the digital clock silently reads 11:48A.M.
It’s a Saturday, a half day at school which means only another twelve minutes before they start wrapping up. And that means far too little time for him to join in properly.
Bokuto will just have to deal, Akaashi thinks grimly.
In the end though, it's still Akaashi who bears the brunt of Bokuto's restlessness. He watches Bokuto grumble under his breath the entire time they're in the changing rooms, the rest of the team knowingly giving them a wide berth. Komi had tried to talk to Bokuto as they were clearing the gymnasium, but barely managed to get a full sentence out before Bokuto grabbed him by the shoulders and demanded that Komi do a warm-down run with him. They had returned with Bokuto still looking somewhat disgruntled, and Komi wheezing as he tried to recover from five laps around the outside of the gymnasium in less than five minutes.
"Not a warm-down," he had gasped out, hands on his knees and head hanging as he tried to catch his breath. "Definitely a sprint. Bokuto is fast, holy shit."
Nobody else tries after that. One by one they leave, offering Akaashi apologetic smiles and wincing as Bokuto huffs in annoyance, struggling to yank off his shoes and socks without so much as undoing the laces.
"Bokuto-san," Akaashi eventually says. "Let's go get lunch- "
A loud grumbling groan interrupts him, and he twists around to see Bokuto flopped over the bench, expression entirely put out.
"I don't want food. That's just gonna give me more energy, and what's the point if I can't even do anything with it?"
"You can study with it," Akaashi tells him firmly, closing his own locker.
Bokuto bolts up, looking aghast. "No way. Are we studying today? No way."
"You're the one who asked for help with your English."
"But I can't do that now," Bokuto argues. "I wanna play for a bit longer. And it’s Saturday, come on. There's a park near your place right?"
"I'll leave without you if you don't hurry up."
"Hey! No, wait- wait up!"
Bokuto scrambles up, hurriedly stuffing the last of his volleyball uniform into his bag before jogging after Akaashi, already out of the locker room doors. The heat of the summer sun beats a pleasant thrum onto the back of his neck, cicada calls already ringing throughout the humid air around the school grounds; additional practice probably wouldn’t be a bad idea, but no, he intends to stick to his plans and force Bokuto to study.
They make it back to Akaashi's apartment with only a few detours; once to pick up a couple of bentos from the nearby convenience store, and then again when Bokuto tries to disappear into the arcade store along the street of Akaashi’s apartment block with a shifty gleam in his eye, only to be dragged back out by Akaashi five minutes later after he’d lost all of his one hundred yen coins.
Even getting the actual studying started goes by without a hitch, with Bokuto too depressed after losing all his spare change to put up a fight when Akaashi pulls their school books out onto his desk and starts scanning through Bokuto’s latest essay. As expected, it’s a complete mess.
Staying on track, however, is a completely different matter.
It takes less than ten minutes of Bokuto twirling his favourite shimmery pen (courtesy of Kuroo), gaze fretfully flicking between his textbook and Akaashi, while his leg jiggles a rhythm against the hardwood floor of Akaashi’s bedroom, for him to finally crack.
He rolls the chair away from the desk with a loud clatter, spinning around on it to stare Akaashi dead in the eye, hands folded across his chest and voice entirely serious as he announces, “I’m bored. This is a very serious problem.”
Akaashi glances up from where he sits cross legged on his bed, having given the only chair in the room to Bokuto, in consideration of how easily distracted he was. He’d figured sitting at a table would help Bokuto’s concentration. Obviously not.
“I know you haven’t finished reading that passage.”
“I’m bored.”
“It hasn’t even been ten minutes, Bokuto-san.”
“I need to do something, anything. It’s like there’s an itch under my skin and I can’t scratch it, and it’s driving me crazy.” Bokuto sprawls himself out over the chair with a groan, staring blankly at the ceiling as his legs resume an automatic, impatient jiggle. “Gotta get up and do something or I’m going to lose my mind here, serious.”
“I’m going to lose my mind,” Akaashi mutters under his breath. A quick look down reminds him that he’s only half way through editing Bokuto’s paper, red marks already scribbled all along the margin. They’ll never get anywhere at this rate. Not with all the pent up energy Bokuto is harbouring, almost visibly simmering below the surface of his skin with every restless twitch.
He barely manages to suppress an exasperated sigh.
It's not that it's hard saying no to Bokuto. God knows Akaashi does that on a regular basis anyway. No, Bokuto-san, you can't stay back another hour, no, Bokuto-san, I can't toss it to you like that, no, Bokuto-san, you can't keep that cat no matter how much it looks like Kuroo, let it go please-
Bokuto spins around on the chair idly, until his gold-flecked eyes are staring at him upside down, head tipped over the back of the chair.
There’s an oddly familiar light in his eyes, an expression given by the curve of his lip and the dart of his pink tongue between them; a strange contrast twisting expectant and hopeful into one pleading look that has a pulse of fondness soaring through Akaashi’s chest.
It’s in everything Bokuto does, this faint, lingering sense of fondness that pushes through Akaashi’s veins as firmly as the ocean tide. Even since the very beginning; from the way Bokuto's eyes lit up when Akaashi first pulled him around the back of the sports shed minutes before the first assembly of the year to kiss him slowly and surely, to the enormous grin he wore on his face for the entire day after Akaashi slid their fingers together into a loose, steady clasp, a silent agreement to try this dating business despite his reservations. In the way Bokuto sucks the air out of Akaashi's lungs with every breathless kiss in this very bedroom after, even as he awkwardly drags him closer and closer.
And the way Bokuto looks when he's flushed and sweaty, clapping his hand over his mouth in an attempt to stifle his moans as every one of his muscles tenses and his eyes squeeze shut-
Well then, Akaashi thinks faintly as he shoves the mental image out of mind.
Then pauses.
Not a bad idea, actually.
Maybe it’s time for a change in tactic.
He sets the pages down on the desk, and rises precariously onto his knees, leaning over the edge of the bed as he beckons Bokuto forward. “Come here.”
The sudden change instantly perks Bokuto up, catching his attention as easily as a gaudily lure. He swings back around, hopping off of the chair to send it rolling back as he pads over to the bed curiously. “What?” he asks, clearly eager for a distraction. “What are we doing? We gonna take a break-”
A light kiss abruptly silences him; Akaashi takes the opportunity to thread his hand through Bokuto’s hair, easing him into the contact. It seems to stun Bokuto into a surprising standstill, but he quickly snaps out of it, keen eyes immediately zeroing in and refocusing on Akaashi when he pulls away.
There’s no missing the hopeful tone in Bokuto’s voice when he asks, “Are we doing what I think we’re doing?”
“What do you think we’re doing?”
A pause. “...is that a trick question?”
“Not at all,” Akaashi allows.
His deliberate ambiguity pays off when Bokuto’s face cracks into a wide grin. "You have really great ideas sometimes, Keiji," he quips, then he's clambering onto the bed, crowding Akaashi back with a wicked gleam in his eye.
It sends an involuntary shiver through him, with the way Bokuto's bare forearms come to brace on either side of his head, caging him in with a bright-eyed, altogether hungry stare. Bokuto only calls him by his first name in these shared moments between them, when there’s nobody else but them and he gets to whisper it as many times as he wants without earning Akaashi’s disapproval.
“Just to work off your energy,” Akaashi tells him firmly, not skipping a beat, even if his heart does.
He gets muffled when Bokuto impatiently tries to tug his shirt off, struggling until Akaashi swats his hands away and undoes his tie first, sending it to the floor, with his shirt soon following. His own hands come up to deftly unbuckle Bokuto's belt and he hears Bokuto suck in a breath when his palm grazes over the growing bulge at the seam of his pants.
"Just to burn it off," Bokuto agrees, licking his lips. He settles his weight back, sitting astride Akaashi's hips with his legs tucked underneath himself as he hurriedly yanks off his own shirt, fumbling in his impatience.
Akaashi only manages to catch a glimpse of Bokuto's bare chest, all smooth skin stretched over solid muscle, before Bokuto presses forward to kiss him again, cupping Akaashi's face between his large palms, thumbs brushing over sharp cheekbones once, before he's tipping him back and sealing their lips together. He kisses with a slow, burning heat that sparks all the way down to Akaashi's lower stomach, pulling the air from his lungs and swallowing the faint groan growing in his throat.
The familiar edge of arousal suffuses through his limbs and his mind sinks through the haze of Bokuto's overwhelming insistence, coaxing Akaashi's mouth to open to him. A hand snakes down between their pressed bodies, squeezing past the waistband of his briefs and Akaashi has to grab at Bokuto's broad shoulders to steady himself, biting back a noise at the first touch of rough pressure against his cock.
“You’re getting into the mood pretty quickly,” Bokuto remarks. There’s a sly gleam in his eye.
It’s enough to remind Akaashi that he hadn’t agreed to this simply to get off; there had been a plan here somewhere. With an enormous amount of effort, he forces his own arousal down and shoves Bokuto back, putting enough space between them for him can gasp in a few calming breaths to steady himself.
“Switch us around,” Akaashi tells him, when his head clears enough for him to think. It earns him a bemused head tilt, Bokuto not quite comprehending, so Akaashi pushes himself up properly, hands planted on Bokuto’s bare skin and shoves him down onto the other side of the bed with a dull thump.
“Ooft- what are you-”
“This is about you, not me,” Akaashi says, hands already working to yank Bokuto’s pants down to his thighs, tapping the side of one leg until Bokuto catches on and raises his hips. “We’re going to get rid of this restlessness and get back to studying. Deal?”
It leaves Bokuto staring up at him, hair mussed and a flush spreading across his nose, his cheeks. His lips are parted, barely holding back a slew of protests Akaashi has no doubt are on the tip of his tongue, but there’s a faint spark of intrigue dancing in his eyes.
“This is going all sorts of weird places,” Bokuto ponders, stretching out across the bed. “But I’m willing to be convinced. Do your worst, Keiji.” The name rolls out of Bokuto’s throat smooth and slow, the teasing challenge ringing clear and strong.
“Be careful what you wish for,” Akaashi returns mildly. He strokes his hands up the pale length of Bokuto’s thighs, squeezing the powerful muscle there as he trails up to the juncture of Bokuto’s hips, barely skimming over the soft skin of his slowly stiffening cock.
“You’re still wearing too much,” Bokuto complains, fingers scrabbling at the waistband of Akaashi’s pants, fruitlessly tugging.
It only takes him a few seconds to shuck his own pants off, ignoring the small noise Bokuto makes in appreciation when he rises onto his knees to slip out of them. He tosses them to the floor, seizing advantage of Bokuto’s preoccupation to rifle through his nightstand drawer for a thin tube of lube. Then he’s maneuvering them both until he’s sitting cross-legged between Bokuto’s spread thighs, the heft of each strong leg resting on either side of his waist.
“Are you just gonna watch me like that?” There’s a tiny frown growing on Bokuto's face, even as he wriggles down to try to get Akaashi to touch him properly. “It’s kinda weird, isn’t it?” he adds, brow furrowing as he sits up on his elbows to cast a dubious eye over their position.
But his apprehension fades away when Akaashi curls his fingers around Bokuto's cock, grip deliberately loose as he gives it a few languid pulls. Bokuto lets out a pleased sigh.
A few minutes brings Bokuto back to full hardness, his cock thick and flushed, dripping small beads of precum over the length of Akaashi’s fingers. Bokuto's always had the tendency of getting rather wet when he's aroused. Fidgety too, and Akaashi absently presses a firm hand down over the jut of Bokuto's hips, holding them in place.
That earlier hesitance seems to have faded, with the way Bokuto now relaxes into the sheet, chest rising and falling with steady breaths as a perpetual grin rests on his face, even with his eyes locked on Akaashi, who tightens his grip, just barely. Bokuto's cock is hot, the heft of it weighing stiffly in the palm of his hand. “Okay?” he asks.
"Good," Bokuto says immediately. "Really good, c'mon, jerk me faster."
Akaashi gives him a wry smile. "You’ll finish too quickly at this rate.”
“Guess one time isn’t going to be enough then, is it?” Bokuto comments, all cheek and overconfidence. He wriggles down again for good measure, bed springs squeaking as his weight settles more heavily across Akaashi’s lap. “Might have to go again. Or maybe another two rounds,” he adds with a lecherous waggle of his eyebrows.
Akaashi doesn’t reply, doesn’t give more than a raised eyebrow as he continues the long, slow pulls on Bokuto’s cock, now thoroughly slick with the amount of precum leaking from the slit. He hides his own uncomfortable shifting, ignores his own erection and the arousal pumping through his veins as he scrutinizes the smug grin Bokuto wears. Uncapping the lube with his teeth, he pours it liberally over Bokuto’s cock and the hand still wrapped around it.
It doesn’t take long before Bokuto's impatience becomes evident, hips jerking up again as he squirms on the bed and heavy thighs rubbing an insistent, heated brush over the bare skin of Akaashi’s inner legs. It’s maddeningly distracting; far too close to his own persistent arousal and Akaashi’s rhythm over Bokuto’s cock falters, strokes stuttering when he can no longer steady Bokuto's endless shifting.
"Stay still," Akaashi tells him sternly, emphasizing with another hard press down over Bokuto's hips.
But Bokuto just wriggles harder, arching as he tries rolling up into the grip over his cock, inching him even closer to Akaashi’s own erection. "Make me," he retorts.
It's just a careless reply, Bokuto being petulant as he always is when he wants something, but Akaashi moves before he can think, surging forward to force his weight down over Bokuto's hips, shoving him back into the mattress with a dull thump.
"Stay still," he repeats, a warning in his voice. "Or I'll stop."
Bokuto’s mouth falls open, shuts and his tongue darts out to silently lick around his lips in lieu of actual words. A surprised light dawns in his gaze and his hands clench down into the bedsheets for the briefest second. But he doesn’t protest a second time, and his restless shifting dies down to tiny, involuntary jerks whenever Akaashi’s thumb catches around the head of his cock.
Distantly Akaashi realises that the mood has shifted, a subtle click into an entirely different gear. But Bokuto's oddly subdued assent, rare as it is, has instantly cranked up his own arousal just that little bit higher, and he grinds his teeth, focusing on bringing Bokuto to climax with his grip tightening as he speeds up.
Quickening breath soon dissolves into soft pants, Bokuto’s stomach muscles clenching with every pull on his cock. There’s a slight tremor in his thighs, a slowly winding tension that Akaashi feels keenly against his waist, the tantalising promise of heat so close that it takes everything he has not to give in, to just slide forward until he can grind his own aching erection against Bokuto’s ass.
“Come on, Keiji, faster- ”
A sudden squeeze of his hand forces out the first groan from Bokuto’s throat, low and breathy, head tilting back as Bokuto arches his spine. Akaashi can see everything like this; stretched out before him like a filthy centrefold, the full length of Bokuto’s bare body bearing testament to his incredible athleticism, barely contained strength coiled tightly under his flushed skin and dammit if arousal doesn’t flood through him in a dizzying wave.
He swallows just as Bokuto’s attention jolts back to him, and he knows it doesn’t go unnoticed.
“Like what you see, huh?” Bokuto still somehow manages to sound smug, even if a little more breathless.
“You look incredible,” Akaashi rasps, opting for honesty, and it earns him a dusting of pink across Bokuto’s already flushed face before a pleased, embarrassed grin follows. Then, “That doesn’t mean you can move,” and he’s pushing Bokuto back into the mattress with the next rise of his hips.
A rough pull has Bokuto gasping out, “Close.” A loud groan finally sounds from his throat, then he’s biting down on the meat of his palm to muffle himself, eyes squeezed shut. His next words are muffled, but breathlessly urgent, “I’m ah- so close, Akaashi, come on, just a bit- a bit more- ”
Every muscle in Bokuto’s body is flexing under sweat-damp skin with small, involuntary twists as Bokuto slowly loses the battle to keep himself from writhing. Hands automatically come up to reach for Akaashi, wanting to pull him closer as Bokuto always does when he’s getting closer to the edge.
“No.” Akaashi shakes his head in a quick jerk, leaning back. “Hands to yourself,” he orders through gritted teeth. “And stay still. That’s my last warning, Koutarou.”
His voice is rough, coming out more as a growl than anything and Bokuto outright whimpers, hands dropping and head falling back to leave his throat bared in a vulnerable strain. Fingers hopelessly tangle the sheets with Bokuto’s white-knuckled grip, unsteady moans sounding from his throat as he tries to steady himself, tries to keep himself from jerking up into Akaashi’s quickening grip.
Then Bokuto sucks in a sudden harsh breath, curling forward into a tight bow. Hard thighs clamp around Akaashi’s hips, digging in painfully as Bokuto shudders through his orgasm with a low pitched whine, striping Akaashi’s hand and his own stomach with white streaks as his cock twitches, pulsing erratically.
He keeps a slow thumb rubbing over the side of the shaft as Bokuto gradually comes back down from his high. Akaashi slumps forward, breathing a little unevenly himself as he tries to hold his own need under wraps, wrestling it back under his control.
That was....something. Is something.
There’s an insistent edge to his arousal; a lingering heat from the way his desire had spiked hard with Bokuto’s willingly acquiescence to Akaashi’s demand, and the way Bokuto had looked, stretched out with the even the tiniest of reactions laid bare, leaving Akaashi’s throat unbearably dry with that last involuntary whimper-
It doesn’t take long before Bokuto starts fidgeting beneath him again, this time in growing discomfort with every extra stroke over his cock. But he doesn’t let up, not even when Bokuto starts to prop himself up on his elbows, protest on the tip of his tongue. Just keeps his fist continuing to jerk Bokuto’s cock with slow, light touches until he can see that Bokuto is at the edge of his silence.
“You wanted to go again,” Akaashi interrupts before Bokuto can say anything, narrowing his eyes. “Yes?”
“Again? It’s still sensitive though,” Bokuto tries, pushing himself up onto his elbows. He peers down at Akaashi’s lap, interest sparking as he comments, “Hey, you haven’t come yet- I’ll help- huh?”
Akaashi seizes hold of his hand, where it had been darting out to grab his cock, and draws it away as he pins Bokuto with a firm glare.
“Do you want to go again?” Akaashi repeats.
It takes a few moments for understanding to dawn in Bokuto’s eyes, widening in realisation. He leans away with a subtle motion, sinking back down into the mattress as he unconsciously eases back to escape the pinning force of Akaashi’s gaze.
When Akaashi leaves his hand free, a tiny noise tears out from Bokuto’s chest, pitched low. “Now?” he croaks. “Right...now?”
He doesn’t answer, instead swiping a hand through the mess on Bokuto’s stomach, thickly slicking his fingers with the pearly fluid before tracing down behind Bokuto’s balls. He watches Bokuto’s face carefully, waits for that wide-eyed surprise to shift into the tiniest of nods before he smooths the makeshift lube around the rim and carefully eases in, slipping down all the way to the first knuckle as Bokuto inhales sharply.
Akaashi always marvels at how soft and warm and tight it is inside, Bokuto’s muscles squeezing down on him with a barely familiar pressure as he slides his finger back out, then pushes back in. He tugs around the rim a little, but it’s hard to stretch with just one finger and with Bokuto’s quickening breath encouraging him, Akaashi tentatively presses his second finger forward.
“Oh– that’s, already? Um,” Bokuto’s eyes are fixed on the place where Akaashi’s finger disappears into him and he swallows. “Yeah. Go.”
Akaashi watches Bokuto’s face this time, the way it twists into discomfort when Akaashi’s finger manages to slip in alongside the first.
“Too fast?” Akaashi asks, but he doesn’t remove his fingers from where they rest, barely inside Bokuto.
“No– just. A stretchy kind of ache, but better than just you jerking me off,” Bokuto admits and he wriggles cautiously. The muscle around Akaashi’s fingers tightens and he chews his bottom lip as he tells Akaashi to keep going.
With that, Akaashi slides in fully, until both fingers are pressed deep inside Bokuto, squeezed tightly by a heated grip. There’s barely any room to move, Bokuto breathing hard as a dull flush decorates his chest and neck. His teeth continue to worry at his lip.
It’s different when you’re not used to it, Akaashi thinks as he drags his fingers back out and forcefully pushes them back in. Another squeeze of the tube over where his fingers are pressing into Bokuto slicks them up, easing the way. “You’re really tight,” is what he says out loud. “Relax a little.”
All he gets is a whine, Bokuto’s muscles squeezing down hard around his fingers, and Akaashi hisses at the sudden increase in pressure, knuckles painfully forced together. His own erection jumps at the sudden thought of being inside Bokuto right now, being gripped tightly by the slick warmth his fingers have sunken into; Akaashi shudders faintly, forcefully shunting his arousal to the back of his mind.
He scissors his fingers, the barest hint of a stretch but it punches out a loud groan from Bokuto, powerful thighs suddenly coming up to knock sharply against Akaashi’s ribs with an involuntary jerk.
Dimly, he’s aware that Bokuto is apologising, thighs falling back apart and trembling where he loosely props them up but Akaashi is determined to push forward, and he does, slipping in as far as he can go, crooking his fingers and rubbing up firmly.
Bokuto cries out, jolting almost as if he had been electrocuted. It leaves him trembling, fingers clutching into the bed sheets and Akaashi can see the muscles in his stomach tensing and relaxing, as if Bokuto can’t decide whether he wants to sit up or not.
“W-wait, ah!” Akaashi’s fingers slip, barely, but it has Bokuto groaning, muscles clamping down hard on them. “–just sensitive. Really, really sensitive, Akaashi– ”
“Oh?” Akaashi lets himself smile as he crooks his fingers up again, this time rubbing over the right spot and Bokuto whines again, breath catching in his throat even as he pushes back on Akaashi’s fingers.
Bokuto’s cock is hardening again, straining as strings of precum drip over Akaashi’s fingers, onto his stomach. A rapid stroke with Akaashi’s other hand forces another hiss from Bokuto’s lips, but he doesn’t twist away like before, just rocks his hips up with a slow, steady cautiousness.
“Tell me how it feels,” Akaashi instructs, even as he rubs over that spot inside, fingertips pressing firmly into every roll of Bokuto’s hips, hardening cock bobbing with every shift.
“Everything is tingly,” Bokuto says in a rush, words tripping into each other. “K-kinda hurts, but it’s not bad. Just weird- and you’re just watching me, getting me off, even though you’re hard too- why am I the only one getting off, it's weird-”
“It’s fine,” Akaashi says with a shake of his head, and he starts pumping Bokuto’s cock properly, quick tight twists in counterpart to the firm massage of his fingers inside, adding to the wet, slick sounds barely audible over their shared panting. “Hips down,” he commands, when Bokuto instantly strains up, another loud groan ringing through the room. “And still no touching me,” he adds firmly, as Bokuto’s hands make to grab him again.
They dig into Bokuto’s thighs instead, short blunt fingernails leaving angry scratches as Bokuto tries to gulp down enough air to ground himself, body restlessly twisting with little abortive motions in a bid to follow instructions.
“But I want to,” he whines. “I feel like- like I’m putting on a show and you’re just watching me, with that look in your eyes like you want to eat me or something. Come on- just let me touch you- ”
“Do you want me to tell you to be quiet too?” Akaashi asks mildly, increasing the pressure of his fingers inside.
Bokuto moans, more than a little desperate this time as he throws an arm over his face in frustration. “No, no- don’t do that- Keiji, I can't-”
“Relax, you’re doing fine,” Akaashi interrupts, his words automatic and soothing. “Good, even.”
He doesn’t mean them as anything more than a reassurance, not dissimilar to when he has to comfort Bokuto in the worst cases of his pervading self-doubt both on and off court, but Bokuto freezes, cut off in mid-babble. His eyes widen from under his arm, cock twitching in Akaashi’s hand.
“I’m gonna- ” Bokuto chokes out, then he’s coming with a loud groan that sounds like it’s being wrenched out from his lungs, fingers digging into his thighs painfully as he spends over his stomach.
His chest is heaving, body flinching in the aftershocks for a few long moments. There’s even more mess on his stomach now, fluid still dripping from the slit of Bokuto’s cock in glistening strings with every lazy pull of Akaashi’s grip. More translucent than before, from the constant pressure on his prostate and the fact that Bokuto must be nearing his limit.
But Akaashi doesn’t stop the slow push and pull of his fingers inside of Bokuto, a firm press upward with every outstroke as he pulls over the head of Bokuto’s cock.
His own arousal has become a distant buzz, a constant heat licking behind every thought even as he beats it away every breath he sucks in to control himself.
“Keiji, what are, ah– wait, just–” Bokuto protests, sounding dazed. There’s a note of disbelief colouring his tone, and he can’t help the tiny whimper when Akaashi rubs up against that spot. He’s struggling weakly now, half-heartedly shoving back at Akaashi as he tries to escape the persistent contact on his oversensitive skin. “H-hey, slow down, shit- ”
“Just one more,” Akaashi coaxes, just as Bokuto whines, “It’s too much, please–”
It’s enough for both of them to pause; Akaashi’s hands stilling as he hears the first plea, and Bokuto staring at him with no small amount of nervousness. His gaze searches Akaashi, open and uncertainty leaking out of him in veritable waves, with the involuntary noises from his throat quiet and pleading.
But eventually Bokuto swallows, nodding weakly. “Okay,” he says, as he gingerly flops back down onto the sweat-damp bed with a wince. “I dunno if I can, but if you want to... yeah, okay. Let’s do it.”
A surge of warmth floods through Akaashi; not arousal, nor power or satisfaction, but nothing that could be described as being less than sheer affection and he’s moving before he realises, hovering over Bokuto’s surprised face. The kiss he plants on Bokuto’s open mouth barely communicates that, barely touches on the fondness bursting through his chest, but it’s enough to have Bokuto offer him a tired grin, feeling the way his lips turn upward as he huffs a warm laugh between them.
Sitting back down on his aching legs, he drags his hand down Bokuto’s broad chest, still rising and falling with his little pants, down to his cock, not quite fully hard yet. He slicks his palm through the mess on Bokuto’s’ stomach before firmly wrapping his fingers around Bokuto’s length again. There’s an cramp growing in his other wrist, but Akaashi ignores it in favour of watching Bokuto’s face; the way it scrunches up the moment he touches his cock, the way Bokuto’s mouth opens with a groan with the first stroke upward.
The litany of sounds are far easier to pull from Bokuto now, but it takes longer to wind him back up, exhaustion clear in the way Bokuto trembles, not from arousal but tiredness. The heels of his hands are pressed to his eyes, hiding his face, and he draws in a slow inhale; the urgency of the last two build ups is gone, dissipating into a tentative acceptance that settles over Bokuto as an odd sense of calm.
“How close are you?” Akaashi asks, and he gets Bokuto’s legs tightening around him in response.
It’s hard to move like this, hard to thrust his fingers in the way he wants to, but Bokuto still jolts with every full press upwards. Part of Akaashi wants to run his hands over the firm muscles tensing in Bokuto’s stomach; feel the skin stretched taut over his hipbones, press kisses up the sweat–drenched length of Bokuto’s neck. But he keeps his hand steady on Bokuto’s cock, thumb brushing over the slit in sync with Bokuto’s moans.
“Getting there, ah– i–it’s harder this time.” Bokuto’s voice is shaky again. He admits, “Hurts a bit, but I can deal.”
His hands have moved from his face, and Akaashi’s suspicions were correct; barely noticeable tear tracks trail across his cheeks but his eyes are still hazy, pupils dark and blown in arousal.
“Would more fingers help?” Akaashi asks, and Bokuto inhales sharply before giving a jerky nod.
So Akaashi pulls his fingers out with a small whine from Bokuto, tips the tube up over them to slick them anew, before carefully pressing three fingers inward. Easier than when he had first tried to fit two fingers, but still far tighter and he knows that Bokuto must be feeling the stretch from the way he keens, his thighs finally unclamping from around Akaashi as he pulls them up to try to accommodate the new stretch.
“Fuck, that’s– ah,” Bokuto breaks off to pant hard. “I don’t– I really don’t know if I can, again–”
He cuts himself off with a swallow, sudden uncertainty coming over his expression as his gaze flicks between Akaashi’s face, and the steady dripping of his cock, caught in Akaashi’s fist.
“Come here,” he says, voice shaky, tight. He’s sitting up again, reaching forward with one hand, beckoning Akaashi to lean in. “Closer please, I need you- just closer.”
This time Akaashi obliges, a small twinge of worry striking through the haze of his arousal. But Bokuto merely latches onto the moment he gets close enough to wrap a heavy arm around his shoulders, melting into the contact as he nuzzles into the crook of Akaashi’s neck with a relieved sigh. Sweat dampens Bokuto’s usually wild hair, sticking it to his forehead and the back of his neck; it’s all Akaashi can see, shivering as Bokuto starts to mouth gently at his neck.
“Feels weird,” Bokuto says, voice low and hoarse against Akaashi’s skin. “Like, my dick is telling me ow not again, but also so fucking good, but everything is still just hot. ‘m still really turned on.” He chuckles, an almost slurred little laugh, more to himself than anything. “‘s weird. Liking it when you get bossy, y’know?”
A careful, experimental twist of his fingers has Bokuto tightening up again, grunting as he wobbles in his half seated position. They stay like that for a few minutes, Bokuto content to snuffle into Akaashi’s neck as he pants with every push and pull of Akaashi’s fingers.
“Put it in,” he suddenly says. "You're still hard right? We can get off together this time."
Akaashi draws back to stare at him; that was not what he expected to hear. Bokuto doesn’t usually like to bottom, complaining about the awful empty feeling afterward and protesting the mess of lube and come left in his ass when they finished. Now Bokuto’s gaze is dark and earnest, pupils blown wide and Akaashi’s cock throbs with the idea of replacing his fingers where they’re squeezed inside of Bokuto.
But Akaashi shakes his head; he hasn’t missed the tiny wince of pain catching on every other one of Bokuto’s pants, the quiet hiss of oversensitivity trailing his groans.
“You’re going to come on my fingers,” he tells Bokuto, voice steady, and sees the half-formed protest die on Bokuto’s lips as he nods mutely moments later.
“You like watching me get off, huh,” Bokuto says wonderingly, a familiar note of smugness ringing through his voice again. He leans forward, presses his lips to the corner of Akaashi’s mouth and whispers a cheeky, “I kinda like that.”
Then he’s yanking Akaashi forward as he falls back onto the mattress, seizing him into a hard kiss that swallows up any remnants of reluctance in Akaashi’s mind, and pours hunger, a sudden urgent need into him, with every slick press of Bokuto’s tongue against his own, renewed moans catching in Bokuto’s throat.
“Come on, get me off then,” Bokuto says, breathing the words straight into Akaashi’s mouth. “More, come on, I need more- ”
It’s hard to balance like this, crouched over Bokuto the way he is but Akaashi kisses him again, tongue delving out to sweep across Bokuto’s bruised bottom lip and Bokuto willingly opens to him; lets him swallow the moans rising from his throat as he clutches at Akaashi’s back, leaving gouging scratches in wake of the touch of Akaashi’s hands on his own burning nerves, wired and all but vibrating with painful sensitivity. Fingers pressing in more insistently, Akaashi grimaces with the way Bokuto’s grip threatens to tip him over, at the ache in his wrists and forearms, but he keeps going, keeps stroking Bokuto’s cock faster and faster until Bokuto is whining as he twists away to swallow gasps of air.
“Please, faster ah– ” Bokuto is squirming again, hips unable to decide whether to press back against Akaashi’s fingers or up into the hand fisting his cock. “Shit, shit- I can’t- ”
Akaashi barely has the presence of mind to be aware of the way he’s rubbing his own aching length against Bokuto’s ass, slipping through the mess of lube and come there. The rock of Bokuto’s hips get more urgent, and Akaashi speeds up, pumping him hard and fast until Bokuto shudders, an almost pained sounding groan emanating from his throat as he curls forward and his cock jerks in Akaashi’s hand, with barely a dribble of cum.
It only takes Akaashi a few strokes of his own fumbling hand on his aching erection, relief finally flooding through him, before he spills over the edge as well, panting through his climax. Then he’s barely holding himself up, barely able to straighten himself up onto his knees so he doesn’t end up squashing Bokuto under his weight.
Bokuto collapses back onto the bed, arms and thighs spread wide open and lax. “I’m dead,” he utters, voice croaky. “You’ve killed me, I’m dead.”
The barest pull on his limp cock has Bokuto’s eyes flying open, panicked and a little horrified as he protests, “No, I can’t, I’m serious- I really can’t Keiji, not again–”
“Relax,” Akaashi says, a small smile twitching at the corner of his lips. “We’re done.”
Bokuto’s groan of relief is loud enough to have even Akaashi snorting in amusement.
“You’re gonna have to take care of the mess,” Bokuto tells him, his arm flung back over his eyes. “And take care of me. I actually can’t move, y’know.”
Akaashi’s grin only widens as he traces his fingers over the soft insides of Bokuto’s thighs, quietly enjoying Bokuto’s little squirms of oversensitivity. “Of course, Koutarou,” he says, and Bokuto peeks out at him from behind his arm, almost shyly. He leans in to kiss Bokuto again and Bokuto responds happily, always eager for affection.
They've gone off track, entirely distracted from his original purpose and Akaashi glances guiltily at their abandoned homework. He’s tired, his arms ache almost unbearably, and Bokuto must be feeling it so much more; but in this moment, they’re both warm and content to bask in the afterglow.
"So that was three times right," Bokuto whispers against his lips. "Reckon we can try for four in a few minutes?"
Akaashi pulls back, frowning. "Absolutely not. We need to study in a few minutes."
"I'm too tired to study now. What about three for you then, you only came once-"
Another kiss shuts him up easily enough, and Bokuto eventually gives up with a huff when Akaashi heaves himself up to fetch a few tissues to wipe themselves down. The moment they’re both relatively clean, Bokuto yanks him back down onto the bed with the hint of a grin, and abruptly rolls over until Akaashi is half pinned under Bokuto's weight, yelping in surprise. It's oddly comfortable though, pleasantly warm and it takes a few minutes of Akaashi idly tracing patterns into Bokuto's stomach for him to realise that Bokuto has fallen into a doze.
But by then, he can't bring himself wake Bokuto up, and with another surge of fondness when Bokuto snuffles sleepily into his hair, he decides the homework can wait.