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No one has ever accused Tsukishima of caring too much about volleyball before. He does his job, plays his part, and doesn’t take things too personally.
Or rather, he never used to. From his youth league team as a child, to his high school team going all the way to nationals, Tsukishima’s approach to the game has always been the same: Play to the best of his abilities, and once that final game whistle blows, leave everything that happened on the court back on the court where it belongs.
Then, he joined his university’s intercollegiate team (at the constant badgering from an old acquaintance, and admittedly half-decent setter and blocker, Koganegawa) and that method got tossed down the garbage disposal and shredded to bits.
The new bane of his existence has a name: Kuroo Tetsurou. Kuroo Tetsurou is the team’s captain, the backbone of their defense, and, for some reason, Tsukishima’s most faithful harasser.
Okay, ‘harasser’ might be a bit too harsh. The constant thorn in his side, then. The unrelenting nagging voice in the back of his head, the agent of chaos whose sole mission in life seems to be pissing Tsukishima the fuck off. It’s like the guy has one eye on the rest of the game, and one eye trained on Tsukishima, looking for any little excuse to critique him, at all times.
“Tsukki, your form is slipping! Do we need to add a few extra laps to your warmup next time to improve your cardio?”
“Tsukki, you left your arms wide open! What are you, a goal post?”
“Tsukki, you have to give Koganegawa feedback if you ever want your spikes to line up! Communication is key!”
…and so on, and so forth.
Tsukishima holds his tongue every time, of course he does. He’s the unshakable Tsukishima Kei. He’s the brick wall of emotions. He’s the perfect antithesis to a career provocateur such as Kuroo Tetsurou. An unstoppable force versus an immovable object.
But Kuroo is, admittedly, slowly chipping away at his defenses, so that all Tsukishima can think about, on and off the volleyball court, is his infuriating captain. He’s never let volleyball infiltrate the other parts of his life like this before. Has never let someone burrow so deeply under his skin that he carries them around with him, day in and day out. Kuroo is like a tiny little tick, living under his skin, hitching a ride to places in Tsukishima’s life that he’d rather keep Kuroo-free.
“Maybe you should just talk to him about it?” His best friend Yamaguchi suggests over the phone, the sounds of Hinata and Kageyama clearly bickering in the background. Tsukishima is hit with a sudden pang of homesickness, just behind his ribs, and wonders for the thousandth time if he would have been better off staying home to go to university with his friends, instead of leaving for the city hundreds of miles away from home.
Tsukishima snorts. “Yeah, and tell him what? ‘Hey, Kuroo, could you please stop being so mean to me all the time? I can’t get your stupid voice out of my head and it’s driving me insane.’”
The line goes quiet on the other end.
“Um, Tsukki…” Yamaguchi starts hesitantly. “Have you ever thought that maybe the reason Kuroo bothers you so much is because - ”
“You liiiiike him!” Hinata’s obnoxious voice cuts him off, mouth far too close to the receiver as usual, making Tsukishima cringe and hold his phone a safe distance from his ear. He can distantly hear Hinata cackling through the line as he feels his traitorous face filling with heat. He should consider himself lucky that at least they can’t see him. He doesn’t know for sure what his face looks like right now, but he’d guess it’s somewhere between biting into a rotten apple and moments away from getting sick on a rollercoaster.
“Don’t be such a moron,” Tsukishima snaps once he hears Kageyama wrestle Hinata into silence. “I don't ‘like’ Kuroo, I can barely tolerate him! Why would I ever be into a guy like him anyways? He’s bossy and rude, and spends way too long on his hair for it to look as terrible as it does, and he always tries so hard at everything he does, it’s exhausting! Just watching him care so much about the most arbitrary things all the time makes me tired. Plus, he’s a complete idiot, so there’s that.”
There’s a lot more that Tsukishima could say about Kuroo Tetsurou, but he’ll spare his friends the full rant. This should be more than enough for them to get a good picture of the kind of person Kuroo is, and why Tsukishima could definitely never have a crush on him.
“He sounds - ” Yamaguchi starts, and cuts himself off with an exasperated sigh. “Oh, Tsukki. What are we going to do with you?”
“What?” Tsukishima asks, slightly annoyed at Yamaguchi’s patronizing tone. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out eventually,” Yamaguchi says cryptically. “Just promise me you won’t completely write him off yet? And give talking to him a chance!”
“Figure what out? Yamaguchi, what are you - ”
The line goes dead.
“Fuckers,” Tsukishima grumbles, tossing his phone somewhere on his bed and curling up with his pillow held close to his chest. He doesn’t like Kuroo. He doesn’t. He has a little too much self-respect for that, thank you very much. Who in their right mind would fall for someone as annoying and smug as Kuroo? Not Tsukishima, that’s who.
He’ll show them.
~*~
Tsukishima does not show them.
He does something far, far worse.
~*~
“Tsukki, where the hell is your head at today? You let them blow right past you!”
Tsukishima grits his teeth and gives a jerky nod of his head to show Kuroo that he heard him, but doesn’t deign to turn and face his captain. He can feel Koganegawa’s pitying gaze from behind, and knows that Akaashi is trying to catch his eye to calm him down, but he ignores them both.
If only he could ignore Kuroo, too, without getting kicked off the team. Though even if Kuroo wasn’t the captain, Tsukishima knows he’d still be impossible to ignore. With that stupid, nightmarish hair, and his obnoxious hyena laugh, his creepy feline eyes, warm molten gold, with a stare so strong it feels like a physical touch, always lingering on the back of Tsukishima’s neck, following him across the room, fleetingly catching Tsukishima’s eye over the top of the shower stalls, clouded by the haze of the steam…
“Tsukki!”
What? Tsukishima is seconds from snapping back at Kuroo, but the words get stuffed right back into his mouth.
By a volleyball.
Spiked right into his unprotected face.
Hard.
A sharp pain shoots up Tsukishima’s spine as his tailbone hits the hardwood gym floor. His vision swims with darkness and bright neon spots, and he can distantly hear the muffled sounds of his teammates gathering around him, calling his name, asking if he’s okay. The fuzziness in his head clears, the throbbing in his nose coming into focus, along with Kuroo Tetsurou’s frowning face right in front of him.
Tsukishima groans and lifts his hand towards his face, morbidly curious if his nose is even still attached. Kuroo swats his hand out of the way before he can make contact.
“Don’t touch,” he chides quietly, taking Tsukishima’s chin in a strong grip, and tilting his head back. Tsukishima feels his face grow warm under Kuroo’s intense gaze. It’s almost nice, this side of Kuroo that isn’t constantly picking him apart for every small mistake.
“That’s what happens when you don’t listen to me,” Kuroo finally says, shattering the illusion and dropping Tsukishima’s face. Tsukishima feels the embarrassment, the anger, hot and bubbling up inside of him like boiling water.
He’s powerless to stop it, really.
“All I ever do is listen to you because you never leave me the fuck alone!”
The gymnasium suddenly seems far too big and far too quiet.
Shit. Tsukishima said all that out loud, didn’t he?
Kuroo’s jaw tics as it clenches, expression going hard. He stands slowly and Tsukishima’s eyes follow him up, catching sight of Koganegawa’s terrified face, and Akaashi’s resigned and slightly disappointed (ouch) one.
“Get an icepack on that nose unless you want a nasty bruise ruining that pretty face of yours,” Kuroo crosses his arms firmly and looks down at Tsukishima. “And then, go home. You’re done for the day, Tsukishima.”
“I - What?” Tsukishima gapes up at him. Kuroo’s use of his proper name is jarring. Somehow even more degrading than the stupid nickname, because he knows this means Kuroo is mad at him. Really mad.
“You heard me. Hit the showers.”
“Fine,” Tsukishima hisses, pushing himself back onto his feet to feel the satisfaction of standing just a few centimeters taller than Kuroo when he says, “I don’t care. This is just a stupid club, anyways.”
He doesn’t wait to see the face that Kuroo makes, but does catch Akaashi glancing nervously between them as he shoulders past his teammates and storms towards the locker room.
“Kuroo, maybe now isn’t the best - ” he hears Akaashi start to say before he slams the door shut behind him, his own ragged breathing the only sound in the empty locker area. He takes off his sports goggles, then rips his practice jersey over his head and chucks them both somewhere in the direction of his personal locker. The steam from the scalding hot water he’s heating up for his shower is just starting to form a foggy cloud along the ceiling when the locker room door opens and shut again with a resounding bang.
“What the hell was that out there, huh?” Kuroo demands, his back against the door, arms still crossed over his chest. Tsukishima feels his hands ball into fists at his sides on instinct.
“You were there. I shouldn’t have to tell you.”
Kuroo lets out a low, frustrated sound. Closer to a growl, really, and pushes off the wall, stalking towards Tsukishima like jungle cat preparing to pounce. Tsukishima swallows hard, his mouth suddenly drier than the Sahara.
“What is your problem with me?”
Tsukishima blinks a few times, letting Kuroo’s question sink in.
“What’s my problem with you?” He asks, voice going shrill.
Kuroo frowns, stopping only a few feet away from him. Tsukishima mirrors his position, crossing his arms over his bare chest, trying to gain some ground in this conversation. It feels unfair to pick a fight with your underclassmen when they’re only half-clothed, but Kuroo doesn’t seem to notice, or if he does, he doesn’t seem to care.
“Yes!” Kuroo sounds frustrated, tugging at his ridiculous hair like Tsukishima is a problem he’s been trying to solve for too long. “You’re always ignoring my advice and blowing me off like a brat!”
“Oh, really? That’s what you think the problem here is? That I’m a brat?” Tsukishima mocks, taking a step closer. Kuroo’s eyes darken and narrow dangerously.
“Don’t ask me that like you don’t already know.” He takes a step to match Tsukishima’s, the two of them practically toe-to-toe now. “Like you don’t do it on purpose.”
Tsukishima uncrosses his arms and jabs a finger right in the middle of Kuroo’s chest, nearly spitting right in his face with how angry he is. Tsukishima can’t remember ever feeling anything this uncontrollable, this strong. He’s never been one to be ruled by his emotions, but whatever Kuroo is doing to him has him feeling completely out of control.
“Maybe I wouldn’t be such a brat if you would fucking lay off me every once in a while!”
“Lay off?” Kuroo scoffs, pushing Tsukishima’s hand away and taking a step closer, and then another, forcing Tsukishima back until he’s pressed up against the lockers. The steam from the shower has almost completely filled the locker room at this point and Tsukishima feels light-headed, dizzy. Like his lungs can’t get enough air in them. “Is that what your problem has been this whole time? I’m too hard on you?” He simpers, taking Tsukishima’s face in one hand, squeezing tight. “You can’t handle me, is that it?”
Tsukishima exhales harshly through his nose, unable to speak with Kuroo’s grip on his face. His eyes narrow in an attempt to melt Kuroo’s head with the sheer force of his glare. Kuroo’s lips twitch into an infuriating smirk, and he takes the final step forward to press the length of his body along Tsukishima’s.
His mouth opens like he’s going to say something else, but his eyes suddenly blow wide with shock, jaw falling slack.
Tsukishima wishes he could say he didn’t know why.
The truth is far more terrible.
Because the moment Kuroo’s thigh lines up with the parting of Tsukishima’s legs and presses up between them, a dangerous, toe-curling heat spreads throughout his lower abdomen. A strangled moan slips past his lips and rings out jarringly in the empty locker room.
Fuck. He hadn’t even realized he had gotten half-hard, just from Kuroo’s piercing eyes, his strong and unforgiving grip on his face, the tension between them thicker than the cloud of steam hanging over their heads.
If there is a god out there, Tsukishima thinks that now would be the merciful moment to strike him dead.
Unfortunately, if such a deity exists, they are apparently getting a kick out of watching Tsukishima suffer. He survives, oh, yes he does. Lives long enough to endure the long, torturous moment of watching Kuroo’s eyes slowly trailing down his naked torso until they reach the waistband of Tsukishima’s athletic shorts. He has to avert his gaze then, staring up at the ceiling with his cheeks ablaze, fully aware of the fact that Kuroo Tetsurou is now looking at the way his dick is tenting the front of the thin material.
And it’s not even going down. Truly, Tsukishima’s body is clearly some kind of masochist. There’s something to say about the rest of him, too, though, since he’s still standing here instead of running straight to the train station and taking the first one-way trip home to Sendai.
Again, he wishes he could say he didn’t know why, but deep down he knows that… That a part of him wants to see what happens next. A part of him is excited.
“Oh, Tsukki,” Kuroo says, sounding much more breathless than before. Tsukishima has never been so happy to hear that stupid nickname rolling off his tongue before. “You were doing it on purpose, weren’t you?” He coos. “Spent all these months trying to rile me up, until you realized the quickest way to get what you want was the just pick a fight with me, is that it?”
No, Tsukishima thinks, and immediately doubts himself.
That’s not what he was doing, was it? Kuroo was always nagging him, and Tsukishima couldn’t stand it. He hated Kuroo. He hates Kuroo. Really. Hates him so much that…that…if he stops touching Tsukishima right now, he might start crying.
So, with absolutely zero regard for whether it’s the truth or not, Tsukishima says whatever he thinks will make Kuroo touch him more.
“Yes.”
Kuroo’s eyes gleam at the admission, the grip on Tsukishima’s face loosening until he’s gently cupping his cheek. It’s a dizzying juxtaposition, and Tsukishima finds himself tilting his head into Kuroo’s touch like an overly affectionate pet. Fuck, his face is burning up now, and he’s sure the flush has spread all pink and splotchy down his chest, but Kuroo just looks - he looks fucking delighted.
“That’s much better, isn’t it?” Kuroo’s voice drips saccharine and sweet, his half-lidded gaze roaming over every inch of Tsukishima’s body. “So good for me, Tsukki.”
Another needy whine tears its way out of Tsukishima’s chest. He squeezes his eyes shut in shame, and feels Kuroo’s other hand come up to stroke his hipbone reassuringly.
“Aw, baby, is that all you wanted?” Kuroo runs his thumb over Tsukishima’s bottom lip. “Just wanted to hear me tell you how good you are?”
This time, the answer slips out of Tsukishima on pure instinct, before he can even contemplate if it’s true or not.
“Yes,” he repeats, much more desperately. It’s the first time he can remember Kuroo ever saying something nice to him instead of another scathing critique, and maybe Tsukishima hadn’t even noticed how badly he wanted him to. Gods, if just that small amount of praise from Kuroo could make him feel like this, he can’t even imagine how good it would feel to get even more.
Kuroo’s fingers curl under his chin, thumb pushing against his lips until Tsukishima parts them pliantly and lets the digit inside. Kuroo presses him thumb down against his tongue, forcing his mouth to open even wider, eyes lighting up at Tsukishima’s obedience.
“You’re lucky that you’re so pretty,” Kuroo says conversationally, easing his thumb further and further into Tsukishima’s mouth, until he’s gagging on it. He leans in, smile growing sharp at the edges. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t even consider fucking an insufferable brat like you.”
Completely against his will, Tsukishima feels tears start to pool in his eyes. “K’ro,” his whines are muffled by the finger in his mouth. “’m s’ry.”
“What was that?” Kuroo asks innocently, at complete odds with the evil gleam in his eyes. “You really shouldn’t talk with your mouth full. Didn’t your mommy ever teach you that, hm?”
Tsukishima starts to nod his head, then thinks better of it, and shakes his head slowly. Kuroo looks at him like that was the right thing to do. Like he’s proud of him. Tsukishima’s knees wobble like they’re made of jelly.
“No?” Kuroo repeats. “Do you need Daddy to teach you, then?”
Tsukishima’s eyes nearly roll back in his head. He’s so aroused he doesn’t think there’s a drop of blood in his body anywhere other than his dick. And clearly he isn’t getting enough to his brain, because the second Kuroo takes his thumb out of his mouth so he can answer, Tsukishima is babbling a horrifying stream of, “Yes, yes, please, Daddy, please.”
“Fuck,” Kuroo hisses. “You actually - fuck.” He grabs Tsukishima’s face in that same harsh grip as before, shoving his head back against the lockers and crashing his lips into Tsukishima’s with a violent kind of hunger. He doesn’t start out slow, doesn’t ask for permission, just dives right in and replaces his thumb in Tsukishima’s mouth with his tongue, licking, and tasting, and devouring. It feels so good, so insanely good, that it takes a second for the pain to register in Tsukishima’s brain, but once it does, his nose smooshed against Kuroo’s cheek throbbing, he has to pull away with a regrettable wince.
“Hurts,” he whimpers in response to Kuroo’s confused expression. The older boy softens immediately, taking Tsukishima’s face carefully in both hands and cooing.
“Poor baby,” he tuts. “Maybe next time you’ll actually listen to me when I tell you to do something, hm?”
Tsukishima pouts. Doesn’t mean to, but he can feel his lower lip jutting out petulantly, and it only makes Kuroo laugh.
“You’re not going to make me feel bad for you.”
“Don’t want you to,” Tsukishima grumbles. If it wasn’t for Kuroo’s hands on his face he would have sniffed and turned his nose up at the other boy, just to prove that he doesn’t care if - ooooooooh.
Tsukishima has been doing it on purpose, hasn’t he? Reacting to Kuroo in the ways that he know will piss him off the most, will keep Tsukishima on his mind the longest. Purposely challenging Kuroo’s authority, so that he’ll have no choice but to force Tsukishima back into his place.
Kuroo interrupts his train of thought by kissing him again, this time almost impossibly careful, making sure to avoid bumping Tsukishima’s nose. It’s completely different than their first kiss, much slower and softer, but no less amazing. More of a building simmer than a boiling pot overflowing all at once. Kuroo’s hands tilt Tsukishima’s head to keep his face at just the right angle to mold their soft lips together, to practically touch Tsukishima’s throat with the tip of his tongue, licking so deep and dirty between his parted lips that half the time all Tsukishima can do is open his mouth wide and let Kuroo do whatever he wants to him.
“Getting impatient, hm?” Kuroo finally pulls back to chuckle against his lips. It takes Tsukishima’s foggy brain a moment to catch up and realize that Kuroo is talking about the fact that he’s started subconsciously grinding down against Kuroo’s thigh between his legs, hands gripping Kuroo’s biceps so hard, his nails might be breaking the skin. “Say you’re sorry, and I might just give you what you want.”
Oh. Oh, Tsukishima burns to defy him. Every instinct in him is screaming at him to not listen, to rebel, to demand that Kuroo apologize to him. But then, one of Kuroo’s hands leaves his face and travels down his body until he’s gripping Tsukishima’s hard-on through his shorts and something in Tsukishima just shatters.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Kuroo, ‘m so sorry,” he babbles, locking his arms around Kuroo’s neck and pulling them flush together, rocking his hips desperately into Kuroo’s hand. Kuroo groans and drops his head onto Tsukishima’s shoulder, eyes locked on the heel of his palm, grinding right up under the head of Tsukishima’s cock. A small, wet patch is forming on the front of Tsukishima’s shorts, and really, grey is such an awful color for athletic wear. It shows everything.
“Shhh,” Kuroo has to kiss him again to stop his endless string of apologies. “That’s enough, baby. So good for me, aren’t you? My good boy.”
Tsukishima nods pathetically and captures Kuroo’s lips again to try and smother the high-pitched wail that Kuroo drags out of him when he finally shoves his hand down the front of Tsukishima’s shorts and takes his leaking cock in his warm, calloused hands. They’re so much different than Tsukishima’s own, his fingers thicker and palms rougher, so that Tsukishima couldn’t forget whose hands were on him if he wanted to.
It’s that moment that he realizes he’s going to become addicted to this. He’ll never be able to replicate Kuroo’s touch on his own, not even if he tried. The thought that only Kuroo can give this to him, that only Kuroo can make him feel like this, makes his dick twitch.
“Tsukki,” Kuroo whispers sweetly against his lips.
“Mm?” Tsukishima manages between frantic kisses to every inch of Kuroo he can reach; the corner of his mouth, along his jaw, down the side of his neck - still salty with sweat from practice.
“Get on your knees for me, sweetheart.”
“What?” Tsukishima blinks up at him. “But I thought - ”
“Thought what?” Kuroo simpers, squeezing the base of Tsukishima’s dick hard enough to make him squeal. “You thought you were gonna get off first? After that little stunt you pulled out there in front of the whole team, you think you deserve to get off first? Hm?”
Well, shit, when he puts it like that… Kuroo is good at this, Tsukishima suddenly realizes. Not just fumbling his way through it in a haze of horny college boy hormones like Tsukishima is, he actually knows what he’s doing. He knows exactly what to say and the precise way he needs to phrase it to make Tsukishima as willingly obedient as possible. To make Tsukishima feel like submitting is his choice, because Kuroo knows he’d never do it otherwise.
The revelation is equal parts infuriating and arousing. If all of the blood that was supposed to be going to Tsukishima’s brain wasn’t in his dick right now, he might not have settled on ‘arousing’ so embarrassingly quickly.
(He probably would have.)
Tsukishima decides that his actions will speak much louder than his words could in a situation like this. He slowly unwinds his arms from around Kuroo’s neck, biting down on his bottom lip and maintaining eye contact as he gracefully drops to his knees on the cold locker room floor. Like they do every time he actually manages to get Tsukishima to do what he says, Kuroo’s eyes blow wide with shock, then darken with shameless hunger.
Fingers tangle in Tsukishima’s hair and his lips part on instinct. Kuroo’s grin is positively gleeful, and a little bit devious, as he uses the leverage to nudge Tsukishima closer to what he can now see is a very sizable bulge in Kuroo’s own shorts. Without requiring any further instruction, Tsukishima ducks in to mouth at the hard length through the fabric. A groan punches its way out of Kuroo’s throat, the fingers in Tsukishima’s hair tightening to the point of pain, but fuck, Tsukishima likes it even more that way.
He mouths at Kuroo’s clothed cock with abandon, the spot quickly growing damp with his saliva. Tsukishima wants more, wants to taste the real thing, to feel the weight of it heavy on his tongue, but he knows that if he lets Kuroo see how badly he wants it, he’s going to make Tsukishima beg for it. Which would probably be fun on another occasion, but right now, Tsukishima doesn’t think he can last long enough for that.
Luckily, Kuroo appears to be more or less on the same page.
“Okay, alright,” he gasps, tugging at the hair on the back of Tsukishima’s head sharply. “Shit, you’re so good at that baby. You been actin’ this sweet for someone else, hm?”
“No,” Tsukishima shakes his head, looking up at Kuroo with big, earnest eyes. “Only you. Only ever think about you. Only want you.” And the craziest part is that it isn’t even a lie.
Kuroo’s lips curl into a pleased grin, fingers gentling in Tsukishima’s hair, petting his blonde curls fondly. “Say it again,” he demands. Tsukishima just smiles prettily up at him, the last dying embers of fight in him stamped out like a bonfire.
“Only want you, Kuroo-senpai,” he mewls. Kuroo hisses a curse and brings his own hand down to his straining erection, squeezing hard.
“God, shit, fuck, what do I have to do to get you to call me that all the time? Huh, pretty?”
Never gonna happen, Tsukishima thinks, but he doesn’t want to ruin the moment for Kuroo, so he just cocks his head to the side coyly and presses his lips together.
“Yeah, I figured,” Kuroo sighs anyways. He starts easing his shorts down his legs, leaving them bunched up around his toned, tan thighs. Tsukishima’s mouth waters when Kuroo’s erection bobs, stiff and leaking, right in front of his face. Kuroo’s fingers find their way back into his hair, not to urge him forward, but to hold him back as Tsukishima subconsciously parts his lips and starts leaning in. “Ah, ah. ‘Senpai’ is real cute and all, but you know what you need to call me if you want me to stuff your pretty mouth. That’ll finally shut you up, won’t it sweetheart? Ask me. Ask me to teach you not to talk with your mouth full.”
Tsukishima swallows hard, saliva pooling under his tongue and making it hard to speak. It also doesn’t help that his brain has been pretty much offline from first the moment Kuroo called him a brat in that sweetly condescending tone of his.
“Teach me,” Tsukishima begs. “Please, teach me, Daddy.”
Kuroo exhales like he’s been waiting years to hear those words fall from Tsukishima’s lips.
“Yeah, baby, go ahead and suck my dick. You earned it.”
If asked about it later, Tsukishima would deny how eagerly he took the tip of Kuroo’s cock between his lips, alternating between suckling at the tip, and placing kitten licks and soft kisses all up and down the length of it. Down here, from this close, Kuroo smells musky and heady, tastes like salt and sweat, and there’s something so man about it that Tsukishima has to close his eyes and take a few deep breaths through his nose to try and calm himself down. With Kuroo’s dick in his throat, and his scent flooding all of Tsukishima’s senses, he’s not very successful.
Tsukishima feels a pathetic whine building up in his chest, getting trapped in his throat when Kuroo suddenly puts a hand on the back of his head to hold him still and thrusts a few more inches of his length into Tsukishima’s mouth. Tears build up in the corners of his eyes, more out of surprise than actual pain. Contrary to all of the little white lies he told to please Kuroo’s obvious possessive streak, Tsukishima has sucked dick before. None as long as Kuroo’s, but a few that were thicker, cracked his lips at the corners and barely left room for his tongue in his own mouth.
But Kuroo - oh, Kuroo feels so good. The weight of his cock on Tsukishima’s tongue is perfect. Not so girthy that he doesn’t have enough room to move his tongue around and press it hard against the thick vein running up the underside, long enough to tickle the back of his throat without making him want to gag.
It’s like Kuroo’s dick was made for Tsukishima’s mouth, or maybe the other way around.
Tsukishima is so turned on, he can’t even hear the sounds spilling out of his own mouth. Wet, wanton moans, and something that might be a slurred attempt at Kuroo’s name. The bitter tang of precome leaking from Kuroo’s slit makes Tsukishima’s mouth water until drool is spilling out of the corners and down his chin. He feels like a mess, and he can only imagine that he looks a hundred times worse, but all he cares about in this moment is making Kuroo come so hard he sees stars.
Fuck, Tsukishima is gonna be so good for him, until Kuroo is coming down his throat and moaning his name, and telling him how perfect he looks down on his knees. That Tsukishima is better than anyone else he’s ever had, and he’ll never be able to live without his mouth again. He’ll start calling for Tsukishima every time he wants his cock warmed, and Tsukishima will come running every time.
“So pretty when you’re putting that mouth to better use, aren’t you?”
There’s a strain to Kuroo’s voice now, and he’s obviously hanging on desperately to his last shred of composure. Tsukishima blinks up at him, tears clinging to his lashes, spit dripping down his face, shiny lips stretched obscenely around Kuroo’s length, and nods eagerly. Kuroo smirks down at him, but Tsukishima can see how hard he’s biting down on his bottom lip, white canines digging little grooves into his dusty pink lips.
Close? Tsukishima wants to ask, but aside from the fact that the answer is obvious, the whole reason Kuroo put him in this position was to shut him up. He could push Kuroo, could disobey him just to see him get mad, just to feel him get mean, but Tsukishima already spends most of his time and energy pissing Kuroo off.
Now, he wants something different. Something new from Kuroo.
So he stays silent, but redoubles his efforts, taking Kuroo all the way down to the base. His throat constricts around the intrusion and Kuroo groans, deep and punched-out.
“Fuck, oh fuck, that’s good. Keep gagging for me just like that, baby, you look so good with your pretty lips wrapped around my dick. Always knew you’d look so perfect, just like this.”
Another whine bubbles up in Tsukishima’s throat. It feels like a weighted fuzzy blanket is being thrown over all of his senses, and all he knows, all he thinks, all he wants is Kuroo Kuroo Kuroo. How to make Kuroo feel good, how to make Kuroo happy, how to get Kuroo to keep calling him sweet names and giving him loving praises.
He’s not sure what expression must be on his face when he’s looking up at Kuroo like this - if the adoration, the devotion, is too apparent - but whatever it is makes Kuroo’s eyes go wide, bitten off curses spilling from his lips.
“Don’t - ah, d-don’t look at me like that - Fuck! Fuck, fuck, oh fuck.” Kuroo twists both of his hands into Tsukishima’s hair, looking slightly crazed, but still pauses a moment to say, “Pinch my leg if you need me to stop, okay?” Tsukishima nods obediently again. “God, you really are perfect for me, aren’t you? Like you were made for me or something.”
The corners of Tsukishima’s lips twitch into a warm grin. Kuroo coos at the sight.
“You really love this, don’t you? Shit, Tsukki, if I knew you were just trying to get my attention we could’ve been doing this the whole time.”
Tsukishima gives a slight shake of his head.
“No?” Kuroo smirks. “I guess you’re right. The build-up was half the fun, wasn’t it? Letting you drive me up the fucking wall for hours at practice every day, just to go back to my dorm room every night and get myself off to the thought of having you on your knees for me just like this.” His tongue darts out to wet his lips, gaze going unfocused. “Or - or bending you over the nearest surface and fucking you too stupid to talk back, or tying you to my bed and edging you until you need to come so bad you cry - fuck, Tsukki, fuck.”
The last of Kuroo’s composure crumbles.
Tsukishima can’t remember ever being so mindless with bliss in his entire life. Granted, he probably thinks more than most people do in general, his mind constantly taking new data into account and applying it to every situation life throws at him. He’s good at that; collecting information and acting accordingly. Making the logical choice. His mind is constantly in overdrive, but from the moment Kuroo followed him into this locker room, Tsukishima could tell this was going to be very different from every other time in his life.
He was never going to make the logical choice. Not when it came to Kuroo Tetsurou, not from the day they met.
Kuroo fucks his face like it’s a competition, like he’s running some invisible race to see how quickly he can make Tsukishima rip apart at the seams. A constant stream of affirmations about how lovely, precious, gorgeous, filthy, perfect Tsukishima is fall from his mouth, and it says a lot about the state that Tsukishima is in that he barely even hears them, when moments ago he would have literally begged Kuroo for even a scrap of his praise.
Tsukishima can’t see it, but he can feel his cock straining against the front of his shorts, leaking continuously. It gives a feeble twitch and another little dribble of come every time Kuroo’s dick touches his throat and makes him gag, when Kuroo’s thumb traces the sticky stretch of Tsukishima’s lips wrapped around his cock, at every wretched noise of pleasure Kuroo makes that Tsukishima knows is all his doing.
Without even really thinking about it, just giving into his body’s natural instinct to get as close to Kuroo as physically possible, Tsukishima’s hands make their way up to Kuroo’s thighs. His palms skim lightly over the skin at first, feeling the tickle of fine hairs and the corded bulge of Kuroo’s thigh muscles, giving into the urge to squeeze once (or twice).
Kuroo trembles, faint tremors running from his feet all the way up to the back of his neck. He looks almost as gone as Tsukishima feels, eyes hazy and unfocused, endless stream of praises turning into silent, open-mouthed gasps for air. Tsukishima is drunk on it. Kuroo’s shivers, his fingers tugging sharply on Tsukishima’s hair, his dick pulsing on his tongue.
It’s good, but Tsukishima can do better. He can be better.
With a single-minded determination, he moves his hands from Kuroo’s thighs to his fuck, so firm ass and pulls him even closer, until Tsukishima’s nose is pressed against his pelvis and Kuroo’s dick is forcing its way past his gag reflex and straight down his throat. He swallows him repeatedly, feeling his throat flutter and convulse around Kuroo’s dick.
Kuroo makes needy, animalistic noises, hips making aborted little thrusts, like he can’t decide if he wants to pull out of Tsukishima’s mouth to escape the overwhelming stimulation, or keep thrusting in further until Tsukishima can feel him in his stomach. Tsukishima doesn’t give him a choice, grip on Kuroo’s ass tight, refusing to let him put even a centimeter of distance between them.
Tsukishima almost misses it completely when Kuroo finishes down his throat with a cracked, painful sounding shout that echoes like a gunshot off the metal-lined locker room walls. He keeps Kuroo’s dick in his mouth as it softens, letting it slip out just enough that he can still hold it on his tongue and lap at the last few spurts of come. Eventually, though, Kuroo tugs him sharply by the hair.
His chest is heaving as he struggles for breath, lips parted in awe, and he’s looking down at Tsukishima with a galaxy of stars in his eyes. Tsukishima smiles back up at him, a little shy in the aftermath of what he’s done, but undeniably proud, too.
“I think…” Kuroo says slowly. “I think I’m in love with you.”
It startles a laugh out of Tsukishima, taking Kuroo’s offered hand and letting the older boy pull him to his feet on wobbly legs.
“Pretty sure that’s just your dick talking.”
“Well, my dick is a part of me and it is definitely in love with you, so the logic checks out.”
“Idiot,” Tsukishima mumbles, leaning back on the lockers to help support some of his weight. Kuroo just beams at him, all toothy and charming. Tsukishima has to duck his head, feeling his face heating up.
It was almost possible to separate the Kuroo whose dick Tsukishima just had in his mouth, from the Kuroo who was constantly berating him out on the volleyball court - until this moment.
“Hey, Tsukki?” Kuroo says, suddenly much quieter.
“Hm?” Tsukishima can’t even lift his gaze to reply.
“You do know why I always pay so much more attention to you than any of the other guys, don’t you?”
A wry smile tugs at Tsukishima’s lips. “I’d hope what we just did here answers that question. Unless, of course, the rest of the team is also getting this sort of ‘attention’ from you.”
Kuroo barks a humorless laugh. “Yeah, no, definitely not.”
“Just me, then?” Tsukishima hedges, unable to stop himself from peeking up at Kuroo from beneath his lashes. He’s trying for casual, but the words come out with a vulnerability that he hates. Kuroo’s expression melts, reaching out to twine his fingers with Tsukishima’s. It’s such an innocent act, compared to what they literally just did, but it makes Tsukishima’s face feel like it’s bursting into flames.
“Only you,” Kuroo promises, an echo of Tsukishima’s own words earlier. “Also, it’s because I believe in you.”
“Wait - what?” Tsukishima’s mind scrambles to keep up with the conversation, brain still melting from Kuroo’s sweet confession.
“The reason I’m so hard on you?” Kuroo explains patiently, thumb stroking the back of Tsukishima’s knuckles. “It’s because I believe in you, Tsukki. I’m graduating next year, and I’m not saying you need to step up and take over as captain or anything, but this team is built on our defense. You’re one of the best blockers we’ve had in years, and I’m just trying to get you ready to take over for me as the backbone of our defense. I’m sorry if it’s come off as me not thinking you’re a good enough player or anything, I just - I really, really want to help you get better. You have a natural gift, Tsukki, but I think you’ve still only barely scratched the surface of what you’re capable of and I’d hate to see you waste it.”
I think I’m in love with you, too.
Tsukishima doesn’t say that, of course. But he thinks, in this moment, it might be a little bit true.
People like Kuroo have always been hard for him to understand. Ones the care so much, so openly, wear their bleeding hearts on their stupid sleeves. Tsukishima never believed in showing anyone else your hand, in keeping your weaknesses hidden close to your chest. Caring about things was a weakness, in his mind. If you cared about something, you could lose it. He thought that people like Kuroo were just asking for the world to trample all over them in spiked cleats and spit in their faces.
But here Kuroo is, showing Tsukishima every card in his hand, and not even looking the slightest bit afraid that Tsukishima is going to take all his chips and run.
Tsukishima clears his throat lightly, swallowing down the last of his nerves.
“I’m not going to let you down. I know… I know how much this team means to you, and I won’t let all of your hard work fall apart when you’re gone. I’ll - I’ll work harder for you, Kuroo.”
Kuroo stands there, staring at him dumbly for an anxiety-inducing length of time.
“Well?” Tsukishima snaps, dropping Kuroo’s hand to cross his arms protectively across his chest. He kind of wishes he had thought to put his shirt on before Kuroo started monologuing about feelings and shit. “Are you going to say anything, or have the hairspray fumes finally killed the last of your braincells?”
“Ah,” Kuroo sighs dreamily. “There he is.”
Tsukishima flushes. “Shut up,” he grumbles. Kuroo is undeterred, however, only taking a step closer, tilting his head to the side so that their noses brush.
“Is it weird that I found that hotter than anything else you’ve said?” Kuroo’s breath tickles his lips and Tsukishima can’t help but huff another laugh.
“No weirder than literally everything else about you,” he says, angling his head to skim his lips over Kuroo’s jaw, nipping at it sharply and feeling the other boy shudder.
“You better stop insulting me before I get hard again, Tsukki. Which, speaking of…” Kuroo tugs on Tsukishima’s earlobe with his teeth at the same moment that he slips a hand back into his shorts. Tsukishima lets out a broken-off whimper as Kuroo wastes no time setting a toe-curling pace. “I know you’re supposed to be getting punished for being such a brat in front of the whole team, but I don’t think I could live with myself if I left you like this. What do you think, sweetheart? Hm? Think you deserve to come now?”
“I - yes,” Tsukishima gasps, slipping back under Kuroo’s spell scarily easy. “Yes, please, help me, don’t leave me. Please, don’t leave me.”
“Shhh,” Kuroo kisses a tender trail up the side of Tsukishima’s neck, tightening the circle of his fingers around Tsukishima’s aching erection. “I’ve got you, baby. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”
“K- Kuroo,” Tsukishima pants. His head falls back, hitting the metal of the locker with a dull pain. Kuroo’s pace is almost punishingly fast, his nose is pressed into the junction of Tsukishima’s jaw right below his ear, caging him against the lockers and filling all of Tsukishima’s senses with Kuroo.
“Tetsurou,” Kuroo purrs against the shell of his ear. A violent shiver races up Tsukishima’s spine, causing him to thrust quick and sharp into the circle of Kuroo’s fingers. The warmth pooling in his groin starts to spread out through the rest of his body, to the soles of his feet and the hollow space right between his ribs. He knows he’s close now, and the anticipation of what promises to be the best orgasm of his short fucking life is what nearly drives him right over the edge.
“Wha- What?”
Kuroo’s lips find his for a brief, passionate kiss that leaves Tsukishima panting for breath against his lips. He can feel Kuroo’s smirk, the shape of the words as he mouth makes them:
“I want you to scream my real name while you’re coming, baby. Don’t want you to forget who made you feel so good, yeah?”
Tsukishima can’t do much more than moan like a bitch in heat, fist his hands in Kuroo’s unruly hair, and haul the older boy back in. The kiss is really just Tsukishima feverishly licking at the inside of Kuroo’s mouth, sloppy and uncoordinated, but Kuroo just lets him take and take and take.
“God, Ku- Testurou,” Tsukishima gasps when Kuroo starts using the slick slide of their skin to polish the head of his dick on every upstroke. His cock throbs, the constant attention to his slit pushing him halfway to hysterics.
“Yeah, baby? That feels good, huh?” Kuroo tucks a sweaty blonde curl behind Tsukishima’s ear and places a kiss to his temple. “Sound so pretty when you scream my name like that, wish everyone could hear you. Wish the whole team could hear how tight-ass Tsukishima Kei moans like a filthy little slut for me. How he does everything I ask. How hard he works for me.”
“Yes, yes,” Tsukishima babbles. “Tell them, show them, I’m yours - I’m yours.”
Kuroo chuckles darkly, and kisses him again.
“Yes. You are.”
It doesn’t take much longer for Tsukishima to shake apart, coming all over Kuroo’s fingers inside his shorts, the wet slide of their skin and Tsukishima’s high-pitched wails creating the dirtiest of symphonies in the air. Kuroo milks him through it, past the point where Tsukishima would usually stop touching himself, too overstimulated to keep going.
Kuroo keeps going, though, until Tsukishima has no strength left in his body and has to wrap his arms around Kuroo’s shoulders to hold himself up. He shudders weakly through the last few waves of his orgasm, unable to do anything but sag completely against Kuroo’s body. The only sounds left in the locker room are their heavy breathing and the water hitting the shower stall floor, probably running cold at this point.
“‘m gonna get us some towels,” Kuroo murmurs into the top of his head. “Can you stand without me for a second?”
Tsukishima starts to nod and pry himself off of Kuroo, but quickly changes his mind when his knees buckle right away. He shakes his head with a childish pout and clings back onto Kuroo.
“Okay,” Kuroo chuckles, carding his fingers gently through Tsukishima’s curls. “We’ll just stay like this for another minute.”
Tsukishima hums happily, post-orgasm haze making him far more needy than usual. Kuroo doesn’t seem to mind, though, swaying them lightly from side to side and placing erratic kisses to the top of Tsukishima’s head and the tips of his ears. Tsukishima could stay wrapped in Kuroo’s arms like this forever and die happily.
“K’roo?” He mumbles into the skin of Kuroo’s clavicle.
“Hm?”
“Y’really think ’m a good blocker?” He asks quietly.
Kuroo makes a noncommittal sound. “So-so.”
“Dick.” Tsukishima tries to pull out of Kuroo’s grasp with a scowl, smacking at the older boy’s chest. Kuroo just throws his head back and laughs, the piercing sound echoing off the metal of the lockers. He wrestles Tsukishima back into his arms and sits them both down on a bench, with Tsukishima straddling his lap. His eyes are brighter than Tsukishima has ever seen them, like pure, rich gold shining in the sunlight. Tsukishima’s breath sticks in his chest.
“I think you’re an amazing blocker, Tsukki,” Kuroo says, painfully earnest. “I think everything about you is amazing, and I’d kind of like to take you on a date.”
“Kind of?” Tsukishima repeats, arching a sharp brow. The effect is mostly ruined by the way he can’t stop grinning at Kuroo like a lovestruck fool.
“Badly. So, very badly.”
Tsukishima giggles and traces a line across the length of Kuroo’s strong brow, down the bridge of his nose, to press his fingertip to Kuroo’s lips. He tugs at Kuroo’s bottom lip, then ducks in to take it between his teeth. Kuroo groans, hips giving a weak twitch up into the heat of Tsukishima’s body weight resting on top of him.
Tsukishima smiles against his mouth. “I’ll think about it.”
“You’re not going to make this easy on me, are you?”
“Why start now?”
Kuroo laughs helplessly and gathers Tsukishima in his arms to hold him close again. The position is a little uncomfortable, given the fact that they’re both fully grown college athletes over six feet tall, and Tsukishima’s back gives a twinge of protest at the way he has to curl in on himself to fit against Kuroo’s chest.
“Brat,” he sighs, undeniably fond. Tsukishima can imagine Kuroo calling him that for the rest of his life.
“Your brat now,” Tsukishima reminds him.
“I can work with that.”
~*~
Tsukishima does not show them.
He does something far, far worse.
He proves them right.