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Kei woke to beads of sweat forming on his chest, rivulets carving narrow channels over the planes of him, only to be diverted where Kageyama’s arm met his skin, shoved up as it was under his sleep shirt. The muscles in Kageyama’s arm shifted, gripping him tighter, pressing him further back into his body. Kei gasped, breath forced out of his lungs. He could feel all of Kageyama like this, the broad lines of hard muscle softened by sleep. Sometime in the night Kageyama had wriggled a thigh in between Kei’s too, and he could feel where he’s hard against the back of him.
Kageyama’s warm breath on the back of his neck caused his hair to curl even tighter, soft waves giving way to delicate ringlets. He needed it cut—the combination of two-a-days and summer heat was not conducive to rediscovering his curl pattern. Kei caught himself constantly flicking it out of his eyes, or brushing it back in between plays. But he liked the way Kageyama tracked the little flicks of his head, liked the way Kageyama would thread his fingers into the bit of extra length at the back of his head or at the top. He liked the way Kageyama would brush it out of his eyes when he wanted attention, when he’d pretend to tuck a curl behind his ear and simply look at Kei, hand beneath his chin to raise Kei’s face to look at his own. And Kei would give him an undoubtedly dopey grin and Kageyama would give him one back and then they’d get back to whatever it was they were doing.
The first light of day streaked through the gaps in the blinds, chopped into narrow lines that bronzed the hair on their legs before falling onto the warm wooden floor. It wasn’t often that they got to wake up together like this, as busy and separate as their schedules were. Kageyama was always jetting off all over Europe with Ali Roma while Kei battled through his job in the museum archives, trying to carry the Sendai Frogs up into Division 1, and his indecision about whether to go back to school each fall. But Kageyama was back in Japan to shoot ads for various fashion and athletic wear companies during the break between seasons, and Kageyama had made the three hour train ride from Tokyo to Sendai the second his last shoot was completed.
The two of them had been virtually inseparable in the days since. Yamaguchi had suggested getting the old team (minus Hinata, who was still partying it up in Brazil following his team’s victory) together as soon as possible to welcome Kageyama back, but Kei had begged off a couple days for them to get reacquainted, just the two of them, before joining up with everyone else. They’re due out tonight, but tonight isn’t for hours.
Kageyama’s hips bite sharply into Kei’s back. He’s bucking them gently into Kei in a quest for friction. The heavy breath on Kei’s neck hasn’t changed—he’s still asleep.
“Love,” Kei sighs. “I’d appreciate it if you at least woke up before you tried to fuck me.”
The only response he receives is a cross between a moan and a grumble, Kageyama’s dick catching between Kei’s thighs. The loose, barely covering his ass sleep shorts Kei wore because he refuses to sleep nude have ridden up high enough as to be almost nonexistent. Kageyama hadn’t bothered with clothes after his shower last night (Kei had stolen his sweats from where they’d sat on the counter).
God, he’s so stupid, Kei thinks, undeniably fond. Kei’s lost track of how many times he’s thought that. Probably because Kageyama’s the kind of dumb that gets him yelled at when he goes through airport security alone. There’s just something about him that begs Kei to take care of him; to make sure his passport is in a zippered pocket on his coat rather than in the bottom of his carry-on, to wipe his chin when it gets covered in sauce, to let him fuck his thighs until he wakes up to realize Kei’s still open enough from last night to let him fuck him for real.
Kei reaches an arm behind him to thread his fingers through Kageyama’s hair. It’s sweaty and hot but Kei’s the same. He squeezes his thighs together when the head of Kageyama’s dick brushes his balls. Kageyama in sleep seems to take this as encouragement—the arm across Kei’s chest tightens further as Kageyama’s free hand pulls Kei’s hips back into his own, arching his back. The hand in Kageyama’s hair tightens.
The breath on the back of Kei’s neck skips. “What–“ Kageyama rumbles, his hips not stuttering their rhythm as he goes from sleeping to waking. Figures, Kageyama has better control over his body better than anyone else in Kei’s acquaintance. Something Kei had delighted in finding out the first night they’d slept together, a fortuitous combination of a tokyo conference his first year as a masters student, a stingy research fund allocator, and the theoretical existence of Kageyama’s open couch that week—not that he’d ever slept on it.
“You started it, love,” Kei replies, his voice equally raspy from sleep and desire. “I'm just hoping you’ll actually finish it.”
“Mmm, I’m too sleepy to do much more than this,”
“It won’t– ah,” another well aimed thrust causes him to cry out softly. “It won’t take much more than this.”
Kageyama’s fingers unfurl from their grip on Kei’s hip to slide beneath the waistband of Kei’s excuse of shorts to probe at his hole. He slips two fingers inside without any resistance, a third with only the slightest pull. There's no urgency in the action, though, just questing, an accumulation of data while Kei’s desire spools headier and headier inside him with no true relief. Kageyama’s cock between his legs has stilled, his fingers seemingly uninterested in doing anything more than resting delicately inside him.
“Why do you even bother with these?” Kageyama asks, snapping the waistband of his shorts against Kei’s skin when he withdraws his hand. “Your dick isn’t even covered by them.”
Kageyama slides a hand up Kei’s leg to grip said cock where the leaking tip pokes out, giving him a single, firm stroke, just the way he likes it. Kei shudders. his other hand finally releases itself from across Kei’s chest to drag the silky black material up his hip to expose his entire ass cheek to the air before palming it like a volleyball, fingers teasing in his crease. Kei’s back bows.
“I like the shorts,” Kei replies, trying to make his voice as even as possible, as if Kageyama can’t tell he’s desperate from the way his body is begging. “They’re perfect for summer weather.” Kei sighs when Kageyama strokes him just once more. “What about you?” Kei asks. “Do you like them?”
“I hated them last night,” Kageyama replies. “Made it hard to go to sleep beside you.”
“Yes, I'm very aware of how hard your sleep was.” Kei teases. “What do you think now, though?”
Kageyama hums like he’s thinking, but Kei knows he’s pretending. “Now, I like the easy access.”
And Kageyama slides home in one, smooth thrust, deep into Kei. Kei's breath stutters out of him, the combination of the feeling of being filled with the tension of the fabric where it’s forced across the hinge of his leg biting deliciously.
Kageyama seems content to just rest inside of Kei, hard and leaking but unhurried. He moves his hands up and down Kei's body, riding the sleep shirt up his chest to tease his nipples before forcing it up and over Kei's head. Kei instantly feels the sweat pool between Kageyama's chest and his back, tracing hot little rivers where their skin meets to melt into the sheets.
The little touches continue, a brush of fingertips on the back of his leg, a gentle trace around where Kageyama rests inside him, a tuck of a stray curl out of his face. Every single one of Kei’s nerves feels alive.
This wasn’t anywhere near the first time they’d had sex, but it was the first time they’d done it like this, so tender and delicate, not for the act of release but the closeness it could provide.
Kei’s hands had stayed bunched up in the sheets since Kageyama had slid into his body like he belonged there, because he did, but they started to itch to touch him. He wants to feel Kageyama beneath his fingertips, wants to make Kageyama feel as worshiped as he feels now, gooey and sacred underneath his lover’s gentle caresses. He releases his grip on the sheets to reach back but Kageyama beats him to it, grabbing his wrists in one hand while teasing his nipple with the other, a gentle but firm press into the mattress telling him to keep them there.
“I like you,” Kageyama says after about ten minutes of this, just simple attention to Kei’s body. Kageyama could read Kei on the court within a week of playing with him when they first met. It only took them falling into bed together twice for him to extend that knowledge to the bedroom, and now he can play with Kei’s body like it’s his favourite instrument.
Kei’s brain had exited his body the moment Kageyama dragged a perfectly manicured nail down his spine all the way to his hole, so he answers: “What?”
“No, hear me out,” Kageyama says. “I like that you let me fuck your thighs in my sleep, and I like that you woke me so I could know what I had been doing without teasing me for it. I like that you didn’t clean out my cum from last night so all I had to do was slip inside you, as easy as breathing.”
Kei feels his whole body blush red under the affection, under the way Kageyama calls him on his unintended boldness last night, and tenses unthinkingly.
“ God,” Kageyama stutters, “I like the way you feel around me, especially when you squeeze my dick like you just did. I like that you let me have you how I wanted this morning, as different as it is from our normal. and Kei. Kei, Kei, Kei, Kei, Kei, I like how you’re so fucking perfect for me that I can’t help but love every single thing about you.”
And Kei comes, silent and breathless as his releases drips down to soak into the fabric of his shorts.
Kageyama moves to pull out, but the sudden movement when there hasn’t been any before is too much, so Kei breathes out a soft chorus of “stay, stay, stay.”
He doesn’t feel himself fall asleep but he wakes again to see the sunlight shifted where it peeks through the blinds. Their positions are almost identical to his first instance of waking, only this time Kageyama is still inside him, gone soft with the release Kei feels slowly dribbling out of him. He wonders if Kageyama had chased his orgasm in his unknowing and unconcerned body, or had simply let himself go. He realizes both of them are hot, and so resolves not to ask so he can indulge both fantasies at his leisure.
The clock on Kei’s nightstand reads later than they usually sleep and so Kei reaches behind him to run his fingers through Kageyama’s hair, digging his nails gently into his scalp whispering, “ Tobio, Tobio, Tobio love.”
His boyfriend wakes easily, making a pleased noise that rumbles his chest.
“I'm still inside you,” he remarks, a slightly awed note in his voice.
“Mhmmm,” Kei replies. “We should sleep like this more often. I like it, it’s like you’re everywhere.”
“I think if you from ten years ago could hear you say that you’d be disgusted.”
Kei snorts a laugh and threads his fingers through Kageyama’s, bringing them to his mouth to kiss. “It's called character development, shithead.”
They stay nested together for a while longer before Kageyama’s infinite energy takes over and makes him start squirming behind Kei. Kei plants one last form kiss to his knuckles before releasing Kageyama’s hand and pushing his arm off.
“Come on, we still have stuff to do yet today,” Kei says, for Kageyama’s sake rather than his own. “Up we get.”
Kageyama pulls out and Kei feels the loss much more acutely than normal, like his body had shifted to accommodate Kageyama and now had to adjust back to a world in which he couldn’t be stuffed full of his boyfriend 24/7.
It must show on his face because Kageyama says “come on, I’ll eat you out in the shower.”
And Kei grins, grabbing Kageyama’s hand to pull him up and after him.