Kuroo was tired. He was the kind of tired a person only could be after three intense sets of volleyball, the last one going into more extra points than he ever thought possible. His legs were jelly, his arms were jelly – hell, even his face was jelly. He’d give up smirking at the net completely if it wasn’t so much fun.
But that was all okay because Nekoma had done it – they’d won the Battle of the Trash Heap and even Sawamura crushing his hand in congratulations had been worth it. Best of eight at nationals. Nationals! And now Kuroo didn’t have to move again until tomorrow morning.
Which of course meant that just then, there was a knock at the door.
Kuroo groaned and called, “Kenma, I told you, you don’t have to knock, you have a fucking room key –” The knocking didn’t stop; in fact, it got more insistent, so maybe Kenma had forgotten his key when he ran out to Karasuno’s ryokan after getting a message from Hinata. That made sense, maybe, but it didn’t make Kuroo want to get up any more. But still, he had to be a good senpai and a good friend, and he found himself rolling off the bed with a thump as the knocking went on and on.
“Kenma, keep your pants on!” Kuroo shouted, yanking the door open and freezing in his tracks when he realized who was on the other side of the door.
Not Kenma, obviously.
“Ah,” Kuroo said, eyes widening. “Tsukki, hey.”
Tsukishima – well, something was off about him. The showing up in Kuroo’s room thing, for one; the intense look in his eyes another. And Kuroo knew enough about Tsukishima to know that he had to be at least as exhausted as Kuroo was just then. But the thing was, he didn’t look tired at all.
“Kuroo-san.” Tsukishima stepped into Kuroo’s room, only Kuroo hadn’t stepped back, bringing them toe-to-toe. Kuroo swallowed. Tsukishima, Kuroo noticed, was still a little taller than him, and given he had an extra two years of growing left in him, the height difference between them would probably widen. “I’m going home tomorrow morning,” Tsukishima said, his face close enough to Kuroo’s face that Kuroo could feel the words against his skin.
This was Kuroo’s cue: he knew he should needle Tsukishima, rub in his win a little, tell Tsukishima that he still had more to work on, that he’d been bested by his master. But Tsukishima was so close and neither of them was backing away. Instead, Kuroo just nodded.
“You played well,” he began, making Tsukishima screw up his face and click his tongue.
“Please,” Tsukishima said, “save your platitudes for someone who believes them. That’s not why I’m here.” And then he grabbed Kuroo by the shirt and kissed him.
Kuroo would be lying if he said he’d never thought about this before; nothing serious, only idle late-night thoughts where he crowded Tsukishima in the stairwell at training camp, making him blush and deny everything later. But they were only that – idle late-night thoughts where Kuroo was at least as interested in looking cool as he was getting into Tsukki’s pants. He never thought anything like this would happen for real, and now that it was, Kuroo definitely wasn’t cool about it at all. He flailed his hands, made a weird high-pitched whine, and widened his eyes considerably when Tsukishima walked him backwards into his room and kicked the door shut behind them.
That. Fuck, that was a cool move, there was no denying it, and so was the way Tsukishima steered Kuroo by his shoulders, pushing him deep into the room without breaking the kiss. Hell, he even managed to throw in some tongue before the back of Kuroo’s legs hit one of the beds.
Tsukishima finally broke away for air. “Did that door lock behind us?”
Kuroo nodded dumbly; Tsukishima nodded back and bent down to pull off his shoes. Then he put both of his hands on Kuroo’s shoulders to shove him down.
“Whoa, hold up,” Kuroo said, suddenly finding his voice. He put his palms flat against Tsukishima’s chest, even as his jelly legs wobbled and surrendered, dropping his ass onto the mattress. Tsukishima followed him the whole way, falling to his knees in between Kuroo’s legs. That intensity was back in his eyes, visible even behind his glasses; what would that look like unobstructed? It made Kuroo shake his head hard, trying to remember what he wanted to say.
Tsukishima tilted his chin up and moved in for another kiss, only managing to sink his teeth into Kuroo’s bottom lip before being pushed back again.
“What is this?” Kuroo asked. His head felt fuzzy, and then got fuzzier still when Tsukishima put his hands on Kuroo’s bare legs, right below the hem of his shorts. His hands, Kuroo noticed, were big and rough – blocker’s hands, like his.
“Should I stop?” Tsukishima said, sweeping his thumbs back and forth restlessly against Kuroo’s skin, right at the insides of his thighs. That sent a shiver right down his spine and made his mouth hang open a little; inner thighs were a sweet spot for Kuroo, but he only knew that from his own hands. Sure, Kuroo had kissed a handful of people, mostly girls, once Bokuto on a dare, but that was as far as he’d ever managed. He definitely didn’t have indifferent first-years seducing him on the regular, that was for damned sure.
“I didn’t say that,” Kuroo said. “But – oh shit,” he gasped when Tsukishima scraped his nails hard against both his legs. “Tsukki, what the hell is going on here?”
Tsukishima tilted his head and reached up to slide his glasses off his face, folding them carefully and placing them inside his jacket. He blinked once and raised his chin, looking Kuroo in the eye.
Oh. Kuroo swallowed hard. So that was what it looked like to see Tsukishima’s eyes with nothing in the way.
“Kuroo-san,” Tsukishima began evenly, “have you ever built something up in your head, but had it go nowhere?”
Kuroo shrugged. “Of course. Who hasn’t?”
“Me.” Tsukishima shrugged back. “It’s an odd feeling for me, wanting something.” His hands started wandering again, sliding up Kuroo’s legs. His fingers started to disappear as they pushed underneath the legs of Kuroo’s shorts, creeping higher and higher. This time, Kuroo didn’t stop him, bracing his own hands against the bed and letting his head fall backwards till he was staring at the ceiling. Tsukishima’s hands were so warm, and Kuroo had no idea what to do. “Our coach told us that we should be proud, that getting to the third round at nationals is nothing less than impressive, that there will be other opportunities next year and the year after that.”
Tsukishima paused then, and the next thing Kuroo felt was Tsukishima’s mouth against his thigh. He sucked on the skin, hard enough to leave a mark for sure and didn’t stop until Kuroo let out a moan.
“The others, they seem to know how to deal with it,” Tsukishima went on, spreading his fingers wide, underneath Kuroo’s shorts. “The King kicked something. Yamaguchi cried. Hinata called your setter. But me? It just feels like bubbles.”
“Bubbles,” Kuroo repeated, tearing his eyes away from the ceiling to look down at Tsukishima again – a mistake.
“A fizzy feeling in my stomach. Feelings built up with no outlet.” Tsukishima narrowed his eyes and let out a huff. “Kuroo-san, I’ve got nowhere to put these and it’s so, so frustrating.”
Kuroo tried to look casual. “So you lost a match, big deal. We’ve all lost. You deal with it and move on.”
“I know,” Tsukishima said, raising his voice a little. “Don’t you think I know that? But I still want to get something.” He slid his hands out from under Kuroo’s shorts again, a slow, inexorable drag, and stood up to his full height.
Kuroo looked up and sucked in a sharp breath when Tsukishima put his knee in between Kuroo’s legs, rocking forward until his leg was pressed tight against Kuroo’s dick, trapped inside his shorts.
“Kuroo-san,” Tsukishima said, pressing his hand against Kuroo’s jaw and brushing his thumb against Kuroo’s lower lip, “I go home tomorrow morning.”
“I know,” Kuroo said with a hiss as Tsukishima rocked forward again.
“So, let me have something I want already,” Tsukishima said, and pushed Kuroo flat onto his back.
Kuroo let out a shaky breath. “Okay,” he said in a small voice.
Tsukishima smiled. “Thank you,” he said politely and unzipped his jacket, shrugging it off and tossing across the room onto Kenma’s bed. Then he fell forward until his chest was pressed tight against Kuroo’s chest, and he kissed him again. Tsukishima kissed him hard, but his mouth was soft, a shivery feeling that Kuroo wanted to chase, an urgent thing that had him opening his mouth wide and letting Tsukishima slide his tongue inside. Kuroo’s eyes slid shut and his hands fluttered with unsure movements at Tsukishima’s sides, skimming his fingers underneath the hem of his shirt to push it up. Tsukishima paused for a moment and then sat up again, yanking his shirt over his head and throwing it in the direction of his jacket.
Tsukishima impatiently pulled at Kuroo’s wrists until he was halfway sitting up, and could pull his own shirt over his head. “You’re supposed to be smart,” he said, swooping down for another kiss before spreading himself out over Kuroo again.
Kuroo ran his hands down Tsukishima’s back, tilting his head for Tsukishima’s impatient mouth, which was against his jaw, his cheek, his ear. When he claimed Kuroo’s mouth again, his leg slipped between both of Kuroo’s and they both hissed when their hips slid together. Kuroo found himself pushing himself against Tsukishima, over and over, his hands pushing into Tsukishima’s hair to pull it.
“Kuroo-san,” Tsukishima said breathlessly, hazily lifting his head from Kuroo’s throat, “do that again.”
He did and was rewarded by Tsukishima’s palm flat against the front of his shorts; he was so hard that he thought it was nearly as good as having Tsukishima’s hand wrapped around his dick, a thought he revised a moment later when Tsukishima pushed his hand past his waistband and he actually did.
“Ah.” Kuroo turned his head to the side and choked out a moan as Tsukishima’s grip tightened and he stroked him up and down. “Fuck. Shit. God damn it, Tsukki.”
“Mmm,” Tsukishima agreed. He pulled his hand out of Kuroo’s shorts and rolled away; Kuroo was about to complain, but he rolled back a minute later with the complementary lotion the hotel staff left. Kenma really liked it because it smelled like apple pie, and while Kuroo knew that was probably going to wind up being some inconvenient scent memory for him in the future, right now, he couldn’t bring himself to care.
Kuroo pushed his hips up at Tsukishima’s urging, letting him push his shorts and underwear off his legs and onto the floor. Tsukishima’s eyes swept up and down his body, a look that had Kuroo’s whole body flaring hot. He thought that maybe, in this little hotel room in the middle of Nationals, that somehow, kind of, he might have been having a sexual revelation. It was almost too much to contemplate right then, but the thought of Karasuno going home because of him suddenly made him sad. It was entirely, totally possible that this was Kuroo’s only chance to do this, ever, and the thought didn’t sit well with him. He pushed it away for now, watching as Tsukishima went to tilt the lotion into his hand. Kuroo blinked and said, “Not you, too?”
Tsukishima shrugged, like it didn’t matter, but there was something in his eyes and the way he wet his lips that meant he liked the suggestion.
“You too,” Kuroo decided, sitting up to help Tsukishima out of the rest of his things. Once they were gone, he did his own sweep of Tsukishima’s body, promoting his potential sexual revelation to a definite one, and pulled Tsukishima back down onto the bed. When Tsukishima touched him again, it was a slippery mess, but one that felt so much better then – so much closer, so much hotter, so much more – and he knew it was mutual when he took the bottle and got his own hand around Tsukishima’s dick.
Tsukishima wasn’t very loud as they stroked each other together, and Kuroo thought maybe he was fucking up – not that surprising, all things considered – but then Tsukishima let out a long moan and bucked his hips into the circle of Kuroo’s fist. Tsukishima bit his lip to stop another sound from escaping, but Kuroo kissed him hard to prevent that, and they groaned into each other’s mouths, pushing each other closer and closer to the edge. As Kuroo’s stomach tightened, Tsukishima pushed their foreheads together and said, “Thanks. For everything,” in a voice barely above a whisper.
“Oh. Unfair,” Kuroo said, then, “Fuck,” and came all over Tsukishima’s stomach. Tsukishima followed three strokes after. Once they’d regained their breath and cleaned up some, Kuroo lightly hit Tsukishima’s chest with the back of his hand.
“Ow,” Tsukishima said mildly. “What was that for?”
“You’re welcome,” Kuroo said irritably, even though irritable was about the last emotion he was experiencing right then. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, you know. Karasuno played incredibly. This –” He waved his hand around the room. “– was all your idea. You’ve changed, you know.”
Tsukishima sat up and shot him a tiny smile. “I know,” he said, pulling on his clothes again. His hair stood up like a baby chick’s as he popped his head through the neck of his shirt, which was way too fucking endearing. “That’s why I thanked you.”
Kuroo grinned back and ran a hand through his messy hair, an absolute sex snarl now, and glanced at the clock, noticing how late it was. He sat up suddenly. “Oh shit.”
A keycard activated the hotel room door. “Kuro, why are you still up?” Kenma said as soon as he opened the door. He took one look around, spun on his heel, and left.
Oof. Kuroo wouldn’t be allowed to bug him for pickup games for a week after they get back home with that hanging over his head, and he didn’t even want to think about how many arcade visits this meant.
“Uh, sorry,” said Kuroo, gathering up his clothes from many different directions. He glanced at Tsukishima, who was stifling a laugh with his hand.
“I’d better go,” Tsukishima said. “Yamaguchi’s going to start wondering where I am, and you probably don’t want him bursting in here, too, out of some misguided loyalty.”
Kuroo’s eyes widened. “Yeah, no.”
They both stood up and Kuroo walked Tsukishima to the door. The bone tiredness was back, momentarily forgotten again when Tsukishima pulled him and kissed him one last time, warm and slow. “Kuroo-san,” he said, pulling back just enough that his name buzzed against Kuroo’s lips. “Make sure Nekoma wins everything. If that happens, maybe I’ll think of more things I’d like to try.” He kissed Kuroo once more before he turned around and left.
After Tsukishima was gone, Kuroo saluted his door. “Sir, yes sir,” he muttered to himself, and shook his head hard and sent a message to Kenma, telling him it was safe to come back.
Kenma replied right away. All the message said was You’re disowned. Kuroo shrugged. He’d come back when he was ready.
Maybe Kuroo would let himself feel guilty in the morning, but he was flying too high for that right then. He got ready for bed, turned off the lights, and shoved his head in between his pillows. Rest was important, after all, and winning their match tomorrow was the first step toward giving Tsukishima something else that he wanted. And maybe doing that was something Kuroo wanted, too.