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watch you work the room

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It’s late at night, and Daichi is, as usual, awake. He’s almost always awake around this hour--just past two in the morning, moonlight filtering in through the slits in the blinds, the hallway outside quiet but for the occasional straggler calling it quits after a long night of studying--but normally it’s because he’s doing work or walking home or socializing.

Tonight is different. Tonight finds Daichi in bed with Kuroo snug in his lap, fully unclothed and tugging rather insistently at the hem of his shirt. The effort is somewhat futile; Daichi’s arms are wrapped tight around Kuroo’s waist, pulling him close so that every calculated roll of Kuroo’s hips drags their slicked-up cocks together slow and firm. It’s good for grinding--so good, because every inch of Kuroo’s body is pressed tight against his, lithe and demanding, and Daichi’s half-sure he could come just like this--but not so conducive for undressing.

“Lift--” Kuroo’s voice hitches, once, when Daichi sucks at the crook of his neck with the intent to leave what may or may not be a payback bruise, “Lift your damn arms, let me get this off.”

Daichi mouths at the base of Kuroo’s throat, just over the flutter of his pulse, and says, into damp skin, “I can do it myself.”

“Alright then, Sawamura,” Kuroo says, grinning, and he bounces once when he wriggles free and tips over onto his back. His hands are between his legs, fingers splayed out over himself in an imitation of modesty, as if that makes it any less indecent when he lets his knees fall apart and asks, “What’re you waiting for?”

Daichi’s mouth goes tight. A flush prickles at his cheeks as he tosses his shirt aside and feels for the bottle of lube before he crawls forward, dips his head to press his lips to the inside of Kuroo’s knee, and mumbles, “Shut up.”

He kisses Kuroo, open-mouthed, on the insides of his thighs, presses a finger inside of him and follows it with a second just after; the too-soon sting of it makes Kuroo gasp, thighs tensing on either side of Daichi’s waist. Daichi leans forward as he works Kuroo open, leaves a red mark just under his collarbone, deliberate, before he crooks his fingers the way he knows Kuroo likes it. Kuroo goes tense and Daichi does it again--and that’s definitely what Kuroo wants, Daichi’s sure of it, because he groans and lifts his hips and hisses an affirmative, heat rolling across his neck and shoulders in pink waves.

“I can take more than that, y’know,” Kuroo says between short breaths, once he’s opened his eyes again.

Daichi knows he can, wants to give him more, wants to press Kuroo into the mattress until he goes sweet with that biting sort of pliance Daichi’s never seen in anyone else. So he acquiesces and pushes in a third finger, curls them all slow and insistent, and Kuroo almost hums, pleased and throaty and unashamed.

Just that one noise is enough to make Daichi pause to breathe. He wants Kuroo so badly it makes his head spin, makes him so hard he can’t help but touch himself with his free hand, squeezing the base of his cock and stroking slow and willing himself to calm down.

Kuroo just chuckles like he knows and says, “You’re not gonna hurt me, and I’m not gonna last all night. Mind hurrying up?”

“You complained for two days last time,” Daichi points out. He’s stalling a little for the sake of his composure, so he curls his fingers again; Kuroo inhales, sharp, and clutches at the sheets. “Make up your mind.”

Kuroo stills briefly, weighing his options, before he puts his fingers to Daichi’s chest and pushes him backwards and down onto the bed. He rocks up onto his knees, moves to sit heavy on Daichi’s hips, and grins down at him, slow and anticipatory.

Like this he’s a little beautiful: all sharp edges at his elbows and knees and shoulders, and softer then at the flare of his hips; softest yet where Daichi touches him, fingers skimming over his waist and the backs of his thighs. Kuroo guides Daichi’s hands there and up, unabashed, pins them against the curve of his ass until Daichi tightens his grip and holds Kuroo like he wants to be held.

Daichi can tell Kuroo’s satisfied with that because he’s generous with the amount of lube he drizzles into his palm--too generous, really, and it’s dripping on the sheets but whatever, it’s his bed--before he reaches back and takes Daichi’s cock in his hand. He runs his tongue across his bottom lip and says, smug, “I’m gonna have to charge you if you keep staring.”

“Sorry,” Daichi says quickly. It’s embarrassing to be caught out like that, and no doubt Kuroo will tease him for it later, but even so he doesn’t look away. He can’t, not when Kuroo’s braced above him like this, devious and a little dazed, looking like something right out of one of Daichi's best daydreams.

Kuroo rolls his eyes, but the intended effect is dulled by the little noise he gives as he rubs the head of Daichi’s cock against himself, the way he sucks in a shallow breath before he says, “Might as well give you something to look at, yeah?”

Daichi takes a breath to say why don’t you, or maybe quit being a dumbass, but Kuroo sinks down on Daichi’s cock in one swift movement and knocks the wind right out of him.

Daichi’s eyes flutter shut involuntarily. He’ll never really be over the way he and Kuroo fit together like this, the way Kuroo hisses and digs his fingers into his thighs--the way he goes tight around Daichi and then stills, spine ramrod straight, face turned ceilingward.

“Shit,” Kuroo breathes, wincing, and Daichi would laugh if he weren’t trying his best to keep still. “That’s gonna hurt tomorrow.”

“I told you, dumbass.” Daichi admonishes, drawing little circles around the points of Kuroo’s hipbones with his thumbs. “You okay?”

“I’ve been worse,” Kuroo says. “I’ll be better once you get moving--if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” Daichi murmurs, and obliges.

He presses up into Kuroo, grinds into him with firm shallow strokes that barely bring his hips up off the bed, keeps his pace slow so Kuroo can adjust to the stretch. Kuroo never gives himself as long as Daichi thinks he should to get used to it; he likes it a little rough, likes the way he’ll ache the next day if Daichi takes him too quick, and he looks like that's what he wants now. He looks like he's aiming to spend all of tomorrow morning in bed, brow furrowed and bottom lip between his teeth as he fucks himself just a little too fast on Daichi's cock, and he's panting, quiet and focused, until he angles his hips experimentally. Daichi’s next movement makes him shudder all over, makes his thighs tense and his eyes slide shut; his shoulders drop into that lazy curve Daichi knows so well, and his mouth goes slack when he makes a noise that would be sweet if it weren’t so goddamn loud.

“Someone’s gonna hear you,” Daichi hisses. He fights down the urge to reach up and clap a hand over Kuroo’s mouth and tightens his grip on Kuroo’s waist instead, halting the movement of his hips.

Kuroo laughs--and god, Daichi didn’t know laughter alone could make him want all the way down to his bones--and says, like he’s proud of it, “I know.”

“So shut up.”

“I thought you liked me loud,” Kuroo says, and each word is punctuated with a roll of his hips as he grinds down, deliberate, bucking off the pressure of Daichi’s hands. Daichi lets him, because the pull of Kuroo’s body is unrelenting and irresistible, and because the way Kuroo groans when he seats himself fully on Daichi’s cock make his head go a little blank.

It’s true; he likes Kuroo this way, likes it when Kuroo directs his hands where he wants them and rides Daichi like he wants to break the bedsprings, loves it when Kuroo sets paces he can’t keep and comes apart without being touched. Kuroo’s looking at him that way now, intent, like he’s going to make Daichi fuck him until he’s loud enough to wake up everyone on their floor. And the thing is that Daichi knows that, knows Kuroo’s going to be as noisy as possible, and even so he’s going to go along with it, because something about Kuroo always turns off the more rational part of Daichi’s brain.

Daichi winds his fingers into Kuroo’s hair and tugs until he can see how Kuroo’s mouth slips into a loose smirk, how he runs his tongue over his teeth, slow and nearly predatory. It should be lame, but something about the confidence Kuroo wears like a second skin makes it alluring, makes Daichi want to drag him back down and kiss the cockiness right out of him. He leans up, closer, presses his lips to the corner of Kuroo’s mouth and says, “You’re gonna get us in trouble.”

Kuroo says, “Don’t worry about it,” and closes the distance between them to kiss Daichi deep and rough. Daichi’s gasping when Kuroo’s pulls back, lips wet and sure to bruise, and then Kuroo’s biting at the crook of his jaw, at his earlobe, murmuring, “Just fuck me.”

“I am,” Daichi says, because he is; he’s digging his heels into the mattress for leverage, dropping his hands down to Kuroo’s ass and holding him close as he rocks upwards. And Daichi knows this isn’t quite what Kuroo wants, but it’s still so good, good enough to make him close his eyes and moan when Kuroo pushes back against his thrusts and meets him halfway.

“What,” and Kuroo’s breath is warm on Daichi’s cheek, voice close and coaxing, “You don’t wanna watch?”

Daichi doesn’t retort, because he’s planning to spend his breath on fucking Kuroo close to senseless; instead he opens his eyes and blinks Kuroo into focus.

It’s romantic and ridiculous, but Daichi can’t help but smile; Kuroo’s eyes are bright, cheeks glowing pink, and everything about him is exhilarated and lovely when he says, “Is that all you got?”

Daichi laughs and leans up to kiss Kuroo well and thoroughly. He says, grinning, “Just you wait,” and proceeds to do his level best to make sure Kuroo wakes up everyone in the building.


“Someone definitely heard us,” Daichi muses, after, when Kuroo’s gotten comfortable slumped half on top of him, drawing lazy shapes out on the planes of Daichi’s ribs and raising goosebumps in the wake of his fingernails. He laughs when Daichi chides him, blowing short warm breaths in staccato rhythm across Daichi’s neck, and lifts his head just enough to show off his perfectly self-satisfied grin.

“That was the point. Bokuto woke me up twice already this week. He’s got stamina, but you can’t make up for skill with noise--”

“I do not need to know.”