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a lonely night

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Kiyoomi doesn’t pay much attention to the people around him outside of the court. It’s simply easier to not care, mind his own business, not risk being dragged into anyone else’s issues. Even when Kotarou and Shouyou ask him to decide who has better receives, he just turns his head around and maybe even calls them idiots if he’s feeling especially lively that day (and it’s Shouyou, by the way).

But Miya Atsumu is someone who craves attention at all times. And even though he’s completely blunt about it to the point where Kiyoomi should consider it quite annoying, somehow, Atsumu manages to get his eyes stuck on him as he makes flashy moves on the court, giving the game more than his best just so he could feel good about himself and have the audience screaming for him. He raises both of his fists in the air, his jersey stretches tightly over his muscular back as beads of sweat roll down his biceps. Atsumu’s thighs are all lean, tight muscle and as Kiyoomi wonders what it would feel like to grip those with his fingers, a ball flies straight to his face, but he has enough time to dodge it by flinching to the left.

The umpire raises both of his palms and Kiyoomi breathes out. The audience cheers.

“Out!” Shouyou yells.

“Omi-kun, what's up with you? You seemed distracted,” Atsumu yells at him.

“It’s nothing,” Kiyoomi replies, and Atsumu narrows his eyes at him but doesn’t question him further.

Kiyoomi is never interested into people enough to have the thoughts of them making him completely zone out during an important game. He was never interested in Atsumu, if anything, he probably spoke to him less than anyone else on the team. Atsumu is loud, cocky, touchy and overwhelming in all the ways that Kiyoomi dislikes. But he knows for a fact that Atsumu smells like mint and that cucumber deodorant he uses that’s the most refreshing thing in the world, he knows that he likes to wear tight shirts that nicely point out his shoulder to waist ratio, and he also likes bubblegum pop music, which isn’t something Kiyoomi exactly minds. Call it a guilty pleasure.

Everyone adores Atsumu, they follow his every movement with their eager eyes, ready to be dumbfounded with every point he scores. Atsumu is an extraordinary player, so Kiyoomi, as well, pays attention to him, but he refuses to accept that there could be something else to it.

“I love you guys so much! This was the best game we ever played,” Shouyou says from where he’s laying on the floor of the locker room. Kiyoomi can’t even stand looking at him as Kotarou and Tomas pretend that they are going to stomp him to the ground, which they most probably could. But Shouyou fears absolutely nothing. Not even all the dirt that they carried from the outside and the court to the floor of this locker room.

“You say that every game,” Shion says as he jumps over Shouyou.

“And isn’t that great? It means that we improve with every match we play!”

They throw themselves into a discussion over a girl Tomas met on Tinder, and that’s when Kiyoomi decides to disconnect from the conversation. Weirdly, Atsumu doesn’t seem to be interested in it, either, Kiyoomi realizes as he sneaks a look at him just to see him taking his clothes off with a blank face.

Kiyoomi wraps a towel around his waist and hits the shower with a bottle of shampoo in his hand. Everyone knows better than to interrupt Kiyoomi during a shower, as he prefers to do it alone, and if someone decides to come, they are risking being chased out, slipping and cracking their skull open against the cold tiles, so they simply don’t disturb him during those five minutes he takes to wash the sweat off of his skin and ease the ache in his muscles. That’s why he is surprised when he hears the door opening.

“Omi-kun, sorry I... I just want to get this over with and go back to the hotel,” Atsumu says as he turns on the shower next to Kiyoomi, and the latter watches as the gentle stream of water rolls down his bare skin.

“Are you okay?” Kiyoomi lets himself be nosy. Atsumu is never like this.

The latter doesn’t reply for a few seconds. He squeezes out a bit of shampoo on his hand and Kiyoomi practically forces himself to look away as he spreads it over his chest and arms.

“Shinsuke and I broke up.”

“What?” Kiyoomi replies immediately in disbelief.

“I know, right?” Atsumu smiles, but it’s fake. “It’s strange. But I’ll get used to it.”

Kiyoomi hums, looking down at the white tiles.

“What did you do?”

“Hey, what makes you think it was me who did something?”

Kiyoomi rolls his eyes, “Don’t tell me it was Kita-san’s fault that you two broke up, I’m not falling for that.”

“It wasn’t anyone’s fault,” Atsumu begins, but he trails off. He scrubs his skin but it’s obvious that his mind is somewhere else.

“If he got tired of your annoying ass then it technically is you...” Kiyoomi doesn’t get to finish that sentence because suddenly his back collides with the cold tiles. Atsumu’s fingers are wrapped around his neck and Kiyoomi tugs on his wrist but the latter presses him harder against the wall. God, he didn’t expect him to be this strong.

“You really don’t know when to shut up, don’t you?”

“A little teasing got your panties in a twist,” Kiyoomi chuckles, “Aren’t you the one who doesn’t care about what others have to say about him, Miya?”

Kiyoomi watches as Atsumu’s jaw clenches. His skin is flushed, and he isn’t sure if it’s from the steam that fills the room or the blood boiling in his veins.

“You’re a fat jerk, Sakusa. No wonder no one fucking likes you,” Atsumu says through gritted teeth and something twists deep in Kiyoomi’s gut.

Kiyoomi spits right in Atsumu’s face, and the latter closes his eyes as his chest heaves. His grip around Kiyoomi’s neck tightens for a second but then he’s letting go and moving back under the shower head.

An apology is on the tip of Kiyoomi’s tongue, but he bites it as he tries to steady his breathing. He liked the feeling of Atsumu’s hand on his neck more than he should have.

They all go back to the hotel first, changing into something nicer as they have decided earlier that day that they will go out for a drink or a few. It was their last game this season, anyway, and it was something they knew they could easily win, so why not celebrate it?

They visit a restaurant because Shouyou would quite literally pass out if he drank even a shot of vodka on an empty stomach. Atsumu sits next to Shion instead between of Kotarou and Shouyou to avoid having the two of them antagonizing their setter like they enjoy the most. And Atsumu doesn't usually mind it that much, but it seems as if he's not up for it today.

Kiyoomi asks him if his yakitori is tasty over the table. A reply to that question is the only thing Atsumu says to anyone.

In any other situation, Kiyoomi probably wouldn’t feel guilt scratching on his skin because he insulted Atsumu, but this time, it was obvious that he overstepped a line that was silently waiting to be crossed. He should apologize, not because he regrets it, but because he picked on him when he was vulnerable in front of him more than ever. It’s not like Kiyoomi cares about Atsumu’s feelings, it’s more that he wants to forgive himself for acting out of line.

Once they are in the first club they manage to find, Shouyou and Kotarou don’t waste a second before hitting the dance floor. Kiyoomi laughs at them and just how utterly stupid they look in his eyes as they move their limbs uncoordinatedly to a pop song they probably don’t even know. Meian dragged Shion and Tomas with him to a bar down the street, and that left Kiyoomi and Atsumu on their own.

Atsumu is sitting next to him, sipping on his Schweppes, eyes lost somewhere among the crowd, but it doesn’t seem as if anyone has actually caught his eye.

It’s not awkward because they always fight and then pretend nothing happened like they're doing now, but Kiyoomi doesn’t like the way Atsumu completely ignores him. He realizes Atsumu is, strangely though, much more tolerable when he is nagging him and being his usual insufferable self.

“Hey,” Kiyoomi nudges him with his elbow, but doesn’t continue until after a few seconds when Atsumu faces him with his lips pressed in a thin line, “I’m sorry for what I said. I hope everything will be alright with you and Kita-san.”

Atsumu snorts, but his lips do tug up into a faint smile as he looks back at the dancing crowd.

“I can’t believe you actually apologized for being a dick.”

“Yeah, well, don’t make me take it back,” Kiyoomi replies, taking a sip of his drink.

“I don’t care whether you apologize to me or not, Omi-kun. I have bigger things to worry about.”

Atsumu’s eyes drop down at the table, and Kiyoomi recognizes his habit of chewing on his bottom lip whenever he’s deep in thoughts.

“Have a drink with me. I hate the kicked puppy look on your face.”

Atsumu grins, tilting his head to look at Kiyoomi, “Are you implying there’s a look on my face that you like?”

Kiyoomi wants to differ, but Atsumu is right, in a way. He likes it when Atsumu blankly stares at Kotarou who doesn’t fall for his intimidation techniques or when Shouyou compares him to Kageyama Tobio. He also likes it when Atsumu drags his tongue over his lips after every point they score. He does the same thing when he’s trying to concentrate, but it’s not like anything ever comes out of that.

“Stop making me wish I never spoke to you and have this.”

The latter shakes his head. “I don’t know. If I start drinking whenever I’m sad, it will become a habit.”

Kiyoomi nods. That’s true.

“I guess. But this Jägermeister is real good. Tastes like honey.”

Atsumu looks down at Kiyoomi’s glass on the table. He purses his lips and Kiyoomi knows he’s hesitating. Atsumu likes to drink. No, he likes to enjoy alcohol. He could go on and on about the finest of wines and what beer brands apparently taste like piss (Kiyoomi doesn’t know, he doesn’t drink beer).

“Damn it, but just one, right?” Atsumu raises a finger and Kiyoomi laughs.

“Just one, c’mon.” He pushes his own glass towards Atsumu and he grasps it, taking a sniff first, then nodding in approval. His lips press at the same spot where Kiyoomi’s lips were - he can see the imprint of his chapstick on the glass. His chest tightens.

“Omi-kun, you’re cruel,” Atsumu begins after lowering the glass, “You let us drink fucking vodka while you were enjoying this beauty every time we went out? Evil.”

Kiyoomi laughs, downing the rest of the drink before leaving the now empty glass on the table.

“You idiots always just want to get drunk as fast as you can. And I simply let you.”

“And why don’t you join us?”

Kiyoomi frowns. “In making fools out of yourselves? I’ll pass, thanks.”

Atsumu tugs on the sleeve of his shirt, “Let’s dance while we are sober then. You won’t embarrass yourself, promise. And it’s not like anyone here cares about a stranger they’ve never seen before.”

Kiyoomi stares at him, both because of the absurdity of that offer being directed at him but also because, fuck, Atsumu is so beautiful. His bangs almost fall over his forehead but he always brushes them away, and Kiyoomi simply itches to tuck it behind his ear. Atsumu is objectively very handsome - especially like this, in a white button up with a golden watch sitting prettily on his wrist. Kiyoomi can catch a scent of his strong, seductive perfume even from this distance. It lures him in, makes him wonder what it would feel like to bury his face in Atsumu’s neck and get lost in that alluring sensation.

“Why should I? I’m comfortable here.”

Atsumu rolls his eyes, still tugging onto the black fabric. “Don’t be a buzzkill. I need this, and I don’t wanna dance with those two clowns.”

Kiyoomi sighs, and Atsumu takes that as a yes before Kiyoomi has a chance to say anything. He wraps his fingers around Kiyoomi’s wrist, pulling him away from their table and into the crowd.

Kiyoomi tries to breathe in in short, slow breaths. People push past him, and they smell like cigarettes, alcohol and bad perfumes. The lights are almost dizzying, and he feels as if he will drown. But it’s okay, Atsumu is there and he’s holding him tightly. Despite all of their bickering and lack of tolerance for each other, they are teammates, Kiyoomi knows him. Atsumu is highly empathetic despite his reputation and he knows that Kiyoomi doesn’t do well in crowded places, and he won’t let him get lost.

Once they are deep enough into the crowd, Atsumu turns around to face him. He is the type of person that the majority of time can’t take a smile off of his face, and despite how bad his past few days have been, the corners of his lips are stretched prettily as he looks at Kiyoomi. He makes a few flashy, almost embarrassing moves that make Kiyoomi laugh into his hand as he sways to the beat.

“Isn’t this fun?” Atsumu yells over the music and Kiyoomi shakes his head, but he can’t stop smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.

He doesn’t know what song is currently playing. It’s a bit too loud and too fast for what he usually prefers, but he can dance to it with a little more effort. And if anything, he’s just glad that Atsumu is entertained enough not to think about his heartbreak.

“Move,” someone yells into his left ear, and their voice is so high-pitched it makes him flinch. But he’s already pushed forward by whoever that was, and for a second everything around him fucking spins. He accidentally collides with a girl that was moving past him and her pink drink ends up all over his shoes. She gasps, hands flying to his shoulders as apologies spill out of her mouth but Kiyoomi can’t make anything out of it because, honestly, he thinks he’s going to pass out.

“It’s fine, I promise,” he hears a familiar voice, but he keeps his eyes on the floor, hand reaching out on instinct and luckily, it ends up on Atsumu’s arm. The girl that had her hands all over him has let him go, probably because Atsumu told her to. “You okay there?”

Kiyoomi feels like he can finally breathe when a set of hands settles on his waist, and when he looks up, he’s met with Atsumu’s worried gaze.

“I am fine now. Thank you. You didn’t have to.”

Atsumu shakes his head slightly. “Of course I did. Don’t want my dance partner to be feeling ill.”

“I suck as a dance partner,” Kiyoomi replies, biting back a smile.

“I think you’re doing alright,” Atsumu shrugs. Both of Kiyoomi’s hands end up on Atsumu’s arms, and they are so thick and nice that he wishes he could knead those muscles until his fingers ache. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up almost up to his elbows, and the first few buttons are undone, revealing just a glint of his chest. Kiyoomi wonders what it would feel like to dig his teeth into his skin. And it’s like Atsumu can read his thoughts with the way he’s eyeing him suspiciously, the corner of his lips tugging up subtly.

“Like what you see?”

Kiyoomi meets his eyes. He’s not a coward.

“And what if I do?” He replies, slowly dragging his hands up until they are comfortably locked behind Atsumu’s neck.

Atsumu chuckles, and he pulls Kiyoomi closer with his hands on his hips, a single finger sliding beneath his black shirt, pressing against the flushed skin. Atsumu nudges his nose with the tip of his own, and Kiyoomi smiles, fingers tugging on the short hair on his nape. The song that’s playing, it’s just a bit slower, and the flashlights turn to mixture of red and white - that’s what Kiyoomi blames on the fact that he lets himself press his chest against Atsumu’s. Their lips are parted, just inches away from each other, and Kiyoomi can feel Atsumu’s breath on his skin, but he loves this maybe a bit too much. He knows Atsumu craves this, too - he can feel his beating heart against his own chest, the way his nail scrapes the skin on his hip, see how his lids are heavy with want.

But Atsumu doesn’t kiss him there, in front of everyone to see. Instead, he tilts his head to whisper into Kiyoomi’s ear, “Wanna go back to the hotel?”

Kiyoomi grins, taking the opportunity to pull on Atsumu’s earlobe lightly with his teeth. “Let’s go.”

They end up taking Kotarou and Shouyou with them, so the walk back to the hotel eases some of the tension and gets Atsumu to laugh the loudest he had in the past few days. It makes Kiyoomi smile, as well. It isn’t exactly nice when someone who is cheerful ninety percent of the time to be sad, and Kiyoomi isn’t saying that he doesn’t have the right to be like that from time to time, it’s just that it’s strange.

Kiyoomi knows there is no way to force a drunk Shouyou to change before going to sleep, and it’s not like he wants to see him naked, so he asks Kotarou to do it three times before he’s sure it has actually gotten into his head.

Kotarou nods and leans in to press a wet kiss on Kiyoomi’s cheek.

“Gross,” Kiyoomi pushes him away, “Go take your clothes off. I will get you some water.”

“Sorry, Sakusa-san, but I’m actually taken. I know you want to see me naked, but I’m very loyal to my fiance,” Kotarou speaks a bit too loudly for Kiyoomi’s taste as he stumbles over to the bed Shouyou is already dozing off on.

Kiyoomi rolls his eyes. “I want to see you in your bed.” He frowns at his own words.

Kotarou laughs. “I’ve always known you had a thing for me.”

Once Kiyoomi is back with a bottle of water that he managed to find in Shouyou’s bag, the latter is shirtless but struggling to take off his jeans. Kiyoomi throws the bottle at him, and Kotarou barely manages to catch it. He pulls on his jeans until they’re sliding off of his legs, and Kotarou watches it as if it’s the most amazing thing he has ever witnessed.

“Drink the water now,” Kiyoomi says, folding his jeans neatly and leaving them by the foot of his bed. He turns around to watch Kotarou as he downs almost the entire bottle at once. Shouyou is already passed out, but Kiyoomi knows he never drinks much, it’s just that he has a horrible alcohol tolerance, so he will be fine, unlike Kotarou who’s drunk by the time he tries to remember how many shots of tequila he’s taken, so Kiyoomi has to take extra care of him.

“Thank you, Omi-kun,” Kotarou says quietly, and his eyes are closed the entire time he wrestles with the sheets until both him and Shouyou are comfortably snugged beneath them. “Gimme a goodnight kiss.”

“Oh, fuck off. And don’t call me that, I don’t need two Atsumus in my life,” Kiyoomi replies, listening to Kotarou laugh as he turns off the lights and closes the door of their bedroom behind him.

He heads over to his room, and decides to take a quick, but through shower. He knows that Atsumu will come over, he never told him to, but he’s sure he made his plans for tonight clear enough.

And Kiyoomi doesn’t have the time to actually put on some clothes before the door of his hotel room creaks open.

“Hey,” Atsumu says, leaning on the door behind him.

Kiyoomi turns to face him, holding the towel around his waist tightly - he feels even more bare as Atsumu drags his eyes all over him, not even bothering to make it discreet.

“Are you feeling better? I thought you were going to pass out back in the club.”

Kiyoomi sighs, “So did I. I’m sorry for scaring you.” He sits on the edge of the mattress.

Atsumu finally walks forward, stopping once he’s standing in front of him.

“I’m sorry for putting you in a risky situation. I should’ve known better.”

Kiyoomi’s legs spread on instinct, and Atsumu takes a step more to stand between them, hands cupping Kiyoomi’s cheeks. They are so warm and Kiyoomi doesn’t think twice about his reputation before leaning into the touch and pressing a short kiss on Atsumu’s palm.

“It’s okay. I knew what I was getting into.” He smiles and Atsumu mirrors it. Silence falls between them, but Kiyoomi doesn’t let it stretch. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Atsumu brushes his thumbs over Kiyoomi’s cheekbones, nudging his thigh with his knee, and Kiyoomi immediately spreads his legs wider, leaning back on his elbows as he looks up at Atsumu.

“Why wouldn’t I? Look at you,” Atsumu says as he traces the tip of his index finger across Kiyoomi’s jaw, down to his neck, over his chest and abdomen until he reaches the hem of the towel hanging loosely over his hips. Kiyoomi’s breath gets stuck in his throat once Atsumu places his knee on the mattress between his legs and leans over him to press a chaste kiss onto his jawline. “Who wouldn’t want to have you like this?”

It’s so strange to hear Atsumu, who’s usually loud and likes to ramble about anything and everything, speak quietly and pick his words so carefully.

“You’re being nice, I’m baffled.”

When Kiyoomi threads his fingers through Atsumu’s hair, it’s still damp from the shower he took after they arrived at the hotel. It’s soft and makes him look so pretty when he doesn’t slick it back, once he lets it fall over his eyes.

“I can be nice to get what I want.”

Kiyoomi pulls him in with his hand on his nape, smiling against his lips.

“I’m all yours, then.”

It’s all it takes for Atsumu to give up the teasing and lean into a slow kiss which seems as if the both of them are testing the waters before Kiyoomi pulls him in further by wrapping his legs around Atsumu’s waist. Atsumu coaxes his mouth open with the tip of his tongue and Kiyoomi whimpers against his lips when the latter digs his fingers into his thighs. Atsumu’s weight over his own makes him just a bit dizzier; makes him want to do everything he’s been craving right now without wasting any time. But the night is young and Atsumu seems to be enjoying the way they are slowly unraveling each other.

It’s strange - actually sleeping with Atsumu has never, even once, crossed his mind. He did find him attractive, just like the rest of the world did, it was an understandment, but Atsumu has spent years dating Shinsuke so Kiyoomi never really gave himself the right to think about him in that way. He appreciated the way his body looked and did sometimes wish to touch it, but anyone could have muscles like that. Kotarou is way hotter than Atsumu, if the category is being ripped. Plus, Kiyoomi respected Shinsuke too much to be daydreaming of fucking his boyfriend. But look at them now - who would’ve thought?

He wonders if Atsumu is equally as surprised as Kiyoomi at the way they ended up. But there is no uncertainty in his eyes as he draws back to stand in front of Kiyoomi’s spread legs. He pulls his shirt over his head, and Kiyoomi lets himself enjoy the way his muscles flex from this angle.

Kiyoomi raises one of his feet, pressing it lightly to the front of Atsumu’s sweatpants. Atsumu leans into it, his chest heaving as Kiyoomi moves his foot against his hardening length with more pressure, bites his lip at the sight of Atsumu’s eyes falling shut and him inhaling a shaky breath.

“You are enjoying this way too much,” Kiyoomi says and Atsumu laughs.

“I guess I’ll take anything from you.”

Kiyoomi grins, tugging the hem of Atsumu’s sweatpants down his hips. He makes it to his knees and that’s where they drop on their own, pooling around Atsumu’s feet. He steps out of them, wrapping his fingers around Kiyoomi’s ankle, pressing a light kiss to it before making his way down his leg. Atsumu takes his sweet time with Kiyoomi’s thighs, teeth sinking into the warm skin as he grips the other with his hand. Kiyoomi gasps once Atsumu’s head is below the towel wrapped around his hips. Though, it ends up by his sides when Atsumu raises his head to lick a broad stripe over his cock. Kiyoomi groans at the sight of Atsumu sucking softly on the head, looking up at him through his wet bangs.

“Come here,” he breathes out, and Atsumu obeys, falling right into Kiyoomi’s welcoming arms, pressing their lips together into a kiss that’s more teeth and tongue than anything else. And when they both pull away, there’s a string of saliva connecting their bottom lips. Atsumu collects more of it on the tip of his tongue, and Kiyoomi’s mouth falls open. Atsumu spits in his mouth and Kiyoomi swallows, licking his lips afterwards, eyes wide and looking up at Atsumu as he does so.

“Didn’t know you were into that.”

“I am into a lot of things that would surprise you,” Kiyoomi says, tilting his head. “Lube and condoms are in the nightstand.”

Atsumu chuckles, getting off of him. Kiyoomi takes that as a chance to finally get rid of the towel, moving up to rest against the pillows.

“Were you expecting something to happen?”

Kiyoomi shakes his head. “I stole those from Shouyou. He gets laid every time we go out, but I realized he won’t be capable of anything tonight.”

Atsumu makes a face at the bottle of lube in his hand, and Kiyoomi laughs at him.

“Gross. How do you even know he gets laid? I never noticed him taking someone back to the hotel.”

“Shouyou is open with me because he usually just needs to let some things out and he thinks I never listen to him,” Kiyoomi shrugs.

“Damn, you really are a jerk.”

Atsumu stands next to the bed for a few moments, simply staring at him with his eyebrows knit together.

“Are you going to fuck me or not?” Kiyoomi cocks an eyebrow, dragging his hands over his inner thighs slowly.

Atsumu crawls between his legs without another word, tapping Kiyoomi’s knees as to tell him to spread them wider.

Kiyoomi doesn’t expect him to, but Atsumu works him open slowly, eyes trained on his face as Kiyoomi throws his head back, mouth agape. His toes curl against the white sheets - Atsumu is too good at this. Kiyoomi’s thighs quiver once the tips of his fingers brush over his prostate. It feels like he could come like this, in seconds, and it’s embarrassing.

“That’s enough,” Kiyoomi says and Atsumu pulls his fingers out.

Kiyoomi pushes Atsumu back with his hands on his shoulders until he’s straddling his thighs, thinking about how pretty Atsumu looks with his hair spilling all over the pillow, looking up at him with raised eyebrows.

Kiyoomi splays his hands across Atsumu’s chest, leaning in to press his lips behind his ear softly. Atsumu still shivers, though, hands gripping Kiyoomi’s hips.

“Want me to ride you?” Kiyoomi whispers, the tip of his tongue dragging over the shell of Atsumu’s ear. He leans back to watch as Atsumu’s eyes flutter closed and he barely manages a quiet, “Yeah”.

Kiyoomi feels excitement rush trough him - he wants to take him apart so badly, watch him crumble beneath him. By now, it’s an understandment that he never thought of Atsumu in this way, so to slowly watch him turn into a needy, whimpering mess is as much of a surprise as it can be coming from someone who thrives in front of masses and intimidates his opponents with his energy and determination.

Kiyoomi wraps his fingers around Atsumu’s length loosely, and the latter trembles, bucking his hips into his touch.

“Please, Kiyoomi,” Atsumu breathes out, nails digging into Kiyoomi’s back, “I need you.”

Kiyoomi hums, pressing their lips together gently, but Atsumu kisses back eagerly. Kiyoomi can’t help but chuckle.

For a moment, he wonders if it’s Shinsuke who Atsumu thinks of once he sinks down on him. He grips his thighs, head thrown back. It must be, right? Atsumu probably hasn’t had sex with anyone else beside Shinsuke for a long time. They have been dating since high school. He can’t help but be curious over what made them split up. Everyone thought they were some sort of soulmates.

“Good?” Kiyoomi says, his voice breathy. His palms are pressed to Atsumu’s chest as he moves his hips, quietly observing the way Atsumu’s lower lip trembles once he sets a rhythm.

“Omi,” Atsumu whines, pulling his hips down harder. Kiyoomi’s mouth drops, fingers curling against Atsumu’s chest.

It is good, so good that it’s sad that Kiyoomi had to wait for almost a year for it to happen. He stills and Atsumu takes that as his cue to raise his hips and slam into him. Kiyoomi inhales sharply, hands reaching out to grab the headboard.

“Fuck,” Kiyoomi breathes out, and somehow, it’s quite easy to let Atsumu do as he pleases. At one point it’s obvious that he’s just chasing his own release, and something about being used for nothing but pleasure by a person that he’s hated by as much as he hates him, makes Kiyoomi’s head dizzy, but in a good way. He thinks about earlier that day when Atsumu gripped his neck harsh enough for a fleeting thought that he might actually want to suffocate him to run through Kiyoomi’s head.

He knows that Atsumu is close when he pushes him back onto the mattress, sinks back into him before Kiyoomi has time to complain about the disappointing feeling of emptiness. Kiyoomi presses his face into the pillow, back arching as Atsumu repeatedly hits the spot that has him seeing stars behind his eyelids. The way his hipbones slam against his flesh almost hurts, but Kiyoomi loves it so much. He loves it even more when Atsumu grabs a fistful of his hair and tugs him up on his knees. Kiyoomi reaches out for the headboard to steady himself.

“Fuck you,” Kiyoomi grits out, looking at Atsumu over his shoulder. Atsumu grins, moving closer to press his lips to Kiyoomi’s shoulder.

“Such a masochist, Omi-kun. I know you liked that,” Atsumu says, lips brushing over Kiyoomi’s skin. He slows down the pace of his hips, splaying his hands across Kiyoomi’s front. Atsumu hums, “You feel so good. So, so good.”

Kiyoomi tips his head back until it’s resting on Atsumu’s shoulder. It comes as a surprise when Atsumu leaves a short kiss on his temple, but that doesn’t last long because then he’s tugging on his cock and fucking him in a pace that makes his eyes roll back.

“Atsumu,” Kiyoomi manages, reaching behind him to grip Atsumu’s hip.

“What is it? Hm?” Atsumu says, and Kiyoomi can feel his heavy stare on his face even with his eyes closed.

The flick of Atsumu’s thumb over the head of his cock tips him over the edge before Kiyoomi finds the words to say. He falls back onto the bed, thighs shaking from oversensitivity as Atsumu continues to slam into him. It doesn’t take him long to lose his rhythm, to thrust one more time into him. Afterwards, he lies in the bed next to Kiyoomi, staring up at the ceiling.

“I hate you so much,” Kiyoomi says, but it’s muffled by the pillow below him.

“Are you saying that just to feel better about yourself?” Atsumu laughs, throwing his leg over the back of Kiyoomi’s thighs.

“Yeah.” Kiyoomi sighs, kicking Atsumu’s leg off and turning around so he’s lying on his back.

“Sorry to inform you, but there’s no going back. Now I know you are into some filthy stuff.”

Kiyoomi groans, covering Atsumu’s mouth with his hand. “Say anything to anyone and I’ll cut off your balls.”

Atsumu grabs his hand and rolls over until he’s pressing Kiyoomi into the mattress with his entire weight. “Nah, I’m keeping it for blackmailing purposes.”

“God, I can’t believe someone put up with you for seven years.”

“Yeah, I know. That’s a long time.”

Atsumu has that strange expression on his face again, and it Kiyoomi doesn’t think he’s ever going to figure it out. Atsumu moves to lie against the pillows, covering himself with the duvet. “I forgot what it’s like to be alone.”

Kiyoomi’s eyebrows furrow. “You’re not alone, though.”

Atsumu shrugs. “Lonely, then.”

Kiyoomi doesn’t know what is it like to be lonely. He usually prefers his own company over anyone else’s, and he learned how to entertain himself. It’s nice spending time with people he knows well, but he doesn’t mind being alone, either.

That night, he lets Atsumu sleep in his bed under the condition that he takes a shower. Kiyoomi knows that the latter spends a lot of time staring at the city through the large window on the wall before he finally falls asleep, but they don’t talk about it, and in the morning, Kiyoomi wakes up to an empty bed.