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The Greatest

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Sia - The Greatest (ft. Kendrick Lamar)

“Well, uh-oh, running out of breath, but I
Oh I, I got stamina
Uh-oh, running now, I close my eyes
But, oh oh, I got stamina
And oh yeah, running through the waves of love
But I, I got stamina
And oh yeah, I'm running and I've just enough
And uh-oh, I got stamina”

Lo-Fang - You're The One That I Want (cover)

“You better shape up
Cause you need a man
And my heart is set on you
You better shape up
You better understand
To my heart I must be true
You're the one that I want
The one that I want
The one that I need”


The notion that Miya Atsumu carries enough insecurity to crush a lesser man is frankly ridiculous.

The idea that he bears it all silently; the heaps of self-doubt digging themselves in between the cracks of his mental armor and digging into his skin, even more so. There are no living Miya’s who are quiet – least of all the Miya twins. Suffering in silence isn’t ‘the Miya style’. Everybody who’s ever met the twins knows this.

The idea that Atsumu’s mind sporadically tears itself apart because of it is preposterous. It’s laughable.

It’s stupid.

It’s true.

*

According to people who don’t know any better, Atsumu’s confidence doesn’t ever waver. He’s brash. And loud. And irrevocably in love with himself – pleased with his talent, drive, and looks alike.

Depending on who you ask, those last few facts are well-earned – but it doesn’t change the fact that the original take is wrong.

It’s easy for those who never stop running to get lost. And because people like him never stop – can’t ever stop – Atsumu is always in way too deep before he realizes he got lost inside his own mind. Whenever this would happen in the past, Osamu would kick the worst out of him before it could get too bad – just like Atsumu would with him. A couple of years into adulthood, both twins have learned how to handle both critics and letdowns.

One of the biggest hurdles is the fact that Atsumu knows he’s good. He knows, and he isn’t shy about it in the slightest. He’s proud of his own accomplishments and shines when people comment on them. But the altitude can be dizzying, when you’re that high up. The idea that ‘one wrong step’ may cause it all to come crashing down is debilitating. He knows he’s good, it’s true. But that lack of self-doubt, when it comes to his skills, also means that if he were to mess up, it’d probably be his own fault, rather than circumstance. Everyone knows a crash will hurt so much more when you’ve been put on a pedestal – regardless of whether others put you there or you did it yourself.

Atsumu handles most of it on his own, now. There’s no shame in the scars he’s earned over the years. The inner struggles he went through made him strong, and the strong survive. And even if life becomes too much – when things get too tough and he lacks the strength to stand on his own, Atsumu knows he’ll always have his family to support him. Knows him and his brother will drag each other forward, no matter the circumstance. Even if they’d never admit it out loud.

But there are some things others can’t shield him from. Not even Osamu.

Because in the end, even a mind made of steel will dent when faced with enough pressure. Especially when put onto a sensitive spot. Some weaknesses you just cannot protect yourself from, even when you know what they are.

Atsumu knows he’s running out of breath, and there’s nowhere he can flee to this time around.

*

It’s Tuesday when Atsumu’s weakness calls him out on his behaviour.

“What is up with you, Miya?”

Atsumu is too tired to freeze. He doesn’t try to move up from where he’s slumped against the wall and simply rolls his head sideways along the painted concrete as he takes in 192 centimeters of glowering wing spiker.

“What? Nothing.”

Sakusa’s eyebrow twitches. “You’re running yourself ragged. Breaking yourself down like that won’t help anyone, and it’s plain stupid. Cut it out.”

‘Hell. Turns out Kiyoomi is more observant off the court than Atsumu gave him credit for.’

“How dare ya diss me like that, Omi? Runnin’ ragged? I’ve got plenty of stamina, you know?!”

Sakusa’s eyes narrow as he stares Atsumu down – like he knows exactly what joke his teammate would make if he’d get away with them. Or maybe it’s because he senses the barely concealed truth behind his setter’s bullshit. Whatever.

Atsumu hopes it’s the former.

“What’s wrong?” Kiyoomi asks again.

Atsumu blinks as he waits for the ‘-with you?’ that never comes.

“’m just… tense, I guess. Ya know how it is.” He raises a listless hand to wave it dismissively at Kiyoomi, who is still squinting down at the tired heap of setter at his feet. Atsumu is sure that Sakusa, in fact, doesn’t know ‘how it is’.

‘Unless he does, his mind hisses, ‘unless he’s already found someone else an’ he’s ready to-’

Sakusa hmph’s and turns to walk to the showers, leaving the blonde behind.

Atsumu stares after him.

‘If I called out to ya, without reason. Just to see yer face… would you stop walkin?’

He keeps staring until after Sakusa has turned the corner, only to flinch when dark eyes and a twin set of moles appear in the doorway again, a moment later.

“What are you doing?” Sakusa barks out at him. “Take a damn shower, Miya.”

Atsumu sighs and follows his command.

*

Sakusa is well-known for taking the longest showers out of all the MSBY players.

This specific habit is why Atsumu almost jumps out of his skin when a pale hand grabs his towel-clad shoulder when he exits one of the stalls and starts walking back to the locker room.

“Omi? Wha-?”

Kiyoomi doesn’t say anything. He just pulls Atsumu into the stall with him – the setters back to Sakusa’s chest – so none of their teammates will accidentally spot them by walking around the corner to collect a spare towel, or do some other completely mundane thing that’ll ruin the secrecy of everything Atsumu and Kiyoomi have let grow between them these past few months.

“Miya…” Kiyoomi starts, but it’s not his usual tone of voice.

Unlike half an hour ago, it takes everything Atsumu has to keep from freezing up at the sound of his name.

‘Does he know? Maybe he realized something was up? Is there a lie Atsumu can tell him that’ll keep all of this going? He knows that being friends with benefits isn’t the same as having Omi the way he truly wants, but he can’t deal with the thought of letting go of Kiyoomi after less than half a year. The fact that mutual exclusivity is part of their arrangement is the closest he’ll ever get to Kiyoomi’s heart. Atsumu knows that he won’t be able to keep going like this forever. But for now, he’d rather have Sakusa this way than not have him at all.’

‘But if Kiyoomi knows… if he realized that-… and he was already acting kind of suspicious of Atsumu during training, so…?’

Sakusa shocks him out of his thoughts by sliding his hands down Atsumu’s waist, coming to a stop when he rests his palms right above still damp hips.

Atsumu instantly regrets not bringing his shirt into the shower stall with him. He can feel the warmth of Kiyoomi’s body radiating against his skin, even with Sakusa’s fingers lingering on his waist being the only point of contact between them.

He doesn’t try to hide how goose bumps ripple over his skin when Sakusa inches closer still, their bodies separated by the tiniest of gaps. There are far more obvious reasons for Atsumu to react to Sakusa’s touch anyway, and love surely isn’t one of them. Yet despite this, Atsumu can’t hold back from hoping.

‘Don’t have it figured out. Please don’t know.’

Atsumu fidgets minutely when Sakusa finally starts to speak in a soft tone – warm air hitting the back of Atsumu’s neck at the wing spiker’s words.

“You seem stressed… Can I see you tonight? I’ll make sure you relax.”

Atsumu clenches his eyes shut. It’s all he can do to force back the wave of relief and hurt alike. ‘Right. ‘f course it’s just him being horny. ‘m being an idiot expecting anythin’ else.’

He knows exactly what Kiyoomi looks like right now, even without turning around. Knows the sight of those flushed cheeks and burning eyes. Knows the telltale way Sakusa’s breathing has already fastened, without them having so much as left the building.

Atsumu’s heart feels like it’s beating out of his chest.

Being scared of this is different. Atsumu has always been able to push most anxieties around failure aside – comforted by his own drive and the knowledge that he is an outstanding player who carries the trust of his teammates. But this? Being scared of this is different, because he’s never felt this type of fear before. He isn’t used to lying awake for nights on end, thinking of other people instead of volleyball. He isn’t used to caring what they think of him.

He cares so much about Sakusa’s opinion that it’s slowly driving him insane.

“So that’s what ya wanted. Do you realize that ya just about scared the living daylights out of me by grabbin’ me like that, Omi-kun?”

The tip of Kiyoomi’s pinky finger slowly traces the line of Atsumu’s hip bone that peaks out above maroon sweatpants as he waits for a beat.

Atsumu knows that Kiyoomi is trying to be patient – genuinely giving him time to think it over. It makes him want to scream. Instead, he simply waits as well. He’s well aware that he’s just postponing the inevitable, acting as if he hadn’t already decided before Kiyoomi’s question had fully left his mouth. And it is inevitable. He knows what’s coming, and he’s never been able to resist it before.

“Will you let me help you relax? Darling, can I?”

Atsumu has to bite back a hysterical laugh. He can no more resist Kiyoomi than clouds can resist the pull of the wind.

“Sure, Omi. What time do you want me to come over?”

*

They never leave together.

Atsumu sits down to shove the rest of his gear into his bag, watching Sakusa hook a fresh mask behind his ears from the corner of his eye. The wing spiker heads out with a single raised hand – earning him cheery goodbye’s from the rest of the team.

Atsumu lingers around Bokuto a while longer before heading out, letting his friend babble to him excitedly without much of his own input.

Say what you will about Bokuto, but the guy is scarily perceptive when it comes to the emotional state of the people around him. There’s no doubt that Koutarou has noticed his lackluster responses, but he doesn’t call Atsumu out on it, and simply rambles on.

Atsumu is just being filled in on all the finer details regarding Akaashi’s newest pair of glasses when they reach the fork in the road that separates their journey. Bokuto continues down the busy street leading up to their gym, while Atsumu heads down the direction of the more secluded neighbourhoods, but he’s able to wave Koutarou goodbye with a more sincere smile than he could have 20 minutes ago.

Without Bokuto’s excited stories to keep him company, Atsumu’s regular worries start to flood back in. He tries to look as unaffected as ever as he continues walking down the street, only to snigger at the thought of what Samu would say if he saw his brother try to hold back, for once. His laughter makes a woman take several steps more to the left as she passes him by, and Atsumu sighs to himself, thinking back to Sakusa’s question earlier that day.

“What is up with you, Miya?”

If you forced Atsumu to answer that question, as truthfully as possible, his answer would probably be that he just… hasn’t been feeling like himself for a while now. He’s never held back on anything in life. He’s never been anything less than viciously determined while chasing down the things he wants.

Sadly enough, that tendency is the exact thing that’s been hurting him recently. No matter how slim his chances get, he just can’t seem to let go of the miniscule hope that Kiyoomi will see him as more than an easy fuck, someday.

Kiyoomi is the one who seems to really get Atsumu the most. Their push and pull dynamic almost reminds him of bickering with Samu. And, loathe as he is to admit it, ever since his twin had left for culinary school, it’s a safe space he’s been missing. It’s hard not to fall for someone with the exact same kind of drive and determination, let alone Sakusa’s raw talent and good looks. There’s also the fact that he’s really funny, when he wants to be, even if most of his jokes are lost because he mumbles them too quietly. Or the fact that he can make a grown-ass adult man pouting look adorable. It’s insane, really.

Atsumu can’t even sincerely wish that he hadn’t known about Sakusa’s weirdly dry humor, or the fact that he sings while cleaning and wears a ‘kiss the cook’ apron whenever he prepares dinner. (Apparently Komori is to blame for that last one). Every piece of information about Kiyoomi that Atsumu gains only fuels his hunger. It’ll never be enough. Rarely anything ever is. And though that’s a quality he has embraced in life – using his hunger as a ladder to propel himself onto the national stage and towards a great volleyball career, this time… it scares him.

Because, for the very first time, what Atsumu wants doesn’t depend on the work he puts in. It doesn’t matter how hard he tries, if Sakusa finds out about Atsumu’s affections, he can put a stop to everything with a single word, and he’d be fully within his right to do so.

The growing awareness that he has to tell Sakusa, if only so he can respect his teammate’s wishes, has been steadily draining him from his energy for the last 2 weeks. Atsumu carries the guilt as gracefully as his mind will allow him. He should have told him months ago, probably. Around the time when he realized his little crush had grown into something stronger. Bloomed into something bigger. Maybe he should have told Sakusa right when he accepted the fact that, no matter how good the sex felt, the thing Atsumu was looking forward to the most were those scarce moments afterwards. Those couple of minutes when he’d be allowed to hold Kiyoomi close, their legs tangled underneath the sheets as they cuddled and tried to catch their breath. Yeah, maybe then would have been the time.

He pushes the correct buzzer without thinking, and it’s only when he’s waiting for the lift to come down that Atsumu realizes he just as well could’ve used the key Kiyoomi gave him a couple of days ago.

The lift let’s out a high ‘ding’ and Atsumu steps forward without much enthusiasm, forcibly calming himself down by going through his breathing exercises as he tries to ignore all the possible ways this night could go horribly wrong.

It’s almost a shock when he looks up and is confronted with his own face staring back at him as the metal doors slide shut behind him and the lift begins to rise steadily. Atsumu’s face looks remarkably neutral as he studies his reflection in the elevator mirror. All in all, he looks absolutely normal. Except for his eyes, maybe. He doesn’t think they’ve ever looked quite as tired before.

Mom always used to call him out whenever he hid his real feelings behind what she called ‘his expressive masks’. Atsumu resolutely turns his back on the mirror, and tries not to wonder if his mask is going to crack one of these days.

*

The door is opened within seconds of him knocking, and Atsumu barely has time to take in the thin cream turtleneck that’s half hidden underneath a dark, striped shirt, both tucked into an equally dark pair of pants when Kiyoomi is already moving forwards – greeting him with one of those small smiles and a quick kiss to Atsumu’s cheek. Sakusa’s sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and Atsumu will never get why he dresses up this much, only to pull off his fresh clothes within moments of Atsumu arriving.

“You look as gorgeous as ever.”

Usually, this kind of comment would make Atsumu laugh delightedly, or fuel his cockiness and make him flaunt, but this time he’s barely able to smile, before weakly stating: “ya only just saw me, Omi.”

“That doesn’t make it less true.”

Kiyoomi is still smiling when he shuts the door behind Atsumu and walks back to his small living room.

Atsumu doesn’t follow. He just stands there, his feet frozen to the floor of the narrow hallway instead of following their familiar path to the shower to rinse off, just like he always does when he comes over. He’s never ready. Never able to fully take in the way Kiyoomi greets him, like they haven’t seen each other in weeks, showering him in praise from the moment he lays eyes on the blonde. Atsumu has never been the same after that first time – back when he still thought he could control any of this.

He eventually removes his shoes and shoves socked feet into the house slippers saved specifically for him.

‘I shouldn’t blame m’self,’ he thinks, while turning the corner and spotting Kiyoomi, who’s waiting for him on the couch. ‘There’s no way I could’ve known back then.’

‘It isn’t his fault that he failed to take into account the different ways that Sakusa might change. How could he ever have anticipated Kiyoomi turning into someone completely different whenever they’re alone together?’

Being the single focuspoint of Kiyoomi’s gaze burns through Atsumu every single time. An electrifying thrill of which he can’t always tell if it feels good or is becoming too much. It burns him now as well, when Kiyoomi smiles at him and taps the couch cushion on his left in invitation. Atsumu plops down – his head automatically falling back against the headrest as he stares up at the ceiling with a sigh. Maybe, if he successfully plays off his behaviour as him being tired, Sakusa won’t ask too many questions.

The way he spots Kiyoomi’s small smile melt away to make room for a familiar frown shows him that he’s failing.

“What’s wrong, love?”

Atsumu usually loves the illusion. Loves believing that it could be him who Sakusa is talking to, and having him mean those words. But this time it hits him like a punch in the gut. The need for those words to be meant for him specifically has never been stronger.

Of all the pet names Sakusa so frequently showers him with when they’re alone like this, he’s never actually used Atsumu’s real one.

It’s not that strange. After all, it makes sense for someone as physically distant like Sakusa to be mostly verbally affectionate. And he’s so sweet that, on most occasions, it’s easy to forget that this is just a way for Sakusa to revel in handing out affection until he finds a partner. It makes sense for Kiyoomi not to address Atsumu more specifically, because it’s simply not about him. Kiyoomi, unexpectedly, seems to crave dealing out affection as much as he wants to receive it. And with how picky Kiyoomi is, it should feel like some kind of compliment that he considered (and asked) Atsumu at all. All in all, it makes sense not to use Atsumu’s name. It doesn’t stop Atsumu from wanting to rage at Kiyoomi and himself both, whenever the endearments start to tip over the line of what Atsumu can take. He wants to shout whenever they start to chip away at his his mask. At Kiyoomi, (though he wouldn’t deserve it), for unknowingly hurting him like this. And at himself, for putting himself in a position where it happens again at again, only for him to come back running whenever Sakusa so much as glances in his direction.

“Hello? Earth to Miya?”

A large hand waves in front of Atsumu face, but he’s so lost in his worries about coming clean to Kiyoomi that it takes him a couple more seconds before he can actually focus on the face of the man in question.

Sakusa lets out a huff of amusement at whatever expression must be passing over the setter’s face right now, but Atsumu still catches the undertone of worry in Kiyoomi’s eyes.

“I asked what’s wrong, love?”

Something clenches in Atsumu’s stomach, and he realizes, with dread and a distant sort of acceptance alike, that he won’t be able to wait until the end of the night to talk. It’s too hard. Maybe stopping it earlier is for the better, even if he would have liked holding Kiyoomi close once more, before this conversation tears it all apart.

“I think…” he starts, his voice distant to his own ears, “that you should stop calling me that.”

“You don’t like it?” Sakusa asks. It’s clear that he’s trying to hold back from pouting, but he’s not hiding it very well. “You never mentioned it before? Okay then. In that case, I guess I’ll just use sweet-”

“No, no, no,” Atsumu groans, rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hands. “I think you should stop using all of them. You know, the nicknames. While we keep this going ‘n stuff.”

Sakusa’s expression shifts through several emotions so quickly that it’s hard to follow. He settles on a grimace, and the weird combination of sadness, confusion and disgust is such a strong contrast to the way Kiyoomi usually looks at him during their hookups that it makes Atsumu’s head spin.

“What does that even mean? When else would I use them?”

Kiyoomi’s voice is clipped, and Atsumu can only stare at him helplessly, emotionally wrung-out and bone tired before they’ve even fully started the conversation.

Perhaps some of his pitifulness seeped through in his expression, because Sakusa lets it go after that, simply reclining his head back against the headrest in the same way Atsumu does, and letting his tense shoulders go slack.

“I’m… sorry? I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I thought… I don’t know… I thought stuff like that was what people like when they’re dating, but I guess I don’t have that much experience anyway. I’m sorry if I went too fast. I really thought you liked them, and I liked calling you that, so…”

“What do you mean, ‘dating’?” Atsumu interrupts him abruptly. Kiyoomi’s words only seem to seep through his skull slowly, and it’s only seconds after he spoke that the meaning of Sakusa’s apology starts to fully sink in.

“What do you mean?” he repeats, as he watches Kiyoomi’s quiet resignation twist into anger. All is quiet around them. Like the world had stopped turning, waiting for Atsumu’s heart to start beating again where it paused in his chest. It wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t also simultaneously feel like invisible walls of cotton wool are pushing up against him from all sides.

“That’s not funny. What are you doing? If this is one of your pranks, I swear I’ll-”

The longer Atsumu waits to answer, the more horror bleeds into Kiyoomi’s expression. It’s only appears to fuel his anger. Sakusa’s voice raises with every word he speaks.

“That’s not funny! What the fuck are you even talking about?! Do you really think I could say any of those things to someone else? We’ve been dating for months! I know you wanted to go slow with some stuff, but I never…? I asked you out, didn’t I? Did you really think-? Do you not know me at all? What the fuck, Atsumu? What were you thinking?”

Atsumu doesn’t make it until the end of Kiyoomi’s rant before tears start spilling down his cheeks. He feels weirdly numb – caught between those invisible walls and a shouting Sakusa.

“No, no, no.” Dark eyes widen anxiously at Atsumu’s tears, but Kiyoomi’s distraught face only makes him cry harder.

“No, baby, no! I’m sorry! I’m sorry, don’t cry.”

He fusses all over Atsumu – callused fingers gently wiping away his tears as he tries to calm his lover down.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he eventually breathes out again, clearly shifting back and forth between wanting to care for Atsumu and his own desperation for answers.

Atsumu tries to blink the tears out of his eyes in silence as Kiyoomi starts peppering his face with kisses.

*blink*

A kiss pressing down softly onto his forehead.

*blink, blink*

A kiss to the corner of his eyebrow, followed by one underneath his left eye.

“I thought we were just…” he croaks out.

Kiyoomi hums, not stopping his light kisses as he waits for Atsumu to continue.

Atsumu swallows and tries again. “You know,” he waves his hand vaguely between their chests, “with benefits?”

“Colleagues with benefits?” Kiyoomi chokes out, and he sounds so bewildered that it’s almost funny.

“Well… I thought we were friends,” Atsumu mumbles.

“Yes we are, baby,” Sakusa says soothingly, pressing another kiss on the tip of his nose.

He pauses after that last kiss, nuzzling their faces together for a moment before leaning back so he can better take in Atsumu’s face.

“But truly. What were you thinking?” he repeats, softer this time.

“Well… We did a lot of stuff together, but, I mean… There’s some things that ya never… We haven’t even really kissed before?”

“Not the way that matters,” he clarifies, when Kiyoomi lifts a brow at him.

“I tried to? At first? You said you didn’t want to? It was one of your only rules, remember? I just thought you wanted to go slow with the more emotional stuff, so I was giving you time?”

“I… I didn’t want ya to kiss me without feelin’…” Atsumu glances away from Kiyoomi’s searching gaze, silently asking the walls for guidance. Sadly enough, they don’t deliver. “Feelin’… stuff. About me,” he finishes lamely. “I wanted to wait until-”

Atsumu stutters to a stop, his mind racing back to the Kiyoomi’s last comment.

“Why would ya even accept rules like that?” he asks accusingly. “That’s just-!”

“Don’t be stupid,” Sakusa says blandly, cutting off Atsumu’s rant before it can really begin. Atsumu’s sudden change of tone seems to have shocked him out of his earlier stupor. “Of course I’d do that for you, if that’s what you want. I didn’t really understand, but I don’t need to. You were clear about your needs, and that’s what matters.”

“But-”

“Why are you even debating this? You respect my boundaries without complaint every time? How is it weird that I want to do the same?”

Atsumu hesitates. Rationally speaking, he knows that Kiyoomi just made a great point, so instead of arguing against it, he goes back to the point that matters.

“So when did we start datin’, then?”

Kiyoomi’s smile is somewhat sad when he sighs. “I asked you out after we won that match against the Tachibana Red Falcons. You really don’t remember…?” His voice trails off as he gives Atsumu a half hopeful, half fearful look.

Atsumu squints, thinking back to the izakaya that Aran and the others had dragged him to, after the match.

“Omi… I don’t know what to say to ya. I’m quite sure I was drunk and-”

“Well, you weren’t drunk enough that it would stop you from trying to crawl onto my lap,” Sakusa grumbles. “That’s when I asked – because I wanted to be sure, before we… and then you gave me a list of rules. Kind of. You didn’t really ask, actually, more like demanded. Anyway; I accepted them. And then you ended up staying over because you didn’t want to sleep in the same room as your brother and Suna, and when we woke up the next day and you were sober again, we-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Atsumu cuts him off, all too willing to forget about his embarrassing desperation of that first time together. “I think I get it now. Why ya agreed with the things I asked fer, I mean. But… there must’ve been other things that were hard for ya, right? Ya really kept quiet this whole time? Ya never wanted to tell yer family, or anyone else?”

Red is steadily flooding Sakusa’s cheeks.

“Motoya knows,” he confesses. “He’s a shit, but he keeps quiet when it’s important, and I thought… Well, with your brother knowing and all, that I could have one person too, to talk to. I told no one else.

“Samu doesn’t know,” Atsumu whispers. “He doesn’t know about…” he waves his hands between the two of them.

“He-…? What?”

Sakusa looks so shocked that he hardly can force out words. “But? Why not? Aren’t you always saying that he knows everything, even when you don’t want him to?”

It’s Atsumu’s turn to turn red now, but, as opposed to Kiyoomi, he seems ashamed more than embarrassed. “He’d have made me confess. And I thought that I’d lose this, us, if I did. It was messed up of me to do that, Omi, I’m sorry.”

“He’d have made you?” Kiyoomi asks, still looking confused. “Couldn’t you just… not listen to him? Isn’t that what you usually do?”

Atsumu quickly glances up at Kiyoomi’s face before staring at the wall again, his face burning redder still, but the shame seems to be slowly leaving his expression.

“I’m gonna deny it if ya ever try to tell anyone else about this,” he threatens, “but I almost always follow his advice. At least when it’s important. He does the same with me, I think, it’s just…” he scowls. “We don’t talk about it like that. And… it isn’t like he doesn’t know anything. He just doesn’t know about… us hooking up. But I told him about what I felt years ago.”

“Years-?!”

“It wasn’t like this, back then,” Atsumu quickly adds, before Kiyoomi has time to continue, “it wasn’t… this strong. Just a stupid crush on a stupid boy from a stupid school.”

“You really know how to praise someone,” Sakusa scoffs, but it’s clear that he is trying to supress a grin. Not because he’s kind (because he’d laugh at Atsumu any other day), but because he wants him to tell the rest of his story.

“-stupid curls. Stupid moles. Stupid-”

“Yes, yes, I get it, you think I’m stupid,” Kiyoomi says placatingly. “Why did you tell him, then? If it was just a ‘stupid crush’?”

“It was stupid.” Atsumu bites out, thick brows furrowed as he thinks back to his years in high school. “I wanted to rip that stupid mask off yer face and-, well. He saw me lookin at ya.”

Atsumu scowls, but the edges of his lips are twitching. “Guess he just knew, somehow. His dumb face when he figured it out almost made it worth it.” He sighs. “And then he laughed at me ‘bout it until I punched ‘im, and Kita-san forced us to make up. Promised not to tell, though. And he hasn’t, so far. But I’m sure he would’ve if he knew that we…” he waves his hands between their chests again.

“Maybe he wouldn’t have cared that much?” Sakusa tries. “Why are you so sure he wouldn’t just have left it be?”

“Are you crazy? After the amount of time it took me to bully that loser into confessing to Sunarin? He’d never have left it alone!”

Kiyoomi laughs, clearly not feeling sorry for him in the slightest. “Actions have consequences.”

“Ya didn’t want to tell the team? Or Foster?” Atsumu asks in an obvious attempt to steer the conversation in a different direction.

Sakusa lets him.

“You weren’t exactly jumping to tell the team either, which makes sense now. I just thought you wanted to keep it between the two of us. It’s what I preferred as well, for the first couple of months, so I didn’t question it. I think they might know anyway, though.”

“What? Who?”

“The team,” Sakusa says, a smirk slowly stretching on his handsome face as he stares at Atsumu, “you cling when you’re sleepy.”

“So what?” Atsumu immediately tries to defend himself, hackles raised at the grin. “What’s that got to do with anythin’?”

“I let you sleep on my shoulder, without a mask,” Kiyoomi explains patiently.

“Yeah…?” Atsumu says slowly. “Well… it’s not like we haven’t done more than that, right?”

Kiyoomi blinks at him – a deadpan expression on his face. “I let you sleep on my shoulder,” he repeats. “On the bus. In front of the team.”

“Oh,” Atsumu says. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t… I think…”

“What’s there to be sorry about?” Kiyoomi asks. “If I didn’t want you to, I’d have stopped you. You know that just as well as the rest of them. But that’s kinda what gave it away, probably. There’s no way I’d have let anyone else do that.” He shivers. “Not in this lifetime.”

There’s a weird lull in their conversation. Kiyoomi is still looking at Atsumu expectantly, as if waiting for the rest of a story, but the overall confusion and stress finally seems to have caught on to the blonde.

He takes several deep breaths, trying to clear the static zipping through his brain – his mind weirdly empty.

“I’m sorry. It’s kinda hard to think right now. This isn’t how I thought this was gonna go, I… I don’t-”

Almost at once, Atsumu gets pulled forward – a pale hand putting pressure against the back of his neck until he shifts; his forehead now resting against Sakusa’s collarbone.

“It’s okay.” A slender, calloused thumb pets the nape of his neck in broad strokes. The movement is kind of clumsy, and Atsumu takes in a shaky breath to push back the unexpected wave of tears that wells up at the gesture.

“Let’s take a small break. You can take a shower and we can still talk afterwards. Okay?”

Atsumu nods, and Sakusa gives him a sweet kiss against his temple before leaning back a little so Atsumu can move up and step over those long legs to leave.

He’s halfway across the room before he changes his mind; striding back to the couch and grabbing Sakusa’s shoulders from behind – pushing them back against the back of the couch as he leans down.

“Wha-?”

Atsumu quickly kisses him several times in succession. Once on his moles, and then several others all over his forehead. It’s the first time that he’s been able to kiss Kiyoomi while the both of them are fully aware of what they’re feeling for each other.

After a split second of hesitation, he presses a last upside-down kiss to Kiyoomi’s mouth – which is still half opened in surprise. Atsumu’s lips tingle as he turns and marches off, the back of his neck burning.

Kiyoomi’s warm laugh follows him into the bathroom.

*

Sakusa’s laughter fades out when he hears the bathroom door click shut, followed shortly by the sound of running water.

He raises his hands to his lips for a short moment, but the pressure of his fingertips doesn’t bring the same relief as Atsumu’s kiss from just now.

Desperate to return to some kind of normalcy after the emotional rollercoaster he just went through, Kiyoomi gets up to set some tea. He’s so lost in the routine that he only notices how much his hands are trembling when he tries to hold the kettle still in an effort to fill it with water.

It makes him think back to the way they had trembled in the izakaya, back when he asked Atsumu out. Or, at least, he had thought that’s what he did, back then.

The simple trigger of his trembling hand brings back all the memories he used to look upon fondly, now tinged by uncertainty and sadness alike. ‘How is it possible that they misunderstood each other so horribly? He remembers the alcohol, but… Does he not show Atsumu his affections clearly enough, that he failed to notice until today? He must not have, if the setter seemingly doubts everything still.’

‘Well,’ a very Komori-like voice in his brain objects, distracting him from his worries by reminding him of the forehead kisses he just got showered with, ‘maybe he doesn’t doubt as much anymore.’

Sakusa sighs as he puts the kettle on the stove and waits for the water to heat up, still lost in thoughts of that fateful evening.

He’d thought he’d been so straightforward too. It did take Atsumu trying to crawl into his lap for Kiyoomi to crack, but when he told him the truth, he had done so in the same, clear, blunt way he has always used.

‘What kind of idiot hears the words ‘I don’t want us to be just friends’ and thinks of fuckbuddies first, anyway?’

He’d even hid his trembling hands behind his back at some point – trying to hold back from simply tugging Atsumu forward and into his lap, instead of trying to get his friend to stop. But he had wanted to be sure first.

The memory now brings a wry smile to Sakusa’s lips. Back then he’d thought there wasn’t anything he could do that Atsumu wouldn’t notice.

After that, it’s hard to fight back the images that his brain insists on replaying in his mind. Despite his longing for a mental break, flashes of their conversation from minutes ago are coming back to him. Atsumu’s reactions; his voice more quiet that it has any right being – carrying doubts that Kiyoomi wants to wipe away. Doubts he never wants to witness again. He’d hated the look in Atsumu’s eyes. The way they’d shifted to check the surroundings for a second, when Sakusa had talked about dating – like he’d been waiting for an invisible curtain to drop. Like he’d been expecting some random stranger to suddenly burst into the apartment and yell out that it had all been a cruel prank.

Kiyoomi pours his tea carefully, the calming aroma drifting up towards him and quenching his urge to yell at the wall incoherently.

What useless lies Atsumu must have told himself for months, all to deny the simple truth that Kiyoomi fell in love with gold-infused platinum, and the terrible, loud, abrasive, utterly lovable personality that came with it.

Sakusa wants to press Atsumu’s face against his chest and hide him beneath his jacket. Maybe hide him from himself, if that is what it takes.

 

He’s halfway through his cup of tea when the bathroom door opens again. Kiyoomi had been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t heard the shower shut off.

He puts his cup down, his full focus on Atsumu’s determined face as he approaches. His eyes are slightly swollen, but they lack any tears when he looks up at Sakusa.

“Kiyoomi,” he says, and the use of his full name is so unexpected that Sakusa startles. “I know that I don’t deserve ya, and I’m sorry for messin’ this up for the past few months, but I love ya. And if you give me some more time, I promise that I’ll-”

It’s clear that he’d been practicing this little speech in his head while he’d been showering. But Kiyoomi has heard about enough.

“How can you say things like that?!” he pleads, too exasperated to get angry again. “You keep talking about ‘more time’ and ‘waiting’, but I’m right here, aren’t I?”

Atsumu blinks up at him in shock, and Kiyoomi waits for him to nod before he continues: “I don’t get what you’re still waiting for? I’m here. And I love you too. I won’t leave until you tell me to do so.”

It’s a little weird, confessing multiple times. But if it’s for Atsumu, he’ll do it as many times as it takes.

He watches the realization sink in for a second time. Watches happiness furl open her leaves even more; tiny buds of hesitation making way for bursts of colour when Atsumu finally accepts Sakusa's words. Finally listens to the cues he's been ignoring for months now. Finally takes things, takes them, as they are, and replies just as blunt, just as straightforward - and his acceptance gives Kiyoomi everything he ever could have wanted.

“I don’t think it’s possible fer me to like anyone as much as I like you, Omi-omi.”

It doesn’t take much effort to pull Atsumu into his arms after that. The setter moves into his embrace gratefully, nuzzling into the side of Kiyoomi’s throat after pressing a slow kiss to the edge of his jaw.

Kiyoomi uses the calm to think, losing all concept of time as they simply stand there – clinging to each other next to the kitchen island, where his still half-full cup of tea is slowly going cold.

‘If happiness and security are flower beds, then doubt is a weed. Looking back, maybe he should have known better. He’d known Miya since high school – had seen him overthink too many times to count. He should have known it'd come back.

Nature is an unforgiving mistress. And Atsumu - for all his splendor, for all his radiance, is still human all the same.’

He hums a questioning sound when Atsumu mumbles something unintelligible against his throat.

“I said-,” Atsumu teases, and Kiyoomi can feel Atsumu’s smile widen where it’s pressed against his skin, “-that ya better be real sure about that promise ya just made.”

“I’m sure,” Kiyoomi confirms easily, tightening his hold on Atsumu.

The setter starts to wriggle a little, pulling his arms away from Kiyoomi’s back and placing them in between their bodies instead – the tips of his fingers resting on Kiyoomi’s collarbones.

It doesn’t take long before those hands start to slip downwards little by little, slowly moving down Kiyoomi’s chest.

When Sakusa moves back a little, so he can see his boyfriend’s expression, Atsumu’s face looks flushed. Kiyoomi cocks his head in a wordless question.

“Can we…?” Atsumu whispers, his hands skimming Sakusa’s shirt and moving lower to rest on his belt buckle.

“Are you sure?” Kiyoomi asks, watching Atsumu carefully for any signs of hesitation or discomfort.

“Yes,” Atsumu immediately replies, “yeah. I want it, Omi. I need ya to-… I need ya. Please.”

*

Atsumu wastes no time when they enter the bedroom. His pace is a lot more hurried than Kiyoomi’s, and he is already flopping down on the bed in nothing but his boxers when Sakusa has barely untucked his shirt and shrugged it off.

Kiyoomi can’t hold back a chuckle at the sight of him; limbs spread out over the covers like a starfish as Atsumu taps the mattress rapidly in his impatience.

“Come on, Omi!”

Sakusa drapes his shirt over the chair in one corner of the room and walks forward, a plan forming in his mind as he moves. He’ll keep the turtleneck on for now. Heaven knows Atsumu likes the way he looks in this outfit anyway.

He glances at the mirror leaning back against the wall on the far side of his bedroom in passing, but shifts away from that train of thought at once.

‘The mirror would probably be a little too confrontational for Atsumu right now. He’ll use it next time. For today, some hands-on effort would probably work better than their usual games.’

A confused noise reverberates low in Atsumu’s throat when Kiyoomi stops at the foot end of the bed and stares down at him.

“Why are you-?”

Atsumu’s voice falters as Kiyoomi’s fingers softly curl around his ankle before slowly sliding upwards.

“I want to take you apart…” Kiyoomi sighs, watching hungrily as Atsumu’s usually hooded eyes widen in surprise, “just a little… if you’ll let me?”

Sakusa’s fingertips dig into the meat of his lover’s calves, and Atsumu finds his voice again. “Ya can do whatever ya want to me, Omi. But why are ya still dressed?”

Sakusa hums. “I wouldn’t want to distract you.”

“Distract me!” Atsumu immediately demands, and Kiyoomi grins.

‘He may burn like a wildfire, and turn all of Kiyoomi’s defenses to ash with a glance, but he’s still so terribly predictable sometimes. It’s strangely soothing.’ 

“Didn’t you just say I could do ‘whatever I wanted to’? Are you bowing out of your promise already?”

Atsumu frowns so deeply that his eyebrows are nearly touching, clearly caught between his wish to be good and his desire to hold Sakusa close as quickly as possible. Kiyoomi is quick to placate him before he figures out a way to complain.

“I’ll distract you later, love, be patient.”

Atsumu nods, more to himself than to Sakusa – settling down at the sound of his pet name. He relaxes back into the bed while Kiyoomi keeps trailing his hands all over Atsumu’s shins and calves, taking in the minor shifts in his boyfriend’s expression all the while.

‘Something is still not quite right.’

Sakusa motions to Atsumu, who sits up with a huff and drags himself closer to the headboard before flopping down again – immediately stretching out his arms in a silent request now that there’s more space for the wing spiker to join him.

Kiyoomi crawls forwards until he hovers over Atsumu, unimpressed with the way the blonde pulls at his beltloops in a failed attempt to get him to simply drop down on top of Atsumu in a way he’s often done before.

“Your face is all wrong,” Kiyoomi says, as smooth as a cactus.

“What?”

He shifts his weight onto his right arm so he can use his left hand to move across Atsumu’s forehead – a worthwhile effort to smooth out the furrow between his brows that keeps showing up.

“You look sad,” he points out bluntly, his tone softening when he adds: “-still. Why is that? We hashed out the miscommunication, right? I know it might take a bit longer for you to get used to it, since you didn’t realize… But it’s all good now, right? Did I overlook something? Why are you sad?”

Atsumu lets out a long, low breath before answering. If it sounds kind of watery, Kiyoomi doesn’t comment on it. 

“I just… I am sad.” Atsumu finally forces out, his eyes dancing away from where Sakusa’s gaze is boring into his own. “When yer lookin at me like that… I really love it, Omi. I do. An’ I guess I just can’t believe I didn’t see it earlier. We could’ve… I could’ve had all this lovey-dovey shit for so long, without all the stupid anxiety, and I just went and wasted all that time. Fer nothin!

Sakusa purses his lips, lost on what to say for a moment. Eventually, he says: “But we can’t change any of that, now. It’s done. And the fact that we’re together now is the most important part, right?”

“But-?” Atsumu starts instinctively, only to be cut off when Kiyoomi shakes his head – his curls dancing around his face with the movement. “We’re together now. That’s all that matters. Being upset about what happened is normal, I think? And I’m sure it won’t all just… ‘go away’ at once, but… we have all the time we could wish for, from now on, to do things together. We can do whatever we want. Using up that time, solely to be mad about stuff we can’t change anyhow, that would be kind of a waste, don’t you think?”

Some of the remaining tension seeps out of Atsumu’s shoulders, even as his pout lingers. “Maybe,” he says softly, “yeah”.

Kiyoomi lifts his hand and starts prodding at Atsumu’s pout, shifting to poke into his cheeks when Atsumu’s lips twist as he lets out something that sounds remarkable like a giggle.

It’s all the permission he needs to lower himself down – his chest now fully resting against Atsumu’s as he moves his hands to start attacking the setter’s sides instead.

For a second, there’s silence – Atsumu’s brain still catching up to what’s happening – but that silence is quickly ripped apart by the shriek he lets out as Sakusa continues to tickle him.

“No! Omi-?! Ahaha, no, stop!”

It’s very hard to keep a straight face when the person you love is laughing so hard they’re crying, and Kiyoomi is no different. He’s grinning so broadly that it’s getting hard to kiss Atsumu’s shoulder, so he resigns himself to nuzzling against Atsumu’s throat instead – the warm skin still vibrating with laughter as Atsumu’s voice fills the room.

“He was right,” Sakusa eventually says, pulling back his hands to slowly pet along Atsumu’s sides. He can still feel the blonde’s muscles twitch sporadically as he comes down from his fit.

“What?” Atsumu gasps, taking in large gulps of air now that he can finally breathe uninterrupted again.

“Suna,” Kiyoomi states, as if that explains anything.

“He said tickling is a great way to overpower Miya’s when they’re being a brat.”

Atsumu’s eyes narrow, and Kiyoomi makes a mental note to warn Suna before the two can meet up again.

Atsumu’s looks more playful than intimidating as he tries to level Kiyoomi with a stern look. The attempt is mostly unsuccessful – the warmth in his eyes too strong to harbor any real disgruntlement.

“I wasn’t being a brat! I was just-”

Kiyoomi blows a raspberry against Atsumu’s neck before he can start spewing excuses.

“You were a brat,” he states plainly. “You were doubting me. But I also wanted to see your dimples, there’s that too. Remind me to thank Rin, okay?”

Atsumu fails to hold back a smile, even as he rolls his eyes dramatically.

“Can ya please not mention my brother or his… Suna when we’re in bed together?” A mild grimace spreads over his face as he speaks, clearly none too pleased to be reminded of his family under the current circumstances.

Kiyoomi lifts his hands until they hover threateningly over Atsumu’s waist, where he’s most ticklish. “Smile for me, baby. Your face will get stuck like that otherwise.”

Atsumu starts to laugh before Kiyoomi’s fingertips so much as brush his skin. “Yer not being fair! Ya scowl at everyone all the time yerself?!”

Sakusa does poke his side this time, as punishment, quietly pleased as Atsumu cackles.

“There they are,” he sighs happily, supporting himself upon his elbows so he can see Atsumu’s face better. He kisses each cheek, right over the dimple denting his boyfriend’s skin, and then he kisses Atsumu himself. The apples of his cheeks look a little rosy, but Kiyoomi doesn’t know if that’s because of the laughter or the romance.

“You’re so handsome when you laugh,” he says honestly, caught in a moment of weakness as his thumb strokes over Atsumu’s left dimple.

Atsumu’s eyes scrunch shut and his mouth pulls a little in response to Kiyoomi’s comment – as if that small truth itself is enough to overwhelm him, even though Sakusa didn’t say anything special at all. Kiyoomi struggles to hold back the burst of adoration straining against his ribs at the sight, stopping the words that are welling up inside before he starts saying even more sappy shit like ‘I’ll work until you smile like that every day’. He wants to overwhelm Atsumu, yes, but if he starts saying all that now, his boyfriend will lose his mind before they’ve really done anything.

‘God. If 15 year old Kiyoomi could see himself now, he’d probably spray himself in the face with disinfectant.’

He chuckles at the thought before bending down to kiss Atsumu again – pulled in by the confused look in those honey-coloured eyes as his setter stares up at him.

‘Cute.’

*

It doesn’t take long before sweet kisses start to linger and turn heated. Kiyoomi has to secretly pinch his own wrist a couple of times to remain focused. Atsumu has the rare ability to make him lose track of his own plans constantly. He’s still not really used to it; to how the energy of his boyfriend swirls around the room whenever Atsumu moves – beckoning Sakusa to come closer and pulling him into its current, helpless but not unwilling against its influence.

Atsumu’s hands bury deeper into Kiyoomi’s curls and try to pull him closer still, even if there’s no more room left between them to cross. It hurts, how much he wants to keep kissing Atsumu. How much he wants to keep lying here and hide from the world, needing neither drink nor food, and just live on loving Atsumu forever.

Kiyoomi notices the telltale way his brain goes foggy when Atsumu softly bites onto his lip, only to let his tongue flick out and soothe the sting right after – demanding and healing, as he is with everything. Their kisses are warm, and very much addicting, but the way his brain starts insisting that Sakusa should just keep resting against Atsumu is a sign that he needs to act now if he wants to stop himself from caving in and doing just that.

Kiyoomi is panting for breath when he moves away – leaning back to shake his head, slightly hindered by the fingers still buried in his curls, trying to guide him back down.

He carefully untangles the digits from his hair as he presses a soft kiss onto Atsumu’s forehead, followed by one on his nose and chin, crawling backwards in a slow pace as his kisses move down the blonde’s body.

Atsumu’s soft pants fill the air, and he can’t stop from squirming a little when Kiyoomi ignores the way the setter’s half hard cock is filling out in this underwear, only for Sakusa to settle down at the foot end of the bed and start moving his kisses back upwards. He lingers at Atsumu’s ankle and the inside of his knees, before finally paying attention to one of his favourite parts of his boyfriend’s body.

It doesn’t take long before Atsumu’s pants swell in volume – his dick now fully hard as he whines at Sakusa, who happily continues sucking hickeys into the tender skin of Atsumu’s thighs. Some of the spots are already starting to bruise, and he watches them with a dark sort of glee as he bites down a little harder, causing Atsumu to cry out.

“-aah, Omiiiii! Not that low? There’re gonna stare at me at practice.”

Kiyoomi bites down one more time before showing mercy to Atsumu’s thighs and moving up to start kissing and biting at his neck instead. He can feel another whine vibrate beneath his lips as he paints tanned skin into pretty purples.

“Omi?! Is there no shame left inside that thick skull of yers? Do ya want ’em to stare and-?”

Kiyoomi’s huffed laughter blows warm against Atsumu’s clavicle as he moves up a little more and playfully bites at Atsumu’s earlobe. “Ah, baby. Everyone is already looking at you regardless. How could they not?”

Atsumu chokes out a watery laugh.

“Ya know, I’ll never get used to the way yer smooth talkin me when we’re like this.”

Kiyoomi licks a long line along Atsumu’s throat before biting down again. He’s admiring the light indents of his teeth when he says: “I can live with that, as long as you react prettily like this every time.”

Atsumu’s flustered response turns into a moan when Kiyoomi only gives a short nibble on his collarbone before focusing all his attention onto Atsumu’s nipples. He sucks and bites until Atsumu’s moans turn shaky – blindly feeling around for the lube he put on the bed earlier and cursing under his breath when he can’t find it.

A quick glance shows the bottle sticking out from underneath one of the pillows, and Sakusa quickly drags it closer as he returns his attention to his boyfriend’s chest.

Atsumu’s nipples look slightly puffy from all the attention Kiyoomi had paid them earlier, and even a slight pinch proves how sensitive they’ve gotten because of it. The gasps and moans Atsumu is trying, and failing, to bite back are outright delicious. Kiyoomi smiles before sucking Atsumu’s nipple into his mouth again. He continues lavishing him with attention until Atsumu’s squirming shifts into the blonde trying to grind his hips into Sakusa’s thigh.

Atsumu’s spine arches when Kiyoomi leans back, desperate to keep Sakusa’s lips on his skin, but Kiyoomi merely tuts and waves the bottle of lube in front of Atsumu’s rapidly blinking eyes.

“I’ll have to start preparing you if you want to take this further, treasure. Is that alright?”

Atsumu hums in agreement and Sakusa smirks.

“Already lost your ability to speak, love?”

Atsumu squints a little as he tries to scowl petulantly, but it only serves to make Kiyoomi focus on how blown out his lover’s pupils are.

“Yeah, ya can-” Atsumu’s breath hitches when Kiyoomi finally starts pulling his turtleneck over his head, unwilling to let the fabric come into contact with lube. “ya can… yes, Omi. Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Kiyoomi parrots, but instead of teasing he just sounds affectionate.

He smoothly pulls Atsumu’s underwear down his hips before tossing it aside, his gaze focused on the way his boyfriend’s chest is still rising and falling briskly as those amber eyes jump from Sakusa’s face, to his chest, to the bottle of lube, before jumping back up to stare at Kiyoomi’s face again.

The click of the bottle is oddly loud when Sakusa opens the cap, and Atsumu jumps at the sound.

Kiyoomi smiles down at him, sweet and reassuring – pausing in his movements to pet along the sides of Atsumu’s thighs from where he’s seated between them.

“Are you okay, darling? You know you can tell me if you want to slow down, or-?”

“No,” Atsumu gasps at once. “I mean, yes! I mean- I don’t wanna stop, Omi. I just don’t wanna wait much longer, I feel a little…” He rolls his head back and forth along the pillow, a little helpless – and somehow, Kiyoomi understands.

“I’ll try to be quick,” he promises, “then I can move and hold you better, is that-?”

Atsumu is already nodding fervently before he’s finished his sentence.

Kiyoomi wastes no more time. He quickly and efficiently lubes up two of his fingers before putting the bottle aside. The second his left hand is free, Atsumu is already reaching for him. Kiyoomi interlaces their fingers, determined to make Atsumu feel safe and cherished, even if he’s planning to make the blonde’s mind implode with pleasure later. He squeezes Atsumu’s hand before pinning it down against the duvet, next to his hip.

Then, finally, he presses the tip of his index finger against Atsumu’s rim – using some of the excess lube to spread it across his skin in a slow massage. He starts kissing along the inside of Atsumu’s thigh again as he starts to press against his rim with mounting pressure.

Both Kiyoomi and Atsumu sigh when one long finger slowly sinks inside.

Atsumu feels warm and tight as his body automatically clenches down onto Kiyoomi’s finger for a moment, before relaxing back against the mattress. Sakusa waits a little longer; wanting to make sure Atsumu is used to the pressure before he starts to move.

He waits until he can fit two fingers into Atsumu comfortably before pulling away. Atsumu lets out a small whimper when the hand that was holding onto Kiyoomi’s loses its grip on those long fingers, but his other hand keeps slowly stroking along his flushed cock all the same.

There’s a chuckle as Kiyoomi bends forward to kiss the hand moving along Atsumu’s cock before rolling the setter onto his side and sliding onto the bed behind him so he’s spooning Atsumu. He lifts one strong thigh until Atsumu’s knee hooks over his own leg, giving Kiyoomi more space to work with as he adds some more lube onto his fingers before slowly slipping them back into that velvet heat.

He’s seriously cursing himself out for not getting rid of his pants earlier, at this point, and he’s so caught up on deciding whether he should just quickly get off the bed to get rid of them, that he almost misses Atsumu’s soft whimper as Kiyoomi’s fingers thrust up into him.

“Good? Am I… Omi, does it feel-?”

Kiyoomi groans and curses into the back of Atsumu’s neck at the sound of that heady voice.

Fuck. You’re so good. You’re being so good for me, darling, absolutely perfect.

He’s suddenly overtaken by a wild urge to reward Atsumu, somehow. The need is so strong it seems to explode in his chest out of nowhere, and he stops focusing on opening Atsumu up, for now – turning his wrist into a specific angle instead, and curling up his finger until he’s able to tap against the one place he knows Atsumu wants to be touched the most right now.

Atsumu’s shout rings out throughout the room when Kiyoomi starts stimulating his prostate, switching his movements from probing taps to small strokes every so often. He tries to muffle his noises by pressing the back of his hand against his mouth, but it only makes Sakusa hungrier.

He uses the hand that’s currently not tapping into Atsumu’s prostate to curl around the setter’s throat – pushing his hand away and hooking the tip of his thumb behind the teeth of Atsumu’s lower jaw, pulling it down so Atsumu has no choice but letting the noises escape. Heavy moans come spilling out at once, and Kiyoomi’s thumbs over Atsumu’s tongue in appreciation. He can feel Atsumu trying to mumble something, feebly trying to talk around Sakusa’s thumb pressing down on him.

“What was that, doll? What is it you need?”

Atsumu halts for a moment, but when he realizes Kiyoomi isn’t going to pull away his finger, he just starts mumbling the same thing over and over, sounding more desperate every time.

Kiyoomi catches on fairly quickly – Atsumu’s downward glances at the head of his flushed cock making it more than obvious what he’s begging for.

“Fasht-r, ‘mi? Cahn I c’m? Pl’z c’m?”

“No, no, no, love,” he hums, stopping the tapping motion and starting to thrust his fingers in and out of Atsumu’s plush ass again, concentrating on his movements to make sure he pats along his prostate every time. “We don’t want it to be over already, right?”

Small tears start to form in the corners of Atsumu’s eyes, but he obeys without question, moving his hand and squeezing his cock at the exact same speed as before.

Kiyoomi pulls his thumb from Atsumu’s mouth and uses his now free hand to pull him even closer, caressing every piece of Atsumu he can reach.

“You look so handsome, treasure. I can’t believe I get to see you like this – all pretty and marked up.” His fingers leave the hold they just had on Atsumu’s waist to dig into one of the darker bruises on his chest. He drinks in Atsumu’s gasp like it’s the only thing that sustains him. “I think of you every night; of you, looking like this. I’ll never get enough of it.”

 

At the next press up against his prostate, Atsumu thinks he’s going to lose his mind.

His eyes are tear-filled by now, the pressure too much to hold them back any longer. He’s always been a crier, especially when he’s feeling good.

He digs his fingers deeper into the bedding; trying to stabilize himself against the onslaught of pleasure, trying to hold back from disobeying Kiyoomi and speeding up his hand until he tumbles over that edge he can feel himself speeding towards.

The sound he lets out when Sakusa pulls out his fingers is pathetic, but Atsumu is too wrung-out to care.

‘So close! Why-?’

He feels kind of blurry when Kiyoomi fully lets go of him and moves away to step off the bed.

Need slams into him fast and hard as he watches Kiyoomi shrug off his pants and underwear simultaneously, so Atsumu stretches out both arms in the direction of his boyfriend, begging him silently to hurry up and hold him already.

But Kiyoomi seems to have other plans. He moves closer to the headrest of the bed, sitting in such a way that his back leans against the wooden bedframe as he pats his lap in an invitation for Atsumu to come sit on it.

It takes less than a second before the meaning sinks into Atsumu’s brain and he scrambles to get up and get closer to Kiyoomi again. Sakusa laughs at his enthusiasm – one of those rare, broad smiles that makes his eyes crinkle up.

A strong hand holds on to Atsumu’s hip when he goes to straddle Kiyoomi’s lap. He is momentarily confused when Kiyoomi skips the lube bottle next to him to reach out further, towards the small plastic square he put on top of his nightstand.

Atsumu grips Sakusa’s wrist before he can take the condom, swallowing harshly when dark eyes immediately shoot up to look at him in question.

“I don’t want it,” he croaks, trying to play off his desperate need to touch Kiyoomi’s… well, everything, as confidence instead. “We don’t need it this time. I want to do it without, if you’re… if that’s okay?”

Kiyoomi’s calm expression doesn’t change as he considers Atsumu’s question, his right hand still slowly caressing Atsumu’s skin where he’s holding on to his hip.

“Okay,” he eventually says, “that’s okay. Don’t whine when we need to clean you up afterwards, though.”

Atsumu shakes his head so fast his sight blurs.

The next thing he knows, Kiyoomi is slicking up his cock, putting a little bit of extra lube around Atsumu’s rim for good measure before he quickly cleans his hand with a tissue and drags Atsumu closer.

Atsumu lifts his hips, breathing shakily when he steadies himself above Kiyoomi – his grip on Sakusa’s shoulders tightening as he starts to sink down.

Sakusa lets out a low groan in appreciation, but Atsumu can’t seem to make any sound at all. Even after fucking so many times, it still feels like all the air is punched out of his lungs when that familiar pressure buries itself inside.

They pause for a moment, allowing Atsumu enough time to get used to the stretch, which even their thorough prepping can’t fully take away. It’s hard to be patient, though, when Kiyoomi keeps murmuring to Atsumu about how warm and soft he feels inside, hissing as the setter clenches down in response. Atsumu revels in it. Revels in the confirmation about how good he’s being, when he hasn’t even moved yet. He wants to do even better, he wants to shatter Kiyoomi as much as he wants to be shattered, he wants-

“Move, baby,” Kiyoomi whispers, when Atsumu’s continued small movements finally have chipped away most of his patience. “If you feel ready?”

Atsumu doesn’t give him time to reconsider. As much as he loves how thorough Kiyoomi is when taking care of him, at times likes this it drives him nuts.

He slowly lifts his hips up before dropping down with a snap – Kiyoomi’s groan even louder than his own gasp before he moves to lift up again.

He continues like that for a while – Kiyoomi’s hands sliding up and down along his waist as Atsumu rides him for all that he’s worth – his thick thighs pressed down into the mattress as they lift and help him grind down time and time again.

Atsumu eventually slows down when he feels how close he’s getting – his face now buried into Kiyoomi’s neck as he grinds in small circles, clenching down on Kiyoomi’s cock when he least expects it – the warm breath of his boyfriend’s gasps huffing right next to his ear.

He twitches when Sakusa’s finger suddenly taps his neck, and Atsumu lifts his head, never stopping the small jerking rolls of his hips as he looks down at Sakusa, whose ears are as red as his mouth when he pulls Atsumu down to kiss him until he loses all coherency.

When he lets Atsumu go, the blonde moves his face back down to Kiyoomi’s neck, but long fingers stop him before he can lay his head back down.

“No,” Kiyoomi says. His voice has taken on that deeper touch that Atsumu loves so much, after all the kissing, and he hopes Sakusa didn’t feel his dick twitch in response. Based on the way those blown eyes narrow for a moment, he very much has. “Don’t lie down. I wanna see you. Let me see you, love?”

Atsumu’s chest clenches, and he has to try very hard not to burst into tears for a moment, but he manages. He just nods, and leans back more so Kiyoomi and he can look at each other as Atsumu continues to roll his hips.

It doesn’t take long before Sakusa starts to speed up a little, driving his hips up into Atsumu on his own, and guiding him up and down by the steady hold on his waist, interrupting the tempo of Atsumu’s steady grind. It feels incredible, and Atsumu moans with every other drop down – drunk on the sight of Sakusa’s pleasure, combined with his own.

Kiyoomi can’t seem to decide where he wants to look – his gaze flits from Atsumu’s eyes and gasping mouth, to his flushed chest and the strong grip Sakusa has on his waist, to the quivers of pleasure on the soft insides of strong thighs as they flex when Atsumu moves.

“Keep going – I have you.”

“Hmm?”

Atsumu looks up in confusion – his mouth opening to ask Kiyoomi’s what he’s talking about before letting out a shocked moan instead. Sakusa’s grip clenches down on his skin as he continues to thrust up into Atsumu even faster – strong jerks of his hips taking over most of the movement where Atsumu had slowed down.

“Omiiii-” Atsumu whines, trying to communicate that Sakusa misunderstands his intentions. It’s not that Atsumu has gotten too tired to move, it’s just that he’s gotten too close again, and needs to slow down before he comes unexpectedly or without permission.

Sakusa moves his hips sharply at the sound, snapping them against Atsumu’s – who immediately has to get ahold of the base of his leaking cock in a vice grip to stop himself from coming on the spot.

 

 

Kiyoomi lets out an appreciative hum when he sees what Atsumu is doing. He’s crooning at Atsumu’s shivers. “Darli-” There’s a sudden flash in those dark eyes as he clearly remembers something, and he changes his word choice.

“Tsumu,” he calls out softly, like he’s trying out a new flavour of ice cream before dubbing it his favourite. “Atsumu. You’re so good, you feel- What? What’s wrong?”

Small, hiccupping sobs force their way out of Atsumu’s chest – causing their movement to falter as Kiyoomi’s brow furrows in concern. He looks more confused than ever when he reaches out to cup Atsumu’s face in his hands.

“What’s wrong, baby? I thought you wanted me to use your name? Wasn’t that what you said before? Should I stop?”

Atsumu gasps for air, letting out an ecstatic laugh despite the tears. “Ya can call me whatever ya like, Omi. I love it all.”

 

Their movements take on a more desperate touch after that.

 

It doesn’t take long before calloused fingers pull Atsumu’s hold away from the base of his cock, forcing them down onto his own thighs as Kiyoomi keeps snapping his hips up into warm heat, leaving Atsumu unable to stave off his own orgasm any longer.

“Omiiii,” he whines again, “Omi, I can’t- I’m gonna-!”

“Just look at you,” Kiyoomi breathes, stuttering out his words reverently among heavy breathes as he flexes and keeps driving up into Atsumu. The blonde twitches wildly at the words – a sure signal that he’s about to come at any moment, and Kiyoomi lets go of one of Atsumu’s wrists to he can use his free hand to start jerking him off.

Atsumu comes the second Kiyoomi touches him – white static taking over his mind, blocking out his own cries as his body freezes up and long streaks of cum spill over Kiyoomi’s hand.

“Stunning,” Kiyoomi breathes heavily, slowing down his tempo when Atsumu comes down. It feels like he’s underwater as he listens drowsily to his boyfriend’s murmurs. “You’ve singlehandedly ruined me for anyone else.”

Sakusa gives him little time to rest before tapping Atsumu’s thigh, clearly signaling him to get off of his lap. Atsumu does so on trembling legs. He didn’t tire when he was bouncing, but his orgasm seems to have sapped him of most of the energy he had left.

He doesn’t try to turn away from Kiyoomi, all too aware of how much the wing spiker loves seeing his flushed face. It is, however, a surprise when instead of the expected comment on Atsumu’s rosy cheeks and the plans on a shower, Kiyoomi asks: “do you want to continue?”

He gives Atsumu no time to do much more than say “euhm”, before continuing: “I’ll stop immediately if you say the word. We can use the colouring system too, if you want. But if you say yes and don’t stop me, I’ll make you come until you cry.”

The stark contrast between Sakusa’s calm, low voice and the meaning behind those words sends a shiver along Atsumu’s spine.

“Promise?”

Kiyoomi grins when Atsumu’s reply comes out too breathy to be truly challenging. As a small blessing, he doesn’t tease Atsumu much for his comment, simply reaching out to card his fingers through Atsumu’s fringe before moving past him and stepping off the bed. Atsumu turns his hips towards that side of the bed when he spots Kiyoomi holding the bottle of lube again, leaning forward on his hands to support his weight more evenly. He hears rather than sees Sakusa slicking himself up for a second time, before adding some more lube onto Atsumu’s skin as well.

Atsumu doesn’t even care about the tacky feeling of lube against his hip when Kiyoomi grabs hold of him with sticky hands and simply drags Atsumu’s hips backwards, burying himself inside in one fast, smooth movement.

It’s sloppy, and wet, but Sakusa’s grip is firm when he slams his hips into Atsumu’s ass over and over again. The dirty slapping sounds of slick skin and lube are thrilling, and the noises are almost as loud as Atsumu himself, as he writhes under the onslaught – gasps and moans spilling out unbiddenly from parted lips.

Kiyoomi’s hands slide up along the small of Atsumu’s back as he snaps his hips with faint grunts, digging his thumbs into the small dimples that form above Atsumu’s ass. Atsumu would complain about how oddly obsessed his boyfriend is with them if he had any breath left to talk, and simply arches his back even more in response.

The sight speeds up Kiyoomi’s thrusts even more, and Atsumu keeps from looking back at Kiyoomi’s face – too nervous about what he’ll beg for if Kiyoomi’s stare is as hungry as it was the last time they slept together and he watched Atsumu’s hips pushed up and bouncy from the power of their bodies coming together.

Atsumu almost bites his tongue when Kiyoomi shifts the tiniest bit, the next time he drives in. The back of his neck burns as he desperately reaches for a pillow, dragging it closer from where it was accidentally pushed to the edge of the bed, and pushing his face down into the soft fabric to muffle his shouts as he cries out every time Kiyoomi hits his prostate.

It’s too much, but so good. Sakusa knows exactly what he’s doing, positioning them like this. He’s seen Atsumu lose his mind too many times to count in this exact position – when he snaps his cock right against the places where the setter is most sensitive, the mild overstimulation melting into fresh surges of pleasure as Kiyoomi moves.

Atsumu is pretty sure that his thighs are about to collapse with how much they’re trembling, but Sakusa’s hold on him is enough to keep his hips in place with or without his assistance as Kiyoomi ravages his body.

His cries are starting to sound hoarse when a hand lifts from where it was pulling Atsumu back by his waist and tightens in his hair instead, lifting him from the pillow he’d sought refuge in.

“What are you doing?” Kiyoomi growls in his ear, and his tone would have been funny if it hadn’t been so ridiculously hot. “Don’t hide from me to go cry into some pillow. Give me everything you’ve got. Give me every cry, Atsumu.”

Atsumu’s back arches again, and stays that way, even when Kiyoomi lets go of his hair, petting the dimples above his ass as he snaps his hips forward and continues to slowly dismantle Atsumu’s sanity.

Gasps of “Omi, Omi, Omi,” rip themselves from Atsumu’s throat more and more shakily. His arms are now trembling too, and Kiyoomi hushes him sweetly as he curls over Atsumu’s back, slowing down his harsh thrusts to a deep grind instead.

“Omi, I can’t anymore, I-”

But Kiyoomi coos at him instead.

“Yes you can, Tsumu, you can take it. Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you need.”

Atsumu mewls something nonsensical in response, and the next time Kiyoomi speaks, his voice is a little clearer, but still as deep as before when he asks: “you know what you have to say, right, baby? If you want to stop? What’s your colour, love?”

For a second, there’s silence, and Atsumu feels Sakusa slow down even more before he’s able to groan out “green.” Tears start to trickle down his cheeks from the overstimulation as he gasps “green,” a second time, almost delirious in his desperation to get Sakusa to speed up again.

Kiyoomi sighs happily before leaning back and abruptly shifting back to his earlier speed.

It’s too much this time.

Atsumu’s shoulders sink down until they hit the mattress, his cheek rubbing against the sheets as he uselessly claws at them, searching for relief and even more pleasure at the same time.

His cock throbs where it’s bobbing between his legs with their movements, and Atsumu jerks like he’s electrocuted when Kiyoomi’s hand starts to teasingly stroke along his shaft before tightening his hold. His long fingers are still slightly slick with lube when they start playing with the tip of Atsumu’s cock, and it feels so good that his cries turn soundless when Kiyoomi starts jerking him off with fluid strokes.  

Atsumu is too overwhelmed to know whether he wants to grind his hips back or forward into Kiyoomi’s warm hand at this point, and he ends up bucking his hips helplessly in his desperation.

He’s close again, and Kiyoomi has realized it as well.

“Give me another one,” he breathes excitedly into Atsumu’s ear, tightening his hold as he moves his hand over the tip of Atsumu’s cock again, before sliding his fingers down in a smooth motion.

Atsumu is crying – just as promised, but Kiyoomi doesn’t stop as Atsumu pleads with him. “I can’t, Kiyoomi, I can- aaah-”

He tries to curl up, the control of his own limbs all but torn away from him as Kiyoomi directly targets his prostate with every thrust, but the movement only makes him focus on the way Kiyoomi painted his chest in blues and purples earlier that night – marking him as his in the most primal way.

“Yes, you can, treasure. Come on, Atsumu. You’re the best, I know you can.”

Atsumu’s hips jerk backwards again when he tiptoes along the razor thin edge, scared of what will happen to him if he goes through another orgasm that’s as strong as his last one.

“I-”

“There you go, love,” Kiyoomi hums, and Atsumu’s cock throbs in his hand, “come for me.”

Electricity dances along Atsumu’s spine when cum shoots out of his cock in short spurts as he comes – shockwaves of pleasure sending spasms throughout his body with every twitch before he collapses onto the sheets.

Sakusa speeds up the second Atsumu’s chest fully touches the mattress, causing the setter to whimper and start sobbing from oversensitivity, but he doesn’t call red.

Kiyoomi reaches his own climax in record speed. Atsumu can feel him pulsing when he reaches his peak – clenching down on Kiyoomi’s cock to milk him even more as he spills inside of Atsumu’s exhausted body with a chocked groan.

They remain connected for a while as they catch their breaths. Kiyoomi didn’t collapse, like Atsumu, but he still seems pretty winded when he’s panting for breath while pressing soft kisses against the back of Atsumu’s neck.

But, regardless of their fatigue, even a ‘soft’ Kiyoomi is still Kiyoomi, and as such it doesn’t take long before the prickly wing spiker is dragging the both of them towards the bathroom to clean up. He even ends up washing Atsumu’s hair for him (though that might also be so that he’s sure Atsumu is cleaned up to his standards – not that Atsumu cares much for the exact reason, to be honest).

It takes until they’re sitting on the freshly remade bed before some of Atsumu’s earlier doubts start crawling back – taking over the lazy contentment he’d been basking in since his second orgasm.

‘He won’t change his mind, right? He won’t-?’

Atsumu all but pounces on top of Kiyoomi when he moves to crawl underneath the blankets in an effort to chase the poisonous thoughts away – ignoring the huffed laughter shaking the chest underneath him as he crawls as close as he can. It helps at least a little, and Atsumu tightens his grip, looking for the feeling that swirled all around him, earlier – that complete conviction that Kiyoomi loves him. That he won’t leave. That Atsumu’s heart is safe here. That he’s allowed to call Kiyoomi home.

They lie like that for a couple of minutes, during which Atsumu keeps thinking things trough, trying to convince himself, before Kiyoomi interrupts with a sleepy murmur.

“Tsumu? What is it?”

Atsumu moves his head up from where he was pushing his face into Kiyoomi’s shoulder, his mouth already opened to reply.

“-and don’t say ‘nothing’. You’re gripping my arm tightly enough that it might just bruise.”

Atsumu’s mouth closes with an audible click.

“Sorry,” he sighs defeatedly.

Kiyoomi responds with a sigh of his own when it becomes clear that Atsumu isn’t planning to follow that up with any clarification.

“How about instead of telling me you’re sorry, you tell me what’s going on inside that brain of yours. I’m only asking for honesty, nothing more. Stop trying to hold back. It’s unlike you, and, frankly, it creeps me out. I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me.”

Atsumu thinks.

It’s hard to let go and make his muscles relax – to stop clinging onto Kiyoomi’s frame when he’s afraid.

Kiyoomi must sense that he needs some time, because he doesn’t ask again. He simply slides his hand up and down Atsumu’s spine – caressing him with broad, calm strokes. Slowly but surely, Atsumu starts to calm down. He lessens his grip on Kiyoomi’s arm and turns his head so his face is pressed into Kiyoomi’s throat instead – right underneath his left ear.

When he speaks again, it’s soft, but he’s so close that Kiyoomi hears him regardless.

“I just… want to stay with you.”

Kiyoomi doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t get mad that Atsumu’s doubts are resurfacing either. In fact, he sounds nothing but determined when he says: “I’m not leaving.”

He starts pulling on Atsumu’s shoulder before continuing, kissing the crown of his head before shifting their bodies until Atsumu is basically resting right on top of Kiyoomi – the setter’s head tucked under his chin. It can’t be very comfortable, seeing as Atsumu is a fellow top athlete and weighs at least as much as Sakusa himself, but Kiyoomi doesn’t seem to care.

“I’ll be seeing this through.”

“And… what if other people say you should-”

“Since when have I cared about what other people think of me?” Kiyoomi cuts him off, and Atsumu grins sincerely for the first time since what feels like days.

“I deserve the best, right?” Kiyoomi says plainly, and Atsumu is already nodding before he has time to truly consider the question. Kiyoomi looks content with his response, though. “Good. I won’t agree to anything less. I work until I reach that goal, every time, in all aspects of life.”

Atsumu nods, a little confused, but he isn’t going to complain if the prize is Kiyoomi holding him close and letting him bask in their combined body heat like this.

Eventually, after cuddling for a while longer, Atsumu moves off of Kiyoomi’s chest, and the two of them lie side by side instead – Kiyoomi’s larger frame curling around Atsumu as he slowly slips into unconsciousness.

Then, right as Atsumu starts to drift off, a burst of clarity shoots through his brain, and he squeezes Kiyoomi’s hand where he’d put it around Atsumu’s waist from behind – their fingers intertwined underneath the blanket.

“It’s me, yeah?” he mumbles sleepily, trying to resist the pull of slumber until he has forced his thought into the open.

“Good isn’t enough for ya, but I’m the best, right?”

His murmur is only greeted by the sound of the wind outside, and Atsumu finally lets himself sink into sleep.

He thinks he can feel Kiyoomi kiss his temple, but he may already be dreaming.

“The greatest alive.”