Chapter Text
Love...
A word so small, yet somehow weighs far too much.
Who knew four incidental letters could disguise so much burden? That when fitted together, they could make up something that could only be explained as a beautiful devastation. Because with love comes pain. They are companions which co-exist — one can not survive without the other.
It's a paradox you've come to understand all too well. And now, one that you don't particularly favour.
As you gaze up at the evening sky, dusk like a smudge of lead that poisons the sky as clouds smother the city, a fresh drop of rain bursts against the skin of your cheek. The scent of damp air grants few, but rich, memories. Ones that leave your heart beating in a dull ache.
You've grown to dislike rainy days. Not because of the rain itself, but because of the grief that pours down with it. Because like love, your grief is everchanging - some days you don't notice it, but others, when you smell the humid night, you look up and remember. You wait for the rain to taint your skin, and you remember. And you'll always remember. In flashes of memories, you feel the way your heart used to gleam, the way you smiled till your face ached, the way the rain tasted between a kiss. And then all the pain that came afterwards — the way your tears melted with the rain as he...
But that's the struggle with love, even the aftermath is inescapable. There's no such thing as forgetting, even when you move on.
The rain has harshened by the time you make it inside your apartment's building. The sound is almost soothing as it pitter-patters against the windows beside every step, despite its lingering sentiment. You eventually make it to your apartment door with a fading heartache, the image of steaming tea and cosy clothes roaming through your mind as a comfort.
You nudge the door open, shrugging off your coat and shoes with a tired sigh. You place your heels beside the large pair of men's sneakers at the door, and it feels strange even now as you remember whose they are. That so much has changed.
Moving in with a guy whom you barely knew two months ago was definitely risky, but that's a trait you've found yourself leaning into recently more than ever. You wonder if a certain someone is to blame. Or maybe even thank; without their berating, you may not have found yourself here on such a whim - in a nice apartment you can comfortably call home, and one you can share with a new friend which you cherish.
When you look up you find your roommate walking towards you. You note that he's dressed in black slacks and a loose, red button-up. He must be going out, you think.
"Heading out?" You ask curiously.
Kuroo looks up from his phone when he hears your voice, smiling. "Hey, yeah. You just get home?"
You nod, smiling warmly despite your tired eyes. For a second, he seems to notice, but you speak up before he can even think to question you.
"Well, you have fun. And bring me back some of those muffins," you smile brighter, knowing he understands exactly what you mean.
He chuckles and leans down, quickly pecking your cheek in a friendly goodbye, "sure," he says, slipping past you and out the door.
The door clicks shut and you sigh out into the now-empty apartment. You begin trailing towards the kitchen, about to make yourself that hot mug of tea you've promised yourself, but a sudden lightbulb flickers in your mind...
Suddenly, the perfect remedy for your melancholic mood lingers in your mind. Because for once, luck seems to be on your side, as that so-called remedy just happens to be streaming live tonight on Camstar, the very same time that you're home alone — a simultaneous occurrence yet to happen since moving in here.
You feel glad to have something to look forward to as you fill your evening with hot tea, a bath, and some dinner. And with much anticipation, 9:30 pm quickly rolls around.
Wearing only an old t-shirt, you sit on your bed with your laptop set up and running as the CamStar website takes up your screen, and you immediately begin scrolling in search of your favourite camboy: Mr Ace.
However, your eager eyes and ignited expression quickly deteriorate.
"Seriously?" you grumble in disbelief. For there it says, "hiatus" bold and bright on your screen.
You consider the option of finding another camboy, knowing it won't be easy. But to your surprise, and somewhat 'luck' your profile is alerted with a recommendation instead. "Because you enjoy streaming Mr Ace...." it reads. You click on the profile, not expecting too much, but you're astounded to see him with a fair amount of credible popularity and enticing videos. "Spades-K, hm?"
Curiosity piqued, you continue scrolling. He doesn't stream tonight, but it wouldn't hurt to check out a previous stream...right?
Already enthralled, you click on the most recent video, unsure of what to expect as you patiently watch the loading symbol consume your screen. You bite the skin of your lip nervously, not wanting to get your hopes up too much.
When the video loads, a male's torso fills your screen, the toned muscles so close yet so out of reach as the play button waits to reveal more. Your hand finds the space button on its own accord.
Spades-K moves fluidly, his broad shoulders and muscular definition coming into sight as he moves away from the camera, allowing some of his face, concealed by a black masquerade-like mask, to come into view. The silky eyepiece decorated with black rhinestones leaves his upper face a bewitched mystery, merely revealing a sharp jaw and fierce eyes gazing with an intensity that causes you to shuffle closer.
The taunting mystery he exudes already has your stomach fluttering softly, a breath of adrenaline spilling through your veins as you begin to anticipate his every move.
He leans back even further, body seated in a chair with his knees spread wide so his full upper body is now in view...including his hair.
It reminds you of a certain someone.
You almost laugh uncomfortably at the thought — the absurd possibility. That's the furthest thing your mind wants to be invaded by right now, so you focus on what's beginning to transpire on screen.
Spades-K reaches down for something, the subtle flex of his arm making you rub your lips together absently. He pulls out a cock ring and your breath tightens in your lungs, the thrill of knowing what's to come making you smile ever so scarcely.
The deep silkiness of his voice laced with a smirk filters into your ears, immediately interrupting your trance when he finally speaks. "Thanks for the donations everyone, but we're going to start with something highly requested last week—"
In that same second, your heart falters a beat, the ricochet fierce in your chest as the realisation trickles over you. Your expression sinks, and without another thought, you jerk away for your laptop, muscles tense in astonishment.
There's no way.
That voice. You know that voice. You hear it every day — you hear its irritatingly mischievous tone when it teases you every morning. You see that devious smirk whenever he makes a stupid remark on the daily.
You slam your screen down when you see his free hand slipping down to his crotch, the sound of his zipper alarming you viciously.
The air rests still and undisturbed as you sit in disbelief. But a chill still feathers over your skin, and like the pull of a tide it chases every inch of your skin into a spell of goosebumps.
You begin to question your own eyes that bore witness to his face, his hair, his body, and his hand reaching for his— Your face blossoms with a warmth like the crush of embers at the thought, the leakage spilling across your skin and burning you like wildfire.
A trepidation lies beneath your limbs as an endless plethora of thoughts tug of war with one another. Because to your dismay, there's a pulse humming between your legs, a warmth whispering for attention. And it's that small voice that eludes all caution and rationality, telling you not to even think at all. To simply succumb to what lays before you — an opportunity bathed in a sinful temptation so sweet it somehow stings.
So, swallowing the piece of you that knows never to open that laptop screen ever again, you inch closer once more. Your heart is heavy, the persisting pound in your ears almost enough to quieten your shame. And you lift the screen, staring hesitantly at his frozen hand, rough knuckles resting over his crotch where the zip is half undone.
Never have you seen him in such a light - such a perilous, but enticing light like that of a devastating fire — something your prying eyes can't help but watch, no matter how much damage is bared witness to.
Dazed by lust and a curiosity fit to kill, you resume the video.
Immediately, his hand continues down, the sound of his zipper smooth and slow through your headphones. You watch, a nervousness hiding just steps behind your fatal intrigue as he removes his trousers entirely, exposing his toned legs and prominent erection trapped beneath his boxers. Your breath catches at the sight.
His hand slips under the waistband, and he releases a soft groan as he tilts his head back, and it trickles right into your ears like drizzled honey. Swallowing, you watch the way his Adam's apple bounces as he lets out a low chuckle before he mutters: "Just thinking about this one girl has me this hard..."
His head lowers, a darkness to the depth of his gaze as he rests at eye level with the camera. Your stomach swirls like a whirlpool, your breath tight. And all you can think is that... it's like he's looking directly at you. Like he knows exactly what you're doing in the dim of your bedroom, alone. And he's taunting you for it, a smirk behind his eyes.
Your breath falters the moment he slips his cock out of his boxers, hand wrapped around it as it pulses in the open air, bare for you to see. There's a throb between your legs, heavy and desperate as your expression melts with desire. Lost to your body's begging, your hand trails up your inner thigh, the ticklish touch making you shiver. Slipping your fingers under your panties, a sharp breath catches in your throat as you feel the wetness you've been neglecting.
The same moment he slides the lubricated cock ring down to his base, his shaky breaths gentle inside your ears, you slip a finger inside, the ease making your limbs melt and knees loosen. His face strains as he begins pumping his fist slowly, and you match his pace, the tension in your core budding further.
"Fuck...I just know her tongue feels so good," he mumbles, and your spine shivers at the breathiness of his voice that tickles your ears. "Just picturing her on her knees for me..." His breath tightens as he groans, "Shit."
"Shit," you whisper not a second after him, eyes falling shut as you slip a second finger in, relishing the way his heavying breaths sound falling into your ears. The way his tender voice feels, the velvety tone spilling down your skin for miles. You'd never noticed before just how deep— how sensual it was. The way he sounds saying such things just makes your skin tingle and buzz. Like every last word creeping through your headphones and into your bloodstream is laced with something magnetic, making it impossible to even try and resist him.
You can hear his every breath, pant, and sigh so clearly as he begins to stroke faster, the raspy sounds washing down your skin like cleansing rain as though the pure pleasure could outweigh you of this sin.
Holding his gaze through the screen, burning for the way his sharp eyes devour your pride, he rubs his thumb over his reddened tip, groaning softly, the low, guttural sound so deeply arousing it swallows you into a deep euphoria. And you match his movements, teasing yourself too as you begin to rub your thumb over your clit, heightening the pleasure as soft moans escape you.
You clench around your fingers when you witness precum dribble out of his tip, leaking down the length of his cock and hand, the sound wet between your own sighs of pleasure.
At some point, between the tangled mesh of emotions drizzling through your limbs and the increasing pace of your thrusts as your arousal heightens, you let your eyes sink shut. You begin to picture that it's his fingers sliding in and out of you faster and faster, his thick fingers curling at that perfect spot that makes you tremble and moan.
You pretend it's his fingertips trailing up your waist, reaching your hardened nipples to squeeze and touch the sensitive buds. You pretend it's his desperate hands skimming down your slick skin, gripping and squeezing your thighs and pushing them open wider.
You begin to imagine his hot breath bouncing off your skin, revelling in you submissive underneath his towering body, desperate for his every touch. You become too consumed to even consider the shame of your thoughts, overruled by lust and the way it steals your mind and body as its prison.
Breathing unsteady and a coat of sweat warm on your skin, you somehow lose yourself further when he moans lowly, the way it echoes in your ear making your pussy flutter around your fingers. You moan like a reflexive, pleasure's sounds synchronising.
Your eyes pry open as curses escape him. And then, he whimpers. Heart beating, you catch the way his expression falters into weakness, the pinch of his brows and the desperation in his eyes enough to have you clinging to the edge of your release.
His neck glittering with sweat and his eyes low and hazy, you see how he begins to stroke slower, edging himself, and you can't contain the desperation that begins to erupt in your movements. Your eyes begin to gloss, an overwhelming rush of pleasure building in your every cell till your legs start to tremble. You fight to hold back the urge to let go, the tension in your core heavy and desperate.
Wet sounds fill your ears as he begins to snap his hips, thrusting desperately into his hand. "Fuck— I'm gonna come—" he gasps, a whine melting between his frantic words.
More precum leaks from his tip, sliding over his palm as he picks up his pace. And you follow, pumping faster and faster. You rub your clit too, applying enough pressure to make you whine out helplessly.
You fail to hold back any further, his name slipping out into the vacant air as you moan, letting yourself unravel completely. And just seconds later, you witness your roommate fall undone too, a choked moan stumbling out from his lips as he releases over his hand.
Your ride out your orgasm to the stimulating sounds he releases into your greedy ears, shamelessly ogling at the way he trembles and tilts his head back slowly.
When the video cuts off, you've collapsed back into your mattress. Mindlessly, you blink up at the ceiling, senses in a haze and body numbed with pleasure as you try to catch your breath amidst the newfound silence. A silence that gives far too much room for the aftermath to creep in and infect your mind.
And so the knowledge that you've just orgasmed to a video of your friend and roommate, Kuroo Tetsurou, weighs on you like the devil's shadow itself, the dark burden undoubtedly chasing you to the morning light.