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It takes every muscle, every ounce of his will, to not stop and pick up his dry cleaning.
And even then, he heavily considers it. Standing outside of the corner shop, drenched from the rain that crashes around him. It feels like a tracking beacon, being the only store that’s lit on the corner. He sees the dryers inside, probably spinning a load of fresh, clean, dry clothes…
Tobio looks down at himself again, a frown on his face. His once-crisp dress shirt, stained from the left collar down with the blood of someone’s husband, is now additionally soaking wet, along with his slacks. He’s sure those are stained as well, though barely noticeable.
But it won’t work; he’s been out for too long, and if he stops now he surely won’t make it. Enough time has been wasted, and he’s in no position to be late.
He leaves promptly, an uncomfortable walk turning into an uncomfortable jog, racing beside the cars that zip past him on the street. It’s a ten-minute journey on foot from here, one he’s sure he can cut down to five.
When he approaches the towering black doorway, Tobio punches the code into the touchpad and tugs the door open the moment he hears the lock release. He takes a quick glance over his shoulder before slipping inside and sealing it shut.
He makes his way down the hall, shoes clacking against the ground with every step he takes. Every rushed, impatient step. He wishes he could move faster than he can now, that there wasn’t a wound healing underneath his clothes. He’d be in a full-on sprint if not for his condition.
He takes the stairs, a decision made only when he sees what floor the elevator is stopped on. The fourteenth floor is eons away it feels, and each step further up digs a deeper pit in his stomach. He glances at his watch less and less as the time ticks away, away, then past midnight. The pit begins to fill with disappointment.
In mere moments he’s at the front door. There’s a wave of relief to have finally made it after two weeks, despite the stickiness of his wet clothes and the bag that weighs his shoulder down so much that he can feel it in his lower back, the aching crawling up from the bottom of his spine. In between light twinges of pain, he wonders if he’s getting too old for this.
Thirty is not old. He hears in the back of his head. You’re just a drama queen .
Tobio laughs to himself, reaching for his apartment key and unlocking his front door with a swift twist of his wrist. He pockets it the moment he hears the click of the door, adjusting his bags on his shoulder and pressing against the wood. He’s gentle, dare he make a sound at this hour. If he did, then he’d certainly be caught—
“You’re late.”
Tobio’s hold on the door tenses.
“Sorry.” He responds to the voice that floats his way from beyond the foyer, composed. “Took a little longer than usual. I’m sure you understand—”
“Maybe on another night,” the voice continues, louder now.
Right. Tobio lets the door slip into place with a quiet click of the knob before he twists the lock back in. He hears hasty footsteps coming gradually closer to where he is, louder and louder until his husband is standing impatiently in the archway, a robe draped onto his body.
“Ew.” Atsumu’s nose wrinkles as he crosses his arms, leaning on one of the pearly white pillars. “You’re bloody. And wet.”
He’s sure he paints quite the picture, looking like this. You like it, he wants to say to him.
“Hence why it took me a while to get back.”
“What, did you fall in a puddle while you were chasing him?”
Tobio purses his lips as he tugs his soggy boots off of his feet. “ No . Started raining on the way back. I was debating on stopping and getting clean before coming home.”
The wrinkle in Atsumu’s face dissolves. “Aw. How considerate.”
“I try to be.” Once Tobio’s shoes are off, leaving him in equally sopping socks, he treads over to Atsumu with a small smile. Before he can say anything about it or reject his advances, Tobio collects him in his arms and presses a warm kiss to the side of his head.
“Happy anniversary,” he breathes into his hair with a happy, relieved sigh. “You look handsome.”
He can feel the fresh wave of heat boiling underneath Atsumu’s skin and warming his own.
“I— Tobio ,” Atsumu rests his head on his collarbone, unbothered by his soaked clothes, “ please , it’s nothing.”
“Still.” Tobio insists, pressing his nose into his freshly washed hair, melting in the scent of his strong shampoo and moisturizer, “you look good.”
For a moment, Atsumu joins him in the short moment of peace, pressed against him. Their heartbeats steady and align, and Tobio closes his eyes and takes in a deeper, easier breath. The ease that comes when he isn’t running back to home base.
“There’s dinner,” Atsumu says soon enough, drawing away from him, his voice a fraction gentler now. He wipes at the wetness on his cheek and dusts himself off, “if you want it.”
“Yes, please.” Kageyama answers, “I’m starving. Just give me a sec to get changed.”
“Make it quick,” Atsumu says, a bit of sass in his tone. “And, don’t shower. You know I like you… fresh from a job.”
He retracts after that, but rethinks it and leans back in, taking Tobio’s chin between his fingers and pressing their lips together.
“You were gone a little too long this time.” He says beneath a quick breath before he flicks his head to the side and heads to the kitchen. Tobio watches as he disappears, slim body slinking past the pillar and into the next room. The pounding in his chest doesn’t cease, even when he can’t see him anymore. He lets out another sigh, slinging his jacket over his shoulder and leaning back with a smile.
Home. Hopefully, he’d be able to stay a little longer.
He doesn’t spend long in their bedroom, peeling his wet clothes off and replacing them with soft sweats after he towels himself off. When he’s dressed and dry, holding off on the shirt for now, he takes a closer look at the brand new wound stretching across his abdomen.
The guy he’d been sent to kill was a fighter, and boy did he get Tobio bad. Nothing lethal, of course, but it certainly slowed him down. Tobio can feel the initial pain from the slash of the hunter’s knife, a memory that lives between the navy sutures threaded into his skin. It was healing well, considering the circumstances he had to stitch himself.
“Tobio.”
His head snaps in the direction of Atsumu’s voice. Wilted, a bit wounded, right outside the bathroom door. Tobio’s gut swirls at the sight of the concern painted on his face.
“I said I’d be a second—” He starts gently, but Atsumu cuts him off before he can even begin to console him.
“What happened?” he says, taking a step inside, “I thought it went well, I—“
“Hey, hey it’s okay.” Tobio says gently, “It’s okay, really. It’s healing now.”
“How…”
“They fight back, you know,” Tobio says this as a reminder, more than an explanation. Because at the sight of any sort of wound on his body, Atsumu seems to forget just what business Tobio has slated himself to.
“Let me see,” Atsumu insists, shoving his way in anyway. Tobio doesn’t put up a fight, opening up his arms and letting Atsumu come closer. He kneels down in front of Tobio, eyes narrowed. While Atsumu observes, Tobio instinctively threads his fingers into Atsumu’s hair, loses himself in the simple reflex, relaxed as his husband goes through his own check-up process.
He’s drawn out of it when Atsumu stands back up again with a huff, bracing himself on the counter as he straightens his knees again.
“What?”
Atsumu lets out a small hum, tracing the outline of the stitches with the pad of his finger, “Almost looks like I did it.”
“More like it looks better,” Tobio jokes. Atsumu glances up and rolls his eyes.
“Shit’s not clean, though.”
“Sorry, I didn’t have your grade S suturing kit in the middle of a dirty alley.”
“You could have at least cleaned it afterward.” Atsumu huffs, crossing his arms, “It could have gotten infected.”
“This is afterward.”
There’s clear disapproval in Atsumu’s gaze before his eyes are falling to where his hands linger at Tobio’s hips. Tobio follows them as they curl at his waist and tug him closer to Atsumu.
“But…” he murmurs, “the scar will certainly look nice.”
“See?” Tobio smiles gently. “Silver linings.”
“Don’t get sliced up by a knife and I won’t have to look for them.” Atsumu’s eyes narrow again, but Tobio kisses him anyway.
When they’re downstairs again, he eats (quite eagerly), and Atsumu watches from across the table, running his foot up the inside of Tobio’s leg, incapable of being away from his touch now that it’s returned. But it’s not weird. Nothing ever is, really.
“How was the job other than, you know…?” Atsumu asks once Tobio has eaten through a decent portion of his meal. He swallows, reaching for a napkin before responding.
“Long.” He says.
“Well, I could assume that much,” Atsumu whines, “Tell me more… ”
“The guy they wanted me to kill was smarter than any of us anticipated,” Tobio explains, setting his fork down and folding his hands, the events of the past week rolling over in his head like heavy stones. The seemingly endless search, the car chase that finally led him to corner his target, the extensive means of cleaning up the evidence. “He knew he was being hunted, took precautions to ensure that he was near impossible to find. This was probably one of the longest jobs to date.”
“Well at least the guy’s dead, right?”
A small smile eases onto Tobio’s face as he picks up his fork again. “Yes. He’s dead.”
“Yay!” Atsumu cheers, with that out-of-place, inappropriate exuberance that only really made sense within the closed doors of their home. This was the only place that Atsumu could celebrate someone’s death without being stared at for a couple of seconds longer than normal.
“Yes,” Tobio encourages him, “no more high profile clients to ruin our anniversary.”
“Well it only just started,” Atsumu glances at the clock that reads ‘12:22’ in red, angry numbers on the microwave, “I can forgive the fifteen minutes that were lost because of this one.”
“That’s out of character for you.”
Atsumu smiles back at him. “Gracious, aren’t I?”
Tobio finishes his meal and the two of them clean up the kitchen together, enveloped in comfortable silence.
“Do you remember when we found out?” Atsumu asks him later when the dishes have been washed and dried and the counters have been wiped down.
Tobio cranes his head to the side where he sits, cheeks burning in the embrace of the fireplace. Atsumu circles the couch, two cups of tea in either of his hands. Tobio makes room for him promptly, moving to one side and tugging the blanket in his lap. Atsumu takes his place beside him, crossing his legs before placing the cups on the table beside them. Tobio takes a moment to drape the blanket over his lover’s legs and rest an arm over his shoulders before granting Atsumu a response.
“It’s hard to forget,” Tobio says in complete honesty, though he thinks back fondly on the day he discovered that Atsumu was his soulmate, bound from birth. It was the least romantic experience of their lives, and like he said, near impossible to forget. He leans back, catching a glimpse of the Latin symbol on Atsumu’s neck, resisting the minute instinct to press a kiss to it. The matching mark on his neck tingles.
“You were the one that made a big deal of it when it didn’t need to be.” Atsumu muses, chin tipped up and a proud smile on his face, “If you’d listened to me from the start, we could have avoided all the drama.”
They didn’t talk about it often, but as they grew into their relationship, running through the details of the past was easier. It would be around six years ago now, the day that he and Atsumu met and put the pieces together nearly thirty seconds afterward.
Before he worked with the Twelve Disciples, Tobio was a freelancer. Instead of receiving jobs through his present chain of command, people came to him with commissions. At the time, he’d garnered enough notoriety that he had the luxury of being picky. Killing being his only source of income, he chose the higher-paying jobs over the lower ones.
It was an effective filtering system. One that led him to one of the highest paying jobs he’d ever been offered in his life.
If he had known who the target was in relation to his soulmate at the time, he probably would have rejected the job in order to avoid all the drama. But who could have known that Miya Manjiro’s head was so valuable?
The actual assassination went off without a hitch. Tobio had been given an abundance of intel; schedules, drivers, important identities, even information he’d deemed unnecessary when it came down to it. What they hadn’t included was anything regarding the target’s nephew, who happened to be sneaking into the office through the window the same time Tobio was preparing his uncle’s body for disposal.
And he’d been quiet, too. So quiet, that even Tobio’s trained ear didn’t pick up on Atsumu’s initial entrance. Not until he’d heard the quiet gasp from the back of the room.
His head had flicked backward just as fast as his gun, aimed directly in the center of Atsumu’s forehead. Atsumu’s hands had flown up in the air on reflex, signaling his innocence and dropping to his knees. And while that was all great and dandy, Tobio’s focus had shifted to the strokes of black marked onto his neck.
The one that looked exactly like his.
Tobio’s body crumbled at the hand of a rush of emotions, though his weapon and stance remained steady. Nausea washed over him at the same time chills crawled up and down his spine. His heart sped up as his blood turned to ice.
And his eyes… they watered, the same time his fingertips curl tighter around the trigger. Never, in his twenty-four years on earth, did he think that he would find his soulmate like this. He didn’t even bother to think about it. In fact, he thought that he would never find them; would have been better that way. It was overwhelming.
“Who are you?” He’d asked, though he didn’t understand why. Why he would want to know the name of his soulmate before he killed him.
“I…” Atsumu’s mouth had opened and closed around nothing, seemingly grasping at threads. “I’m Atsumu.”
“ Miya Atsumu, or someone else?” Tobio’s grip stiffened as he stepped closer.
“Miya,” Atsumu answered almost immediately. “Yeah, yeah, Miya.”
“What is he to you?” Tobio pointed to the body on the ground with his other hand that held a machete knife.
“Uncle,” Atsumu had answered again, breathless. “But you’re my…”
Great , Tobio had thought, he’s figured it out too .
“Yeah. I’m your…” He waves the knife hand in the air, “... whatever .”
“Whoa.” Atsumu hadn’t seemed to be phased at all as he stared up at the man that held his kin’s body in his hands. “That… I can’t believe it.”
Tobio’s eyes furrowed together, craning his neck down and staring back at Atsumu, confused to hell and back. “Pardon?”
“I just can’t believe this is happening,” Atsumu murmured, before grinning. “Like, fucking finally .”
“...Dude,” Tobio says, in all honesty, “I just killed your…I…you realize I can’t let you leave, right?”
His face falls. “Oh, oh shit.” Atsumu’s hands had relaxed by now, despite the gun still being aimed directly at his brain, “Right. I mean, I won’t tell anyone? No one has to know. Didn’t like oji-san anyway.”
Okay . Tobio released his aim and dropped the gun after that. “Come again?”
“He was a massive jerk.” Atsumu had huffed, sitting down and crossing his legs like this was all normal: talking to a mercenary in the middle of a job. “He hit my mom once, and he’s never really been that great of a person.”
Jesus .
“Haven’t liked him since.” He shrugged, “Honestly, you did us a favor.”
“There is… no way you’re being serious right now. Are you lying? Are you lying to me?”
He hates the way his voice has a quiver to it. He’s not scared, not exactly, but Tobio can’t put a name to it. Confusion? Shock?
“They’re going to want to bury the body though,” Atsumu steps around the desk to stand beside Tobio, peering down at the corpse. His tone is so cold, so calm . “Have the whole funeral and all the pomp and circumstance.”
“Sorry.” Tobio had said before kneeling down, taking hold of the unmoving chin, and carving through Miya Manjiro’s neck—the kin and blood of his soulmate. “I’ll need the head.”
Blood gushed from torn arteries, splattering onto the black tarp beneath Tobio’s feet. The body fell limp beside him, head held firmly in his grip by the hair. He’d glanced back up at Atsumu, seeking out any sort of reaction to such a gruesome display, but he was surprised, and yet, not, to see him completely void of emotion.
“If you must,” Atsumu responds with another neutral remark, tilting his head. What was he, getting a better look?
Tobio peers at him and wonders if he’s met a monster with sharper teeth than his own.
He’d dropped the freshly severed head into a garbage bag before tying it at the base, keeping his eyes on Atsumu the entire time and looking for a sign to not let him walk away with this knowledge.
“If you tell anyone about what you say, you will die,” is the last thing he’d said before mounting the window Atsumu had slipped through earlier. “This is your only warning.”
One would naturally question his choice to let Atsumu live, soulmate or not, but in that room, something tugged at Tobio’s heart. Something that told him that maybe, someone meant to complete him should have a second chance.
Maybe he was testing the whole… soulmate thing as a whole. Would his second-half turn him in? Or let him go?
It was risky at the time; put his entire livelihood on the line. But there was a small part of him back then that was crazy and wanted to gamble on the chances.
When he returned Miya Manjiro’s head to his client, he was played swiftly and plentifully.
He’d waited after that, with a nauseating swirl in his gut. He was sure that the other shoe would drop at any point. A bag stayed prepared and packed at the front door of his apartment in the event of a speedy escape, and there wasn’t a minute that the news wasn’t on. But even then, nothing. Silence on all fronts. He heard nothing, his partners and clients heard nothing, hell, his boss heard nothing. After that, he believed that Miya Atsumu was definitely not bluffing.
A month or so after their encounter, Tobio took a semi-load off and focused on the future. Throughout it, he thought of Atsumu. Wondered how the funeral went, if his family would ever be able to sniff out the dirty tracks on him. But regardless, there was money to be made.
He’d started accepting jobs again, though reluctantly, choosing from a more low-profile pool; fewer government officials and wealthy businessmen, and more personal grudges and underground criminals. It was going consistently well for a while, collecting a direct deposit, buying a couple of luxuries he’d had his eye on, but he learned quickly that Miya Atsumu would not be a passing thing.
The last thing Tobio expected was for him to come back. But he did. Again, and again, and again, job after job after job. Insistent on trying despite their differences in lives and the danger of them even being friends, let alone involved. Tobio wasn’t even sure how Atsumu could have found him, but he learned quickly that Atsumu lived a life so sheltered that he was attracted to the danger that followed Tobio around.
And Tobio would reject him, frequently . Because love and dating and marriage really fucked with his lifestyle no matter which way he’d looked at it back then, and the last thing he wanted to introduce in his life was change. But one day, Atsumu approached him not with a plea, but a proposal.
“We would be a good team.” He’d said one evening, observing the not-so-pleasant display of Tobio, who had been paid to remove and return this target’s fingers. Yakuza shit, if Tobio recalled correctly. Definitely uncommon and a deviation from their code, but nothing he was being paid enough to question.
“And why do you say that?” Tobio had asked, dropping a ring finger into his small plastic bag.
“Well, I’ve been thinking about why the universe chose Jack the Ripper as my soulmate—”
“—Jack the Ripper was a serial killer, not a mercenary—”
“—and I started thinking about us working together.”
“Oh yeah? What were you thinking?”
“I may not have the skills of a born killer,” Tobio could feel him coming closer, not just from his footsteps and the shift in the air, but the sensation of his aura, growing strong and screaming “but I’m pretty sure I’m the only one that can stomach this kind of stuff.”
“You should see the people that hire me.” Tobio cut off another finger.
“But stomach it all, and still support you? Still, be attracted to you?”
“I’m not worried about who is or isn’t attracted to me.” Tobio examineed the digit as he said it before dropping it in the bag as well. “And for the record, your attraction to me is alarming.”
“Well, it shouldn’t be that alarming.” He could hear Atsumu’s pout. “We’re soulmates.”
The tug on Tobio’s heart came back and he pursed his lips, staring down at his bag of fingers so hard that his eyes started to strain at the edges.
“I can protect you.” Atsumu had tried instead.
Tobio had huffed out a laugh. “Come on. I don’t need to be protected.”
“Yeah sure, if someone wants to fight you one on one on the street, I’ll leave you to it. But what happens when you get caught?“
Another laugh. “I won’t.”
“But if you do?”
Tobio pursed his lips. If he did , huh.
“In the 1% chance that I slip up and get caught, I have my means of getting out of the situation.”
“Your clients and partners aren't going to risk exposing themselves as part of this world if you get caught.” Atsumu had continued. “Even you know that.”
Tobio remained silent, eyes trained on his collected fingers. He didn’t understand why Atsumu was so eager to plead a case, so eager to stay involved in this mess. A mess that took one of his own.
“You need me. I have the money, the means, and you’ll have the loyalty no matter what. And…well…”
Atsumu kneeled down just beside Tobio, close enough to startle him, but it didn't stop Atsumu from taking his hand and pushing the collar of his turtleneck down to reveal the twin mark adorned on his neck.
“…No one has to know why.”
His hand rested there for a moment, fingertips grazing exactly where the mark was carved into his skin. It’s not that Tobio isn’t used to being touched, but, to be touched like this; delicately, intricately, without hostile purpose, is strange. Stirs strange things within him.
“It’s not bad to have someone in your corner,” Atsumu continued. “Someone to patch your wounds, watch your back.”
Framed like that, it made sense. Out of all the desperate ramblings and attempts at convincing him, this statement is the most intelligent thing that Atsumu’s said all night.
And maybe that’s all Tobio needed, at the time. Reasoning valid enough that he couldn’t say no. He wanted to be cold and calculated and turn Atsumu away the way he should, but perhaps some part of him that’s soft and squishy still lives inside of him somewhere.
“So come on.” Tobio glanced over to see Atsumu holding his hand out. “Let’s try it.”
In this light, his aura gave off like a beacon.
Hesitantly, Tobio took his hand and allowed himself to be pulled up off of the concrete.
“It’ll be great.”
And though it wasn’t, in the beginning, Tobio doesn’t have many regrets about agreeing to let Atsumu into his life.
“Imagine if I’d turned you in.” Atsumu reaches for his cup of tea in real-time, guiding Tobio out of his thoughts like a siren, bringing the brim to his lips and taking a sip. Tobio blinks, watching him endearingly. “We wouldn’t even be here.”
“That would certainly be a relief.”
He jokes, but Atsumu still smacks him on the chest for it.
“But you know, you never did tell me why you were sneaking into your uncle’s office that night.”
“I didn’t?” Atsumu’s brows knit together in question. “I could have sworn I told you.”
“I would have remembered that.”
“There isn’t really much of a story,” Atsumu murmurs, pressing a thumb to his chin, as if he has to contribute tremendous effort into remembering, “I had just been cut off. I was only at his office to steal his checkbook and forge a check.”
Tobio blinks. “That’s it?”
“Yep.” Atsumu gives him a toothy grin, with that dazzling deviance in his eyes. “If I had known I was in line to inherit his estate, maybe I wouldn’t have needed to go to such lengths.”
“For once, I’m glad there’s something you didn’t know.” Tobio cranes his head slightly to give him a kiss. “Wouldn’t exactly be here to tell the tale.”
“Well if we’re digging up unanswered questions from the past,” Atsumu says with a raised brow, pressing further against Tobio’s chest, “I know there’s no way you just… agreed to what I said back then. You must have had your own reasons.”
“I’m sorry?”
“The night you finally agreed to try… us . Why did you really say yes?”
“Is it really that improbable that I would merely agree with you?” Tobio gazes down at his husband, whose eyes remain trained on the blazing fireplace before them.
“I’ve been married to you for too long to believe that.” Atsumu says, a bit of height and sass in his tone, “It’d be naive.”
“Fair,” Tobio agrees quietly, tapping a finger on his mug. He’d always kept his reasons to himself, not that there was any reason to. In fact, Atsumu would probably find it to be an overly romantic gesture. Which, well, it kind of was .
But despite it, it was one of those decisions that he held dear. He’s made a lot of altering choices in his life. Some he’s not proud of, some he’s had no other option in, and some that have been utter gambles. Nearly each time, he’d have to justify it to himself afterward. Spell the logistics out to himself behind a locked door and drawn blinds. Count through the steps, convince himself it was more than necessary. It only came from a deep, deep sense of insecurity in his own rationale. But the quick, effortless choice to be with Atsumu, albeit a gamble, didn’t need a heavy justification afterward.
He simply chose. And it felt right. It was right.
“If you really want to know,” Tobio says eventually, “It’s not a secret, really.”
“It’s been on my mind every now and then.” Atsumu gazes up at him, “Tell me please.”
“You convinced me.”
Atsumu gives him a displeased look. “That can’t be it.”
“That’s it. I chose to try us , because it… made sense , the way you said it. I had partners, people I could kill with. But no one I could trust , you know?” Tobio concludes but doesn’t feel done, the need to say more bubbling in his chest. “I didn’t know you, but I felt like I could trust you the same way I felt like I couldn’t trust anyone else. I didn’t know it at the time, what that feeling was, but I kind of felt like I needed to take the leap of faith.”
Atsumu smiles, taking Tobio’s hand again and squeezing it tight. “I’m glad that you trusted me not to kill you.”
“Right.” Tobio hums, palm gliding down to Atsumu’s waist and urging him closer. After all these years, he’s learned that Atsumu is probably the only man he’s ever met that would swoon over someone offering to protect him. Never the type to claim he can protect himself because that much he does know. His money is a bulletproof vest of itself. The romantic in him cries out for a protector, and Tobio doesn’t mind being that in the slightest.
“Should we head to bed, then?” He offers. For a moment, Atsumu looks like he’s going to say yes, pressed up against Kageyama’s chest, but his eyes widen in a split second, hands flying in the air.
“Not yet, not yet! I have a surprise for you.”
“Another one?” Tobio looks at his lover intently as he gets up from the couch, taking both of their cups and placing them on the side table again. “Atsu, you shouldn’t have—”
Atsumu shushes him immediately, clamping a hand over his mouth. “Listen. Your thing is killing people, and mine is extensive anniversary gifts.”
“Deal,” Tobio says, always appeasing, running a hand down the stretch of his spine. “Well, show me.”
Before Atsumu gets up from the couch, he takes Tobio’s chin in his open palm, guiding him into a searing kiss. It’s longer than the pecks they’ve been giving each other with passing time. Tobio is able to mark the warmth of his lips, and feels Atsumu’s tongue tracing his bottom lip. When he pulls apart, Tobio reaches up to touch his spit slick lips, heart hammering.
The time Atsumu takes to saunter upstairs and back feels like a lifetime. Tobio sits at the end of the couch, his foot tapping against the floor and his lips pressed against his fist. The kiss had reminded him how long he’s been gone, how badly he wanted to bed his husband.
Tobio hears the sound of footsteps descending behind him and turns quickly, only to catch a glimpse of Atsumu passing him in favor of the kitchen. When he returns with a chair, there’s a more than familiar smile on his face, and Tobio gets an idea of what he’s in for very quickly. He purses his lips, looking Atsumu up and down genuinely for the first time of the night as he bends over to put the chair in place with his free arm. The other seems to be occupied, holding something enclosed in Atsumu’s fist.
“Ready?” He asks, baring his teeth.
Tobio tries poking his head around to see behind Atsumu, but his husband doesn’t give, directing a heavy glare in his direction.
“Okay okay, ready.”
Atsumu falls back into character, gives Tobio a small smirk from where he gazes down at him as he disrobes, tugging the silk tie and letting the garment fall to reveal what’s underneath.
“Picked something up while you were gone.” He purrs.
The lingerie he’s wearing is made for more lithe bodies; narrower hips, spry limbs. It’s what makes Atsumu look even better, filling in every inch of the thin lace adorned on his body. The strokes of his curves glow before the fire blazing behind them, but nothing compared to the light brimming in those eyes. A gorgeous lace pattern blooms from the chest and rests at the hem of the gown. The bottom rides up just enough that Tobio catches a glimpse of Atsumu’s cock, undoubtedly pulsing as it pushes against the tight pair of panties practically sealed to his skin.
He’s had an avid thing for tiny, tiny panties these days.
“Atsumu…”
Rarely does he leave Tobio speechless. Atsumu has an overflowing collection of lingerie, for God’s sake. And yes, each time feels novel and new, but tonight is completely different, seeing him bathed in white like a bride, a perfect canvas for the desires that seep into Tobio’s mind. His heart squeezes tighter in his chest, more than it ever has. There’s an anticipation tingling in his hands, trickling down to his fingertips. The sight of him makes Tobio feel completely on edge. Like a baited animal locked away in a cage. God, he wants to touch .
“You like?” Atsumu’s gaze begs for affirmation, but he’s out of words. Can’t find another way to say yes that isn’t standing up and crowding himself into Atsumu’s space. Taking a handful of his hair and tugging it back so he can bite into a juncture of his neck. Splitting his thighs apart and nosing at his cock trapped in those panties and lapping at the lace until it’s sticky and damp. A shudder crawls through him as he settles with a nod and lets Atsumu go on with his surprise.
“I’m so glad,” Atsumu responds. His fingers trail up his thigh in a teasing, sultry gesture, and Tobio’s heart drops down. “Thought you would.”
He decides, then, to reveal what rests behind him, fingers curling around a (brand new), exuberant pink dildo. It screams him and everything he loves in materialistics, from the glitter scattered all throughout the mold to the fluorescent finish. Both of them look down at it, and Atsumu gives a nonchalant shrug, letting it hang in a relaxed grip.
“It was about time, you know,” he says, with a casual temperment that makes Tobio’s veins strain. “Ours is getting old, don’t you think?”
“Yeah…” Tobio says, eyes low and hooded. “S’nice. You gonna do anything with it?”
Atsumu smiles as if Tobio’s given him the idea himself. “Well now that you mention it, maybe I will.”
He turns with a swivel of his bare feet, swaying his hips as he…well, Tobio isn’t sure what he’s doing. He flashes a sliver of his ass, painted in lace, as he bends over to retrieve his robe and drape it over his chair.
“Baby…” Tobio extends a hand out, reflexes beckoning him forward.
“No no,” Atsumu shakes his head with a grin, some of his hair falling into his eyes, “you don’t get to touch. Not yet…”
That anticipation comes back, in the form of a lump in his throat that starts to shove its way down until it drops right into his stomach, simmering into arousal. Tobio keeps his eyes trained on Atsumu as he sits on the chair; knees pressed together, lips pursed in, gaze placed innocently behind him. The gown is pushed up his thighs a bit. One of the straps is beginning to slip off his shoulder. It takes little effort to burn this image in his mind.
“Don’t look away, okay?”
His knees split, spreading and exposing the meat of his thighs. Tobio gives him a response then, a short, acknowledging nod, before relaxing against the couch cushions. Atsumu mirrors him, his back hitting the wooden frame of his chair before reaching for the pocket of his robe and pulling out a small bottle of lube.
Tobio’s brows rise as he gives it a little wave, popping the cover and drizzling lube all over his fingers. His eyes follow, hypnotized and spellbound by the vision before him. He knows Atsumu lives for this; teasing him after a long job when he knows he wants it the most. Playing a game with his hunger, testing his temptation, measuring his need. Nearly every time, it’s a losing battle.
He’s surprised that Atsumu didn’t prepare himself beforehand, normally cheeky and bending over with leftover lube dripping down his thighs from a plug tightly nested in his hole. He doesn’t bother to question it. It’s a pleasure to see it in real-time, anyway.
Blood beats into Tobio’s cock when Atsumu takes one of his dry fingers and hooks it into the crotch of his panties, pulling it to the side. He slips the lubed one in. An initial gasp turns into a hitch of his breath. Tobio watches, his body tense and in agony, wound up and desperate for more than a view of the show. Atsumu eases it down to the knuckle before twisting out with an exhale. Tobio can see all the tension in his muscles weaken at the release of the first press. Their breathing aligns, the rise of Tobio’s chest matching Atsumu’s as they’re both drawn in by the twist and crook of Atsumu’s finger. There’s a paper thin string pulling them up with it, up, up, up until Atsumu’s face contorts and he’s moaning again when he brushes a sweet spot, switching from a curl to an easy thrust.
One turns to two in an instant, Atsumu sealing them together and pistoning them inside of him. When he locks eyes with Tobio, there’s a wavering smirk on his face paired with a dripping spread of those fingers…
…and he’s smirking, god, he hates this. He hates this. He needs to touch him, needs to jam his own fingers beside Atsumu’s. Stretch a little wider because he’s not doing it right on purpose. He’s savoring this , waiting for Tobio’s patience to snap and waiting to really get fucked.
It seems that Atsumu is devoted to it, too, making himself wait. Tobio knew this wasn’t about his own pleasure from the start. They both know it'll be better—no, heightened , once Tobio’s able to cut in and give what he hasn’t been able to.
Atsumu abates his maneuvering when his orgasm comes too close. Tobio’s only able to see it because of the familiar furrow of his brows. He notices the sly addition of a third finger when he’s able to regain himself.
“I think you’re ready,” Tobio speaks up after a while, near drooling at the sight of Atsumu fucking himself, free hand tugging at the skin near his hole, spreading himself wide. He’s rock hard and heavy, currently pouring every ounce of his will into not touching himself.
Atsumu whines and pulls his fingers out with a squelch, legs collapsing from where they’d been suspended. Tobio is hard and leaking into his own underwear now watching him, and he holds his breath when Atsumu reaches down for the dildo.
“What are ya gonna do with that, hm?” Tobio asks as Atsumu squeezes more lube onto it, spreading it generously. Atsumu chuckles, expert hands curling as they stroke the toy.
“Gonna put it in,” he breathes out, and Tobio can sense the excitement in it. “You gonna watch me?”
“I haven’t stopped.” Tobio whispers.
“Mmm, fuck , I wish this was you.” Atsumu hikes his right leg back up in the air, his free hand holding it steady as he slouches enough that Tobio can see a full shot of his hole again. “You think it’ll fit?”
“It’ll fit.” Tobio encourages him. “Let me see you do it.”
Atsumu fiddles with his grip on the base a bit before finally aligning the head and pushing it in. He goes too fast in the beginning, always too fucking eager like a teenager, but it doesn’t stop Tobio’s heart from swooning out of his chest when he sees that sweet little pained look on Atsumu’s face from the fit and the friction.
“Slow down,” he instructs weakly from where he sits.
Atsumu’s lips part slightly at that, taking in the command. It’s sweet, sweet ecstasy that washes over them both when the dildo sinks in, stopped right at the end of its base. His leg flinches in the air. Tobio wants to get close again, hold it up for him and fuck him with the dildo himself.
“Shit,” he groans, finally shoving a hand into his pants, “come on. You gonna just sit there?”
Atsumu tugs the toy out after that, wasting no time shoving it back in. The strokes become longer and more gratuitous as he adjusts to the stretch. The sounds that fall from his lips are exhilarating, leaving Tobio with a blurry view as his eyes narrow at the slightest touch to his cock.
“Quiet,” Tobio commands, pressing a palm against himself and grinding shamelessly into the friction, “don’t want the neighbors to hear.”
There’s glistening tears in his squinted eyes when Atsumu conceals his next moan, slapping his hand over his mouth and dropping his leg. His hips roll into the unmoving dildo, sliding down the base with every slick slap. Tobio can feel the ghost of Atsumu’s hole swallowing him instead of the toy, bracing himself on his shoulders and shaking with the intensity of the pleasure.
He’s at the end of his rope when Atsumu pulls the thing all the way out and tilts it upward, no doubt brushing his prostate as he bucks his hips up frantically and lets out a muffled groan that’s louder than any of the sounds that have left his lips tonight.
“Atsumu—”
“-- Fuck, Tobio—”
“—come,” Tobio orders despite the fact that he’s already on the way there, clambering off the chair and hoisting himself up onto Tobio’s lap and into a straddle. The dildo is abandoned somewhere on the floor but Tobio can only hear the clatter of it in the background. His hands find Atsumu’s waist immediately, drawn to the pale, patterned hem ridden up his thighs.
From there, Tobio only gives Atsumu a mere, fleeting glance as a warning before he’s gripping those thighs so rough they’ll bruise and dragging his tongue across his collarbones.
“Oh— fuck ,” Atsumu’s neck cranes to the side the same time his hips roll into Tobio’s lap.
“Need you,” is all he’s able to get out, alternating between licking and pressing wet kisses all over his skin, devouring his lover, “need you bad, need you now .”
Atsumu takes the hint, removes his hands from Tobio’s shoulders and slithers them down between them, pulling on the drawstring of his pants. When they’re undone and shucked down, Tobio flings them to the side like the useless garment they are.
“Come on,” he hikes up the gown, rips Atsumu’s panties down his thighs and tosses them where his pants are once he manages to wring them off his ankle, “you wanna get fucked?”
“Yeah,” Atsumu moans, eyes following the panties as they flop on the ground. Tobio takes Atsumu’s chin in his hands, forcing him forward.
“Do you want me to fuck you, Atsumu?” He repeats. Atsumu nods, blissed out eyes wobbling with wetness and his cheeks burning red.
“Yes. Yeah.” He gasps.
Tobio takes him by the hips, lifting him out of his lap and maneuvering him on all fours. He runs his hands all over Atsumu’s body as he does, touching him the way he’s been desiring to. Closely, intimately, intricately . Brushing his palm across his nipples before pressing the pad of his finger down and twisting, Caressing the planes of his strained back muscles, pressing his lips to his shoulder blades, closing his eyes, breathing in his scent, his musk. God, Tobio wishes there was a way that they could grow closer. Even with their marks, even with the sex, he always found himself needing more.
“You gonna do something up there?” Atsumu says, whimpering. Tobio sighs against the skin near his lower back where he’d been sucking baby bruises. He rises, straightening his back up before clutching Atsumu’s hips and jerking his ass back against Tobio’s cock.
“ Fuck—”
“Don’t need to tell me twice.”
Tobio’s teeth dig into his bottom lip as he takes hold of his cock and presses the tip against Atsumu’s glistening hole. He slides in a smidge, until he feels the sensational warmth envelop his head and he tugs back out with a groan.
“Oh fuck, not this, please, fuck me…please…” Atsumu whines below him, wanton and needy, but Tobio doesn’t indulge him.
“You had your fun,” he breathes, “let me have mine.”
He does it again, pushing a bit further before and keeping still afterward. Atsumu clenches around him, needy and trying with all he has to get Tobio inside him, and then he pulls out. The hand on Atsumu’s waist squeezes as a tease and a warning, gentle as it may be. He waits until Atsumu’s hips are wiggling side to side and his thighs are pressing against each other before easing in again.
“Oh shit ,” Atsumu slurs, rocking his ass back the moment Tobio has pushed down to the hilt. Tobio only gives a groan, his grip on Atsumu fierce and his body on fire. Atsumu clenches around him again and he feels it crawling underneath his skin alongside a pleasant pulsing of his veins. Arousal shoots down to his core and against his control, he thrusts his hips forward.
“Jesus,” he damn near whines, “you’re so fucking tight.”
He is. He always is. And it never gets old. Tobio’s fucking dizzy.
“Tobio, please…” Atsumu moans beneath him. It’s wilted, broken. It’s all Tobio needs to hear before he pulls back an inch and slams his cock in so hard that a choked gasp is punched out of Atsumu’s chest. The hold Atsumu has on him is so intoxicating and entrancing it pulls him apart. The last of his control begins to dissolve and slip.
“Fuck, baby…” The thrusts start out sloppy before they melt into a well-paced rhythm. His thumbs stretch to spread Atsumu’s hole as he drives in and out, eyes wide and jaw practically on the floor. Atsumu’s body quakes underneath him, the lewd slapping of sweaty skin filling the room and floating into his ears. He can’t really hear anything else, besides that and the moans and groans. His mind runs completely empty. He hasn’t had sex this good in so long. Sex where he just loses himself in it, void of work and secrets and lies and the hauntings of death dripping through his fingers. Where all he can see and feel and breathe , is his husband.
Tobio’s grip on Atsumu’s hip digs ever deeper into his skin, with every intention to bruise. He pries his eyes from the curve of his shoulders, caved in from the force of his thrusts, to peer down at the slide of his cock, in and out of Atsumu’s hole.
He watches Atsumu shake and shudder, still pushing back and begging for more though Tobio has given him everything he’s got. Usually, he’d call Atsumu something degrading by now, a greedy whore with no self-respect, maybe, but…
“You’re the most beautiful thing…” Tobio’s voice cracks into a moan.
Atsumu’s flushed neck cranes back to look at him. He wishes he could see what he looks like from here.
“Tobio—”
He turns Atsumu over on the couch, twisting his body to the side and throwing his leg over the cushion before repositioning himself and pressing back in.
“Let me see your face,” he says, falling back into a pace that mirrors the brutality from earlier, punctuated with smooth rolls of his hips. Atsumu’s walls sink in and around his cock with every slow drag. The moans only grow louder, and he cups Atsumu’s cheek in his hands. They lock eyes and Tobio’s heart swells at the sight of wetness streaking down his face.
“I’m sorry,” he says, head falling between his shoulders, his rhythm nearly stuttering, “I know you like it rough, I just—”
Atsumu’s expression softens as he clasps his hand over Tobio’s where it rests on the arm of the couch. Chest heaving, shoulders bouncing, he wastes no time crushing their lips together, open-mouthed and wet with spit.
“No, no, please, I like it like this too, I love it, I love it please please please —”
His stomach drops and Tobio stalls inside of Atsumu after a hard snap of his hips, orgasm washing over him. He gasps against Atsumu’s lips, running through the course of continuous, full-body shivers. He pulls out a moment later, numb from the unraveling knot in his stomach to his toes. When he opens his eyes again, Atsumu is smiling up at him tiredly and puckering his lips to kiss his nose.
“That was really nice,” Tobio manages, gaze trailing down to the lace on Atsumu’s body, ridden up his chest and soiled at the bottom, where his cock continues to leak. “Was a nice gift.”
Atsumu has a teasing smile on his face, and the fingertips that trail up his arm are loving. “Thank you, my love.”
“Sorry, it got all…” Tobio gestures blindly, referencing words he can’t form as his mind starts to rise above sea level again, “mushy. I know you’re not into that.”
Atsumu gives a sluggish upturn of his hands. “S’fine. I still like it, you know.”
Tobio blinks, just as sluggish. “Pardon?”
“I’m into all the name-calling, sure,” Atsumu rises from where he lies, crawling over to where Tobio sits and stretching out in his lap, “but you sure know how to romance a guy. I like it.”
“Mmm,” Tobio looks down between them, sees that Atsumu’s cock is still hard. He wraps his fist around it, swiping at a pearl of cum with his thumb and pressing down on the slit. Atsumu’s juts into the touch so suddenly Tobio nearly loses his grip.
“Why do you flirt with me like we haven’t been married for years?” His wrist sinks down, squeezing around Atsumu’s cock, twisting it towards his stomach on the way back up.
“Ah,” Atsumu’s face scrunches, then relaxes as he sighs, “fuck…because it… mmm , keeps things interesting.”
“Oh, the contracting killings between movie dates isn’t enough for you?”
Another twist and Atsumu’s fingernails dig into Tobio’s shoulder, his hand hot to the touch against Tobio’s skin. “Fuck,” he whimpers, “like that.”
“Wanna watch me cut off someone’s finger again?” He says knowingly. “I know you like that.”
“Oh I’m close,” Atsumu says, “Don’t stop—”
“No,” Tobio mutters back, reaching up to thread his fingers through Atsumu’s hair and tug his ear down to his lips, “You’re mine. You do what I say.”
His lips trail down to the soulmate mark on his neck and presses his nose to it, breathing hard. Pressing kisses and dragging his tongue over it before sucking.
“Mine,” he repeats against Atsumu’s skin.
It doesn’t take much longer after that, Atsumu rocking his hips into the friction, and Tobio letting him go without any protest. The hand that doesn’t stroke him to his finish keeps him close to the earth, rubbing soothing circles into his waist.
Tobio surges forward to capture his lips in a searing kiss that feels more sensational than all the others. It tastes like the first time.
When they release for air with a wet smack of their parted lips, Atsumu throws his head back with a groan, spilling on Tobio’s chest and abdomen.
When the orgasm passes, and the heavy panting turns to easy breathing, then silence, Atsumu’s crash begins. Tobio catches him when his body slumps into his and when his eyes open, Tobio is smirking at him.
“Don’t.” Atsumu glares at him so hard Tobio snorts. “Do not .”
They didn’t talk about the fact that the moral grey surrounding Tobio’s job aroused Atsumu to no end. But sometimes, it came up, and Tobio enjoyed those times the most.
They start to clean up after that, Tobio ripping the blanket off of the couch cushions and dropping it on the ground. He’ll grab it in the morning when he feels like doing laundry. He gets distracted here and there, coming up behind Atsumu when he stretches his arms up and pressing himself against his back. He’d nosed into his neck, kissing at his skin, impossibly attached.
Eventually, everything did get back to a semi-presentable state. Atsumu carried his prop back to the kitchen, discarded his lingerie set, and wrapped himself back in his robe. Tobio waits for him on the couch in his boxers, watching him finish up, a bit lost in thought.
“It’s not boring, right?”
Atsumu looks up at him as he picks up the discarded plug, “What? Us?”
“Yeah,” Tobio says, making his way to him. “I’m just thinking about what you said earlier, about keeping things interesting.”
Atsumu purses his lips in thought, twirling the toy in his hand. “I didn’t mean it like that. I think there’s keeping things interesting, but then there’s keeping things interesting with you.” He takes a step forward, placing his hands on Tobio’s shoulders.
“I’ll never tire of you,” He contests. “So just, forget about that. Yeah?”
Atsumu cups his cheek in an open palm, a warm smile on his face.
“Well, I guess that’s the point of the whole soulmate thing, isn’t it?” He hums, pressing a kiss to his lips, then forehead. “Now come to bed with me. It’s been cold without you.”
Atsumu holds his hand out, and Tobio takes it without hesitation.