Suga's more insistent than usual today. He's making vaguely unsatisfied noises, his fingers tangling in the lapels of Daichi's volleyball uniform and pulling him closer. Daichi scoots towards Suga on the wooden bench and Suga huffs against his mouth, nipping at his lower lip.
Daichi freezes as he hears the locker room door swing open. Suga doesn't notice at first, pressing closer for a last kiss, but he picks up on Daichi's tense posture a second later and pulls back.
"What is it?" he murmurs. His eyes are half-lidded and his voice is sultry. Daichi takes a breath, actively resisting the urge to keep kissing Suga, interruptions be damned.
"Nothing really," a familiar but unexpected voice replies.
Suga's head turns so fast that he nearly hits Daichi in the nose. Kuroo's framed in the doorway with his arms folded, watching them. A towel is draped around his neck.
Daichi's hands jerk back into his lap as Suga turns bright red. "Um," Suga says, blinking. "Sorry, we'll—go, just give us a—"
"Don't mind me," Kuroo says, waving a hand as he moves closer. "I'll be out of here in a second. But you keep going."
Daichi glares at Kuroo as he steps past them, opens his locker, and hangs his towel inside. Suga's watching him too, his eyes narrowed a little as if he's trying to figure out what game Kuroo is playing.
Kuroo grins under the weight of both their gazes, pulling his street clothes out of his locker. He casts a glance over his shoulder and then pulls off his top in one fluid motion.
"Oh," Suga whispers next to him, apparently as transfixed by the flex of Kuroo's shoulderblades as Daichi is. A look of surprise flashes across Kuroo's face before his grin returns.
"Like what you see, Sugawara?" he says. He turns to face them both, revealing toned abs and a faint line of hair running a tantalizing path down his stomach and under his clothes.
Suga glances at Daichi, asking a silent question. Daichi raises an eyebrow in response.
"It's okay?" Suga asks, just to be clear.
Daichi looks back at Kuroo. He's eyeing them intently, a little predatory and a little wary. "I'm game if you are," he says.
"All right." Suga breathes out, his shoulders loosening. "Kuroo, come here."
A look of wondering disbelief crosses Kuroo's face. "Wait, are you asking me to join you?"
"You've been angling for it this whole time," Daichi snaps, irritated. "Come over here or get out."
Kuroo's eyebrows rise at that, and some of the uncertainty fades from his face. He cocks his head to the side, his eyes meeting Daichi's, before he drops his shirt to the floor.
He moves towards them slowly, almost cautiously. When he's close enough to touch, he pauses—one last breath of hesitation—before he leans forward and catches Suga's mouth with his.
Suga makes a soft noise, eyelashes fluttering. Kuroo kneels down for easier access, bracing his hands on the bench as he deepens the kiss. Daichi's prepared to feel jealous, even offended, but instead all he feels is a ripple of shock that goes straight to his dick.
Right next to them like this he can see Kuroo coaxing Suga's lips open, his jaw working as he licks his way into Suga's mouth. Suga takes a quick breath through his nose and his hand fumbles across the bench until it finds Daichi's thigh, his fingers digging in as if he's anchoring himself. Daichi's hand closes over Suga's before he clears his throat. "Floor," he manages, his voice dark.
Kuroo chuckles. "The floor?" he asks between kisses. "That's kind of kinky. I didn't know you had it in you, Sawamura."
"I'm pretty sure there are better ways to use your mouth right now," Daichi growls.
"Hmm," Kuroo says when Suga whines. "Point taken."
At that, Kuroo grabs Suga's shoulders and leans back, pulling him off the bench. Suga yelps in surprise and clutches at Daichi's leg, disrupting his balance, and in a moment the three of them are a tangle of limbs on the cool tile.
Daichi can hear Suga laughing somewhere above his head before the sound abruptly stops. Curious, Daichi looks up to see that Kuroo's gone right back to kissing, and is a little impressed by his focus despite himself. This time Suga returns it eagerly, squirming underneath Daichi until his head is resting on Kuroo's thighs, reaching up to pull Kuroo closer.
Kuroo's gaze flicks towards him, half hazy and half challenging. Daichi looks back, nonplussed, before he rucks Suga's shirt up.
Suga's skin is pale and smooth to the touch, dotted here and there with beauty marks. Daichi kisses each one, tracing a meandering path down Suga's stomach, grinning at the way his muscles tense beneath the sensation. Suga's squirming now, his noises half-swallowed by Kuroo's waiting mouth, and he jumps when Daichi nips just below his belly button.
By the time he's pushing Suga's shorts down, Suga's given himself entirely over to Kuroo's lazy, thorough kisses. He glances up and sees that Suga's hand is clutching at Kuroo's bicep, restless.
"His neck," Daichi says.
When Kuroo pulls back, Suga's gasp cuts sharply across the heavy quiet. His lips are plush and red from Kuroo's attentions, his eyes starry as he pants for air. His grip slackens, but doesn't let go; his hand smooths down Kuroo's arm to rest at the curve of his elbow.
Kuroo glances down at Suga, following Daichi's obvious line of sight, before he speaks. "What?"
"His neck," Daichi repeats. "It's one of his weak spots."
"Daichi," Suga whines, but he doesn't sound particularly unhappy about it. Kuroo shares a conspiratorial grin with Daichi before he dips his head again.
In moments Suga's writhing in earnest as Kuroo works his way down his throat, making him whine breathy and high—a sound that Daichi loves. His back arches off the floor and Daichi has to brace against Suga's thighs to hold him down. He can tell what Kuroo's doing just from the way Suga's body reacts: he trembles as Kuroo worries at the skin with his teeth, and then jumps when he sucks hard, his voice breaking on a thready moan.
Suga can be louder than that, though. Daichi decides to lend Kuroo a hand, and feels out the shape of Suga's length through his boxer briefs before easing it free.
Suga's whole back curves away from the floor when Daichi gets his mouth on him, but Daichi was expecting that. He moves with it, leaning forward to slam Suga's hips back down. Kuroo pulls back to look at Daichi with some concern, and Daichi lifts his head, grinning.
"He likes it rough," he explains.
"Really." Kuroo looks at Suga, who bites his lip but doesn't look away. He's been reduced to flushed cheeks and shuddering breaths, his expression caught between embarrassment and impatience. His hips buck under Daichi's hands, silently pleading, and Daichi never denies Suga anything if he can help it.
Suga's precome is a slight bitterness on the back of Daichi's tongue, and the fleeting taste only makes his hunger sharpen. He works his tongue over the head, taking his time with it, until a hand pushes into his hair. Daichi sucks once and Suga's grip tightens, tugging in the way that means his mind's gone totally blank—he's usually more careful than that. Daichi loves bringing him to this point, when the sharpness of Suga's mind is dulled by pleasure.
But it's not Daichi's work alone that's unraveled Suga like this. He glances up and sees that Kuroo has moved back to kissing him breathless, sliding a hand under his jersey. The sharpness of Suga's jaw is pronounced as he pushes up against Kuroo's mouth, greedy for more sensation. He knows how it feels to kiss Suga like that, how it feels to run hands across the muscles of his chest and across to the ticklish spaces between his ribs, but being able to see it is heady and unfamiliar. It makes Daichi want to work harder so that Kuroo doesn't steal the show.
Daichi works his mouth to the base before drawing back slowly, holding the suction until the tip slips from his mouth with a soft, wet sound. Suga's fingers scrape against his scalp, a tingling and pleasant sensation, and Daichi licks his lips before sinking down again, sliding his tongue down Suga's length, curling it against the tender spot beneath the head. Suga's thighs are trembling beneath the spread of Daichi's fingers, and Daichi wonders if there will be marks tomorrow where Daichi is holding him. But hold him down he does, feeling his shoulderblades bunch together as he checks Suga's strength, his mouth working hot and relentless.
Kuroo catches onto Daichi's pace and moves back to Suga's neck. No longer muffled, Suga's voice echoes off the locker room walls. He tries to gasp out a name, but his tongue gets caught between the two of them as he comes, his whole body arching with it. He can hear Kuroo murmuring in Suga's ear, telling him how beautiful he looks like this, and Suga's fingers pull through Daichi's short hair; Daichi hums with satisfaction and Suga sobs.
Daichi presses his tongue flat against Suga until he's wrung dry, and then gives a languorous swallow that makes Suga flinch with overstimulation. When he eases his mouth free, he can see the flush that's spread all the way to Suga's chest, peeking out from beneath the hem of his rumpled jersey. Kuroo's staring at it too, a glazed-over look that Daichi knows has been reflected on his own face more than once.
There's a pocket of silence, filled by the sound of the three of them catching their breath. Daichi rubs his palms against Suga's thighs, soothing the red marks he's left, while Kuroo swipes a thumb across the wetness of Suga's lower lip. Suga's eyes are closed, his chest heaving, and he twitches every now and then with aftershocks.
"Oh my god," he finally manages.
"Everything you dreamed of?" Kuroo says, that grin back on his face that makes Daichi's blood heat. Then he shifts, and Daichi's eye is caught by the pronounced outline in his shorts. He stares at it for a second, his own body reminding him that he hasn't gotten off yet, and looks up to see Kuroo's grin now directed at him.
Before Daichi can roll his eyes, Suga stirs with a satisfied little sound. Without warning he rolls forward until he flops into Daichi's arms, his lax weight tumbling Daichi onto his back. "Kuroo," he says, looking down at Daichi with eyes that are warm with mischief, "help me pay Daichi back."
"What did I do?" Daichi protests. Suga narrows his eyes at him, mock scolding.
"Daichi's weak spot is his thighs," he says to Kuroo. "You know, the ones you've been staring at all semester."
"O ho ho," Kuroo says. Suga rolls to the side, revealing Kuroo crawling over to the two of them.
Suga only has an arm thrown across Daichi's shoulders now. Daichi knows he could break out of the hold if he wanted to, but Suga is laughing in his ear, light and happy, still a little breathless, and he can't really lie—after watching Suga, he's curious to discover what Kuroo's mouth feels like himself.
Kuroo settles between Daichi's legs and glances up at them both—Suga wrapped around Daichi contentedly, his head tilted so that their temples are touching. Kuroo's confident smirk wavers. "Is this really okay?" he asks.
Daichi and Suga glance at each other, and then smile.
"I love Daichi," Suga says, pressing a comforting hand to Kuroo's cheek. "But...well..." his cheeks flush pink, even though he doesn't break eye contact—"we've both had a crush on you since the Fukurodani training camp. If anything, we wanted to ask you sooner."
Kuroo blinks, and the two of them give him a moment to process. Then the grin returns to Kuroo's face, now with an edge of self-satisfaction. "Well," he says, "I am pretty hot."
"I'm not going to feed your ego," Daichi says, his irritated tone offset by his grin. "Fishing for compliments won't help."
Suga laughs and leans forward to kiss Kuroo one last time. Then he turns back to Daichi, and there's a heat in his eyes that Daichi's all too familiar with.
"I knew going to college in Tokyo was a good idea," Suga says.
The last clear thought Daichi has is how nice Kuroo's laugh is, and how much he wants to hear it again.