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It all started with a flick of hyper-flexible wrists

Miya Atsumu never thought he would be hypnotized by the movement of someone else’s wrists. They were disgusting, as if there were no bones or cartilage keeping them attached to a pair of less flexible yet strong arms. It made Atsumu wonder if all of his body was in fact just as flexible, capable of being bent over the roughest surfaces and acting pliable under other’s hands.

He called them freaky, an abomination, something terrifying that should make anyone else wince due to the possibility of feeling pain or flinching in pure agony for the mere sight of them. However, no matter how much Atsumu despised those wrists verbally and on the inside of his mind, the more he looked at them, the more intrigued he was. It fascinated him, like a mystery yet to be resolved, a question left without a clear answer. Atsumu stared at them angrily, annoyed to be dragged into that black hole where nothing else mattered besides Sakusa Kiyoomi’s freaky wrists.

“These wrists of yers are really something else, aren’t they, Omi-kun?” Atsumu asked, a bit surprised as he looked far in the distance where Sakusa managed to send the ball spinning more than a top through a double block.

Sakusa huffed, twisting his wrists just to be able to actually feel them. “That toss was horrible. Make it higher next time,” that made Atsumu’s eyebrows twist briefly, his annoyance suddenly replaced by sheer smugness.

“Maybe yer the one who should be runnin’ faster to spike it on time,” Atsumu snickered back, not allowing the smirk to fall from his face as he used the hem of his Inarizaki uniform to dry part of the sweat dripping from his neck.

“You fucked it up, you fix it,” Sakusa mentioned while turning away from Atsumu without sparing him a single glance.

They first met during the All-Japan Youth Training Camp and since then Sakusa’s image had been carved deep into Atsumu’s soul and mind. Every spike reminded him of those wrists, every time he tossed a ball he wished the view of black curls and tiny moles crossed through his eyesight.

“Hey, dumbass! That was way too high. Mind tossin’ it a bit lower for me?” Osamu complained after missing another spike due to Atsumu’s miscalculations.

“‘Samu, shut yer trap and learn how to spike like the big boys!” Atsumu nonchalantly pointed at Osamu. “Besides, ya know who would’ve hit that perfectly?”

Osamu simply stared at Atsumu with a deadpan expression. “I swear to God, ‘Tsumu, if ya say Sakusa Kiyoomi one more time I’ll push ya from the staircase and pretend it was an accident.”

“Good to know ya already know the answer to that one,” Atsumu walked to the nearest bench and grabbed a towel. “His spikes were mean, ‘Samu! Ya don’t get it. And his wrists were so…”

“Disgusting? Freaky? Yeah, I’ve heard the first fifteen times you’ve said it, dipshit.” Osamu flicked Atsumu’s ear. “Just get yer mind on the fact that yer not in that Training Camp anymore and this is yer team.”

“Hell yeah, this is my team! Ya think I don’t know that? I’m not blind,” Atsumu complained, slightly annoyed at the assumptions Osamu was trying to make.

“Blind no, just stupid,” Osamu laughed as he heard Atsumu whining from the locker room.

Sakusa and Atsumu didn’t face each other again in court during high school, but Atsumu had always been there watching and so carefully observing those freaky wrists shining among all the others which simply lacked any specialties. Osamu called him an idiot every time he caught Atsumu staring at Sakusa’s figure for more than three minutes without even blinking. Atsumu always shoved him off and told him he was just becoming aware of their enemy's talents.

By the time Atsumu joined the MSBY Black Jackals, he could barely remember the boy with dark curls who had two perfectly aligned moles in his forehead. He didn’t even think about how the boy could spike like a professional player although he was still a high school student. He never even dreamed about being the one tossing to those magnificent yet disturbingly beautiful hands.

Or at least that’s what he had always told himself in a failed attempt to convince his mind of those words during every single day of those past six years.

“Fancy seein’ ya around here, Omi-kun,” Atsumu looked at him through his dark eyelashes while reaching out for a volleyball on the ground. “Mind if ya toss to ya during yer tryout?”

“I see you haven’t forgotten that stupid nickname,” Sakusa mentioned with a deep scowl.
However, Atsumu’s eyebrows went up after seeing the smallest hint of a smile creeping through the serious facade that Sakusa constantly wore, now not hidden by his usual white mask. “Give me your best ones, Miya.”

Atsumu kept his eyes locked on the movements of Sakusa’s wrists the whole time. It seemed like an impossible task to force his gaze somewhere else when there was such a graciousness he couldn’t quite well pinpoint standing just a few meters away from him. If Sakusa had then turned into the sun, Atsumu would be nothing more than Icarus, who died trying to approach it with his bare hands. Although Atusumu was focused on providing Sakusa only the best of his tosses, his head swirled just as much as Sakusa’s spikes from the amount of desperate and chaotic thoughts now running inside.

And he did give Sakusa his best, just how he remembered from the Youth Training Camp. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to denominate himself as the best and Sakusa definitely wouldn’t be standing where he was right now, pairing up with Bokuto, Barnes, and Hinata as a first-string spiker.

The more Atsumu played beside Sakusa, the more his fascination turned into an unhealthy obsession.

During warm-ups, practice, and the hours he spent alone by his dorm, all Atsumu could think about was how Sakusa's wrists were so enticing, yet completely untouchable. Maybe that was the reason he had been so captivated by him, Atsumu was known for desiring things and people he simply couldn’t have; it happened when he was a child and wanted to have the attention Osamu had from their relatives and it happened when he was a teenager and selfishly wished for having Kita as more than just a captain or a friend. He wasn’t to be blamed for that kind of hunger, his mother cursed or blessed him with a name of the same meaning, encrypting that uncontrollable craving inside his core as a message yet to be deciphered. No matter how hard he tried, Atsumu starved for something, anything to fill his constant throbbing void and he always ended up empty-handed. Volleyball was a way Atsumu had to channel all his miserable thoughts and it made him feel better and to be better; however, the sport itself wasn’t enough to stop him from seeking out for another source of comfort.

“Nice kill, Omi-san!” Hinata jumped in celebration of Sakusa’s successful spike with both arms raised, waiting for a high-five.

Sakusa turned and stared at Hinata’s small hands for a while before nodding. “Thank you,” he answered politely.

“Shouyou-kun, shouldn’t I get praised too? That was an incredibly good toss, after all,” Atsumu embraced Hinata’s shoulders and received a stern gaze from Sakusa.

“Of course, that was great too, Atsumu-san! Your tosses are really amazing,” on the background, Sakusa huffed and twisted his wrists around, frowning at them as he did.

The gesture caught Atsumu’s attention more than Hinata’s compliment.

“Anything wrong, Omi-kun?” He tilted his head to the side, trying to get a better look at Sakusa’s wrists being held carefully near his chest.

“Just a sting, it happens often,” his lips were pressed tightly, forming a thin straight line. “Maybe if you tossed more to the other spikers they wouldn’t hurt that much.”

“I’m just playin’ my part as the best setter ya ever had, Omi-Omi,” he gave him a smirk, which soon faded and turned into a worrisome smile. “Can I take a look at that for ya? Maybe give ya a nice massage? I swear I’m good at it.”

“‘Tsum-tsum’s massages are really great! Not better than Keiji’s, but they’re still very good.” Bokuto walked closer and gave Atsumu a heavy pat on his back, forcing his body forward.

Atsumu took advantage of the small push and took a few steps closer to Sakusa’s direction. “I think I’ll be the one needin’ a massage if ya keep hitting me like that, Bokkun.”

“So, what do ya say, Omi-Omi?” He grinned, keeping his hands close to his chest and palms facing the dark-haired spiker.

Sakusa cradled his right wrists with his left hand and protected it from Atsumu’s penetrating eyes. “Get these filthy hands away from me, Miya,” he muttered rather coldly, unconsciously thinking about the number of germs now lying around Miya’s hands.

“Yer mean, Omi!” Atsumu whined. “If I wash my hands, can I touch ya?” Nervously, Atsumu brought his lower lip in between his pointed teeth.

“No,” Sakusa replied. “I don’t trust your hygiene.”

“Come on! I think I know how to wash my hands properly,” Atsumu huffed and waved his hands trying to catch Sakusa’s attention.

“You think?” Sakusa hissed, now even more frightened by the sight of Atsumu’s hands.

“I do know how to wash ‘em,” Atsumu swore loudly. “If ya don’t think I do, then teach me.”

“What?” Sakusa asked, thinking who was this person in front of him and what did he do to Atsumu as he would never ask for someone else’s help, especially not regarding something so trivial as washing hands.

“Ya heard me, Omi. Let’s go to the locker room so ya could teach me how to wash my hands and then I’ll give ya a massage.”

“You’re actually serious,” it wasn’t a question, though to Atsumu it sounded just like one.

“Look, if ya don’t want it, just say so. I’m just tryin’ to help a friend here,” his choice of words made Sakusa’s frown deepen.

“We’re not friends.”

Atsumu laughed so hard that there were tears threatening to fall down from the corner of his eyes. “Yer a funny one, Omi-kun. I hate to break it to ya, but we are friends and there’s nothin’ you can say or do to prove me wrong,” before Sakusa could think of a proper reply, Atsumu nodded to the locker room. “Come on, ya won’t regret it!”

“Somehow I really doubt that,” Sakusa whispered to himself and slowly followed Atsumu’s footsteps until they reached the locker room.

They were alone as the remaining players could be heard from the outside, screaming at what was probably another one of Bokuto’s powerful spikes. Atsumu felt the sweat on his hands turning colder as nervousness prevailed and took over his every reaction. He turned towards the nearest sink and pumped the citrus-scented soap into his hands twice before twisting his face in order to look at Sakusa’s, who casually stood two sinks away.

“Yer gonna tutor me or just keep standin’ there pretendin’ to be a statue?”

Sakusa sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “I still can’t believe I’m doing this,” he mumbled before placing himself beside Atsumu. “Watch closely as I will not do it again. Understood?” As he saw Atsumu nodding, Sakusa began with his routine. He pumped the soap three times and smashed his hands together, scrubbing the back of his left one three times and going up to his wrists as the third one ended. He made sure to envelop his wrist completely, one side to another before joining his palms together once more, rubbing them twice and then repeating the same sequence for his right hand, only to wash all the soap away afterward following similar steps. “Make sure the soap gets under your nails too,” he mentioned while reaching for his duffle bag and picking up a white linen handkerchief to wipe his hands. “And don’t rub the paper too hard as your skin will be a bit sensitive after being washed so thoroughly, just let the material absorb the remaining water.”

Atsumu watched each and every step of Sakusa’s meticulous routine with a different kind of glimmer swimming in his honey-colored eyes, a warmth so delicate it was capable of transforming them into a pair of ambars burning brightly and heartily. He felt the same heat traveling toward his cheeks and making them flush the moment Sakusa lifted his dark brown eyes to face him.

“Are you feeling alright, Miya?” Sakusa asked without a hint of concern in his voice, only a tinge of curiosity.

“Y-yeah, just fine” Atsumu choked on his words, coughing lightly in an attempt to untie the invisible knot inside his throat.

“Miya, if you’re getting sick, I swear I’ll just lock you in here to die,” Sakusa took a few steps back, away from Atsumu.

“Aw, aren’t ya sweet, Omi-kun. But that won’t be necessary as I’m perfectly fine,” Atsumu inhaled sharply and did an excessively slow twirl. “See? Just as fine and sexy as I’ve ever been.”

Sakusa huffed. “You’re an idiot,” he said. “Now stop wasting my time and wash your hands or else I’ll leave.”

“Jeez, wait a minute, Omi-kun. I’m tryin’ to focus here,” Atsumu deeply hoped Sakusa was not able to hear the tiniest cracks in his voice as he spoke. He couldn’t deny that being so close to Sakusa out of their usual environment made him extremely jumpy for no reason whatsoever. Maybe it was the way Sakusa’s stare burned on every inch of his slightly tanned skin or maybe it was simply the privilege of standing near a man who had never easily allowed others to approach. Nonetheless, Atsumu still wore his mask in order to not let anything show; a fake smirk and silly sentences seemed enough to fool most people. He only hoped that was sufficient to deceive a man like Sakusa too.

The citric scent of soap once again filled the spacious locker room as Atsumu tried his best to copy each of Sakusa’s previous movements. He expected to hear at least a couple of snarky comments regarding his sloppy technique from Sakusa, but during the whole time all it could be heard was the blissful sound of water crashing against Atsumu’s hands and ricocheting on the sink’s rough surface. He grabbed a few paper towels and placed them on top of his hands, remembering Sakusa’s instructions as he told him not to rub them all over his skin.

Atsumu turned them over twice to see if there were any signs of remaining dirt or sweat. As he was about to open his mouth to say another pair of presumptuous words, Sakusa’s voice caught him by surprise.

“Not bad, Miya.”

Atsumu was left speechless for a few seconds, mouth agape and eyes wide, soon replaced by his usual smirk. “I’m a fast learner, Omi-Omi! Now get yer wrists over here.”

“I don’t think so. I said it wasn’t bad, that doesn’t mean it was good either.” Sakusa trembled slightly at the thought of foreign hands running through his skin. The fact that Atsumu’s hands were now clean definitely helped to ease the burden of his mysophobia, but it still lingered. It was everywhere and nowhere at the same time, like a vampire hanging by your front door just waiting for you to let him in, only this time he didn’t need an invitation at all. After he learned how to deal with his crisis, what made him flinch and what did not, his world became a bit brighter and it was easier to breathe. Sakusa could touch Motoya now and even sometimes Wakatoshi when they eventually met for a cup of tea. And although he thought constantly about it, he hadn't crossed that barrier with anyone from his team.

“Omi,” Atsumu called. “I’m serious, give me yer wrists. I’ll be gentle,” he didn’t make a move to go after Sakusa’s wrists, choosing to offer him his hands instead.

Atsumu didn’t make a single remark on how Sakusa’s hands were visibly shaking. He heard Sakusa gasp in search of air as the tip of his fingertips brushed upon his palms. Sakusa’s skin was cold like there was no blood running through his veins, yet it ignited Atsumu’s bare hands. He watched as Sakusa’s fingers explored all his lines, fading scars and small calluses with a touch initially hesitant but that became bolder and more confident as Sakusa’s shallow breaths came out, carrying away part of his anxiety. His complexion clashed against Atsumu’s, even though there wasn’t much difference between them. However, Sakusa was white porcelain and next to him Atsumu was nothing more than a natural citrine.

“Ya okay, Omi? Can I touch ya?” Atsumu whispered, barely noticing the softness in his voice.

It took a minute, or maybe five, but Sakusa gave his permission with a short nod.

“Alright, just tell me if it’s too much and I’ll stop.”

With his thumb, Atsumu started to draw small circles on Sakusa’s wrists, increasing the pressure as he felt the other gradually relaxing under his tender touch. He rubbed them clockwise for about thirty seconds before changing directions. “Gonna reach ya with my other hand too,” he tried to explain his steps, not sure if he was just nervous and felt the need to fill the silence or if this was him trying to calm down Sakusa’s jittery nerves. He held Sakusa’s hand and repeatedly dragged the heel of his own carefully over the extension of Sakusa’s wrists and arms, feeling his tendons and bones as he did so.

“Ya can do it to yerself too, ya know? Whenever ya feel any pain. I think ya probably know ‘bout that already, but still, feels nice when someone else does it, yeah?” Atsumu rambled as he felt his palms getting stickier with sweat due to his underlying nervousness. After so many years staring at those wrists he often called freaky, Atsumu finally had the chance to touch them with his bare hands. Atsumu was completely overwhelmed by Sakusa’s presence and it seemed like an impossible task to not let those feelings disrupt the purposes of the massage. Yet, he couldn’t prevent his face from getting warmer or his lower belly from twitching.

Atsumu turned Sakusa’s hand, exploiting his mobility. “Does it hurt?” Sakusa shook his head and Atsumu smiled. “Good. That’s really good, Omi.”

After five minutes, which seemed like mere seconds to Atsumu, Sakusa’s breath became shorter and his hands started to tremble once again.

“That’s enough, I…” Sakusa closed his eyes as his face twisted to form an unpleasant frown. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

Atsumu’s hands let go of his instantly and he watched as Sakusa made a beeline to the nearest sink and washed his hands twice.

They stood in silence as Sakusa gathered his belongings and pulled on his jacket without even taking his eyes off the floor. He paused by the doorway, fingers tight against its frame.

“Thanks, I guess,” Sakusa muttered before walking away and leaving Atsumu by himself.

“Fuck,” Atsumu brushed his fingers through his hair, trying to make the constant tingling on his hands go away, but to no avail. “Fuck,” he repeated as he looked at himself through the mirror and noticed a clear red tint staining his cheeks and part of his neck. “Fuck,” he said once more as he looked down and realized his shorts were now a bit tighter around his crotch.

A week passed by and Atsumu still was not able to forget the delicate texture of Sakusa’s hands and wrists, the way they turned underneath his fingers. He had become devoted to the image of them, praying for another touch as if he was now on his knees inside a church. His previous obsession was slowly shifting into fanaticism as Atsumu fell into a deeper and darker subspace. There were no more peaceful nights, only sleepless ones that left Atsumu desperate for something he couldn’t reach. His dreams were filled with images, grotesque sceneries of him and Sakusa, their hands all over their bodies, crashing like waves on a rocky shore. Atsumu felt like a teenager all over again, waking up covered in sweat with a raging hard-on begging to be taken care of by a pair of specific hands. His thoughts weren’t well-behaved, they barged inside his head with the same rudeness of a vicious tornado when Atsumu least expected them to, especially during practice.

The moment they started to interfere with his tosses, Atsumu knew he was in a lot of trouble, much more than he initially thought so. Meian called him out in front of the rest of the team two times and even Foster told him to take the rest of the day off in order to deal with whatever was affecting his ability to play volleyball like the professional player he was supposed to be. Atsumu got angry that day, screamed loudly in frustration the moment he entered his apartment; annoyed at himself for being so weak and furious at Sakusa for being the cause of his unsteadiness. He pulled at his already disheveled blond strands and tightly closed his eyes as he felt agony taking control of his body and warm tears threatening to fall.

By the time night arrived and the sky darkened, Atsumu had managed to calm down and breathe. He stared at his phone’s wallpaper - a picture of him and Osamu when they were kids; while he thought about calling his twin to pour out all of his feelings. He knew it was a stupid idea as Osamu would probably just laugh at his miserable state and tell him to do something about it, yet he yearned for the comfort of his voice.

When he fell asleep, Atsumu still thought about the same pair of hands, only this time they were gently running through his hair instead of desperately trying to pull at it.

Friday after practice Atsumu found himself joining his teammates for a round of drinks at their favorite izakaya. All of them except for Sakusa, who refused to participate in such superfluous meetings. Although they referred it as team-bonding time, Sakusa just thought they were stupid and clearly not worth his effort of having to stay in a small place with the same people he saw almost every day.

Atsumu was the one who found out about that izakaya, which was not very far from the building where he, Sakusa, Hinata, Bokuto, Tomas, and Inunaki lived. Meian and Barnes had their own wives and families to return to every single night, moving out of the building as soon as they got married. The izakaya attracted its visitors with cheerful colors, bright yellow lights dangling above, and a reputation of being spotless; not a single plate out of order and not a hint of dust among the tables. Atsumu had thought Sakusa would be more inclined to accept their invitation if the place was relatively cleaner than the others, but he was wrong as Sakusa never once joined them.

As the rest of the team was excitedly talking about their upcoming match against the EJP Rajins, Atsumu and Hinata were at the bar, licking salt from their fingers, sending tequila shots down their throats, and biting into a sour slice of a lemon. After the third round, Atsumu folded his arms on the wooden surface and groaned.

“Why does life have to be like this, Shouyou-kun? Why can’t I have nice things like my stupid brother and his stupid restaurant and his stupid boyfriend.”

Hinata tilted his head to the side. “What’s the matter, Atsumu-san? I noticed you seem troubled lately. Did something happen?” He asked, genuinely concerned.

“Well, yeah. Omi happened,” Atsumu mumbled.

“Omi-san? I thought you were getting along really well, he even let you touch him the other day,” Hinata seemed slightly confused.

“Yeah, but…” Atsumu sighed, his head heavy between his arms. “I can’t get close to ‘im, ya see? He’s right there and at the same time he’s so far. I wish he would just…” he paused, trying to think straight as he felt even more inebriated by the alcohol now running through his veins. “Forget it.”

“Atsumu-san, I think Omi-kun is doing a lot better than when he first joined us. He doesn’t even tell us to get away from him anymore. Maybe next time he’ll even join us here! That’d be so cool,” Hinata offered Atsumu a big and honest smile.

Hinata was right after all. Sakusa was indeed much less of a jerk than he initially was when he joined the Black Jackals. At first, no one could look at him directly in the eyes for more than thirty seconds without being scowled. And now Sakusa interacted with all of them, making a few sarcastic comments here and there mostly to piss Atsumu off.

Atsumu loved every kind of attention, that was a well-known fact. But he loved, even more, when it came from Sakusa. He wondered since when he started to seek his approval after his tosses, his chuckles during their service ace challenges, his face when they lost a match, and his eyes after they scored. Atsumu still felt devastated whenever Sakusa’s hands and wrists showed up inside his mind, but maybe there was something hidden behind all that strange fascination; something Atsumu deeply refused to recognize.

“Shouyou-kun, I think I’m pretty fucked,”

Hinata laughed and patted him on the shoulder. “And I think we need another round!”

The space around Atsumu started spinning like a merry-go-round by the time he drank his fifth tequila shot. He could barely feel the alcohol burning down his throat as it was already numb from all the pain. Hinata had a blush around his cheeks but still seemed pretty sober and Atsumu wondered if he learned how to better handle his alcohol while he was in Brazil. After the sixth shot, he also wished he had chosen to fall for someone as pretty and easy-going as Hinata and not for a handsome jerk like Sakusa.

“Sho-kun,” Atsumu tilted his head to the side, barely managing to keep it in place. “Why he has to be so fuckin’ beautiful?” His speech was slurred and he could no longer filter or even hear the spontaneous words leaving his mouth. “I just wanna grab his pretty face and punch ‘im or kiss ‘im, I’ve not decided yet.” Atsumu brought his hands to Hinata’s face, smashing his cheeks while he grumbled something unintelligible.

Atsumu felt a heavy hand falling into his shoulder and lolled his head back only to meet Meian’s concerned gaze. “You should get some water before going home, there’s no way you can even stand like this.” He sighed. “You think you can reach the dorms, ‘Tsumu? Or do I need to give you a ride?”

“I’m fine, cap'n. I’m sure my legs can get me there.” Atsumu smirked, eyes falling down and almost staying closed.

“Hinata, no more alcohol for the both of you, and please make sure Atsumu gets home safe. Practice won’t start until the afternoon, but I need you two in good shape.” Meain looked over Atsumu one more time and offered him a sad smile. “I hope you manage to work things out with him, kid. For the sake of your sanity and ours,” he chuckled before calling Barnes and Thomas. “See you two tomorrow!”

After five tall glasses of water and throwing up twice, Atsumu felt considerably more clear-headed than he was two hours ago. The izakaya was mostly empty by now as the clock reached one hour after midnight; the cleaning had already started and the bartender was already throwing murderous looks at Atsumu and Hinata.

“Can we go now, ‘Tsumu-san? I’m getting sleepy,” Hinata yawned and pulled Atsumu at his feet. “Let’s go home,” they both thanked the remaining people for their services and turned around to face a cold breeze.

Atsumu shuddered. “‘S cold,” he rubbed his arms trying to get a bit warmer and exhaled puffs of air into his hands.

The night was calm, the complete opposite of Atsumu’s chaotic thoughts. His head throbbed as he tried to think about the complexity of his feelings, a result of the amount of alcohol he had consumed and a preview of his future hangover. Atsumu was oddly quiet because of that and so was Hinata as they walked through three blocks until they reached their building. The only sound filling the space between them came from the cracking pavement they were stepping on plus the occasional howling winds brushing through the canopies and forcing the leaves to fall.

They lived in a small building, six floors, two apartments each. There were no elevators, so they were forced to use the stairs. Meain called that a useful warm-up, but Atsumu just thought it sucked, especially when all he wanted was to fall into the nearest comfortable surface and sleep through the night.

“Well, that’s my floor, ‘Tsumu-san,” Hinata pointed at the number four on the wall. “You’re okay to reach yours by yourself?”

Atsumu ruffled Hinata’s hair and smiled softly at him. “Think I’ll make it. That was fun, we should do it again!” He winced as his voice raised up, suddenly regretting ever opening his mouth.

“Take care, ‘Tsumu!”

As he stood in the tiny hallway of the sixth floor, Atsumu thought about all the stupid things he had done and said during that night, the things that led to his miserable drunken state, and the things he had realized after allowing his head to run free.

He thought about them all and decided that one more stupid decision wouldn’t lead him to a nastier fall since he had already jumped into the abyss.

So he knocked.

One, two, three times until he finally heard a sluggish voice from the inside.

“This is not your apartment, Miya. Fuck off.”

“’m aware, just thought of payin’ ya a visit,” Atsumu’s forehead touched Sakusa’s door in a loud thump. “Ow, that hurt.”

“You’re clearly drunk, just go away.”

“Come on, Omi. Just let me in or else I’ll throw up at your doorway,” Atsumu could faintly listen to the sound of Sakusa’s footsteps getting closer and closer.

The door was brutally opened and Atsumu stumbled backward to not fall directly into Sakusa’s chest. “Don’t you dare.”

“Heya, Omi. Lookin’ good.” Atsumu offered him a lazy smirk, leaning casually on the doorframe. He looked over Sakusa’s imposing figure, staring a bit too much at his messy curls and the way one of them fell into his forehead. Sakusa wore a silky black robe casually tied up around his middle, showing tempting glimpses of his chest and lengthy legs, and a pair of color matching slippers. The sight of him made Atsumu’s skin warmer.

“And you reek of alcohol,” Sakusa scrunched his nose, disgusted by the smell impregnated on Atsumu’s clothes. “Honestly, just fuck off.”

Despite the annoyed look on his face, Atsumu thought Sakusa looked pretty like this, without a mask covering his features and revealing parts of his bare skin. Atsumu felt the sudden need to reach out and touch him, spread his hands all over Sakusa’s chest and feel his heart beating underneath his palms. He shook his head to get rid of those impure thoughts and got a throbbing pain in return.

Atsumu whined, placing a hand on his forehead and feeling his pulse quickening. “Let me crash in here tonight. Don’t like to be alone when I’m drunk.”

Sakusa’s lips were pressed tightly into a thin line and his frown seemed even deeper than the usual one. To Atsumu, his answer came after hours when in fact it only took a few minutes.

“Stay right where you are, don’t come inside. I’ll grab you a towel, a toothbrush, a pair of slippers, and clean clothes so you can shower and brush your teeth. You’ll stay on the couch and if you dare to move a muscle from there I’ll throw you out the balcony. Got it?”

Atsumu only understood half of it but nodded anyway. “Yessir!”

They say a person’s home was a reflection of themselves and their personality. Atsumu acted like he didn’t care about what people thought, but still, he had to agree that Sakusa’s apartment matched his character perfectly. The decoration was minimalistic, the colors were dull and cold and nothing seemed to be out of place, like a royal palace opened up for an exhibition. Atsumu wondered if Sakusa would notice if he changed the order of his books or if there was a leaf missing from the plants on the balcony; Atsumu assumed he definitely would.

When Atsumu came out of the shower and stumbled back into the living room, there was a cup of tea waiting for him by the coffee table. “Drink that, it’ll make you feel better by the morning,” Sakusa’s words were muffled by a mask this time as he threw Atsumu’s clothes in the washing machine.

“Aw, I knew ya cared ‘bout me, Omi-Omi,” Atsumu took a sip and almost spit it all out. “Did ya put yer cleanin’ products in here or what? The hell, Omi!”

“Don’t tempt me or I just might,” Sakusa threatened him from over the kitchen counter. “Oolong tea with a bit of nettle and aniseed. You’ll thank me when you’re not dying tomorrow.”

Atsumu pouted but drank it anyway. He folded both arms behind his head and stared thoughtfully at the ceiling, still feeling slightly buzzed from the alcohol and warm from the shower and the tea. When he inhaled, Atsumu could smell a lemony scent coming from Sakusa’s clothes, which was far more dangerous and intoxicating than the half dozen tequila shots he had only a few hours ago. It made Atsumu’s head spin once again, his hands got drenched in a cold sweat and his body ached to possess the only thing he couldn’t.

By the time he opened his eyes, he could no longer hear Sakusa at the kitchen or anywhere else. “Omi? Ya still here?” He blinked slowly, feeling sleepy. And when nobody answered, Atsumu sighed.

“Ya know, ‘m havin’ a hard time lately and it’s been really hard to focus on somethin’ else. I’m barely sleepin’ ‘cause there’s this thing constantly hauntin’ my dreams and makin’ me go completely insane. I try to ignore it, but I end up comin’ back for more every time, like a fuckin’ drug or somethin’. Truth is I don’t wanna admit, I don’t wanna accept those feelings for ya, ‘cause if I do…” Atsumu whispered while trying to keep himself conscious. “If I do there’ll be no way outta it.”

Atsumu was sound asleep as a blanket was carefully placed over his body.

The sunlight pierced through the windows and Sakusa’s white curtains, going straight for Atsumu’s sleeping face and making him squirm around the couch. It was a struggle to open his eyes and a harder task to move as his head was intended on killing him right there. He tried his best to block the morning brightness with his arms, but it was pointless as he could literally feel the light even with both eyes closed. His head hurt a lot; maybe as much as it did on the previous night, though Atsumu couldn’t exactly remember that, and his mouth was terribly dry, like he had spent all day practicing without a drop of water to settle his thirst. He tried to get up but chose to sit instead since the Earth was moving and he couldn’t make it stop.

Slowly, Atsumu managed to open his eyes and blinked in confusion as the place he was currently in was not his own apartment. He looked around and tried his best to remember how the hell did he end up on someone else’s couch. Atsumu noticed three things when his vision became less blurred and more sharpened: first, the clothes he was wearing did not belong to him; second, there was a teacup in front of him with a note placed under the saucer, and third, the person who lived there must be a clean freak.

Then, memories of the previous night started to fill the gaps inside Atsumu’s head. He didn’t remember all of it as the scenes were now being displayed in flashes, like the frames of an old black and white movie, yet he knew that he had gotten drunk with the team and that Hinata had walked him home. His eyes traveled to the teacup and he instantly saw the image of himself knocking on Sakusa’s door and practically begging Sakusa to let him inside.

“Fuck,” Atsumu muttered, cursing louder when the words of his late time confession came to haunt him.

He just needed to act as nothing happened and things would be fine, right? After all, Sakusa didn’t listen to that bullshit, and that way Atsumu could go back to his eternal pinning over the man he would never have, right?

Right.

Atsumu drank the tea, which was considerably sweeter than the previous one, and reached out for the note

Your clothes are next to the washing machine. Drink the tea and don’t be there when I’m back

SK

“Jerk,” Atsumu said before running a hand through his hair. “I should go,” he took the teacup to the kitchen and washed it before picking up his clothes and leaving to the apartment next door.

If Atsumu thought things would get better after that day, after getting a glimpse of heaven in the form of Sakusa’s body and considerably nice attitude towards him, he was wrong.

What was once a strange fascination for Sakusa’s wrists had turned into a well-developed crush in a week. Atsumu didn’t know how to be subtle; his gaze would linger for far more than just a few seconds around Sakusa’s frame, he became more energetic and restless like being in love was the fuel he needed to run a thousand miles or toss a hundred times, he talked more in order to get a reaction from Sakusa and satisfy his aching heart.

Yet, no matter how hard he tried, Atsumu just couldn’t get near him. In fact, he was certain Sakusa had been ignoring him more than usual.

Instead of his usual appreciation for Atsumu’s tosses, Sakusa didn’t even turn to look at him now. He was acting colder, harsher, and more distant. If Atsumu opened his mouth to say something, Sakusa would scrunch his eyebrows together so tightly that the other team members started to wonder if they had gotten into a fight. If Atsumu got paired up with Sakusa during warm-ups, the later simply refused and asked to change partners. Every time Atsumu tried to talk to him, Sakusa would turn around and walk away. Their interactions turned into an annoying cat-and-mouse game; when Atsumu took a step forward, Sakusa took three steps back.

“Hey, you two, come here for a second,” Foster called both of them before they left practice. “I don’t know what the hell happened between you, but you better fix this. You’ve been doing great so far and now you’re completely out of sync! We have a huge match next week against the Rajins so don’t fuck it up.” He looked tired, head hanging low with both hands on his waist. “I’m not asking you to be best friends, but do it for the team, alright?”

Atsumu dared to look at Sakusa, who seemed just as unimpressed as ever.

“Sure, coach! But I don’t think I’ll be able to get that stick out of Omi’s ass,” he shrugged.

“Shut up, Miya,” Sakusa hissed. “You should learn to be more professional if that’s even possible for a guy like you.”

“And you!” Atsumu pointed his index finger at him. “You should learn to be more sociable and grateful for my tosses, alright?”

Sakusa scowled at the finger close to his chest. “You’re insufferable.”

Atsumu snorted. “Yer a jerk, Omi-kun,”

“I hate you, get out of my sight,” Sakusa’s hands were tightly clenched in fists, ready to punch Atsumu’s face if he didn’t leave.

“Yer the one making sure to be outta mine lately,” Atsumu didn’t realize how close they were until he could feel Sakusa’s warm breath caressing his nose.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Foster grabbed Atsumu by the arm and pulled him away from Sakusa before they were throwing more than just daggers at each other. “You’ll be going home and don’t even bother showing your faces here until you’ve sorted out your problems, got it?” He started to push Atsumu in the direction of the locker room. “Pick up your stuff and get out.”

Atsumu was livid by the time he left practice with his nostrils flared and shallow breathing. His hands were itching to drag Sakusa closer by his shirt so he could punch his pretty face, or just kiss him senseless, maybe both. He cursed as he tripped over the stairs three times as he made his way to his apartment. The front door was brutally opened and closed in a loud thud as Atsumu threw his bag on the floor and reached for the phone inside his yellow jacket.

His call’s record showed up on the screen and Atsumu clicked on the first and only name of that list. The phone rang three times and still, nobody answered.

“Son of a bitch, ya better answer the damn call.”

“Hello, you’ve reached Miya Osamu but I’m not available right now so please just leave a message after the beep.”

“Cut the crap, asshole. Ya forgot to make the beep sound.” Atsumu spoke through his teeth.

“Beep.”

“‘Samu I swear I’ll hire a whole gang to wreck yer fuckin’ restaurant,” Atsumu kicked off his shoes and threw himself on the couch.

“Which one of them?” Osamu’s question made Atsumu sigh deeply.

“All of them.”

“Okay, nice talkin’ to ya, twit. Bye,” Before Osamu could hang up, Atsumu whined.

“‘Samu, just stay on the fuckin’ line and hear me out, wouldja?” He sounded a bit breathless, desperate even as he pleaded his twin to stay.

“Fine, what’s got you cryin’ like a schoolgirl?’

Atsumu told him everything, from their time as high school students when Atsumu’s strange fixation for Sakusa’s wrists began until the most recent events involving him getting shitfaced, confessing his attraction to the faceless walls of Sakusa’s apartment and being ignored for a whole week afterward.

“So, it wasn’t just a nasty kink for the guy’s wrists?” Osamu asked, slightly curious.

“From all the things I’ve told ya, that’s the only one that mattered to ya? Creep.” Atsumu placed the phone’s microphone closer to his mouth, which made Osamu flinch.

“At least I’m not the one who’s been jackin’ off thinkin’ ‘bout someone else’s hands. Creep.” Osamu did the same and Atsumu yelled at him. “But seriously, why dontcha ask Sakusa what’s going on? That’s what people do when they’re havin’ relationship issues.”

“Said the guy who pinned for three years before confessing,” Atsumu chuckled.

“At least I did it and now I have a boyfriend. What does that say ‘bout ya, huh? It’s been what? Eight years since you’ve liked the guy?”

Atsumu dragged his teeth through his bottom lip, staring aimlessly at the wall. “It’s different. Sakusa’s different.” He ran his tongue through the bruises, trying to soothe the pain. “It’s like tryin’ to get close to a wild animal. I’m afraid that if I approach him too fast, he’ll run away.”

“Ya really like him,” Osamu mentioned quietly, his voice lost the previous teasing tone and had turned soft. “He’ll be good for ya. I mean, ya both are jerks, so ya kinda deserve each other.”

“Hey!” Atsumu disagreed, but deep down he knew Osamu was right. “Omi’s not that much a jerk, he even tucked me in when I passed out on his couch.”

“What,” Osamu asked. “When did that happen?”

“Uh, when I was drunk and after I just…” Atsumu waved his hands around. “Ya know, acted stupid and confessed.”

“Ya didn’t tell me he tucked you in after.”

“That’s ‘cause it wasn’t important, ‘Samu,” Atsumu grumbled. “Were ya even payin’ attention to my story?”

“Oh my God, “Tsumu, yer so dense!” Osamu blurted. “Just get the fuck out of this phone and go knock at his door right now. I’m done dealin’ with this.”

“‘Samu, hey! Wait, don’t-” Atsumu tried to, but the next second his ears met the sound of his twin hanging upon his face.

He sent him a not very nice text calling Osamu a lot of different names before placing his phone aside. He thought about what he had just told his brother and also about what he had to say about it. Could Sakusa actually like him back? It was something hard to believe since he started pushing Atsumu away so vehemently with no reason whatsoever.

Atsumu threw his head back into the cushions and looked to the side, to where Sakusa’s clothes were neatly folded and perched on the counter. He thought about how Sakusa let him in that night despite being smelly and disgusting; how he had lent him his own clothes and offered him his couch to sleep on.

Whether those actions had meant something or not, Atsumu was set on finding out.

If it wasn’t for Sakusa shutting the door in his face the moment he knew it was him.

“Omi-kun, come on!” Atsumu cried. “I brought yer clothes from the other night.”

Sakusa’s arm came out through a tiny crack. “Give me them and fuck off.”

Atsumu shook his head. “Nope, don’t think so. Not unless you let me in,” he grinned as he listened to Sakusa’s groan on the other side. “We need to talk, Omi-kun.”

“No, we don’t.” Sakusa showed half of his face now, completely displeased by the idea of talking.

“Fine, since ya don’t wanna let me in, I guess I’ll start talking right now so the entire fucking building can hear me,” Atsumu’s voice started to increase its volume as the words left his mouth.

“Stop,” Sakusa’s ears burned from how Atsumu’s tone echoed through the tiny hallway.

“Why have ya been avoiding me, Omi-Omi? Did I do something wrong? Any toss you didn’t particularly like?” His voice was still louder than usual just to rile Sakusa up.

“Jesus, shut the fuck up and get inside,” Sakusa pointed at the same pair of slippers Atsumu wore the first time he was there and simply let him in. “You are so annoying, Miya.”

“And ya like me anyway, so what does that say about yer taste, Omi-kun?” Atsumu’s face had that seductive yet sleazy smirk on.

“Who said I even like you?” One of Sakusa’s perfectly designed eyebrows went up, hiding his moles behind a curl of dark hair.

“Ya don’t?” Atsumu pouted like a child, pleading for Sakusa to say something with his big honey-colored eyes.

Sakusa’s lips parted to say something but were smashed together again. He struggled internally to find a better answer. “I never said that.”

Atsumu seemed surprised. He took a step closer and Sakusa didn’t walk back, maybe for the first time since he started to avoid him.

“So ya like me.”

Sakusa didn’t move, neither said a thing, his body became fully paralyzed. Atsumu’s words were like a blue coral’s venom, which rendered him speechless. Although he tried to come up with something to say, the more he agonized over that, the harder it was to think of anything but the truth. He had been scared of facing his feelings and was still terrified to deal with them now. Sakusa had never been good at that because it made him scared, so he ran as fast as he could and made sure to push those thoughts away. They still lingered, however, and Atsumu was always right there to prove to him that they were real.

His silence seemed to be enough of an answer. “You do! Ya like me back. I can’t believe ‘Samu was right!”

“What does Osamu have to do with this?” Sakusa’s heart fluttered and his hands searched for the counter behind him to provide him some sort of balance, or else his knees would be sending him to the floor as Atsumu walked closer.

“Doesn’t matter, ‘cause ya like me,'' Atsumu leisurely punctuated his words and lifted a hand, placing it next to Sakusa’s face. He saw Sakusa’s Adam’s apple bobbing, his dark eyes frightened. “Relax, I won’t touch ya, not before washing my hands and taking a shower.”

“Glad to know you have some manners,” Sakusa’s voice was nothing more than a whisper thrown into the air. His heart was beating erratically and he simply knew Atsumu could hear it as well. Maybe that was another condition to be further diagnosed or it was just how his body had always reacted near Atsumu. The blond was a storm and Sakusa couldn’t help being amazed by the beauty of his occasional lightning. They say they never hit the same place twice, but somehow Sakusa always found himself a willing victim.

Atsumu hummed. “Why were ya avoiding me?” He could feel the warmth of Sakusa’s cheeks as his fingers paused right next to them.

“I needed to think,” Sakusa said. He could see Atsumu’s eyes begging him to explain, so he did. “I honestly have no idea when this whole thing for you started, but it’s been on my mind for a while now. I didn’t chase after it, just let it there. But then I heard you that day when you came over and I guess I was forced to face it,” he frowned as if it was painful to say all those things. “It was like opening a fucking Pandora box or something, everything just crashed into me at once and it was too much.”

“I can give ya time if ya need. That’s okay,” Atsumu stopped staring at Sakusa’s lips and was drowned by the dark waters of his eyes instead.

He could see Sakusa’s curls bouncing as he shook his head. “I appreciate it, but I don’t need time,” Sakusa brought a hand to his forehead. “Listen, Miya-”

“I really think ya should call me Atsumu now,”

“Miya,” Sakusa insisted. “I’m not good at this and I can assure you that whatever this turns into, it won’t be easy.”

“Omi-kun, if yer tryin’ to convince me to give up on ya, I should just tell ya now that it won’t happen’,” the tip of his tongue was resting upon his bottom lip as he smiled wickedly. “I want ya so fucking much it hurts. Ya drive me absolutely crazy.” Atsumu was panting now, his pupils constantly changing size as his eyes roamed through Sakusa’s face. “Ya make me wanna learn every little thing about yer limits and then wreck you over and over again,” he bit his lip hard enough to bruise in order to control himself from kissing the man in front of him. “So I’ll just take whatever yer willin’ to give me.”

Sakusa’s breath was just as shallow and his hands started to sweat from anticipation. It made him nauseated, so he placed the one on his forehead against Atsumu’s thin cotton shirt and closed his fingers around it. He smirked viciously - a sight Atsumu had never seen before and pulled him closer to whisper in his ear. “So why don’t you take a shower and brush your damn teeth, hm?”

There was only a towel loosely wrapped around Atsumu’s waist as he left the shower and entered Sakusa’s room. The lights were off and the place was nearly empty, if not for Sakusa’s figure sitting on the king-sized bed wearing a pair of black briefs and nothing more. If the sight of a fully clothed Sakusa already made Atsumu want to drop to his knees, to see his bare skin exposed and illuminated by a thin thread of moonlight creeping through the windows almost made him soar toward the skies. Michelangelo’s David was nothing compared to the man right in front of him, who had a body the renaissances would be jealous of. Sakusa wasn’t bulky, he was almost delicate, like a doll made of porcelain. His skin was pale and there were moles scattered across his body’s length; everywhere Atsumu looked, he could see a few.

If Atsumu ever went to Heaven, that was the scene he wanted to find when he got there.

“Omi…” His feet dragged him closer on their own until he was settled between Sakusa’s thighs.

“Maybe it’s time for you to drop that stupid nickname,” Sakusa said with a voice slightly out of tone.

“Only if ya call me Atsumu.”

Sakusa rolled his eyes at the request but complied either way. “Fine, Atsumu.”

A gasp left Atsumu’s parted lips and his eyes fell immediately shut from hearing such an angelic voice whispering his name. “Can I touch ya?”

“For now only with your hands,” Sakusa replied.

Atsumu let go of his towel and let it hit the floor as he knelt. He started caressing Sakusa’s ankles with the lightest touches, like if he pressed any harder Sakusa would simply shatter. He allowed Sakusa to breathe until he was comfortable with his movements. So his hands ran from Sakusa’s ankles to his shin and then to his knees, watching as Sakusa’s lungs seemed desperate for air.

“Ya okay?”

Sakusa, who had his head hung back, turned to look at Atsumu. Seeing him naked on his knees caused a shiver to run through Sakusa’s spine. “Yeah, it’s just a lot. But keep going.” Atsumu’s hands felt heavy and infinitely warm, burning wherever they touched and leaving invisible marks. It was a new type of sensation, some of them which Sakusa had never had the chance to experience before. They made him feel alive.

When Atsumu’s hands were on his thighs, Sakusa’s muscles trembled and a groan instantly made its way out. He could feel himself getting warmer, a lust settled deep inside his stomach that made his cock twitch and leave a mark on his briefs. His hands were tight around the sheets, an almost painful grip that kept him from losing his mind upon the movements of Atsumu’s hands.

Atsumu stared at Sakusa’s debauched face with wide, fascinated eyes. “Ya can touch me too if ya want,” he became bolder, reaching out for Sakusa’s wrists and placing both on his hair, still damp from the shower. Sakusa felt the blond locks intertwining themselves with his fingers as he played with them, tugging once or twice just to see how Atsumu would react. His moan was loud and obnoxious, not any different from what Sakusa had imagined.

Sakusa pulled until he was able to look into his eyes and consequently fall in a pool of caramel. He tilted his head to the side, seeing how the flushed neck and cheeks matched his disheveled hair. Atsumu’s face was angled toward Sakusa’s. “Kiss me,” he breathed out between Atsumu’s parted lips, from where he could smell a refreshing scent of mint.

The moment their lips touched, Sakusa lost another part of his conscience. Atsumu kissed like he wanted to devour the person in front of him; with a certain urgency and roughness that soon turned into a slow and tortuous motion. He dragged his teeth through Sakusa’s bottom lip but didn’t make a request to deepen the kiss, choosing to leave there a peck instead.

Sakusa’s heart was beating faster, overwhelmed by a mixture of lust and anxiety; it stole all the air left inside his lungs and made his head feel foggy. He controlled the pace despite Atsumu’s overflowing energy with his hands buried in his hair. He gasped as Atsumu tightened his grip on his thighs, the pressure of his hands turning him on more than he thought it was possible for a person like him.

“Atsumu,” Sakusa whispered, voice already shaken by the desire swirling across his eyes. His hands trembled as they left Atsumu’s hair and traveled down his jaw. He held him down as he placed his lips on Atsumu’s, instantly deepening the kiss and getting a taste of Atsumu’s mouth. He could taste the mint, but there was also a lingering sweetness, something Sakusa couldn’t decipher and yet it became his newest favorite flavor.

No teeth clashing, no tongues desperately moving from one side to the other; Atsumu allowed Sakusa to explore and a soft whine left his lips as the kiss ended a bit too soon.

As Atsumu opened his eyes, there was a thin thread of saliva connecting their mouths. However, that was not the sight that left him speechless.

Sakusa was flushed from his cheekbones to his collarbone; a faint red giving color to what had been a black and white painting once. His whole body trembled and there a hand paused next to his own mouth, fingers tracing a lazy pattern on his lips and chasing the emptiness left by Atsumu’s.

The blond had never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life.

“Yer so pretty,” he mumbled. “Yer really pretty, Kiyoomi,” his voice was more stable the second time he spoke. “I wanna kiss and taste every single part of ya. Wouldja let me?” His accent was stronger, vowels being dragged in a rhythmical sentence.

“Get up,” Sakusa pushed Atsumu away and slid further into the mattress, resting his back against the headboard and waiting for Atsumu to come along. He could see Atsumu’s cock standing proudly against his stomach, the tip red and shiny as pre-come oozed out of it.

Atsumu caught him staring and pressed his thumb against the slit only to slowly drag it through his length. He moaned loudly, as if he was giving Sakusa a private show. “Like what ya see?” His smile was wicked and his gestures were just as impure.

If Miya Atsumu was the personification of sin, then Sakusa couldn’t help but call himself a guilty sinner.

“I should send you back to the bathroom to wash your filthy hands,” Sakusa huffed and beckoned him with his fingers. “Get your fucking ass in here before I actually do that.”

Atsumu laughed and his shoulders dropped, ruining his previous pose. He lowered himself and crawled in all his fours, keeping his gaze locked on Sakusa’s as he approached him at an agonizing pace. “Yer a mess,” Atsumu whispered softly as he settled on top of Sakusa, raising a hand and brushing a few dark curls away from his face. He kissed the pair of moles on Sakusa’s forehead tenderly and as a result, he could see a hint of a smile on Sakusa’s lips.

“Cute,” Atsumu mentioned sweetly, trailing a path of kisses and occasional bites through Sakusa’s hairline and going further down. “Yer so fucking perfect,” he whispered against Sakusa’s collarbone before opening his mouth to leave a mark.

Sakusa groaned and his hips twitched in search of any kind of friction. His hands reached for Atsumu’s hair and tried to pull him impossibly closer, silently asking him for more. Atsumu complied, lavishing Sakusa’s skin and whispering insanities reserved for Sakusa’s ears only. His voice was intoxicating, rough around the edges, and warm, leaving Sakusa completely enraptured. When his grip on Atsumu’s hair became weaker, his fingertips brushed against Atsumu’s cheeks and were pressed against his sinful mouth.

Atsumu sobbed in pleasure. Not the excessively noisy moans from before; this one came out naturally as an instant reaction to Sakusa’s fingers next to his lips.

Sakusa’s eyes darkened and the drawing of a full smirk could be seen on his mouth. ”You actually like this, huh?” He pushed two fingers inside Atsumu’s mouth and pressed them against his tongue, hearing Atsumu scream once more.

The sight of it was disgusting. There was a pool of drool dripping from the corner of Atsumu’s lips as he sucked Sakusa’s fingers and coated them with saliva. Atsumu’s expression went from dominant to submissive in seconds, eyes as black as Sakusa’s and cheeks impossibly redder than before. ”You have a kink for my hands, Atsumu?” He was displeased by his fingers as he removed them from Atsumu’s warm mouth, cleaning them poorly on the sheets.

”Are ya surprised? I've been dreamin’ ’bout yer wrists and yer hands since high school,” Atsumu tried to stabilize his breathing while still staring hungrily at Sakusa’s hands.

“Interesting,” Sakusa placed his wrist in front of Atsumu’s face and shivered when he felt a trail of kisses being made. “So that time when you gave me a massage…” Sakusa pondered, wanting to hear it from Atsumu, who blushed and bit Sakusa’s wrist lightly.

“Yeah, I got a fucking hard-on from givin’ ya a massage. Happy now, ya jerk?”

Sakusa hummed. “Very much,” he answered honestly.

“I had dreams about yer hands all the time,” Atsumu licked where he could feel Sakusa’s pulse beating erratically underneath the skin. “I wanted to take ya in my mouth,” he reached with his teeth, scratching that sensitive place and doing the same when he got to Sakusa’s palms. “Every time I saw ya using yer wrists to make a spinning spike my mind went crazy,” he followed the lines of Sakusa’s hands with his lips, kissing their extension and then moving to each of his fingers separately. “I wanted to feel yer fingers wrapped around my cock so badly.”

Sakusa inhaled through his teeth. “Maybe,” he stopped, trying to shake the hazy feeling from his head in order to form a proper sentence. “Maybe we can check that out of your list now.”

“Would ya be okay with that?” Atsumu asked, his mouth going for Sakusa’s middle finger and engulfing it. One of Atsumu’s hands was tight around the base of his cock to keep himself from coming too soon.

“If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have proposed,” Sakusa patted Atsumu’s ass and he moved away so that Sakusa could finally remove his underwear. “I don’t think I can go any further than that today, but that would be fine. If I need to stop, I’ll tell you.”

Like all the rest of him, Sakusa’s cock was also something one would call pretty. It wasn’t as thick as Atsumu’s, but it was certainly longer with a slight curve to the left and no signs of hairs around as Sakusa thought they were repulsing. He was hard already, probably from all the dirty talk coming from Atsumu’s relentless mouth.

”I swear yer the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” Atsumu mumbled, amazed at the sight of Sakusa Kiyoomi fully naked and very close to him.

Sakusa was embarrassed from all the compliments, feeling his face getting warmer. “Shut the fuck up and come back here.”

“Missin’ me already?” Atsumu chuckled and climbed on Sakusa’s lap, making their cocks brush against each other. “Fuck,” he groaned and Sakusa would have laughed at how quickly Atsumu lost his composure if only he wasn’t in a smiliar position. His hips went forward instinctively, seeking for more of that pleasure coming from the slide of their cocks.

The sounds grew louder and echoed around the room, enveloping them both around a private bubble where the only thing that mattered was the lust enhanced by their lascivious movements. There, time was nothing but a number and the noises from the outside a distant buzz. Their eyes were focused on each other and everything else became a blur, like the perfect toss ready to be spiked straight through the block.

Atsumu was panting on Sakusa’s neck as he sinfully moved his hips to meet Sakusa’s thrusts. Their cocks brushed and became slippery without being touched. But soon that friction wasn’t enough as they both ached for more; more warmth, more pleasure.

Sakusa reached for Atsumu’s hand and brought it down to their cocks, asking him to do something he just wasn’t ready for yet. What he could do instead, was to shove three fingers inside Atsumu’s mouth.

They both groaned, scream and shouted when it became impossible to hold back the feelings growing inside of them. Atsumu’s jaw was slack and there was drool coming out of its corners and running through his slightly tanned chest, an obscene view dedicated to Sakusa’s eyes only. An image that would certainly be remembered by Sakusa every single time he closed his eyes. However, he kept them open for now as he watched Atsumu falling apart with blown pupils, completely taken over by the lust that made his heart beat faster and his breath turn shallow. Atsumu was beautiful like this, debauched by Sakusa’s fingers and with a hand wrapped around their cocks.

“Atsumu,” Sakusa exhaled hotly, throwing his head back against the headboard and clenching his eyes shut trying not to come first.

“Kiyoomi,” Atsumu mumbled something like his name, pushing Sakusa’s fingers out of his mouth for a second. “Look at me. I wanna see yer face when I make ya come.”

Sakusa’s fingers were tangled within Atsumu’s hair and he pulled, making Atsumu shout a lengthy curse. “Fuck. Fuck ya for being so good at this.”

Sakusa knew he was on the edge now; the pressure of Atsumu’s hand around his cock, the sound of his voice and the sight of him coming apart became too much for a mortal like Sakusa to handle. It was overwhelming and Sakusa couldn’t hold back the moans that left his parted lips. “I’m not going to last,” he whispered.

“Me neither. Kiyoomi, I’m so close,” Atsumu whimpered as Sakusa’s thumb was now pressed on his tongue while his other hand was still lost between Atsumu’s blond hair.

“Then come. Come for me, Atsumu,” Sakusa spoke softly next to Atsumu’s ear, biting his ear lobe right after.

The effect of Sakusa’s voice was immediate. Atsumu’s thighs trembled on Sakusa’s lap and thick white strings of come started to paint a picture on his bare chest. Nothing else could be seen or even heard, as if Atsumu’s soul had ascended during his orgasm and had not found its way back yet.

Sakusa wasn’t too far behind. The moment Atsumu’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and his hand tightened around their cocks, it was Sakusa’s turn to be sent on a one way trip to Heaven. He moaned Atsumu’s name and coated his hand in white as his whole body started to shiver from finally reaching its so desired release.

When both regained part of their conscience, they started at each other for what seemed like hours, basking in their afterglow. Atsumu was the one who broke their moment to press a gentle and lingering kiss on Sakusa’s lips. His heart fluttered once again, but instead of being due to lust, it was due to a deeper and more meaningful feeling. Although he wouldn’t say it just yet since that would be childish, Atsumu recognized and accepted those emotions. No more running away. Not from himself and not from Sakusa.

“Hey,” Atsumu said, dropping his head into Sakusa’s shoulder and closing his eyes for a second.

“If you fall asleep on me without taking a fucking shower I’m going to murder you and then throw your body in the nearest dumpster,” Sakusa whispered his threat into Atsumu’s sweaty hairline.

“I’m tired. Omi! I just had mind blowin’ sex with my boyfriend. Let me rest for a bit,” Atsumu whined.

A loud thud echoed through Sakusa’s walls and Atsumu cried from his spot on the floor. “What was that for!? Ya should be nicer with ya boyfriend.”

“You used that fucking nickname again,” Sakusa explained as he got up and made his path to the bathroom. “You can join me if you stop moping around like a child.”

Atsumu opened the bathroom's door not even five seconds after Sakusa had closed it. “I knew ya couldn’t resist me, Kiyoomi!”

During practice, Atsumu and Sakusa were completely synchronized as they once were, pleasing not only their coach, but also their teammates. They won against the Raijins in an exciting match and Sakusa shined more than everyone else as he was voted the most valuable player. The discussions were still there and as heated as ever, but now they were solved within the sheets through moans and kisses instead of curses and punches inside the court.

There were still rivers to be crossed and barriers to be overcome but that was something they would face together from now on.