Chapter Text
Tetsurou wasn’t a small guy, so he knew of the many disadvantages to being taller than average in a country where most architecture and appliances were designed for people under 170 cm. Doorframes were a common enemy, twin sized beds were a no-go, and he was the designated shelf-bitch in all of his classes (the duties of a shelf bitch, of course, entailed getting things off high shelves for short people).
What he didn’t consider when Lev Haiba joined the team was the major disadvantage that being tall and incredibly limber, a lithe and traditionally aristocratic build, came pre-packaged with—clothes that never fit right.
At least the clothes designed for Tetsurou were also designed for people of his stature, wide and accommodating to a structure thick with hard earned muscle. Though, he would admit that finding a pair of jeans that his thighs didn’t want to burst out of was a hassle whenever the need arose. He erred toward looser fits, shorts, for that specific reason and poor Bokuto… he probably had one pair of pants that didn’t look actually painted on.
Let’s make this simple—logically, if Lev wanted to have a pair of gym shorts that would stay up on his tiny waist and protect his unmentionables from the cruel and judgmental gaze of the world, he’d have to get a small, small pair. That happened to be incredibly short on him. They performed their function only to the bare minimum and everyday it was a miracle that Lev’s penis tip didn’t peek out the bottom of his slutty gym shorts, that were not designed with the intention of being that revealing. Any shorter and his asscheeks would be hanging out like he was sporting a pair of goddamn daisy dukes—that is, if skeleton skinny Lev even had an ass to show off. His form, studied with dark interest during their daily lockerroom endeavors, was a testament to that fact.
It was kind of hard not to comment on. And even harder not to abuse.
Tetsurou gave him what most would’ve dubbed a love tap one day when the first years were doing stretches, while the half Russian shithead was whining about being sore; so Tetsurou might’ve had an excuse to do so, an ass slap of playful punishment. That is, if his calloused hand hadn’t lingered a little too long, gliding down a milk colored thigh before taking its rightful route back to Tetsurou’s jacket pocket. It wasn’t like anyone would be too revolted by what was clearly just Tetsurou-typical teasing, nothing terribly sordid at all.
Lev didn’t react kindly. Had jumped when Tetsurou smacked him and shot up from his stretch when he got more handsy.
“Hey, don’t do that! That felt weird!” Lev shouted, as loud and obnoxious as ever—even shielding his backside with his own enormous pale hand. What was unmistakable was the furious blush spreading all the way down his neck, humiliation in shades of striking red. “Are you gay or something, senpai?!”
Still struggling with the label, Tetsurou’s face split in a sly grin to disguise inner turmoil that was developing at a frightening pace. Gay… it felt like a sour word after watching it be spat with vitriol for so long. He didn’t want that to be his reality. Never being able to marry, his relationship status the subject of scorn from his future employers, being a shameful stain on his bloodline that he’d inevitably end. “Watch your mouth, first year, or coach might get the idea to make those sexy ass legs run suicides until dark.”
Lev fishmouthed, then quickly glanced his striking green eyes to the floor with a stubborn frown. It was only natural—Tetsurou had seniority and Lev started out a thorn in the coach’s side. As captain, he could make Lev go lick the toilets clean if he really wanted to; and no one wanted to be punished for being a stick in the mud, for not playing along with what was so clearly a harmless bout of teasing from an overly affectionate third year. “Sorry!”
“No, I’ll make you sorry when I deflower your mouth in front of the entire team. Then, let them line up for sloppy seconds.”
There was a very, very long stretch of silence.
For a while, Lev stared at him in complete disbelief.
Even Tetsurou wondered what had come over him.
But the third year quickly broke the tension with a bark of laughter, going as far as to lean over and prop himself on his knees just to reassure the first year—and to shield eyes that were momentarily startled by his own complete lack of impulse control. “Shoulda seen your face, kouhai.” Tetsurou jeered—Lev’s face was still pale from stun but he flashed an uncomfortable smile as if to show that he knew it was a joke but didn’t find it very funny. “Keep up the mediocre work, maybe you’ll upgrade from team cocksucker to team bed warmer. Yamamoto could probably use a cuddle buddy, or a pocket pussy.”
“Hey! I’m gonna become the ace, and don’t be nasty! You- watch way too much porn, senpai!”
The tense conversation ended there, with Lev clearly attempting to erase that entire interaction from his mind, still looking worriedly at the floor with a hand on the nape of his neck, while Tetsurou lingered on it desperately.
Which would’ve been more fortunate if it didn’t continue to happen, more and more often once Tetsurou realized he could just get away with it. Within the span of a week, it became a common sight for Tetsurou to be invading the first years space, abusing his access to Lev’s thighs and ass, whispering obscene things in his ear, and all the while, the coach said nothing. Probably because he was as uncomfortable as everybody else about those encounters—probably assumed Tetsurou would stop finding his amusement in the abuse of the tall first year, grow bored and find something else to occupy his time. Which might’ve been true if Lev stopped reacting but Lev? He was full of reactions, colorful, blinding even.
What they didn’t know… was that Tetsurou felt rather tethered, all the while. He’d stopped being sated by midnight masturbation sessions followed by panic attacks a while ago, clawing at his own face from the underlying shame of his taboo taste. The lingering gazes that he’d barely been able to tear away from his respectable male teammates in time, the boiling heat in the bottom of a stomach that grew sick from the subjects of his arousal, all those afternoons spent adjusting his trousers when the petal pinkness of his friends’ tongues, lips, a slip of delectable looking skin from beneath an ill-fitting uniform became the most dangerous thing to love. Yes, looking had become the biggest threat to a mental health that was already teetering on the edge, orgasms followed by the white hot clench of anxiety around his hammering heart, this was the least he could do. And maybe they could all see the cracks forming to spill out the dark blood of his desire. Didn’t want to be the unwitting object of a morbid and convoluted curiosity, of Tetsurou, that overly affectionate, obscene senpai.
Whatever the reason, no one ever stopped him. So Tetsurou didn’t stop.
“Aw, don’t be that way, kouhai,” the captain was purring, behind the first year with his hands on Lev’s thin hips, his skinny ass flush against Tetsurou’s crotch (the first years own mistake, stretching his legs with his back turned to Tetsurou even knowing his utter depravity), “you know I’m just joking when I say that I’m gonna fuck you ‘till you beg me to stop, right? Though, I might still shove my cock down your throat since you’re begging for some love, squirming against me. Don’t go and get me horny, or you’ll have to suffer the consequences, first year.”
“Get off of me, Kuroo-senpai! This isn’t funny anymore-“ The squirming part wasn’t just an excuse for Tetsurou to fit Lev’s struggle into his twisted narrative—the biracial student really was wriggling, jolting Tetsurou’s junk more than the third year appreciated in clear view of his peers, and the heat in Lev’s pale neck made Tetsurou consider just how averse he was to the disquieting affections of a third year, who was a little on the strange side, with a disturbing sense of humor. “I’m not laughing!”
“Is today the day I finally get to see you in tears?” Tetsurou cackled. “I can’t wait, pretty boy.”
“Ugh- you’re really making me- u-uncomfortable! I’m serious, stop! Get off me!” Lev had been trying to muscle himself off the wall Tetsurou had him trapped against for a few minutes but he took more direct action by gripping Tetsurou’s hands and attempting to pry them off, worming his hips this way and that to try and escape Tetsurou’s borderline dry humping. His frustration was quickly mounting, Tetsurou could tell even though he couldn’t see his pale face—the tips of his ears were turning scarlet, to match his neck, and he was shaking with rage. “You’re gonna make everyone think I’m a faggot, like you!”
Somewhere inside Tetsurou, a string snapped.
He let go but he couldn’t chase away the sting of Lev’s words in his stomach, making him feel sick. Far too many memories flooded back, of watching as classmates were exiled all because of the subject of their innocent affection—Tetsurou didn’t want to think of how he’d be treated if they knew that homosexuality had a dark underbelly and he was the fucking grotesque king of it. How curiosity had killed the cat and continued to murder it on a daily basis, the dark web becoming far too appealing, the realness of adolescent bodies twisting under the assault of a very real assailant. Puking, soiling themselves, screaming themselves hoarse even though no one was coming to their rescue. The only ones coming were the ones jerking off to the epitome of human evil. Lev said it carelessly, a first year who knew virtually nothing about Tetsurou’s horrifying secret, yet it crawled deep under his skin anyway and he felt nauseous, felt naked.
Still, Tetsurou tried to gather his composure and keep up the charade. He swallowed hard, his sudden colorless complexion easy to miss in the gym lighting. He doubted anyone caught it in the first place.
“Aww, go run and cry to Aoyagi about it, eh?” Tetsurou mocked—Aoyagi, of course, was some first year that had been good enough to make the team, but probably not good enough to ever see the court. “What, think his dick tastes better than mine?”
“Shut up, and leave me alone!” Lev didn’t seem amused as he stormed off—well, he never had been amused but he seemed especially pressed by Tetsurou’s behavior now. He would've wondered what prompted his outburst if his own problems weren't far more pressing.
An ugly feeling quickly mounted in Tetsurou’s stomach and he went home with it that day, back to a room that lacked personality of any kind and parents sculpted in likeness. The neutrals of his home were often suffocating, like the vacuum of space—the even whiteness of the walls unable to rival the beauty of Lev’s thighs. Because when he reached out and touched, as Tetsurou did often with both the walls and Lev’s legs, the wall was cold and solid. Lev ran hot, of course. He hated his house, and his room, all meticulously designed, and maintained with an even greater amount of dedication. It was perfect and Tetsurou thought more often than was sane about slitting his own throat, splattering his blood across his perfectly white wall, or his perfectly white duvet, as some final testament to his distaste for the apathy, as some poetic and tragically tasteful end. Or, raping some cute tourist in his bed, and letting their vomit, cum, and other disgusting fluids permanently stain his bed. At least he could get off to the second scenario.
Tetsurou sunk his nails into his own thighs, teeth clenching, as he reflected on the events of the day on the edge of his neatly made bed. Why? He knew what he was doing was wrong. He knew Lev didn’t like it, couldn’t like it, not the way Tetsurou was doing it. Why did he keep doing it? Why did he keep touching, keep teasing, a fucking pervert to a first year who’d done nothing to warrant his appalling behavior? Why couldn’t he just be satisfied with looking, as he had been for so long, long enough that domestic and innocent thoughts of his homosexuality had seemed like a distant fever dream? Why had he allowed the hatred to mount and morph, chipping his attraction down to something purely sexual, so that he could justify hiding it? He had to make it disgusting, or else he might be tempted to let people see. And that just couldn’t happen. Blood on his walls, vomit and cum on his sheets, that was worth hiding. Gay wasn’t his sexuality, it was his cross, his sickness, because it wasn’t love. It was pain.
While he forced himself to get off that night to a video he’d scrounged through using his iron clad VPN, Tetsurou stared at his sticky hand. It didn’t matter why. He knew he could no longer bare the pain of stamping down these gruesome desires that he’d cultivated himself, by virtue of raising himself on rape porn, snuff films featuring foreign sex slaves, blood, the color it turned when mixed with cum, the sight of holes filled beyond capacity after unsatisfactory or absent preparation tearing as their owners wailed from the agony. Just once, Tetsurou promised himself before another grueling handful of hours spent fitfully trying to sleep, the foreign allure of some poor boy who didn’t speak Japanese and was getting spitroasted and couldn’t even plead in a way that mattered stapled faithfully behind his eyelids, just once and I’ll never do it again.
He kept an observant eye on the biracial teenager throughout the bulk of practice, despite never actually meeting his passion head-on—even when intervention was well deserved, as it was often with a personality that never ceased and adrenaline levels that were as erratic and unpredictable as the average students sleeping schedule. Clearly an undiagnosed neurological problem, not that Tetsurou was dissecting every movement for the purpose of unprofessionally diagnosing him with some life altering affliction—
No, Tetsurou was waiting for a reason.
And Lev was disobedient by nature. He was sitting out stretches and whether that was a result of Tetsurou’s teasing from the previous day was neither here nor there—the coach nodded in agreement when Tetsurou suggested an extra bout of practice that day for their resident tall toddler. Monitored of course by their diligent captain, who also happened to possess the keys to all the facilities Nekoma’s volleyball team utilized. He’d always used them responsibly in the past and felt he deserved limitless access to such resources. Though, that would change after today.
For a long while, Tetsurou really did just keep his distance and direct Lev through a series of exercises to drill a sense of responsibility to the coach into his thick skull. It wasn’t a serious offense, a menial bout of rebellion, but it was best to beat it out now. And Lev complied with abysmal amounts of whining, practiced his receives quietly other than the occasional pained yelp at the slap of the ball against his tender forearms, stretched with eyes cast forward and his milk colored ears quickly turning red, even ran laps around the gym without much to say other than, ‘this sucks’, or something in likeness under his labored breath.
Afterwards, Lev eagerly sucked at his waterbottle as they walked side by side to the lockerroom in stiff silence. Out of the corner of his eye, Tetsurou watched and was enamored by the sight of it—how colorfully Lev did even menial things. His head tipped back, a knobby throat shifting with every audible gulp, flushed rosy lips pursed around the nip of his waterbottle, beads of water trickling down his chin, to follow the delicate lines of his neck. If Tetsurou weren’t ruined, Lev would be so lovely, dancing at the edges of a gaze unfiltered by the grime of primal lust and the impulse to do anything to sate it. To destroy it—both his lust and the subject of it, poor Lev Haiba.
They were hardly a pace into the locker room when Tetsurou threw caution and sanity to the wind, slamming the first year against the wall of lockers and shoving a knee between his legs before he had time to respond, or struggle too much. The biting contrast, brown, calloused hands caging pale wrists against the cold metal of the lockers, made Tetsurou shiver sickly. Lev immediately arched in a show of defiance, began frantically wriggling, which only made him bloom red as he inadvertently humped Tetsurou’s thigh.
His green eyes went glassy, sweat soaked face screwed in mounting horror, in betrayal, in naïve confusion. “Senpai?”
“You really should’ve just gotten custom made shorts.” Tetsurou replied huskily, already considerably dark eyes blackening as his pupil chewed at his iris with haste. “You came onto me, really.” Some days it seemed… Lev really was doing everything in his power to tempt Tetsurou’s self control. Meeting all of his criteria without a hitch and having the gall to act so innocent, unassuming, ignorant to the reality of Tetsurou and his filth. That’s all this was. And he’d scrape it out, one day, Tetsurou promised.
“What are you talking about?!” To absolutely no one’s surprise, Lev was an easy crier—and furthermore, a pretty one, as his red, wet lower lip wobbled and tears rolled down his petrified face. Lev tried to bring a knee into Tetsurou’s abdomen but the blow fell softly and the realization spread across his face in such a spectacle that Tetsurou was forced to wet his lips—the extra training rendered him so, so weak. Adrenaline could only go so far. His body wracked with a gut clenching sob. “Kuroo-s-senpai, I don’t know what you mean, I-I didn’t do anything- I just wanted to be good- “
“Oh, I bet you’ll be really good for me. Perfect, even.” Tetsurou had to look up, only slightly but enough to send a chill inching down his spine, as he dipped closer to the first year's face, lips hovering. A height that could only have foreign origins was luridly arousing. “You’re so pretty, you know that, Lev? I bet you got that all the time, even as a little kid. I wonder how many twisted old men tried to lure you into their vans so they could fuck you raw and open in front of a camera and make millions selling it to other old men. It’d be called…” Tetsurou considered his own wandering thoughts as he gave trembling lips a chaste kiss, tasting tears there. “Foreign Twink Brutally Raped By Hung Pervert- Screaming, Crying, and Bloodshed.”
That only urged Lev to grow more hysterical when Tetsurou finally enveloped the first year in a blistering kiss—Lev bit his tongue almost immediately and Tetsurou only pressed further into it, as his knee further assaulted Lev’s groin until he was forced into submission from the pain blossoming in his crotch. The iron nearly overpowered the inside of Lev’s mouth but not quite—Tetsurou tasted something savory, like… a meat bun. The echo of a peach drink he must’ve had before practice. Lev bucked forward again, their noses meeting in a painful clash—so Tetsurou disconnected begrudgingly.
“See? You hurt yourself fighting me.” Tetsurou said indifferently as blood slipped down Lev’s upper lip, mingling with snot. Tetsurou’s tongue stung something fierce and would probably ache the following day—the thought provoked him to speak. “Did you know mouth wounds are some of the fastest healing wounds on the human body, Lev? It’s because the mouth is prepared to heal wounds before damage has even occurred. The mouth, of course, knows the danger of bacteria considering said bacteria festers within it, also one of the filthiest places on the human body. It heals quickly because the risk of an open wound remaining vulnerable to bacteria is too great a danger. Did you know that?”
“N-No.” Lev stammered out, still shaking like a leaf as his moist green eyes bore into Tetsurou’s sordid brown ones, ruby lips kiss swollen. “I didn’t know that… s-senpai…”
Tetsurou leaned the edge of his teeth against Lev’s throat and felt his pulse jump on the surface of his lips, softly dragged down to the red collar of Lev’s worn gym t-shirt—not hard enough to hurt but enough to raise lines of similar pigment to Lev’s collar on his cream colored neck. “I don’t act like it, for the most part. But I’m an infection. Some people are ready for infections, and so when someone like me skulks around, they grab their bear spray… but you’re an open wound. You’re septic, gangrenous. And you’ve been flaunting how fucking vulnerable you are, no antibiotics, no bandaid, no antiseptic sprays- inviting me. You’ve been dirty, Lev Haiba. You’ve been acting like no one’s ever warned you about sick freaks like me.”
The post kiss haze provided a perfect opening for Tetsurou to momentarily release his grip on Lev’s lithe wrists, to yank him off the lockers by his collar and force him down to the floor—more like toss him down onto it, still wet from their teammates showers, then climb on top of him. Face down, of course.
“I’ll tell someone.” Lev sobbed out as Tetsurou sat perched on his ass and effectively pinned him down with his stout weight. “You… you’ll get in a-a lot of trouble.”
“Gonna tell someone?” Tetsurou droned, reaching behind to stroke his hand across the back of Lev’s stick figure thigh. “Tell someone what, exactly? It’s a male-on-male rape cliche in this dogshit country, full of dogshit customs, but I have this nagging feeling that you’d rather stick a fork in your eye than tell someone that me—your happy go lucky team captain—fucked you on the lockerroom floor and you couldn’t do a thing to stop me. Anyone you run to, they’ll figure no matter how much you scream and sob, you would never let another man violate you like this unless you wanted it. Isn’t that messed up? Crazy world we live in… where guys like you just get shamed when you get assaulted. Big, broad foreigner? No way you can be a victim of anything.”
The first year tensed under him and Tetsurou would’ve assumed it was from the alien feeling of Tetsurou’s hands if he hadn’t voiced his concern. “That… that’s what y-you’re gonna do? Fuck…” Lev’s words died in his throat and the rest of the sentence was a shameful whisper. “Fuck me?”
“That’s putting it lightly. And you’re gonna shut up and stay still while I do it- don’t give me a reason to really hurt you, Lev,” Tetsurou cooed as he slid a little lower on the students’ backside until he found himself comfortable on Lev’s upper thighs, fingers tugging Lev’s gym shorts down the same way he’d fantasized about for weeks, “because trust me, I’ll be looking for any reason to end your little sports career. You’re good eye candy, but you get on my fucking nerves, pretty boy.”
Skin revealed to the biting temperature of the lockerroom, Lev flinched—though that vague gesture was dismissed easily with Tetsurou’s weight faithfully counteracting any struggle the first year might try to put up. His hand instinctively reached around himself to cover the exposed flesh, fruitlessly propping himself up on an unoccupied elbow in the same motion. Tetsurou clicked his tongue, took a handful of silver locks, and slammed the first year’s face straight into the wet floor.
Lev’s soft cries grew hysteric again and the pain distracted him from his humiliation. Tetsurou tugged his shorts down the rest of the way while Lev twisted, clutching an eye that must’ve received most of the damage. They caught around his bony knees and Tetsurou left them there, satisfied with the view—he’d remarked previously that Lev didn’t have much in terms of backside, that his body was consistently model-skinny, but that didn’t necessarily mean that Tetsurou found his figure unappealing. It was endearing. Most teenage boys had awkward, pubescent bodies that disappointed their owners in one way or another. Hellishly high metabolism was much preferred over cystic acne or painful braces. And maybe his figure further fueled Tetsurou's rapidly growing obsession with foreigners. Who knew at this point? Certainly not Tetsurou.
Tetsurou spread the pitiful amount of fat that somehow qualified as ass cheeks to show a hole that’d surely be virgin tight and inferno hot against him.
“Don’t-“ Lev‘s legs kicked uselessly and he dragged himself back up onto his elbows, staring with huge, scared eyes over his shoulder, “Please- please don’t- I-I didn’t mean to- I’m sorry- I wasn’t- it wasn’t-“
His pleas broke into a strangled scream as Tetsurou jabbed a spit sodden pointer finger into him.
“Oh, did that hurt?” Tetsurou purred out, quickly adding another and being rewarded with a broken wail that echoed (both within the lockerroom and the inside of Tetsurou’s skull), Lev’s short nails clawing at the ground, struggling to get away from the abuse. Predictably, they just broke and bled and Lev remained in Tetsurou’s clutches—the drag of his fingers against Lev’s inner walls forced Tetsurou to acknowledge his erection growing painful as it stretched the fabric of his shorts. He needed relief and thankfully, his agenda was satisfying his own pleasure and no one else’s, least of all Lev’s. Tetsurou forced a third one in and by then, the spit had dried and the abrasion of flesh against inner tissue was miserable for both parties—considerably more agonizing for just one, though. “Good enough. You know, I wouldn’t have bothered with this much, but I figured at least one of us should feel good. It’s not you, in case you were wondering.”
Lev drew in panicked breaths as his forearms flexed from holding up his weight, probably too shocked to reply. Tetsurou leisurely pulled his clothes below his cock, spat into his palm, and began stroking himself until he grew too dissatisfied with the slick grate of his own rough hand against his dick. He took hold of himself, a handful of milk colored flesh revealing a pitifully twitching entrance, and rubbed the purpling head against Lev’s asshole.
“Don’t!” Lev tried in a voice that splintered, then devolved into a short coughing fit. The way Tetsurou’s bratty little nephew would cough after he cried himself hoarse and ugly while throwing a tantrum. For a moment, Tetsurou really did stop and think. There was no guarantee that just once would be enough. And what if it wasn’t? What if the sickness inside him persisted and the evil thing grew until he couldn’t control himself at all, let alone enough to not hurt the people he treasured? And Lev… what the fuck made him deserving of being victim to the worst crime imaginable? Tetsurou had let the parasite of porn addiction, of grotesque tropes and plots and displays of greed, eat away at his humanity and Lev was the one to pay for it. If he stopped now, they both might be salvageable. Lev would still be a virgin and Tetsurou would still be innocent, to an extent.
More heat rose to Tetsurou’s face, feverish as his pupils blew wider and a twitchy smile dawned across his frothing mouth.
Tetsurou tore into him to the tune of that thought—Lev Haiba might be in therapy for the rest of his life because of me.
I want to live inside him forever.
I want to be the source of all his trauma.
And, Tetsurou let out a triumphant bout of laughter as he began fucking the first year, who’d resigned himself to this disgusting fate and had slumped back to the equally disgusting floor—a small puddle of blood building around his face while the third year relentlessly drove into his trembling body, will I be the reason he flinches at every shadow on every wall? For the rest of his fucking life? Will I consume his every waking thought? That’s better than disgusting queer love, surely.
The third year knew he was rubbing Lev’s insides raw from the coarse glide of his cock by virtue of the glide becoming far more slick—it was blood, smearing his pulsing dick and the rim of Lev’s hole that stretched, puffy and perfect, around Tetsurou. He paused, pulled out, just to worship the image.
“It hurts,” If Lev had been quietly weeping the whole time, Tetsurou had been far too ensnared by his own depraved spiral to pay much mind to it, “it hurts, it hurts,”
“And you can’t do anything about it, Lev. Bet you feel so helpless and weak. And,” Tetsurou lined himself back up with Lev’s asshole, lingering as he grinned, “isn’t it a scary thought… if I could do this to you on a whim, anyone could. Kenma, Yaku, and all your first year friends… I bet they’d love to get a piece of this ass. You’re prettier than most girls, Lev—you’ve thought of it too, that your closest friends probably look at you with a perverted gaze, waiting for the perfect opportunity to slip something in your cute little cat water bottle and fuck you while you’re half conscious, fuck you like a nice, tight pocket pussy.”
“No!” Lev insisted, nose audibly plugged up and his voice still thick with tears. “Th-they’d never- you’re just- you’re just a fffucking freak! Don’t say that!” Lev sucked in a painful sounding breath and continued in a trembling husk. “They- they wouldn’t, don’t say that...”
“Why? You know it’s true.” Tetsurou slid a warm hand up and down from Lev’s hip to his ribcage and back again in a comforting fashion, despite the gesture probably being the opposite in this particular interaction. He dipped down, lips close to a pale ear, as he spoke. “I’ll make sure it’s good and loose down here for Aoyagi and anyone else who wants to make use of you, ‘k, kouhai? I'm helping you out, really, Lev, giving you a real place on the team. Didn’t I say I would?”
Tetsurou pounded back inside and if Lev was going to offer some sort of heartfelt, passionate rebuttal, it dissolved into an ear splitting scream at the brutal ministrations of his senpai. Tetsurou couldn’t stop after that. He felt unhinged, out of control, feral with need—countless fantasies hadn’t prepared him for the real clutch of someone completely submissive to his wants. It was the vigor you just couldn’t get with consensual sex, the adrenaline rush that Tetsurou craved, the vitriol of a fist fight mixed with the intimacy of sex rolled up into one explosive encounter. This was the feeling of owning someone, if only for a brief moment. This was psychological murder, fucking someone passed the point of return, in a way they’d never truly heal from.
He would’ve been disappointed at the end if his orgasm hadn’t been the most mind blowing one he’d ever experienced—his cum stung Lev’s inner wounds so the first year screamed and twisted beneath him as Tetsurou snapped his hips erratically, forcing every rope of semen deeper into Lev’s bruised guts.
“Take it,” Tetsurou growled over and over again, a steadying mantra (and a subtle attempt to ride out the high of him forcing Lev to do shit he didn’t want to), while he pulled his cream colored hips back to impale the damaged hole on his pulsing erection, at the same time pushing Lev’s head down into the mess of fluids he’d created—spit, tears, snot, blood, a concoction that Lev’s cheek smeared against with every painstaking stab, “take it, bitch— I want my cum so deep inside you, when you swallow you taste it.”
“It hurts.” Lev uttered a final time as Tetsurou’s thrusts ceased and he pulled out. His own cum was quick to follow, running in thick rivulets down Lev’s thighs and scrotum. Tetsurou realized, with a dark flush, that this was exactly how he’d wanted to see the first year from the moment he’d noticed him. It gushed from his hole. It would’ve been cute if the white wasn’t rapidly turning a pinkish color from the blood and even then... Tetsurou would’ve gone another round if time allowed for it.
His flagging cock glistened with spend and blood and he pulled Lev over by his hair to lick it clean—Tetsurou hadn’t thought Lev could get any paler but his busted face looked bloodless under the fluorescent light as he shakily dragged his tongue (still bright with the stain from Tetsurou’s stale blood) across his sex, green eyes that were always teeming with emotion scraped completely clean. When Tetsurou patted his head affectionately and determined that his dick was clean enough, Lev turned away from the third year and puked all over the locker room floor—and hardly stopped for a couple of seconds before he did it again. It was only then that the third year noticed the ruined state of the floor beneath his underclassman, wet with piss and small splatters of cum from a trembling first year who clearly hadn’t orgasmed willingly. It made Tetsurou grin and Lev just avoided eye contact.
Tetsurou turned on the shower and nudged Lev under it until the shock wore off and he actually began to clean himself, holding back cries behind clenched teeth when the water stung his tender backside. They both changed in silence into their casual clothes, Tetsurou being the one to mop up the vomit, piss and smears from Lev’s bloody fingers clawing at the ground, and left the gym in likeness; Lev staring aimlessly as Tetsurou locked everything up. He continued to stare at Tetsurou, expectant and anticipatory, and his eye swelled up spectacularly. His lips had turned a purple-gray color from the mistreatment and his nose had stopped bleeding a while ago but hadn’t been cleaned properly. Crimson crust clung to his nostril, his smooth upper lip. This part Tetsurou didn’t much care for because... in his most sickening fantasies, he would tie the first year up, bend his gangly body into a tiny steel trunk, and keep him around for a convenient fuck. He'd ruin him again and again and again, until Lev was so broken that even if he incredulously escaped, he'd crawl right back into the third year's awaiting palm, begging for his hellish fate to be restored.
But this was real life. And Tetsurou hadn’t reached that point of insanity.
Right?
“See you tomorrow.” Tetsurou said with a shrug, turning on a heel and walking away.
And he did see the first year the following day but not at practice. In the hallways with his head down, surrounded by friends but utterly vacant in terms of emotion. Tetsurou’s insides crawled at the expressionless daze of his underclassman, the haunted look in his chalky face, the flatness of his disillusioned eyes. Lev had been perfect before but now… Tetsurou had sullied him in a way that no one else could hope to. It was sick but Tetsurou took pride in it, nonetheless, and the sight of Lev stumbling around in a dark cloud satisfied him for a while.
Until that fucking half foreigner came back to practice, all sunshine and smiles and playful whining about the strain of exercise. He’d taken a week off after he’d had a nasty fall down a steep flight of stairs, he explained, beaming and shameless. There was still mottled green splotches where the black eye had once shone indiscreetly but he’d stopped limping or wincing when he took a tentative seat. And he kept wearing those goddamn shorts.
“Again.” Tetsurou decided under his breath as he watched the first years stretching. He wondered if it wouldn’t feel as good raping that stupid bitch a second time, now that it felt as if Lev were truly luring him in. Pale thighs, peach colored lips, and those huge green eyes that were chock full of goddamn hubris. He wondered if he’d have to go further to achieve the same satisfaction.
“What was that?” Kenma asked.
“Nothing.” Tetsurou replied, smiling—because Lev wasn’t the only one hiding something horrible behind normal behavior. “Just glad that little punk is back.”
And that wasn’t entirely a lie, if Tetsurou’s libido was taken into account.