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Akaashi is running out of ways to beg for the pool boy’s attention.
There’s been something between him and Miya since the very first Sunday he showed up in the driveway in his pickup truck.
With the new renovations they’d recently completed, Akaashi’s mother had switched to a different maintenance company recommended by their contractors. Akaashi’s mother had been at brunch and she’d forgotten to tell Keiji when she’d scheduled their appointment. He’d received Osamu in his pajama shorts, nipples showing through his thin cotton t-shirt because he hadn’t been wearing his tape.
“Sorry,” Miya had blurted. Either thinking he’d woken Keiji up by ringing the doorbell at the gate, or because Akaashi had caught his eyes wandering. “I’m here to work on the pool.”
Somehow, Akaashi had been more amused than annoyed by this hunk of a man on his doorstep, blushing and bashful before Keiji had even gotten a word out.
Akaashi promises himself to be prepared for him the next time.
Every Sunday, Akaashi opens the front door for him at 11 o’clock on the dot and leads him through the yard into the back of the house, where the sparkling infinity pool awaits its weekly maintenance.
Every Sunday, Akaashi will take up one of the pool beds outside and supervise Osamu while he works.
He’s got these loose linen shorts, so white they’re close to sheer, and he’ll wear them without underwear as he lays on the pool bed. He’ll bring his knees up and the way the fabric falls he’s sure he’s giving Osamu a full view. But he’ll pretend to be clueless, keeping his nose buried in a book, stealing his mom’s big sunglasses to hide his wandering eyes from Osamu.
Other times, he’ll flip over onto his stomach as though to tan his backside, making sure his shirt rides up enough for his ass to show in the tiny stringy bikini bottom he likes to wear. Only in the privacy of his own home, and only when he knows Osamu’s looking.
Sometimes he’ll catch Osamu staring. He’ll have to cross his legs, squirming a bit to curb the sudden ache between his thighs.
He doesn’t know what it is about Osamu.
He’s good looking for sure. Tanned, sweaty, and strong from manual labor. He’s tall and built, and working by the pool does him so many favors. Splashes from the water make his tank top translucent. When he’s hot he’ll dunk his hands in the water and run it through his hair to cool off his scalp.
Akaashi wonders if maybe it’s because he has some kind of fetish for the way Osamu’s sweat makes every golden limb on him glow in the sun. He does find himself wondering what he’d smell like. What it’d feel like to claw his fingernails against his slick back.
Or if maybe it’s just been that long since he’s had attention from somebody sexy.
He wants Osamu so bad it feels like he’s going crazy. He feels feverish sometimes laying there by the pool, and he knows it’s not the summer heat, watching Osamu’s shorts ride up, scrunching at the crotch, and his quads bulge as he squats to examine the filters. He looks at him for long enough and finds that he has to change his panties because they’re so soaked.
It’s a spur of the moment decision he makes, like he’s in some kind of horny trance, when he leaves his book, open with the pages down on the pool bed, and makes his way into the poolhouse. Because he knows that’s where Osamu will be able to see him.
He leaves the curtains in the bedroom drawn. Not completely, just halfway. But they’re sheer anyway, so Akaashi can still see the outline of Osamu’s body moving outside.
This is him begging for attention too. Dropping his shorts onto the bedroom floor where he knows Osamu will catch him if he throws a glance in the right direction.
There are a bunch of pillows to choose from on the bedspread, and he picks one of the round cylindrical shaped ones. The mattress sinks where his knees press into the bedding as he eases himself onto the bed and pulls the pillow between his thighs.
He starts out shakily, embarrassed that he’s actually doing this. But eventually the friction feels so good and Akaashi’s feeling so horny he can’t bring himself to care. He humps his cunt against the pillow with his back arched, bottom lip tucked between his teeth.
He thinks of Osamu’s huge arms, sleeves rolled up as he works. The dark hair on his underarms, exposed when he pushes a hand through sweat-damp hair. He thinks of his abs when he brings the hem of his shirt up to wipe the sweat from his brow, the hair on his lower belly that dips lower.
But what really does it for him is when he imagines Osamu watching him from outside the window. His thighs tense and he imagines how Osamu would tease him if he found him like this. If Osamu would think him a slut. His hips move faster and he’s whimpering and he wonders if Osamu would bend him over and fuck him with his face buried in a pillow that smells like his own cunt if he begged prettily enough.
He reaches down to move his panties to the side, to feel his clit against the pillow with nothing else between.
He gasps, squeezing the pillow in tight fists as he rides it best he can, hips moving desperately for friction. He leans forward and moans softly at the better angle, uses tight fists to press the pillow against himself. It feels so good but it’s not enough and he wants to cum so bad—
He chances a glance outside his window. Osamu in his white tank top, so translucent with sweat Akaashi can see the color of his nipples protruding through the fabric.
His pussy is suddenly twitching against the pillow. It takes two more thrusts, gasping something incoherent that takes the shape of Osamu’s name, and then he’s shuddering at the force of his orgasm, hips stuttering to a halt as his whole body seizes up.
He’s left dark swatches on the pillow. Fuck…
___
Fucking the pool boy is such a cliche. Or so Sakusa tells him.
Sakusa’s fucking one of his dad’s business partners. Wharton undergrad, Kellogg MBA who wears tailored three pieces to work every day. That’s the bigger cliche in Keiji’s opinion. Even if Ushijima Wakatoshi is all gorgeous salt and pepper and clean cut lines of designer silhouettes at the prime age of 47, with a country club membership that keeps his body cut.
He does try to come onto Miya in more innocent ways, bringing him lemonade and freshly cut fruits to snack on when he’s finished.
And it’s not to say Osamu doesn’t reciprocate. Sometimes, he’ll come over to adjust Akaashi’s umbrella for him so that he’s properly shaded on the pool bed. He feels Miya’s eyes on his bare thighs and wonders if he’s left a wet spot on his white bikini bottom for Miya to see, sitting criss-crossed like this. Akaashi is sure that when Miya sheds his company polo to leave him in just the sweat soaked tank top, he’s putting on a show for Keiji too.
He likes to fantasize about preparing a drink for Osamu in the kitchen just like he always does, facing the counter as he keeps himself busy. He’ll feel Osamu come up behind him, yank his shorts to the floor and kick his legs apart to spread him wider. Then his voice against Keiji’s ear as his heavy cock jumps between his thighs, and finally the feeling of his cock shoving deep inside him. Because Osamu must know his pussy is loose and wet and always ready for him to slide in whenever he pleases for relief in Akaashi’s eager cunt.
He’s only brought back to earth by the sound of Osamu sliding the doors open.
Akaashi brightens instantly, snapping himself out of his daydream. “I made pink lemonade.”
He’d blended the raspberries and mixed the puree with lemonade from the jug.
“And I also have infused popsicles,” Keiji offers, shutting the freezer door as he brings out the tray. He’d prepared these yesterday with tequila from his mom’s bar. He figures since Osamu’s done working it’s appropriate enough.
“For me?” Osamu asks, playing coy.
Akaashi blushes but nods, hurrying over to pour him a glass, as Osamu makes quick work of a popsicle.
Osamu takes it from him and Akaashi is too shy to even make eye contact. Instead Akaashi watches his Adam’s apple bob as he chugs it down.
The glass is set down on the marble with a clink, and Osamu’s eyes turn to him.
“I ran out of cash for tip money today,” Akaashi tells him. “But I can make it up to you another way.”
Keiji has his bottom lip tucked between his teeth, and he yanks Osamu towards him by his belt.
It had been that easy.
Osamu takes one look at Akaashi’s expression, the blown out pupils through his lashes and soft parted lips, and lets himself be pulled in.
Osamu lets Keiji take the lead. And since it’s up to him he kisses with tongue immediately, grabbing Osamu by his jaw.
He tastes sweet and citrusy, and he lets Keiji kiss him so willingly, tilting his head to slot them better together. Akaashi breathes in lungfuls of his scent as he yanks needily at his hair, his deodorant and the musk of sweat underneath, the chlorine and SPF, and whimpers into his mouth.
Akaashi is so desperate to be touched he can hardly contain himself, squeezing his thighs just because his cunt is aching that bad, moaning into Osamu’s mouth as he squeezes his biceps and feverishly pushes his hands under his shirt.
Osamu lifts Akaashi on the counter and Akaashi whines into the kiss, loving how easily Osamu manhandles his weight. His legs wrap around Osamu’s waist to keep him close, and instantly Akaashi is grinding himself up against him.
“I’ve wanted you for the longest time,” Osamu breaks away to tell him, breathing hard as Akaashi yanks on his belt. “Since I first saw you pretending to read that fucking book by the pool…”
Akaashi cuts him off with another kiss. He does actually try to read sometimes. But he won’t contest that right now, shoving his tongue into Osamu’s mouth instead.
“I knew it wouldn’t take much to slut you out.”
“You think I’m easy, Samu?”
“I do, gorgeous.” Osamu slides his hand down the front of Keiji’s panties. “And I like you that way.”
And then Akaashi can’t even hide how wet this whole situation is making him, because Osamu’s fingers are instantly soaked with it. He pushes two fingers in with hardly any resistance, and watches Keiji bite his lip, inhaling a shaky breath.
“I’d been waiting for you to catch on,” he manages to get out, letting Osamu fuck him slowly.
“You’re not subtle, sweetheart. Sitting there by the pool soaking your panties.” Akaashi moans, clenching around another of Osamu’s fingers. He continues to thrust as he talks against Akaashi’s lips. “What would your husband think?” Husband? Akaashi doesn’t even know where he got that from, but oh, he likes it. He moans as Osamu keeps talking. “Getting loose thinking about your pool boy’s cock.”
Akaashi palms Osamu through his shorts. He watches Osamu grit his teeth as Akaashi starts to grind his palm against him.
“Does it make you hard to think about it? Fucking me in the kitchen when my husband’s out,” Akaashi says, letting his mouth run. “You know I touch myself thinking of you when I’m in bed next to him.”
Osamu has the nerve to look cocky. “Your husband doesn’t turn you on anymore?”
“Not the way you do.”
“Fuck, baby, that’s so hot.”
Osamu’s fingers are buried to the knuckle, already beginning to prune, and the dirty talk has Akaashi starting to feel faint headed.
He spreads his legs and pushes Osamu’s fingers deeper with a shaky hand placed over his, watching the way Osamu can’t take his eyes off his fingers disappearing into him.
“I want you in my pussy, Samu,” Akaashi says, voice wet.
“Yeah,” Osamu breathes. “Wanna fuck you.”
Akaashi lifts his hips for Osamu to do away with his panties.
Akaashi doesn’t miss the way Osamu’s eyes follow as he pulls them down Akaashi’s long, toned legs and drops them onto the ground. Soaked dark and heavy with slick. Akaashi’s only wearing his big t-shirt as he sits on the counter now, Osamu fully dressed but for his undone belt and fly.
Akaashi puts his bare foot on Osamu’s chest to beckon his attention.
“If you fuck me right, I’ll let you keep them.”
Osamu decides right then to pull him off the counter onto his feet and bend him over backwards.
He’s got the tanline of that tiny bikini bottom on his perky round ass, and Osamu can’t resist giving it a little smack. Keiji gives an exaggerated yelp that’s basically a moan, and he knows Osamu eats it up by the way he grips his hips so tight that it aches, and Akaashi knows he’ll have bruises tomorrow.
He hears Osamu spit thickly into his palm, reaching down to stroke his cock. Then he’s pushing it between Keiji’s thighs to rub his cock against his pussy, teasing his clit as he lubes himself up in more of his slick. His clit is so hard and sensitive already, he thinks two more strokes and he would’ve come.
“No condom but I’ll pull out, okay?”
Akaashi nods frantically, not thinking straight.
Osamu bullies his dick into him, his pussy stretching around the thick girth of him.
Keiji moans wetly, “Mmm, fuck…”
“Fuck, you’re tight,” Osamu gets out around grit teeth.
He’s feeling so stretched out already, squeezing to him like a vice. And then suddenly he feels Osamu put the rest in, and Akaashi’s eyes fly open.
“Oh—” he gasps, toes curling against the tile. “Osamu,” he moans. He’s so big. It feels like he’s in his womb.
The first thrust makes Akaashi cry out loud.
He picks up the pace and eventually Akaashi is being thrust against the counter with each snap of Osamu’s hips. The sound of their skin slapping against each other fills the room. When Osamu leans over his body it’s to get closer to Keiji’s lips, so he can hear the nonstop moans coming from his mouth. His shirt rides up to put them skin to skin.
He talks over the sticky wet sounds coming from where Osamu’s inside him. “Your pussy’s so wet for me, baby. You’re a fucking mess.”
Akaashi can’t do anything more than moan in response, hands scrambling against the marble. Osamu’s pace is viciously rough.
“You feeling good, baby? Does my cock feel good?”
“I love it, feels so good, Samu, your cock is so good—” It comes out breathless, interrupted by breathless little gasps. “Oh, fuck! Samu, don’t stop, don’t stop—”
He’s trapped against the counter by Osamu’s weight boring over him, and Osamu’s fucking him hard, making his ass bounce back against his hips on each thrust. It feels like a fever dream, all the heat rushing through him making his head feel fuzzy.
Osamu’s hand ducks down to stroke his lower belly, then lower again to push his fingers against Akaashi’s clit. He cums just about instantly, as soon as Osamu gets his fingers on him, voice climbing so high it breaks as he screams through his orgasm.
His knees give out and he’s drooling against the counter, but Osamu fucks him through it anyway. He lies there limp and takes it, hands in fists as he whimpers through the overstim, listens to Osamu groan because his pussy feels even better when he’s squeezing up all tight like this.
It takes all his self control to pull out, jerking his cock to paint Akaashi’s back.
Akaashi’s panting against the counter still, Osamu’s cum splattered all over his back, when he watches Osamu bend over to pick up his little lace panties and tuck them in his pocket.
“Pervert,” he snarks at him, coming to his feet shakily. He pulls shyly at the hem of his t-shirt for decency. Osamu smirks at him for wanting decency now.
“Makes two of us, sweetheart.”
Osamu grabs his throat to pull him in for a kiss.
“I’ll see you next week.”
“For what it’s worth—” Akaashi doesn’t know where he finds the nerve. Giving Osamu attitude when he’s got Osamu’s hand wrapped around his throat. “It’s my mother’s house. I’m not cucking anyone,” he says with a turn of his nose. “Even if I liked pretending as much as you did.”
___
They make a routine out of it.
Akaashi convinces his mom that with the brutal heat of the summer, the pool needs maintenance as regularly as every weekend. She doesn’t mind and is happy to see Keiji showing some agency about the housekeeping, so every Sunday it is.
Osamu shows up in those trashy cargo shorts of his, sagging low even with his leather belt, a fitted tank top that clings to his torso like a second skin, and the blue short-sleeve button down with the company logo on the breast. Akaashi has never seen it buttoned.
They don’t dance around it. They don’t stop to chat. It’s impersonal enough that Osamu can be rough, use him the way he likes without holding back. Akaashi wouldn’t prefer it any other away.
Osamu will put him on all fours, spank him around a bit because he likes to hear Keiji cry out. He’ll pull him back by his wrists, pin them at the small of his back and watch Akaashi collapse face first into the mattress.
He’ll duck down to eat Keiji’s pussy from behind, watching the shiny mess between his ass, slick leaking down the inner sides of his thighs. He likes the way Akaashi throws his ass back on Osamu’s face, eager to push him deeper. If he had time to tease he would spend an hour marking him up, here on the soft inner sides of his thighs, getting him so wet his pussy drips straight onto his face. He fucks his tongue against Keiji’s clit until he’s shaking through his orgasm.
By then he’s so hard he needs to be inside him for his own relief. He adds lube straight to his cock, because Akaashi likes it sloppy.
Akaashi’s pussy is so tight he bulges when Osamu enters him. Osamu puts his hand over his lower abs to feel it every time, his belly swelling with the faintest bump at his thick cock inside him.
He doesn’t waste time. With the view of Akaashi’s ass stretched out and his pussy gripping to him like this, he can’t help himself anyway. The bed squeaks and shakes as Osamu fucks him hard, keeping him arched back on his dick with a fist in his dark hair. Akaashi moans wetly and does his best to fuck himself back on Osamu’s cock on his own, syncing their rhythms. Osamu licks his palm before he smacks his ass, just to feel the way Akaashi will clench around him as he cries out, fisting his sheets as Osamu fucks him an inch within his life.
Akaashi’s so lost in how good it feels that he doesn’t even hear the sound of the garage door opening.
Osamu’s grip on his hair loosens.
“Shit, is that your mom?”
Akaashi simply whines as Osamu hips stutter to a stop. No fucking Akaashi way is going to let him stop now.
“Just— hurry up and get me off before she comes looking for us,” he pleads, arching back on Osamu’s cock.
“Fuck…”
He pulls Akaashi up so they’re both upright on their knees, legs pretzeling over his. One hand snakes up his torso to Keiji’s neck, and the other dips down to his clit.
He fucks up into him at the same time Keiji bounces down, his ass smacking on Osamu’s lap. They find a rhythm, Akaashi letting himself be manhandled by Osamu’s grip on his throat.
He gets even louder as he gets closer, his hard clit rubbing against Osamu’s fingers as he slams down onto his cock over and over again. Osamu puts his fingers in his mouth to shut him up, but that only makes his pussy wetter, spit dripping down his fingers as he moans anyway.
Akaashi cums as Osamu calls him a slut for letting Osamu fuck him like this in his mother’s house, and a few more messy thrusts and Osamu follows straight after.
Not even ten minutes later, Akaashi is walking gingerly down the stairs, trying to be quiet as he guides Osamu downstairs.
Of course, Akaashi’s mother is in the kitchen. Her hair is freshly done because she must’ve stopped by the salon before brunch. The Benz keys and tall glass of iced sparkling water are next to the pile of mail she’s inspecting.
Her eyes turn to them as they emerge from the stairs.
“I was just showing Osamu-kun the leak in my bathroom upstairs,” Akaashi lies.
Like Keiji can’t still feel it between his legs where Osamu’s been bruising his cervix.
She raises a laminated, penciled-in eyebrow. “Well?”
Osamu speaks up. “You might wanna have the grout in the shower redone.”
It’s obvious she sees through them, but somehow Akaashi manages to convince himself that there’s no way.
Miya’s scheduled visit next week goes unprotested, so Akaashi moves past it with a bit of optimistic thinking. It’s the delusion of someone completely dick-whipped.
___
Sometimes they rush into it so quickly Akaashi doesn’t even let Osamu get his clothes off.
Other times Akaashi gets him all the way undressed, squeezing his ass and running his hands through the thin hair on his abs when Miya’s on top of him. He also gets to have his fun with Miya’s belt.
He’ll loop the belt through the buckle around Osamu’s neck, letting it get just tight enough to choke Osamu out while he gets fucked, pulling Osamu in by the belt for a kiss. He’ll let Osamu fuck him doggy with the belt around his neck as a leash. Osamu spanks his ass with it, then turns him over and spanks his clit to make him cum. He’ll have tears in his eyes and still beg Osamu to fuck his pussy.
Akaashi gets to fulfill all his fantasies about getting Osamu on top of him poolside. Osamu will pin Akaashi down, whatever little book he’s got falling out of his hands with a thud, and kiss his way lower to eat Akaashi’s pussy right there on the poolbed.
He loves having Keiji sprawled out for him like this. Legs spread and spine arched, his hands buried in Osamu’s hair to keep him in place, shoving his mouth against his pussy when he gets desperate for more. He’ll watch Osamu’s wide shoulders and his back flex, his arms when he’s pistoning his fingers into him, and he won’t be able to hold himself back, coming with a long, breathless whine.
“Keep going,” Akaashi says after his first, his eyes unfocused. “Osamu, don’t stop.”
Osamu will feel his body shudder underneath his mouth, pussy gushing as his thighs tremble in Osamu’s arms. And he’ll do it over and over again. Finding a different way to push him over the edge every time.
Keiji, riding his mouth with a hand fisting his hair until he cums, a shiver running through his body. Osamu sucking him off, holding his hips down even as he scrambles to get away, squirting around the fingers inside him as he cums. Osamu, flicking his tongue against his clit, fast and hard until Keiji’s hips come shooting off the bed, tears streaming down his face as he sobs through his orgasm.
Most of the time Akaashi will get so horny watching Osamu work that he’ll drag him to his bedroom while he’s in the middle of it. Osamu lets Akaashi lead him by his hand with this ditzy smile on his face.
Osamu presses him to the wall in the corridor outside his bedroom. Kissing him so eagerly it’s like he can’t even wait to get on the bed before he sticks his dick into Keiji.
Akaashi giggles into Osamu’s mouth as he fumbles for the doorknob. And then Osamu is putting his hands on his thighs to hike him up properly, taking fistfuls of his ass to carry Akaashi inside.
Osamu’s hands move so fast to undress him, keeping his lips on Keiji’s every second that he can. Every inch of soft, unblemished skin he reveals makes him salivate. He feels like an animal – the effect Akaashi has on him. Osamu pins him to the bed and a noise of pleasure slips past his lips at how much smaller he feels underneath him. They’re getting carried away, grinding on each other. Akaashi can feel Osamu’s leaking cock rutting against the humidity rolling off his cunt through his shorts, and it makes Osamu moan breathlessly into their kiss.
He sits up to slide his shorts down at the same time Osamu fumbles to free his cock, tearing open a condom. Just the slightest touches make his dick twitch violently, and they both scramble to put it in.
He hears Osamu groan as he enters him, feels his hands tighten around his hips.
“Move,” Akaashi gasps, squirming on his cock. The feeling of Osamu’s cock inside him has completely consumed him. All he can fathom now… His chest heaves as he sobs out a plea, “Samu, move.”
“Shit— I can’t,” he chokes out. “Keiji, wait.”
Akaashi’s jerkily rolling his hips to try and take him deeper, tongue caught between his teeth, and one particularly delicious squeeze of Keiji’s pussy and Osamu busts into the condom.
Akaashi freezes with a soft sound of surprise, Osamu’s cock still throbbing inside him.
“What the fuck?”
He’d think Osamu was a virgin if this hadn’t been their nth time doing this. Oddly, he’s a little flattered.
His eyes flit up to Osamu’s face, his grit teeth visible in the strong lines of his jaw.
“Sorry.” Osamu shakes his head nervously, pink dusting his cheeks. “Sorry, you just felt so good, and I’ve been thinking about you all week.”
His big dumb sexy boy toy, so eager to please him, to eat his pussy and make him feel good. Of course Keiji is a little bit in love with him.
“I can keep going,” Osamu says. “Let me keep going.”
Osamu pulls out to get rid of the condom. He almost wants to protest, watching Osamu tie it up. He wants to take it from him and glaze his pussy with the load Osamu’s put inside. Play with his clit using Osamu’s cum as lube. He opens his mouth just as the condom falls into the bin.
Oh well. Anyway, he’s definitely not gonna let Osamu put another condom on. Not when he can see Osamu’s dick still dripping, flushed dark red and hard. Akaashi can even smell the sex on him, and it makes him feel dizzy with lust.
Akaashi tugs at his arm needily. “Forget it,” he says, before Osamu can split open the foil. “Just fuck me already. I wanna feel you.”
Akaashi shudders as Osamu slides in. The way Osamu curses goes straight to his cunt, leaking around Osamu’s cock like this. Feeling Akaashi’s wet cunt raw and his cock is instantly thickening out once more.
He clenches his jaw, fighting himself to stay still as he watches Akaashi arch on it, squeezing Osamu’s wrists where his hands are gripping his waist. Osamu murmurs a soft curse, something about being too sensitive, but he can’t stop himself from starting up a rhythm anyway.
“What’ll your mom say if I get you pregnant?” Osamu asks, thrusting shallowly into his cunt.
Akaashi would scoff if he wasn’t preoccupied with being split in half on his dick.
“I’m not stupid enough to let you knock me up.”
Osamu smirks like he knows better. “I dunno, baby…” he says. He pushes deeper and Akaashi whimpers, bottom lip caught between his teeth.
“The way you beg for my raw cock inside you, I think you might like it,” Osamu says. “I think you might like it if daddy put a baby in you.”
Both of them feel the way Akaashi squeezes around him at those words.
“Yeah…” Osamu breathes, eyes trained on where they’re conjoined. Akaashi looks down too, watching with wide eyes the way his pussy grips Osamu’s cock, squeezing as though his own body is desperate to keep him in every time Osamu pulls out. “Your pussy doesn’t lie, baby, sucking to me like this.”
Osamu thrusts again, Keiji arching deeper with each inch he takes in.
“Osamu,” Akaashi chokes out. “Fuck me,” he gasps, and it’s the only coherent thing he can manage. He’s clenching around Osamu’s cock, squirming for more like it’s their first time doing this.
If Osamu wants to fuck him hard enough to get him pregnant he’s going to take it.
It escalates minute by minute. Osamu’s hips smack against his so hard he loses his breath. Osamu doesn’t even give him the chance to breathe, because his lips come over his.
He loves it so much when Osamu loses himself in their sex. When he’s fucking him with no other thought in mind but his own orgasm, calling himself daddy to make Akaashi moan louder for him. It turns Akaashi on like crazy to be able to have that effect on him.
Osamu’s groaning in his ear and it’s making him so fucking wet.
“I’m close.”
“Come inside me, Samu, I need it.”
A resounding crack sounds out in that room when Osamu smacks his ass. It makes Akaashi scream.
“Get louder for me, baby,” he beckons, “Beg me for it just like that.” Osamu doesn’t stop fucking him, only getting faster as he gets closer. “You want daddy to give you a baby?”
“Yes! Yes, I wanna be full, daddy, please—”
Akaashi’s eyes roll back as he takes it, begs please until Osamu’s yanking him into a kiss. He chokes on his own moan as he feels Osamu come, shoving his cock in as deep as it will go.
He lets Osamu fill him with pump after pump of thick, sticky warmth, and scratches at his back as follows straight after.
They don’t stop.
Akaashi gets on top of him as Osamu adjusts to sit upright. Akaashi sucks his tongue, cups his jaw and strokes his face, and Osamu thinks he could cum again like this. With Akaashi’s spit in his mouth and his cock buried to the hilt inside his tight heat.
“Mmmm, fuck,” Akaashi moans when he finally starts to move again, grinding his hips slowly.
Akaashi’s got the dirtiest mouth. Not even the things he says but the way he says them.
“Fuck, I love it, Samu,” he’s slurring like he’s drunk, breathless and wet. “Your cock feels so good, it’s so deep. I love it so much, baby.”
Osamu thinks to himself he doesn’t want Keiji to say that about anybody but him ever again. He thinks to himself he doesn’t want Keiji acting like a slut like this for anybody but him.
___
He can’t exactly pinpoint when it is that he starts to catch feelings for Osamu. He starts to bring him water not to see him wipe his chin when it spills over, but because he wants to see the smile Osamu gives him as he says thanks.
He doesn’t even know much about Osamu outside of work. Just the snippets Osamu lets slip during their brief moments of pillow talk. About his college applications, his twin brother, the other job he’s working at a restaurant downtown.
When he’s supervising from his pool bed, Akaashi does eavesdrop on the calls Osamu sometimes takes while he’s working. Kiyoomi advised him to, just to make sure he wasn’t sleeping with a total creep or somebody’s boyfriend or something.
Most of the time it’s his brother calling to bother him, forgetting Osamu’s scheduled appointments on Sunday mornings at Akaashi’s place. Usually, Akaashi gets too distracted just looking at Osamu to find out any more than that.
Afterwards Akaashi’s sheets smell like Osamu. Like his sweat and the chlorine and his cologne. Their sex too. He doesn’t change them until he has to, or until their housekeepers intervene against his will.
With his cock buried inside him to the hilt, Osamu puts his hands on Akaashi’s lower belly and presses, and it makes Keiji scream.
“Samu!” He arches under Osamu’s hands, pressing himself into his arms. “Oh my god— fuck! Osamu—”
Osamu can feel his dick moving under his hands, and it makes him feral. He fucks him faster and watches Keiji break underneath him.
His eyes have rolled back and his jaw is unhinged, gasping for breath as he squeezes to the sheets for dear life. Spine arched so pretty, hanging off Osamu’s cock with only his shoulders left on the mattress.
He doesn’t care about trying to sound sexy, just letting himself go. When he comes it’s with a gorgeous scream of Osamu’s name. His voice breaks as he falls into sobs, the overstimulation finally catching up to him.
Osamu doesn’t stop kissing him, squeezing him tight, and whispering how good and perfect he is as he ruts his cock into him two, three more times before finishes inside Keiji. He coaxes softer breaths out of him in this even, low tone, and Akaashi suddenly realizes, laying there wrecked underneath him, that he would do absolutely anything to make this man his.
It’s after Osamu fucks him like that that Keiji decides he has to see him again ASAP. It’s been a long time coming.
He follows Osamu like a lost puppy down the stairs as he shows himself out. He has ten seconds till they make it to the front door to figure out what he wants to say.
Osamu kisses him goodbye chastely. Picks up his equipment and is halfway out the door before Keiji calls his name to beckon his attention. He gets the words out right as Osamu is passing through the threshold, Akaashi still barefoot inside.
“Osamu, do you wanna come back over tonight?” he blurts. He continues, blushing so profusely he feels warm, “My mom is out of town this week. We could just— order in and watch a movie or something.”
“Shit, Keiji, I have a shift tonight.”
Akaashi goes rigid. “Oh.”
Osamu winces at the realization he’s made him upset.
“I’m so sorry, baby.”
“No, that’s okay.” He tries to smile but flinches when Osamu reaches out.
“Another time though.” Osamu gets a hold of his clammy hand and squeezes. “Hold me to it,” he makes Akaashi promise.
___
“I don’t think he likes me, Kiyo.”
He’d be lying if Osamu rejecting his invitation to a date didn’t completely shatter his heart. Even if he had what seemed to be a valid excuse.
He gives Kiyoomi a report of every meeting he has with Osamu over the phone as soon as he leaves. And although Kiyoomi can’t see the redness of his eyes, he’s sure he can hear the wetness in his voice.
“He’s working two jobs. Of course he’s busy,” Sakusa sounds exasperated over the phone. Akaashi is simply so illogical when it comes to Osamu. “It’s more likely that he likes you but doesn’t wanna actually date you.”
Akaashi has never been in a real relationship before. He’s fucked around enough to figure out what he likes, which has been with more people than he likes to admit. But the closest he’s ever gotten to a boyfriend was his ex sneaky link who claimed to return Keiji’s feelings. He was an asshole who wouldn’t have known how to treat Akaashi like his boyfriend anyway.
He knows technically Sakusa is talking out of his ass, because his affair with Wakatoshi-kun is actually the only relationship he’s ever been in. But somehow everything Sakusa says seems to make sense.
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“Enjoy the moment, but keep it in the back of your head,” is the advice Kiyoomi gives him.
He still doesn’t stop thinking about it. Even as Sakusa tries to distract him with conversation about the new presents Ushijima bought him. Even as he sits through dinner with his mother later, who for once actually makes an effort to talk to him undistracted without mentions of work. He can’t bring himself to stop thinking about Osamu.
He’s tucked into his bed trying to sleep his anxiety away when his phone buzzes on the nightstand.
He watches the messages pop up one by one in his notification center.
just finished work
i miss u
Akaashi’s eyes widen. Kiyoomi is asleep by now so he can’t tell him what to say.
wish i could’ve seen u tonight
can i pick u up on wednesday after my shift? around seven?
Before he realizes it he’s beaming at his phone.
yes!! i’d like that <3
He makes sure to also like Osamu’s message saying he misses him.
Osamu is punctual on Wednesday– although Akaashi has been sitting in the living room waiting for two hours now. It’s the first time he’s ever seen Osamu out of his uniform. He’s in baggy blue jeans sagging low and a fitted t-shirt that hugs his thick torso so well.
Instead of the pickup truck, Osamu shows up in a blue Mustang. Osamu says he shares it with his brother, technically, because his brother commutes to a gym about forty minutes out. Osamu promises tacos out of the takeout window which Osamu deems the best tacos in Japan.
Osamu puts his arm around his waist as they wait in line and it feels so much like a date Akaashi can’t even hold back his smile.
Osamu immediately protests when Akaashi tries to bring his card out.
“No way, Keiji.”
Akaashi is insistent. “Yes— are you crazy?”
Osamu pushes his card out of the way and taps his to the reader.
“You can get it next time.”
Akaashi is too flustered by the promise of a next time to make more of a scene.
Osamu wasn’t exaggerating about the tacos. He eats four and half and feeds his extra half to Osamu, giggling when Osamu sucks his fingers. Keiji steals Osamu’s horchata when he realizes how good it is. Osamu doesn’t complain, watching his eyes light up in delight at the first sip from Osamu’s straw.
Akaashi invites Osamu back to his place when their make out session in the car begins to escalate.
For once, they’re not rushing. Akaashi raids his mother’s selection of wines, Osamu behind him, holding his hand. “She’s got so many she won’t miss one,” he tells him.
Akaashi says she will notice if they break one of her wine glasses though, so they take it out of mugs until they’re softer around the edges and smiling into kisses.
By the time they finish the bottle, which Akaashi makes Osamu shoulder mostly, Akaashi is getting handsy and giving all the signals that he wants to be touched. Stroking Osamu’s arms and leaning in close when he speaks. When Osamu kisses him he melts into it.
Osamu’s hands dip lower and Akaashi breaks away to promise him, “Tonight, I’m going to take care of you,” reaching for the hem of Osamu’s shirt…
Osamu’s eyes rake slowly over his body, from Osamu’s fingers in his soft hair to the point they’re conjoined, his other hand steering Akaashi’s hips back and forth.
Akaashi leans in to put his arms around him, grinding against him as he rides him, building it up slowly for the two of them.
He hasn’t taped his chest today and he knows Osamu’s staring but he’s too distracted by how good it feels to care. His quads flex as he lifts himself to bounce on it, leaning forward to feel it on his clit as their hips smack against one another.
The view when Akaashi’s bouncing in his lap like this… Osamu can’t help himself. He surges forward and puts Keiji’s tits in his mouth. Hands planted firmly on his waist, snaking up the small of his back, as Osamu sucks his puffy brown nipple.
His teeth catch the little swollen bud, and Akaashi gasps shakily, throwing his head back.
He continues to fuck himself, his tiny tits bouncing on Osamu’s face, soft flesh rubbing against his scruffy cheeks. Osamu groans into him, squeezing the one he can’t fit in his mouth.
He sucks and licks, holds his open mouth against Keiji’s tits as they bounce like he wants to be smothered by them.
Akaashi sounds shattered. “I’m gonna cum, you’re making me cum!”
Osamu squeezes his tits hard, groaning against him. Akaashi shouts through his orgasm.
He pants as he comes down, tits still dangling over Osamu’s face. Osamu arches up to kiss him and Akaashi complies, whining into his mouth softly. He’s sitting on Osamu’s cock still, the two of them unwilling to move even as Osamu gets softer inside him.
“Did you like that?” Osamu asks sometime afterwards, when Akaashi’s softly kissing his neck, running his fingers through Osamu’s dark hair.
“Yes, I did.”
“You’re my dream boy, Keiji.”
Akaashi’s heart flutters in his chest.
“You should let me spoil you more often,” Akaashi tells him.
“I’m spoiled enough to be able to hold you like this.”
Akaashi’s cheeks heat. He gets butterflies. Osamu tends to have that effect on him.
“Samu, was it a date today?”
“Would you like it to be?”
Akaashi nods against the crook of his neck. “I’d like to go on another one soon.”
Osamu’s nose nudges against his cheek and Akaashi pulls away to look at him. Akaashi smiles into the kiss Osamu gives him.
The thing is it becomes much harder to plan actual outings once Akaashi’s mother gets back. She is working at the same hours Osamu is, and she’s taking calls constantly even at home.
But he manages to start seeing Osamu at least twice a week anyway, leaving his house around ten at night. On the days he gets caught sneaking out, Akaashi just tells his mom he’s going to Sakusa’s.
They have to be quiet because Osamu has roommates. But they fuck filthy anyway, just with Osamu’s fingers in Keiji’s mouth. The bed knocks against the thin plywood wall and creaks with every thrust of their bodies, and somehow still they’re convinced they can get away with it.
Akaashi comes to realize he loves doing it in Osamu’s bed. He likes that it’s louder than his and that it smells like Osamu’s cologne. He likes that it’s smaller so Osamu has to cuddle up closer to him after.
He likes to be Osamu’s big spoon and grope his tits from behind. He likes to press his own soft tits against Osamu’s back, which always runs so warm it’s almost feverish. Akaashi loves to hold him.
They’re in a similar position when Osamu asks softly, “Are you sure you can’t stay?”
That’s all the persuasion it takes. “Okay, I’ll stay,” Akaashi promises, scooching up closer to him. He can just tell his mother he fell asleep in the morning. “Let me just set an alarm.”
They stay up for most of the night. They talk and laugh, and they kiss between topics. Akaashi climbs into his lap and lets Osamu get as handsy as he wants, and they make out slowly for what feels like hours, passing the time until the laundry finishes, so they can finally go to bed on fresh sheets. They break apart with little giggles or sighs when Akaashi moves to kiss Osamu’s neck, or when Osamu just breaks apart to look in Keiji’s eyes and tell him, “so pretty,” with so much sincerity in that gorgeous deep rasp of his that Keiji blushes.
Akaashi is beyond obsessed with him.
He takes his mother’s Range Rover because it’s quieter than the Porsche he received for his birthday, and drives to Osamu’s place every night that he can get away. Even on Sundays where Osamu brings him to orgasm twice thinking it’ll keep him satiated, Akaashi will send him a barely clothed photo and ask if Osamu’s roommates have gone to sleep like clockwork.
If he’s not going to bed after sex with Osamu, he’s touching himself and sending Osamu videos and voice notes. Every fucking night. He’s insatiable when it comes to Osamu.
They’ve gone through three rounds already. Three times Osamu’s emptied his balls in Keiji’s cunt.
His pussy is flushed red, clit fat and flushed. Cum is oozing from him. It’s shining on his thighs, and it’s in the dark curls framing his pussy. The sheets beneath him are soaked too, and Akaashi has his fingers buried to the knuckle inside himself. Absentmindedly playing with Osamu’s cum in his pussy.
“Don’t I look pretty like this?” Akaashi reaches for him with his free hand. “All yours?”
Osamu loves to watch him touch himself. Watching undistracted as the pleasure wracks through his body, whining for Osamu to fuck him when it’s no longer enough and he wants to cum.
He’s wearing one of Osamu’s t-shirts, and his thin fingers pull it up his torso for Osamu to see properly.
Akaashi says these things that drive him crazy when he gets into a headspace like this.
“I’m your cumslut, Samu. I’m your pretty baby doll,” Akaashi tells him, watching Osamu’s breath hitch. “Don’t stop tonight,” he makes Osamu promise, arching up to ride his own fingers. “I don’t want you to stop.”
In any case, when he’s not at Osamu’s on one of his late night escapes, he still has weekly poolside appointments with Osamu.
Last week his mother was at home. Her weekly brunch had been canceled because the girls were on a weekend trip in Seoul, which Keiji’s chronic workaholic mother had passed on. So this week, the two of them are a little frantic, to say the least.
Osamu’s on top of them on the poolbed and they’ve been kissing so rough and for so long, Akaashi’s lips are tingling.
“You’re so hot, Samu,” he moans, meaning it profusely.
Osamu looks down and realizes Akaashi’s got his hand shoved beneath his panties, touching his own clit as they make out. Foggy brained and panting, curls plastered to his sticky forehead.
Watching Osamu work turns him on that much. The smell of Osamu’s sweat, and the sheen of it on his thick muscled limbs, wrapped around Akaashi’s body as Osamu kisses him so hard his lips feel bruised.
“I’m so wet for you, Samu, please,” he whispers.
“Can I taste you?” Osamu asks, voice tepid and warm. “Let me taste your pretty pussy, babe.”
Akaashi pushes his head down, shoving him in the direction of the heat throbbing between his legs, whimpering needily.
He watches Osamu’s eyes glint when he’s pulling the thin strap of his thong to the side, whimpering in sheer anticipation. Osamu puts his mouth over his pussy and instantly Akaashi cries out.
“Osamu!”
He breaks away to spit on his clit, tastes him once more with a lap of his tongue and tells him, “So sweet, baby.”
His breath is warm against his throbbing pussy.
Akaashi lets out a gasp that turns into a soft cry of pleasure when Osamu spreads him to the air, tongue diving between his slick folds to fuck his entrance. Keiji’s so loose he just flutters around him. Osamu makes out with his pussy, feeling him get wetter and wetter, oozing slick all over his mouth and scruffy chin.
The sounds make Akaashi crazy. Osamu sucking and slurping, swallowing down mouthfuls of the juices leaking from him between quiet groans. Between his legs he’s a picture of bliss, eyebrows tipped inwards in concentration, dark lashes flayed out against his cheeks.
His hips buck upwards, desperately trying to ride his tongue. Osamu obeys, holds his mouth open and lets Keiji hump his clit on his tongue best he can until it’s not enough and his thighs are shaking—
“Please,” he gasps. “Samu, please.”
Osamu sucks his clit, hard, and that’s it, that’s all he needs– until Osamu’s thumb comes up to stroke his slit.
When he comes, Akaashi squirts through it without warning, and it lands on Osamu’s chin, his cheeks. Osamu flinches at first, not expecting it, but then his tongue lolls out to taste it, catching spurts of it on his tongue. Akaashi’s cheeks heat as he whimpers against the pool bed, panting hard.
“Damn…” Osamu wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Makes a show out of it as though to tease.
Akaashi lets out a soft sound of embarrassment.
“Fuck me,” he gasps, mostly out of retaliation. He doesn’t want Osamu to think that’s all he can take. “Get me off again— Samu, again…”
He can’t get enough. Osamu can make him cum over and over again on his tongue and still Keiji will beg for his cock. Osamu climbs over him and lines himself up, Keiji still dizzy and breathless.
He’s filled with such a visceral need to have Osamu inside him, to be fucked until his brain breaks, every other thought dissipates. He doesn’t care who sees or hears him. He doesn’t care if it hurts because they rush through prep. Osamu brings out this animal part of him that can only be satiated like this, when Osamu’s indulging him with a lust that runs equally as deep.
No matter how many times they do this, Keiji isn’t used to the way Osamu stretches him out when he pushes in for the first time.
“Fuck…”
They hold still for a moment, Akaashi holding Osamu close to him with hands cupping his jaw. Osamu’s grip on his thighs is tight. They’re nose to nose, eyes fluttering as they both pant to catch their breath, savoring the feeling of Keiji’s pussy clenching as his body tries to get used to him inside. When he starts to move, Akaashi sees stars.
“I missed you, Keiji,” he practically sighs against Akaashi’s mouth. Akaashi whimpers as he goes on. “I missed your body. Missed making you moan for me.” He thrusts in again, particularly hard this time.
“I missed this tight, hot pussy.”
Akaashi gasps out a moan, throwing his head back. Osamu immediately suckles on his throat, now spread out in front of him, slowly quickening his rhythm. Akaashi is trembling already, letting Osamu support his weight, and he doesn’t stop as Osamu starts to fuck him. The pace Osamu sets for them is mean, driven on using Akaashi like a hole to get off, and it’s exactly what Akaashi needs. What he’s longed for all week.
The sounds of his pussy get louder and wetter. Akaashi’s hands scramble at the wide space between his shoulder blades, moaning wetly. Osamu calls him his slut and Akaashi nods yes, tells him he’s his good boy and he can take more, guiding Osamu’s hands up to squeeze his chest.
“Osamu, do I feel good?”
The question comes out like a purr, syrupy sweet. The way Keiji says his name drives him crazy.
“Feels so good, baby, you always do,” Osamu says. “So fucking wet.” Akaashi moans as Osamu thrusts, splitting his soft insides to stuff him full. Fuck, Akaashi loves this. “You’re gorgeous like this. Prettiest when you’re taking my cock, I’d fuck you all day if I could.”
“Nobody’s ever fucked me like you do,” he says, and it comes out like a sigh.
“Yeah? Made this pussy mine?”
“It’s all yours, daddy.” Akaashi runs his free hand up the thin hair on Osamu’s abs. “My pussy’s yours.”
Osamu fucks like he’s making love to him, slow and oh so deep, claiming him in the filthiest way that he can. It’s unlike the way they usually do things – not quite sweet but halfway there. Akaashi didn’t know it could feel so good, to be fucked with this much care for his pleasure before anything else.
Osamu only stutters with that gorgeous rhythm when Akaashi cums, his thighs trembling at either side of Osamu’s torso. His pussy squeezes to him and Osamu bites down on his neck to keep his moans inside.
“Come with me,” Akaashi says. He’s panting, wet and soft-lipped. “Osamu, fill me up. Wanna feel you.”
Three shaky thrusts and Akaashi’s pretty voice in his ear and Osamu’s coming with a soft groan, “Mine,” against Keiji’s neck.
If words could tattoo Keiji would have a permanent mark.
Today in particular, they’re extra clingy afterwards. Osamu has to get change from his truck for the service charge (the pool service), and Keiji follows him all the way outside.
Osamu climbs into the driver’s seat, pulling out a wad of cash to start counting, but as Akaashi goes to sit in the passenger seat, he finds it’s covered in envelopes. Osamu must’ve finally emptied his mailbox.
“Shit, sorry,” Osamu says, when he notices the mess. “You can just toss all that in the glove compartment.”
So Akaashi scoops them up and slides in, doing as he’s told. The glove compartment is full, with the registration and manual. A strip of condoms and a little tube of lube. A ziploc of weed with a couple small joints inside.
It’s as Osamu is organizing his things to make room for the papers that Keiji takes a glance at one particular envelope properly.
“Kyoto?”
“Yeah, baby.” Osamu’s eyes are soft. “I committed months ago,” he says gently, like Akaashi has forgotten something he shouldn’t have.
“What happened to Todai? Or Waseda— I thought you liked Waseda.”
Osamu offers a sad smile. “I didn’t get the aid I needed.”
Akaashi’s eyes are instantly stinging.
“Keiji…” he says sympathetically, looking slightly alarmed by the sight of Keiji’s unshed tears. “It’s okay. It’s closer to home and I’m gonna be able to play volleyball again. I’m happy with it.”
“But what about us?”
Osamu’s eyes widen.
“I just thought—” Akaashi’s voice is shaky. “I’m just wishing I had given more thought to a future with you. I didn’t realize— I’d always assumed you’d be around.”
Osamu has the uncomfortable expression of someone who struggles with comforting people in emotional distress.
Akaashi makes up his mind quickly. “I’ll take the train to see you every weekend,” he says. “Or I can send the driver for you.”
Osamu cracks a smile, tipping his head back against the headrest. “Your mom isn’t gonna like that. You’re gonna have to come clean to her.”
“If it bothers her that much, she can ship me off to one of the apartments in Kyoto.” He’s being dramatic, but in the moment he is a hundred percent serious. “We could live together.”
Osamu turns to grin at him. “You gonna run away with me, Akaashi Keiji?”
“Yes,” he replies, nearly forcefully.
No hesitation at all. He needs his Osamu.
Osamu leans over the center console to kiss him. It’s different from all the other kisses they’ve shared before, and it makes Akaashi shiver like it’s their first.
“I wanna be with you,” Keiji tells him, stroking his face gently.
“Me too, Keiji.” Osamu’s cheeks are colored pink. Sweetheart as he is, Osamu offers innocently, “If you want, we could talk to your mom together.”
Akaashi smiles. If his mother has a chance to confront Osamu in person, the situation may get stickier. But Osamu doesn’t need to know all that.
So Akaashi tells him, “You let me handle things with my mother. In the meantime…” He kisses Osamu softly. “When can I see you again?”