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Atsumu thinks it’s a dream until Tobio’s nails dig into the side of his waist hard enough to leave bruises. It can’t be a dream after that— the pain surely would have woken him up. He still can’t believe it, though. Can’t believe the sight of Tobio on his knees in front of him, rolling his pants down, tonguing at Atsumu’s stiffening cock through the fabric of his underwear. This is what Atsumu has been dreaming about since he was eighteen and realized that the ache in his chest, so acidic it made him nauseous, wasn’t jealousy. This is what Atsumu has been suppressing for years, ever since he received the engagement party invite in the mail.
But here he is, in Tobio’s Italian apartment, bare chested and about to be fully naked, pressed up against a wall in the living room, about to have sex with a married man and not being able to stop. Not wanting to stop. He’d have to be a much better person to put an end to this before it began. But he’s just Miya Atsumu: selfish through and through.
Tobio’s licks are small, kitten-like. Enough pressure for the blood in Atsumu’s body to flow downwards. The fabric around his crotch dampens, half from Tobio’s tongue, half from the precum leaking out. Tobio gives one long lick and then rests his cheek against Atsumu’s clothed dick. Looks up through his long eyelashes, arousal making his pupils so dilated that his eyes look completely black. Atsumu lets out a whimper. Oh god.
“Can I blow you?” Tobio asks, leaving his mouth open, darting his tongue out to wet his bottom lip.
“Uh,” Atsumu mutters. Yes yes yes, his brain yells at him, but his mind is static, the formation of words a struggle against the white noise. All he can think about is how plump Tobio’s lips look, how hard he’s becoming, how good Tobio is going to be at head because he’s a hot married man who probably has a lot of sex with his equally as hot hus— “Please,” he manages to blurt.
Tobio nods and smirks. Atsumu’s not used to seeing Tobio’s confidence aimed towards himself. If he wasn’t already so hard, the look alone would make Atsumu drag Tobio to the nearest empty room.
Tobio drags his nails down Atsumu’s skin, looping through the band of his underwear and pulling them off him, slow and steady. Atsumu’s cock bounces out of his underwear and Atsumu takes in a short inhale as the room’s cold air stings. One of Tobio’s hands wraps around the base of Atsumu’s cock, the other going to squeeze at the head and slowly work his way down the shaft. Tobio’s hands are large and strong, his hold firm and already driving Atsumu to the edge. Tobio strokes him once, twice, thrice before pressing his lips to the head of Atsumu’s cock and laying a sloppy kiss. Tobio kisses down the shaft, leaving his cheek pressed up against Atsumu’s cock, precum smearing across the side of his face.
You’re such a tease, Atsumu would say if he could find the words. Instead, he winds his hands into Tobio’s hair and tugs him off.
“Hm?” Tobio asks. “Do you want something else?” There’s mirth in the upwards tilt of his smile, in the crinkle of his eyes. “Do you not like what I’m doing?”
“You’re a brat,” Atsumu says. It takes him two tries to say it, the first time his throat turns the words into a cough. Who taught you to act like this? he doesn’t ask, because he knows exactly which bratty personality has rubbed off on him and god he really shouldn’t be thinking of Oikawa when Oikawa’s husband is giving him a blowjob.
Tobio laughs and finally, oh god finally, takes Atsumu into his mouth properly. Tobio sucks along his length and Atsumu’s knees weaken. Tobio moves with purpose, his tongue running against the bottom of Atsumu’s cock and finding the thick vein there, pressing up against it again and again. His hands work on the places his mouth doesn’t reach. The base of Atsumu’s stomach tightens in arousal. Tobio leans away, licks a circle around the head, and then dives back, this time taking the length of Atsumu’s cock in one go.
Atsumu moans and hopes to god the walls are thick because he can’t help all the sounds he’s making. Tobio swallows around him, his throat and mouth constricting and the pressure is so perfect, so blissfully overwhelming, that Atsumu almost loses himself. Instead, he takes a steadying breath and then Tobio swallows again— oh god— and mercifully peels himself away. There’s tears forming in the edges of his eyes and god, Atsumu is not going to be able to do it now, but next time (Will there be a next time?) Atsumu wants to fuck Tobio’s mouth, wants his hands buried in Tobio’s hair and wants to fuck his mouth until he cries, wants to fuck his mouth until he spills down Tobio’s throat, wants to choke Tobio with his cock while he begs for all of that and more.
Tobio only takes a second to catch his breath and then he’s back on Atsumu’s cock, his tongue slowly and firmly swirling around the tip and one hand working its way up and down the shaft. The other hand reaches for Atsumu’s hip and works its way backwards until Tobio has his hand wrapped around one of Atsumu’s buttocks. Tobio kneads at it, the pressure nearly painful. Atsumu’s focus slips: there are too many things happening at once, Tobio’s hand on his backside, Tobio’s mouth sloppily sucking away at his cock, Tobio’s other hand cradling around his balls and then there’s the noises: Atsumu’s own breaths coming out in short, whiny huffs. Tobio’s moans falling out of his mouth, the noise stifled by his full mouth. The wet slide of Tobio’s hands against his length. The obscene sounds of Tobio slurping away with a single-minded focus. It’s too much. It’s all too much. His orgasm hits suddenly, the pressure hitting a maximum and then his entire body tenses as the orgasm rolls through him. He barely has enough time to push Tobio off of his cock before he’s cumming. But Tobio resists, keeping Atsumu in his mouth as Atsumu releases, Tobio’s hand working its way through the wave of pleasure. Atsumu gives him another push away and finally, Tobio pulls away. The last bit of his cum paints Tobio’s face, long, thick strips of it running across his eyebrow, his eyelashes, the high curve of his cheekbone.
Atsumu’s heartbeat is loud in his ears. He can feel drops of sweat dripping down the backs of his legs. Atsumu shudders and then his legs finally do give up on him. He slides down the wall onto the floor. His bare butt hits the cold wood floor and it’s really not comfortable, but Atsumu doesn’t care about that. He and Tobio are eye-level and Tobio stares at him, wide-eyed, face striped in Atsumu’s cum, disbelief making all of his facial features rounder.
Reality comes crashing down in a guilt so deep that Atsumu feels sick. Atsumu opens his mouth to say something (I’m sorry or This was a mistake or anything to assuage the shitty feeling of regret) but nothing comes out. Tobio wipes at his face and only manages to smear the cum around, not actually get anything off of him. He looks wrecked with his mused hair, his swollen lips, his cum-painted face. Atsumu hates himself for it, but he loves Tobio looking like this, Tobio looking like his. He wants so desperately for this to be his life, for him and Tobio to do this again and again and again. But he knows that’s not how this life is going to work out, that despite whatever is going on tonight is going to end after tonight— has to end after tonight— so instead he stares at Tobio and commits the image to memory. Atsumu will take what he can get. The world goes quiet; the adrenaline, the guilt, the post-coital bliss all mixing together to make blood rush into his ears and block everything out.
“Atsumu,” Tobio says and god, Atsumu snaps back to the present at the mere sound of Tobio’s wrecked voice. He shuffles a bit and Atsumu realizes that Tobio hasn’t even come yet, that Tobio is still fully clothed and hard. “Can I kiss you?”
Atsumu nods and then Tobio is kissing him, his lips soft and warm and already spit-slick. His tongue probes at the seam of his mouth and Atsumu gladly opens his mouth, their tongues sliding together. Tobio tastes salty. He tastes like Atsumu and Atsumu has never liked kissing someone after they go down on him, but for Tobio? Atsumu will kiss Tobio any chance he gets. Tobio puts one hand against the wall, partially boxing him in. The other hand comes to rest on the side of his face. Tobio sucks on Atsumu’s tongue and then pulls away to press hot, open kisses across the side of Atsumu's face and down to his neck. Atsumu’s arms wrap around Tobio’s neck, a hand burying itself in Tobio’s hair and pushing him closer to his neck, encouraging Tobio’s kisses, licks, bites. Tobio sucks one, two hickies into the tender spot where his neck meets his collarbone.
Atsumu’s hand sneaks under Tobio’s shirt, fingernails lightly scratching down Tobio’s stomach again and again, each time getting closer to his waistband. Tobio kisses his way back to Atsumu’s mouth, licking into his mouth, the kisses open-mouthed and filthy. Tobio pulls away slightly and leans his forehead against Atsumu’s. Tobio’s breath is hot as it fans over Atsumu’s face. “Bed,” Tobio says. “Let’s go.” Tobio kisses him and then stands the both of them up and then kisses him again and again. They sloppily make their way halfway out of the living room, kissing the entire time, before Atsumu stops them, a cold dread flooding his body. Atsumu can’t have sex on Tobio’s and Oikawa’s bed. Their shared bed. Their marital bed. Sure Oikawa spends the majority of his year in Argentina, but that’s still their bed, Oikawa’s bed. He’s not going to lay himself on sheets Oikawa has laid on. He’s not going to fuck Tobio on a bed he fucks his husband on.
“Couch,” Atsumu says when Tobio tilts his head to the side and puzzles his eyebrows together. “It’s closer.”
“Our bed’s bigger than the couch,” Tobio counters. Our. Yeah, Atsumu is not having sex with Tobio on their bed.
“Closer,” Atsumu argues and then he overwhelms Tobio with a kiss, leading them towards the couch and when they’re close enough, pushing Tobio onto it and climbing on top of him. They makeout for a long while, the kisses becoming less coordinated and more an excuse to put their mouths on each other. They kiss so long that Atsumu’s lips start to ache. It’s humiliating that Tobio is still fully clothed, but it gives Atsumu can excuse to do what he’s always wanted and strip Tobio and Tobio lets himself be manhandled, lets Atsumu position them so Tobio is laying flat on his couch, his legs dangling over the edge (The couch really isn’t big enough for two professional volleyball players, so really who knows why they bought the couch in the first place), lets Atsumu brace himself on top of him, lets Atsumu press their cocks flush against each other, lets Atsumu spit into his hand and take both of them into his grip and jerk them off together.
Atsumu starts slow, the pressure gentle. But the restraint doesn’t last more than a singular minute. Tobio is panting into his ear, his breath hot and heavy. He’s telling Atsumu more, more with every breath, with every whine. With every flick of his wrist Tobio is shuddering, whimpering. He’s so receptive that all Atsumu can focus on is drawing these reactions out, at making sure that every one of his actions is bringing Tobio closer to his climax.
Atsumu comes first. He doesn’t mean too— he wants to make this great for Tobio— but he feels his stomach clench and his toes curl and then his grip on both of their cocks tightens as Atsumu releases across Tobio’s chest. He feels his entire body pulsate, the sensation starting in the center of his body and fanning out in an overwhelming wave of pleasure, so strong that it borders on painful. It takes three more strokes before Tobio is cumming too. Atsumu milks him through it, until Atsumu himself is too sensitive for anything more. Atsumu can feel his limbs becoming jelly, but he fights against the urge to collapse onto Tobio and instead grabs his discarded shirt from the floor to clean up the cum from Tobio’s stomach.
Tobio grabs his hand, stopping Atsumu mid-motion. “Leave it,” Tobio says. “I like it.”
Atsumu would argue— he finds the idea of laying on top of a pile of their cum relatively disgusting, but Tobio’s sweaty and his bangs are pressed to his forehead with sweat, and Atsumu thinks he would do anything Tobio asked in the moment. “We’ll just wash it off in the shower in a bit,” Tobio says. Atsumu drops the shirt and lays down on Tobio’s chest. Tobio’s hand wraps around his back, rubbing small circles. Between the two orgasms, the soothing back scratches, the fact that Atsumu’s ear is pressed right up Tobio’s heart and he can hear every beat, Atsumu could fall asleep. But he wants to savor this moment for as long as he can, he wants to make sure he’ll remember every bit of it, because this can only happen once. Atsumu tilts his head upwards so he can look at Tobio’s face. His jawline is crisp, the side of his neck littered in shallow love bites, nothing that won’t fade within the next day. His eyes are closed, his eyelashes long and beautiful and somewhat crusted over with Atsumu’s cum. It’s disgusting, but also so endearing that Tobio apparently likes Atsumu’s cum on his body, that he wants to keep it there for as long as he can. Atsumu’s eyes crawl all over Tobio’s face, taking in the slope of his nose, the slight downturn of his mouth when he’s relaxed, the delicate necklace that holds a ring close to his chest.
Oh. That’s his wedding ring.
There’s no coming back from this. He’s slept with Tobio, who’s been married for two whole years. He’s always wanted this— he’s always wanted Tobio’s eyes on him, Tobio’s dick in his hands, Tobio breathing hot into his ear, moaning, as he came from Atsumu’s touch. This is what Atsumu has wanted, but he would be lying to say that this is enough. He wants Tobio. He wants Tobio to love him the same way that Atsumu has loved him since he was a teenager, deeply, without abandon, solely. And Atsumu knows that despite Tobio coming onto him first, despite the sex, Tobio loves his husband. There’s no world where Tobio leaves Oikawa for him.
But he can be wishful, even if he knows it’s only going to end with Atsumu even more heartsick than before. The idea of having Tobio as he truly wants him is a delusion he wholly throws himself into. He can pretend that this night won’t ever end, that he will always fall asleep on Tobio’s chest with Tobio holding him close. Atsumu doesn’t know if tonight’s actions will replay out as a horrifying nightmare or a wet dream, but sleep finds him regardless.