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The hotel’s air conditioning is a godsend.
Bokuto stands in the entrance to the lobby for a solid ten seconds, just appreciating the cool ventilation before Akaashi tugs him forward, muttering under his breath, “You’re blocking people, Bokuto, get moving.”
Bokuto begrudgingly follows, letting his friend drag him by his arm like a dog on a leash. His feet drag on the plush carpeting of the hallways, legs feeling like jelly. He has his jacket in his other hand and he lets the black and white article drag along the floor as well. He doesn’t have the energy to lift it off the ground.
Fukurodani had just played a brutal game against Nekoma, thankfully coming out as the victors, but the cats had given them a run for their money. And a brutal workout for Bokuto’s muscles.
“Hey, you two.” Bokuto focuses as he hears Konoha approach. “We’re all thinking about going out to explore the city a little. First time in Nagoya and all. You guys in?”
“Sure,” Akaashi responds, not sounding particularly excited nor disinterested.
“I would,” Bokuto bemoans, “But I’m beat. I barely think I can make it to my room. My legs feel like they’re about to fall off.”
Konoha arches an eyebrow, unimpressed at Bokuto’s dramatics. “Alright then,” he says and then turns back to Akaashi. “You still coming?”
Akaashi shrugs one of his shoulders. “Yeah. Got nothing else to do.”
“Don’t have too much fun without me!” Bokuto calls as he watches them walk back towards the hotel entrance, where some of his teammates are congregating. Akaashi waves at him as they leave.
Groaning at the fact he’d now have to walk himself to his room, he trudges towards the elevators, jacket in tow. There’s no way in hell he’s taking the stairs. He’d probably collapse on the first flight. Not to mention he’d have to climb seven stories. There’s absolutely no way he’s doing that.
Finally, after about fifty long and grueling steps, he reaches the elevators. There’s two people already waiting. One being an elderly woman with gray hair and a slight hunch in her back and the other a familiar volleyball captain clad in red.
“Howdy,” Bokuto greets as he stands next to Kuroo, shifting from one foot to the next to relieve some of the soreness from his feet. He bunches his jacket into a ball and holds it against his stomach.
One side of Kuroo’s mouth crooks upwards at Bokuto. “Hey,” he replies. His gaze drifts down to Bokuto’s fidgeting. “You good, man?”
“Yeah, just sore, you know? Hell of a game.” If it had been anyone else, Bokuto would’ve rather taken the stairs than admit another team wore him out, but he doesn’t mind with Kuroo. For whatever reason.
The elevator dings and the silver doors slide open. The old lady enters first, taking the front corner by the floor buttons. Bokuto and Kuroo take the space in the back, each in one corner.
“What level are you gentlemen on?” the lady asks after she’s pressed #2.
“Seven,” they respond at the same time. They exchange a surprised glance. Bokuto chuckles a little. How funny that they’re floormates. Why it’s funny, he’s not sure, but it draws a laugh out of him nonetheless.
Kuroo smiles slightly before turning his attention forward, at the elevator doors sliding closed. The lift lurches faintly before the gears start to whir and Bokuto feels them start to rise from the ground floor.
Maybe five seconds later, they’re stopping, a little Ding ringing around the small space to signal they’ve arrived at a new floor. The elevator doors open and the old lady departs.
There’s someone outside of the lift waiting. Bokuto stares at him expectantly but he points to the ground, signifying he wants to go down. The guy’s young and looks in good health, so Bokuto’s confused why he doesn’t just take the stairs and spare them this uncomfortability of waiting for the doors to shut again.
Kuroo clears his throat. “Good game today,” he says, most likely to dispel the awkwardness hanging in the air.
“Thanks.” Bokuto turns his head to look at Kuroo fully. He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want to continue looking at the dude still staring into their elevator and not because of the sharp jawline he’s now admiring. “You too.”
Kuroo nods slowly. “That last point you scored was sick. You gotta practice against me so I know how to block it for next time.”
Bokuto snorts. “In your dreams, man. There’s no way I’m teaching you how to beat me.”
Now Kuroo’s meeting his eyes, turning his chin so they’re looking right at each other. “What? Scared?”
Bokuto knows the other captain’s trying to get a rise out of him, but he grins all the same, baring his teeth in what he hopes to be a confident display. “Course not,” he says. “But a magician never shares his secrets.”
“You’re not a magician, though. No matter how much you claim your spikes are superhuman.” Kuroo wiggles his fingers to imitate something spooky-adjacent. It’s most definitely being used to mock him.
Bokuto squawks indignantly. “It’s the principle,” he asserts.
“Oh, the principle, huh?” Kuroo laughs, sharp canines glinting in the bright lighting of the elevator. “What do you know about principle, Bokuto? Do you even know what that word means?”
He does actually. Akaashi had actually taught it to him a couple days ago when he’d heard someone else use it and got confused since the school dean was most definitely not around. “Yes, I do,” he tells Kuroo, twisting his body to straighten out his neck so he’s completely facing the Nekoma captain.
“Really?” Kuroo copies the movement so he too has his body pointed towards Bokuto. “Why don’t you tell me what it means?”
“Want a vocab lesson, do you? If you’re asking for a tutor, I’d be happy to help you.”
“What a generous offer,” Kuroo drawls wryly.
“Well, I am quite a generous person,” Bokuto responds with, taking a step forward. “I can help you in many areas. Vocab, chemistry, human anatomy.”
Something alights in Kuroo’s eyes and a sly smile spreads across his face. The guy outside of the elevator coughs loudly and intentionally.
Bokuto’s eyes dart towards the sound. He had completely forgotten that guy was still there. Jeez, when is the damn elevator closing? Bokuto thinks, averting his eyes to the wall opposite of Kuroo, turning his head almost all the way around like an owl would.
As if the machine can hear his thoughts, the cogs start to move and the doors slide shut, creating a much needed barrier between them and that dude. Bokuto breathes a chuckle, leaning back against the elevator wall as he feels the elevator begin to ascend to the third floor.
He spares a glance over to Kuroo. The other captain’s already looking back. Bokuto lets himself look for another moment and then he’s dropping his jacket to the floor and closing the distance between them, hands weaving into dark hair, tugging Kuroo’s head slightly down to account for the small height difference between them.
Kuroo’s lips are soft and so familiar. Bokuto tilts his head to the side, letting their mouths push harder together, getting as close to Kuroo as he possibly can.
And Kuroo pushes back with the same intensity, arms looping around Bokuto’s neck and hands scabbling at his back. He gasps lightly against Bokuto, the reaction causing his unusually long canines to scratch the other captain’s bottom lip.
But, Bokuto doesn’t mind. They’ve done this so many times that Bokuto has come to expect and even look forward to the sharp pricks of his dentitions against his sensitive flesh.
Kuroo’s back hits the elevator wall and Bokuto pins him there, chests flush to each other. Bokuto’s hands skim his sides, finding their way under his unzipped Nekoma jacket and letting his fingers run over the outline of Kuroo’s ribcage and then down to the firm obliques hidden under his jersey.
Bokuto feels deft fingers scratch against his scalp, one of Kuroo’s hands embedding into his hair while the other one pushes at his jaw, forcing his head to lean more sideways so Kuroo can deepen the kiss.
A mischievous tongue flicks out from behind Kuroo’s lips, just barely teasing the seam of Bokuto’s mouth. The hand in his silver hair tightens, pulling him closer and harder against Kuroo.
Bokuto flicks his tongue over Kuroo’s lips questioningly. In response, the latter’s jaw drops and lets Bokuto inside. Which Bokuto takes full advantage of. He licks his way eagerly into the other’s mouth, hands squeezing a firm waist and tongue catching on pointy teeth.
Kuroo practically purrs, living up to his team’s emblem. Bokuto feels the hand in his hair loosen and slide down his neck before plunging underneath the back of his collar to run across the top bumps of his spine. The skin on skin contact makes him shiver and push himself harder against Kuroo.
At this point, their mouths are going to be bruised and swollen when they separate.
Ding.
They’ve reached the third floor but their mouths don’t stop moving. Maybe they should, since the lift could lurch to a stop and open to an unsuspecting guest.
But, Bokuto tells himself that they could most definitely separate and appear normal before the door opens. Just two volleyball players coming back from a tough match. He tells himself that as he slips one of his hands under Kuroo’s jersey.
He feels the ridges of abdominal muscles under his fingertips. He feels the goosebumps that appear on Kuroo’s skin as he trails his hand higher, up to his navel, across to the dip of his waist.
Kuroo gasps Bokuto’s name as he pitches forward, fingers scrabbling lightly at his back. Bokuto smiles against Kuroo’s mouth, which is still moving fast and hurried.
He’s always like this, acting like they’ll never have the chance to be alone again, like he’s trying to get as many kisses as he can before they go their separate ways. Sometimes, Bokuto thinks Kuroo’s trying to kiss his mouth right off his face. But, Bokuto finds it endearing. He likes to believe it’s because Kuroo thinks he’s such a great kisser.
There’s a tingly feeling low in Bokuto’s gut. It’s hot, and it licks at his nerves, setting his stomach on fire. It mirrors the flush creeping up his neck, crawling past his collar and up to his face.
Bokuto retracts the hand that had been idly resting atop Kuroo’s jersey from inside the red jacket. He brings it up to Kuroo’s neck and then up to the hinge of his jaw, splaying out his fingers to pull his face down more and to pry his mouth wider, in order to allow Bokuto to push his tongue farther down his throat.
Bokuto wouldn’t count this as romantic, exactly, with their sloppy make out and the strings of saliva connecting their lips when they briefly break apart. Bokuto wouldn’t exactly deem this as mushy gushy romcom material, but still…
The soft caresses of Kuroo’s fingers against his cheek as he holds his face with one hand and the way he pushes lightly at the knots in Bokuto’s back with his other one is romantic in its own way.
And the soft manner in which Bokuto runs his own fingers across Kuroo’s skin, cautious of any bruises that he may be sporting under his jersey or the delicate way he strokes the hinge of Kuroo’s jaw, a spot he knows Kuroo likes when he touches.
Simple things like those convey what they can’t say out loud. Feelings they wish they could put into words, but what they find easier to express through the gentle brushes of their fingertips.
“Tetsurou,” Bokuto breathes out, his lips moving against the other’s as he speaks. He pulls back slightly, eyes just opening enough to clearly see Kuroo’s face.
Kuroo’s eyes blink open as well. He looks a little dazed and debauched, bedhead mussed even worse than what it usually is and brown eyes slightly glossed over. His face is a little red from the flush seeping through his skin. Bokuto thinks he looks pretty.
“What are you staring at?” Kuroo murmurs, ducking his chin under Bokuto’s scrutiny.
“You,” Bokuto answers truthfully. He lightly strokes Kuroo’s cheek. In turn, Kuroo leans his face into Bokuto’s hand.
“Why?” he asks, a smile spreading across his face. It makes Bokuto’s stomach flutter for a different reason than the heated display of passion they’d been exhibiting a few seconds prior.
“Because you’re funny looking.”
Ding.
The fourth floor. The elevator slightly catches but doesn’t stop as it continues to ascend. For once, Bokuto’s grateful for how slow these gears are turning. Usually, he’s huffing with annoyance about how it takes what feels like hours to reach his floor, but now he wants the cogs to slow down more. To stretch out this moment until it’s pulled so taut it might snap.
“Funny looking?” Kuroo repeats, scrunching his nose in an indignant pout. “How am I funny looking?” And quieter he adds, “I think I’m quite good looking.”
The hand of Bokuto’s that had been stuffed under Kuroo’s jersey to rest on Kuroo’s waist slides back to fit onto the small of his back. Bokuto pulls him forward, off the lift wall and closer to him, so their feet intertwine and their noses brush together.
“Maybe you’re both,” he says. “Funny looking and good looking.”
Kuroo sandwiches Bokuto’s face between both of his palms. He closes the distance between their lips and kisses him softly. It’s chaste, just a quick peck. It takes Bokuto a little off guard. It’s unlike Kuroo to be so gentle with his mouth.
“Is that your idea of flirting?” the Nekoma captain asks with an upturn of one corner of his mouth.
“It got you to kiss me, didn’t it?”
“I was already kissing you before you said that. Not a very good argument.”
“Then kiss me again. So we can see if you like kissing me because of my irresistible charms or just my handsome face.”
Kuroo chuckles, shaking his head fondly before obeying Bokuto’s wish and placing his lips back on top of Bokuto’s. Within seconds, he’s working hard and fast again, licking into Bokuto’s mouth like his life depends on it.
Bokuto lets himself be backed into the opposite wall of the elevator. Kuroo’s hands are still on either side of his face, smushing into his cheeks as Kuroo’s tongue runs under his teeth.
Bokuto unites his other hand with the one at the the small of Kuroo’s back. All ten of his fingers trace the skin there. He trails his fingers up the bumps of his spine, following the hills and valleys of the vertebrae.
Kuroo shifts forward, pushing every point of his body against Bokuto. He holds onto him with a vice-like grip, almost crushing Bokuto into the wall at his back. Bokuto happily lets him, the heavy weight a welcome suffocation risk.
Their lips separate as Kuroo pulls away slightly. He’s still close enough that his breath fans Bokuto’s face as he pants, winded from the lack of oxygen as he had launched a full force attack on Bokuto’s mouth.
Bokuto, less out of breath, shifts down to Kuroo’s neck, placing small kisses up the column of his throat. Underneath his aroma of sweat, Bokuto can smell the lingering scent of his cologne. It tickles his nose, but it’s also comforting. For some reason unknown to him.
He hears Kuroo sigh contently, relaxing against him. His arms wind loosely around Bokuto’s neck and he angles his head to give Bokuto more access to the skin on the throat.
Bokuto takes full advantage of the gift presented to him. He drags his mouth up a bared tendon, to the sharp cut of Kuroo’s jawline. Following the familiar path to Kuroo’s mouth, Bokuto brushes their lips together again.
He hums happily as Kuroo matches his pace. He slips one of his hands, still resting at the base of the latter’s spine, out from under the red jersey and up to rest on Kuroo’s jaw, fingers sinking into his dark hair.
Ding.
The elevator continues rising past floor five. There’s only one more floor before theirs.
Bokuto peppers light pecks onto Kuroo’s lips, not fully making out again just yet. Kuroo makes a pleased noise at the affection, returning them with similar kisses of his own. Then, Bokuto pushes off the wall, turning them around so Kuroo’s back is flush against the steel.
Kuroo nips at Bokuto’s bottom lip. Again with those dagger-like canines, sparks of electricity ripple through Bokuto’s nerves at the tiny bites. He huffs slightly but doesn’t protest. He actually quite likes Kuroo’s knack for using his teeth.
He feels one of Kuroo’s hands trail from his back to over his shoulder to down to his bicep. His hand just barely spans the width of the muscle, much to Bokuto’s pride. He even feels his chest inflate slightly in boast.
But, that thought is easily forgotten as he’s pulled back to the feeling of Kuroo’s lips against his, kissing and softly biting. There’s a new layer of sweat forming on Bokuto’s skin, one completely unassociated with volleyball. It pricks at his hairline and it makes his palm sweaty.
Ding.
Just like the previous three floors, the elevator continues to ascend past floor six.
Now, Bokuto’s mouth is working just as fast as Kuroo’s. He’s kissing him intensely, prodding his tongue in between Kuroo’s lips.
He feels those deadly dentitions and Kuroo’s own tongue meet his. He can hear their heavy pants and the wet sound of their lips against each other. But, that’s pushed to the back of his mind as well as he once more is completely distracted by Kuroo’s mouth on his. The soft tissue could capture his attention in any scenario. It probably already has.
There’s been times in class that he would prop his head on his fist and reminisce about the last time he had kissed Kuroo. He’d lay on Akaashi’s floor as the latter studied and he’d look at the open textbook in front of him and think about the whiffs of cologne he’d catch when he drags his mouth up from Kuroo’s neck to his lips. He’s even been yelled at a couple of times during warm ups for a match against Nekoma because his coach accused him of not paying attention. He couldn’t even deny it. He hadn’t been paying attention. He’d been too busy thinking about Kuroo’s hums of approval as Bokuto swipes his tongue across the seam of his lips.
Ding.
The elevator comes to a stop and the doors slide open to reveal Kuroo and Bokuto standing at opposite walls, looking anywhere but the other captain.
“Oh. Hey, Kenma,” Kuroo says after a second of silence.
Bokuto glances out of the elevator, at the short Nekoma setter. He’s holding his PSP in front of him, like he’d been playing before the lift arrived, but now his gaze flicks between the two captains in front of him. One of his eyebrows is raised and Bokuto thinks he’s about to say something before he just shakes his head and steps into the elevator with a sigh, turning his attention back to his game.
Bokuto and Kuroo exchange a look over Kenma’s head. A small grin pulls at Kuroo’s kiss-swollen lips and it makes Bokuto’s stomach tingle a little in remembrance of what was happening a few seconds ago.
“Isn’t this your floor?” Kenma suddenly says, not sparing any attention from his game. The sound of his fingers spamming buttons is the only noise that fills the elevator for a couple of seconds before both Kuroo and Bokuto start blabbing and scampering out of the lift.
They turn around after they’ve stepped out, watching as Kenma presses his desired floor button. Kuroo clears his throat. “Where are you off to?” he asks, somewhat awkwardly.
Holding his balled up jacket, Bokuto’s not sure if he should start heading down the hallway towards his room. He wants to exchange a farewell with Kuroo before they go their separate ways, maybe even invite him into his hotel room for the time Akaashi’s gone, but just standing there is making him feel a bit uncomfortable.
Kenma looks up through his eyelashes at them. “I was going to get a snack from the vending machine downstairs and then come back to the room, but now I think I might just stay down there.” His eyes dart over to Bokuto and while his expression doesn’t change, Bokuto feels like he knows what just transpired in that elevator.
Bokuto opens his mouth to say something (he’s not sure what, but he’s sure it would absolutely convince Kenma nothing at all happened between him and Kuroo), but the doors shut before he can.
It’s not like he’s ashamed of his and Kuroo’s relationship, but they haven’t really discussed telling anyone about it, nor have they really discussed what exactly their relationship is.
Making out in elevators and supply closets seems to be all their relationship entails. And the occasional dinner when they’re both free, which averages to about twice a week. And going to the movies probably twice a month. And the hangouts at each other’s houses on the weekends.
Shit, Bokuto suddenly thinks, are we dating?