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The midmorning light floods their room.
Atsumu places a faint kiss into the crook of Osamu's neck. Golden brown eyes slowly open taking in Osamu's side profile, the faint scar near the corner of his mouth he earned their 2nd year in high school, during the summer, and the soft curve of his pecs and stomach.
"Stop starin'." Osamu's sleep-worn, gravel tone never fails to make a shiver run down Atsumu's spine. Osamu lays his own arm on top of his face; a long, slow sigh billowing from his nostrils.
"Can't help it when ya look this good." Atsumu grins, the dregs of sleep still clinging on to it. He smoothes a hand over Osamu's stomach, the suggestion of fingers dipping down beneath the waistband of his black shorts.
"Absolutely the fuck not," Osamu grouses, pulling away from his twin, snapping the waistband of Atsumu's silver shorts in retaliation. "D'ya not feel sticky?"
"I mean, we coulda been stickier last night—" Osamu can practically hear the wiggling eyebrows in that statement.
"Ya fuckin' whore, I wasn't in the mood for any of that shit," he supplies with no real heat behind it. "Didn't know it'd be this hot when we cuddled." He removes his arm from his face and squints against the light filtering in from their cordless blinds. Lightning streaks through Atsumu's stomach when he sees slivers of slate gray peek out from beneath his eyelids. Atsumu cradles Osamu's jaw with one hand, planting a soft kiss on the outer corner of his eye.
"Sorry ya feel gross," he offers; soft, mumbled against his twin's temple. Osamu scoffs, but not necessarily at him.
"Whaddya sayin' sorry for?" Osamu's eyebrows crinkle, turning slightly to look at his twin. " 's not like ya knew the sun would come blastin' us this mornin'." He traces patterns with his thumb on Atsumu's knuckles. "Besides, ya love that shit, cuddlin' skin ta skin, so why wouldn't I give ya that?" The corner of Atsumu's mouth wobbles a little, betraying the rising tide of emotions he always feels when Osamu is like this. So unapologetic and direct in the ways he loves him, even through the earthly inconveniences of loving the other half of your soul. He tucks his face in the crook of Osamu's neck, breathing in the faint musk and sandalwood that has forever settled into his bones as safety, family, home. Osamu, blessedly, chooses to say nothing about the rapid pitter-patter of his twin's heart against his chest and decides to, instead, smile into platinum locks about it.
Steam billows and swirls in the air, fogging the mirrors and the plastic insert behind the shower curtains.
Atsumu perches his chin on Osamu's shoulder, arms wrapped around his brother's waist as the hot water runs over them. He feels Atsumu's dick slowly chubbing up and presses against it, turning his head to give him a kiss. Atsumu places a hand on his waist to still him.
" 'S not like I don't wanna fuck ya. Lemme indulge." Atsumu kisses down his neck, worries his teeth near his carotid pulse. Osamu revels in the heat rising beneath his skin, how his stomach swoops at Atsumu's hands squeezing his waist. He throws his head back on his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut at his twin kissing the spot just below his ear.
"Fuck—" His knees nearly go weak at Atsumu sneaking his arm in and trailing fingertips down his cleavage. He takes a sharp breath at his pecs being squeezed, skin prickling with pleasure.
"Feels like I haven't touched ya like this in forever." Atsumu murmurs, voice rumbling low in his chest as he places his teeth just below Osamu's earlobe and presses. Osamu moans, the sound filling the space.
"We fucked three days ago," Osamu breathes, ass pressing up against him.
"Too long fer me, fer us." Atsumu glides his palms from Osamu's shoulder down to the divots near the top of his ass. He presses his thumb into the divots, watching Osamu's ass immediately grind back on his hard, leaking dick. Atsumu hisses, pleased, as he lands a soft slap on his twin's ass, grabbing handfuls that bulge from between his fingers. He kneels down and pries him open, licking a wet, slow strip across his hole.
"Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck—" Osamu leans into him, pleasure warming in the bottom of his stomach as Atsumu licks him. Slow, messy strokes that make his hole twitch, that arrest his breath as his tongue wriggles into him. " 'Tsumu, please—"
"I'll sink my dick in ya soon, sweetheart." Osamu turns to see Atsumu wipe his face with the back of his hand and his knees give out at his twin's hazy, blown pupils. Atsumu wraps a hand around the backs of his knees to catch him, and kneels down to kiss the back of them, chuckling. " 'Sides, wanna make ya cum at least two times. Ya think ya can do that fer me?"
"I fuckin' swear on our Ma's future grave, I'm gonna fall on ya if ya keep doin' that!" Despite himself, Osamu moans at his brother's lips trailing up from the back of his knee to just below his ass. Atsumu gives a breathy laugh and Osamu thinks, 'Shit, maybe it's me who needs ta start diggin' a grave,' the way his heart takes off at the sound.
"Still didn't answer my question." Atsumu smirks, nipping at one ass cheek, watching it twitch in response.
"Whaddaya think, dipshit?" Osamu glowers at him with not much heat behind it. Atsumu gives another breathy laugh as he sticks his arm in between Osamu's legs, fingers trailing across the bottom of his stomach, feather light. He splays his hand to feel the resulting twitch and grins into his skin.
"I think I have my answer." Osamu scoffs in response but spreads his legs wider. Atsumu dives right in, this time licking in short, firm strokes that has Osamu gasping for air. He begins to work him open, tongue pushing in and wriggling against his rim.
"Want ya in me." Osamu pushes against his mouth, hole clenching around him as he braces himself against his forearm on the warm, damp tile. He can feel Atsumu smirk against him. "Ya know what the fuck I mean, ya—" Atsumu's tongue plunges into him and Osamu's moans crack against the walls.
"Wanna get ya nice and wet fer me, sweet thing." He sticks his two middle fingers in his mouth and drools all over them. Slowly pushes in, scissoring and thrusting in, eyes fluttering shut at the way Osamu clenches around him.
"More, please—" Osamu's hips move of their own accord. "More please, fuck, 'Tsumu—" He starts to bounce on Atsumu's fingers, his twin taking his weight with ease.
"That's it baby, take what ya need." Atsumu's pupils are blown wide, black nearly overtaking the golden brown. Osamu pulls away and turns around, throwing up one foot on the rim of the bathtub. He grabs Atsumu's wrist and shoves his fingers back in.
"Fuck, look at ya baby, so fuckin' gorgeous." Atsumu pulls his twin to him, arm twined around him, nails digging into the meat of his waist. He stares, lewd and unabashed at the mess his Osamu is making of his fingers. Hazy, slate gray eyes trail down to Atsumu's red, leaking cock as he tries to grab it. He holds his brother's wrist still.
"Sweet thing," he murmurs into Osamu's mouth, kissing him like a man starved, other hand practically anchored into gray roots. He tugs, swallowing the moans that tear out of his mouth. "We'll both get what we want soon." Osamu begins to whimper. Atsumu kisses him, slow and sweet, hand squeezing his pec.
" 'Tsumu." He doesn't care if he sounds petulant now. All of his focus narrows to getting to sink down on his brother's fat dick, even with three fingers steadily thrusting into him.
"Give me one, sweetheart," he murmurs against his temple, his other hand now curling around his twin's dick. "Can ya do that fer me? Lemme see that pretty face of yers twist in pleasure?" Obscene amounts of precome leak from Osamu's dick, making Atsumu's strokes glide like a dream. Osamu's legs begin to tremble; his twin pulls his fingers out and wraps his arm around his waist, switching into slow, tortuous strokes.
"Fuck, Tsumu—" He falls into his brother's shoulder, muffling the heavy breathing, the desperate little gasps that slip out from him.
"Almost there," he coos, slipping a hand in between his cheeks and rubbing his rim. "Can feel yer tight little hole twitchin' against me."
" 'Tsumu, Tsumu, gonna—" Osamu chokes, desperate to reach his peak more than he needed the air to breathe.
"Come for me," Atsumu rumbles, wine-dark and just as sweet, hand splaying beneath his twin's jaw giving him a faint squeeze.
The suggestion of it does him in, cum shooting between them, splattering on their chests and some on their chins. Osamu's face twists in exquisite agony, Atsumu greedily drinking it all in, hands stroking his twin's cock until he twitches away from overstimulation. He barely wraps his arms around Atsumu in time, legs giving out as his twin takes his weight. The water begins to turn lukewarm. Atsumu arranges them so that they're both beneath the water's spray. He perfunctorily scrubs them down both and rinses them off. Sliding the curtains, he steps out of the tub and bridal carries Osamu out of the tub.
"Ya don't need ta do that—" Osamu begins to protest.
"Just lemme take care of ya." Atsumu places him in front of the toilet. He takes a couple steps to grab their towels from the rack, then dries himself down with no fuss to sit down on the closed toilet bowl. Osamu closes his eyes against the slow, thorough glide of the cotton towel. He leans into his brother scrubbing his hair dry, a quiet exhale slipping from his lips. "There, all dry now." Osamu takes the opportunity to press up against him, wrapping his arms around his waist.
"Ya wanted me ta cum two times." He places their foreheads together, kissing him slow.
"We're gettin' there," Atsumu murmurs against his lips. He laces their fingers together and pulls him to their shared bedroom.
"We just took a shower and ya want us ta get dirty again?" Osamu smirks, falling back on the bed, elbows propping him up. He takes in the way Atsumu's eyes hungrily trail down his body as he spreads his legs.
"I'll clean the both of us off again," he answers absentmindedly, opening up the top drawer of their dresser to get the lube. Osamu gasps in pleasure as his brother rubs his hole.
"Still so fuckin' wet from my fingers bein' in ya," he growls, kneeling down at the foot of the bed, dribbling lube on his middle and ring fingers. Osamu groans as he slowly pushes in, the clench of him tight and hot around Atsumu. "Gonna make ya even wetter, make that hole drip down my dick."
"Fuck yes, ah," Osamu rolls his hips, gasping against the curl of Atsumu's fingers. He pulls out and Osamu can't find it in himself to be embarrassed by the petulant huff he gives him. His twin breathes out a singular laugh, grabbing his spread legs to move them both up on the bed.
"Better, baby?" Atsumu smiles as he pushes his fingers back in, watching slate gray eyes roll back in pleasure. "Look so pretty bein' filled." He kisses him, deep and slow.
"Fuck me 'Tsumu, please—" Osamu clenches around him, tight and needy, gasping against his lips. Another huff escapes as he feels his fingers pull out again and Atsumu smiles in the crook of his neck. He moves to get in between his brother's thighs.
"Gonna fuckin' fill ya up baby, dontcha worry," Atsumu breathes against his neck as he presses himself to Osamu, the precome leaking like a faucet from both their dicks as they rut up against each other.
" 'Tsumu—" All the breath punches out of Osamu's lungs at Atsumu's dick carving a space within him. His mouth hangs open, the whites of his eyes nearly visible at the onslaught of pleasure flooding his veins.
"Holy shit, lookin' like a goddamned angel," he breathes out, strain and awe mixing in his voice. "Tight like a fuckin' vice around me." Atsumu runs a hand through slightly damp, slate gray locks. "Breathe for me, 'Sam-'Sam." Osamu's gasp is theatrical, dramatic as his chest rises and falls.
"Fuckin' move. Move. Move now, Atsumu!" Osamu rolls his hips like it's the last he'll ever get of his brother. The absolute frantic, nearly possessed pitch of his voice snaps something in Atsumu. He starts moving in hard, fast thrusts that make his twin's tits bounce and jiggle.
"So fuckin' tight and wet and warm. Fuckin' hell, if I could stick my dick and leave it in all day, I would." He lifts Osamu's leg to his shoulder and shifts the angle, his twin's moan ringing against the walls.
"Right there, right there, right there— Fuck!" Osamu's jaw drops open as his eyes roll back once again, eyes filling and overflowing with tears.
"So pretty when ya cry fer me, darlin'." Atsumu drags a thumb through his tears and sucks it through his mouth. He presses a kiss to his twin's ankle, other hand preoccupied with flicking at his twin's nipples, squeezing his tits.
"Fu—" Osamu arches off the bed, hands twisting in the sheets. "—uck!" Atsumu switches to slow, dirty grinds that keep the rhythm insistent and merciless against his brother's prostate. "Ya fuckin' psycho!" Osamu lifts his head, tear-stained and ruddy, voicelessly pleading for something, for less or more of it, he doesn't quite know. Atsumu wraps a hand around his jaw and drags him up to lick into his mouth and nip at his lips.
"I'm yer fuckin' psycho now, aren't I?" Atsumu's smirk is edged with something dark and feral. And there's something to be said for the way it makes Osamu's dick kick up and leak even more, adding to the puddle of precome pooling on his stomach. He nods fervently, a few fat teardrops streaming down his face. His twin lowers his head down, darkly reverent and pleased, a hunter landing his most favorite kill of the day.
"Ya fuckin' menace, I'm so close," he breathes, hands twisting in the sheets even more, face and body rosy with flush. Atsumu wraps a hand around his dick and begins to stroke, clever twists that every so often catch on the edge of the dick's head.
"Can feel it, sweet thing, yer clenchin' around me so much— " He grits out, the heat in his own stomach ready to tip over.
"Please—" Osamu tries in vain to get his other leg to wrap around his brother's waist and fails miserably. Atsumu wraps a hand around his neck and squeezes just enough to see the blood begin to restrict.
"Come—" Atsumu groans into the space just beneath his jaw, Osamu twitching around his dick erratically. "Come for me, baby," he rumbles and it's enough to snap the tight coil within his twin.
"Fuck!" Osamu arches off the bed, the line of him contorted in tortuous, holy ecstasy. Cum lands on his chest and just beneath his chin. Atsumu soon follows after, spilling into him with a loud moan. He gathers just enough strength to collapse beside him, face down.
"Gimme a few minutes and then I'll get us cleaned up." He mutters, slinging an arm across Osamu's hips, snuggling his face into the crook of his neck. His twin merely grunts, burying his face in Atsumu's hair.
After another quick shower, they head downstairs for brunch, Atsumu in MSBY sweatpants and a gray t-shirt, Osamu in a navy t-shirt and matching sweatpants.
"Well, well. If it isn't the lovebirds finally coming to join the land of the living." Their mom drawls, raising an eyebrow at them. She gestures to the food on the table, covered by plates.
"Sorry, Ma." Osamu rubs the back of his head, sheepish. Atsumu grimaces at their mom, looking every bit apologetic as Osamu feels.
Mama Miya had decided long ago that her twins being together were the least of her worries. Her babies were made for each other, even if the world would never fully understand that.
She remembers the first memory of the very roots of their souls being intertwined, as if it happened yesterday.
One baby boy with golden brown eyes wide open, as if to take in every crucial detail this world had to offer, loud cries that announced, 'I'm here and you'd better pay attention to me!' Not far behind, his pinkie was hitched to his other half's pinkie, a quieter, slightly tremulous little thing, slate gray eyes open in slivers. The nurses had a bit of a challenge prying them apart, but as soon as they were successful, all hell broke loose. Golden brown-eyed baby boy's cries ripped through the room, followed by a pitiful, heartrending cry from the gray-eyed child.
"I would keep them together," the doctor elbowed his nurses in good nature. "Never seen twins quite like these ones, telling you exactly from the moment they arrive into this world, that they're a package deal." One of the nurses rolled their eyes in playful exasperation, placing them together on the examination table, checking for crucial reflexes and for any missing fingers or toes. Golden brown-eyed baby boy linked their pinkies together again and they immediately quieted down.
'Yes, here is where I belong, with the other half of my soul.'
"Here we go, Mrs. Miya," the nurse quietly declares, placing the babies on her chest. "Any ideas for their names yet?" She smiles, her endeared gaze on the snug little bundles.
"This one is loud and fierce. His cries are all fiery and bright and I love that about him. I love the name Atsumu for him." Mama Miya places a gentle kiss on Atsumu's head as he coos at his mother's affection. "This one is a little quieter, a little more reserved, but no less fierce. He held on with all his might when you guys tried to pry them apart," she chuckles, kissing his forehead. Gray-eyed baby boy snuggles into his cocoon, nose wrinkling at the touch. "I love the name Osamu for him." She hugs them both to her chest, placing gentle hands behind their soft skulls. "My baby boys. Be good to each other, even if the world isn't good to you." She whispers, low and sweet.
During their years, she knew they would cross lines that others would think uncrossable in their connection, find anchors in one another, even when they unmoored each other, and love each other with a fierceness and complexity that would be met with utter derision, if not outright revulsion.
The world would not be kind, and it would never be. Not to them, not for what they had. But she would be kind to them. She would become the port for the storms that life would inevitably put her children in.
(Miya Atsumu and Miya Osamu, ages 5)
" 'Samu, ya can't do that!" Atsumu stomped his tiny little foot on the soft, fertile ground near their house. Wildflowers swayed in the slight breeze. He adjusted his sun hat, glowering at his twin, little fingers wrapped tight around the handle of his net. "I should go first!"
"And what?" Osamu scoffed, looking at his twin, doubt shining in his eyes. "Scare away the butterflies? Ya always swing yer net before they land. At least wait fer them ta do that, 'Tsumu." He adjusted the strap on his blue coveralls, pulling at the collar of his long sleeve, white shirt. His net was on the ground, a little off to his side.
"I'm goin' home! 'S no fun anymore." Atsumu turned around and began to stomp back to their house.
"C'mere." Osamu grabs his wrist, rolling his eyes. Atsumu begrudgingly lets himself be pulled back, tiny arms crossed tight around his torso. He puts the handle of the net in Atsumu's hand and holds his wrist, directing him with quiet instructions on how to strike and when to land.
As always, Atsumu settles when Osamu gently guides his wrist, slowly pushes his shoulder down to crouch while gazing at a Common Leopard. Soon enough, Atsumu nets his first butterfly of the day and carefully corrals it into a jar with a mesh covering rubber banded over the top. He cheers, gathering Osamu into his arms, then pulls back.
"Thanks fer not bein' too much of a scrub this time," he tries to glare at him a little, but ultimately fails due to the smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.
"Yer welcome, stinky face." Osamu ruffles his hair. Atsumu sticks his tongue out at him. His twin loops his arm through his and they happily march home, singing and humming nonsensical songs.
(Miya Atsumu and Miya Osamu, ages 12)
The celebration is a cozy yet loud affair.
'HAPPY BIRTHDAY' is strewn across the wall in rainbow, metallic letters. Soft, yellow fabric covers the table, on top of it a spread of cake, a few entrees with a bowl of punch, and some presents. A few feet away, a speaker on low volume plays cheery tunes.
Aran chases the twins through the yard, their high, boisterous laughter floating through the air. The rest of the kids join in, trading off who's to be tagged and who's doing the tagging.
"Gotcha!" Aran loops his arms through both of theirs. The twins giggle, doubling over.
"Ya caught us, Aran-kun!" Atsumu exclaims, jumping up and down, hugging Aran's arm tighter to him.
"We were so close with pullin' one over ya!" Osamu's nose scrunches in joy despite being caught. " 'Tsumu and I almost slipped past ya!"
"Well, yer lookin' at the reignin' champ fer tag!" Aran points proudly at himself. They collapse in a line over the soft, green grass, watching fluffy piles of clouds inch by. Slowly, the kids join and they form a puppy pile.
"Best birthday I've ever been to!"
"It's so nice outside!"
"Did Aran-san win again? I wouldn't be surprised if he did."
"Atsumu, what gifts do you think you got for your birthday?"
Atsumu actually indulges the question, voicing the hopes of getting a new volleyball and the latest installment of Winning Eleven. Osamu is asked the same question and also hopes to get the new video game, along with a new pair of volleyball shoes.
"Ya gonna try out fer setter next year, 'Tsumu?" Aran floats the question to him. Atsumu lays his head on Aran's shoulder, mulling over the answer, while Osamu lays his head on his friend's arm. The rest of the group seems to collectively hold its breath for the answer.
" 'M gonna try it out fer sure! I've been practicin', even after school!" Atsumu grins. " 'Samu's tryin' out along with me!" He pokes his twin's shin with his toes. Osamu shoves back half-heartedly. Mama Miya's voice carries on the air, calling the children back to the house.
Soon enough, the twins are back, sitting under the banner. Atsumu takes everything in with alert, bright eyes, while Osamu gazes on with a small, sincere smile, eyes calm and happy. They pose for pictures upon their mom's insistence. Small, joyful voices sing 'Happy Birthday' to them, the twins grinning in happiness and excitement. The vanilla and strawberry buttercream cake is divvied up into pieces and passed on paper plates amongst the little ones.
"Can we open presents soon after this, Ma?" Atsumu asks with a mouthful of cake. Mama Miya tsks at him, gently wiping smeared frosting from the corner of his mouth with a napkin.
"Please don't talk with your mouth full, 'Tsumu." Mama Miya smoothes a hand over dark locks. "And yes, we can open presents as soon as we're done eating." She smiles at them.
Voices chirp that they are done and the kids get up one by one to throw away their plates and go back to their seats. The boys look to their mom. Mom gives them an indulgent smile and nods back.
"From Mama, Hope ya aim fer the stars, no matter where ya land." Atsumu places the box on the table and tears into the wrapping. Popping off the top of the black, matte box, he pulls out a standard issue Tachikara volleyball.
"Ma!" Atsumu rushes over to her, enveloping her in his arms. "Thank ya!" He looks up at her with a slightly wobbly lip.
"You're welcome, 'Tsumu." She chuckles, kissing his forehead, hugging him back.
"From Aran, Don't let yer brother annoy ya too much now." Osamu reads out loud. It earns a laugh from the kids and their mom, along with a 'Hey!' from Atsumu. He places the small, square package wrapped in silver on the table and tears methodically into it. Eyes lighting up, he lifts the video game jacket high in jubilation, the golden, raised lettering of 'WINNING ELEVEN' glinting in the light. Aran takes the full weight of Osamu's running hug, swaying Aran along with him.
"Glad ya like it!" Aran laughs, smiling as Osamu mumbles a 'thank ya' into his shoulder.
The kids eat and drink a little more, the dining area buzzing with the low sounds of their chatter. Atsumu lays his head on Osamu's shoulder; Osamu pillows his cheek on his head.
A little later, after everyone has gone home and they help their mom clean up, the twins sit on the couch with her.
"Thank ya fer the birthday party, Ma." Osamu snuggles into one side of her while Atsumu does the same.
"No problem, little loves." She kisses them on the forehead, smile soft and indulgent. "Did you wish for anything special?" Atsumu looks at Osamu, a flash of trepidation through golden brown eyes. Osamu stares back, steady and calm.
"To play volleyball fer as long as I can." Atsumu looks at the ground then back up at Osamu. "And to be with Osamu fer as long as the gods will let me." Atsumu gives Osamu one of his rarest smiles, unguarded and sincere. Osamu rolls his eyes a little in jest, but punches his shoulder and holds his hand, a faint blush on his cheeks.
Mama Miya sees the shape, the ephemeral breath of a fundamental truth form between them, long before her boys can give a name and weight to it. She's seen it in glimpses from as early as 3 when they would get into short and sweet little spats, then sit shoulder to shoulder to soothe each other. In the way, when the world would be too overwhelming, sometimes, for their tiny brains at 6, they would lay side by side. Atsumu's head on Osamu's chest, as his calmer twin murmured quiet, hushed consolations to him. And now, at age 12, where Atsumu would tuck Osamu away in the bottom bunk every so often, arms wrapped around his younger brother, breathing calm and deep in the cradle of the sandman.
"I dunno, Ma. He just keeps me calm and steady, like nothin' else in this world." Atsumu admitted, a couple of days or so ago before their birthday celebration, when their mom asked about their constant physical connection. He stares up at her, anxiety starting to swirl in those big, golden brown eyes. Mama Miya immediately silences those fears with a kiss on his cheek.
"I was just curious, chickadee." She cradles his face in her hands, touching him gently on the tip of his nose. "I think it's a good thing, that you're connected to your brother in this way."
Mama Miya knows the ways that this can upset everyone and everything. How she sees Atsumu get jealous every so often of the girls and the occasional boys that come up to Osamu. The way that Atsumu seems to know what that means for him, but tamps it down, afraid of giving the budding roots a chance to sink even further. How Osamu fixes a dark glare on anyone who seems to take their ribbing of Atsumu's blunt personality a tad too far, but swallows the lump down in his throat, closes his eyes against the skipping of his heart when Atsumu smiles at him in return.
Her boys, without anyone giving a voice to the opposition of their latent connection, already sense, if not know, the lines they can't cross. The love that wants to break through the soil and come to fruition.
All she can do is shield them, until she finds a way to set ground rules when they're older, to keep them safe. For now, she does her best with what has been presented to her.
"Well, 'Tsumu, just do your best to stick by your brother's side. That doesn't mean you have to agree with everything he does. But it does mean that you'll need to be there for him when he needs you." She tugs him closer to her. "And as for you, 'Samu." She kisses him on the cheek. "You stick by your brother's side as well. Help him to calm down when it feels like he's kicking up a fuss that feels like a wildfire." She places gentle hands on the crown of their heads. "You are twins and you are each other's anchors, no matter what storms may pass through to you in this life, okay?" In a rare display, the twins nod solemnly and utter a quiet 'Yes, mama.'
(Miya Atsumu and Miya Osamu, ages 17)
Atsumu flinches against the gentle fingers that pass over his bandaged face. He stares into slate gray eyes, his own getting blurry, the whole world wobbling out of place.
" 'm not fuckin' sorry fer how I feel, 'Samu." He grits out, fists balled into white knuckles. He takes a deep breath in and out and opens his eyes, even as the world continues to wobble slightly. "I am sorry fer hurtin' ya the way I did." He steps into his twin's space. "Yer gonna leave me and I won't be with ya anymore." He swallows the overgrown lump in his throat, staring at the ground. It goes unspoken: 'Volleyball was supposed to be our thing.'
"Ya damned idiot," Osamu grouses, a gentle hand on the back of Atsumu's nape, making Atsumu look up. "Who said I was gonna leave ya?" He readjusts the cotton beneath the bandage on his twin's cheek. "Ya act like we can't be involved with each other's lives anymore, just because I wanna run a restaurant someday."
" 'S not the same. Yer gonna be too busy at that point ta even care about what I do." Atsumu's lip wobbles. 'Yer gonna not care for me,' flashes, unbidden, in his mind.
"Ya listen ta me, and ya listen ta me good, Miya Atsumu." He tips his brother's chin up. "Nothin'." He squeezes his chin a bit. "Absolutely nothin' in this world would keep me from sharin' my life with ya. D'ya understand that, crystal clear? We're twins, Atsumu. It means more than just havin' shared a womb with ya, then sharin' an ugly mug with ya—"
"Hey!"
"It means that we're always connected, no matter what happens in this life." He pats the side of his twin's face, then kisses his twin's forehead and the tip of his nose. "Well, that's enough of being sappy fer today." Atsumu rolls his eyes in playful exasperation. "I'm gonna clean yer wounds, since we both know yer not gonna do it yerself." Atsumu can only give a token protest, blush blooming on his cheeks.
"Lemme clean yers too." Atsumu looks at the ground. " 'S only fair, since I hurt ya too." He grumbles. Atsumu doesn't quite catch the fond look his twin flashes at him for a brief second.
Mama Miya comes home from work to find them in the living room, sitting across from each other on the couch, with the first aid kit out. She quietly observes Osamu dabbing at his brother's wounds, steady, slate gray eyes staring at him in endearment. Atsumu looks up with watery, golden brown eyes, leaning into the touch.
"I'm really sorry, 'Samu." Atsumu murmurs. Osamu tsks at him.
"Ya said sorry already, scrub." Osamu applies a new piece of gauze and bandage on the cut beneath his eye. "At least wait three to four business days, before we use this shit against each other in another fight." Atsumu's laugh bounces off the walls, high and bright.
"I'm home, chickadees." She announces, slightly breaking them out of their little bubble as they startle a bit.
"Hey ma." Atsumu smiles, even with slightly red-rimmed eyes.
This chasm that has formed between them is new. Vast, all engulfing, a brittle, tenuous space.
Atsumu misses his twin, if you would ask him to put it in the simplest of words. But this thing between them is far from simple.
Osamu's reduced presence feels like a missing limb. He finds himself more often than not turning to his twin and not finding him there, heart faltering when his eyes fall on the empty space beside him. Nowadays off the court, he feels half a beat off when his twin isn't with him. The days take longer to go on, grate on him more than usual. What kills him, most of all, is the way his twin touches him less, if at all. He's lucky to receive a hand on his shoulder or a hand across the nape of his neck most days.
"We can't keep doin' this, 'Tsumu." He had said one day, face drawn and miserable. "We're grown and people are gonna start askin' questions." Despite the growing lump in his throat and the burning insistence to say 'fuck them, they don't know us,' he nodded along. He hadn't known what else to do, knowing that Osamu was right in a sense, but also so wrong in it too.
He misses the way his twin's arms would wrap around him, chin tucked into his shoulder, his breathing lulling him to sleep on nights where the sandman would not graciously give him his blessing. He misses the way his twin would hold his hand while they watched the latest volleyball highlights or cooking shows on the TV. He misses the kisses on his forehead, and on occasion, the tip of his nose. But he would take Osamu any way he could get him, even if it killed him inside.
Or so he thought.
"Atsumu." Osamu is in no mood for games today. He has to get ready for their scrimmage against Itachiyama, prep their bento boxes for lunch, and sort away his uniform. He tries to shoulder past him, but Atsumu pushes back.
"We need ta talk." Atsumu grabs him by their shoulders and steers him towards the living room.
"What's there ta talk about?" Osamu grumbles under his breath, but lets himself be sat at the table. "Make it quick, scrub. I gotta lotta stuff ta do." The mood changes when he catches the tense set of Atsumu's jaw, his glassy eyes, how his lips are set in a straight line. How his pupils scan the table, like he's desperately finding something on it to guide him in what to say. To give voice to a specter that's clearly been eating at him for some time. He lets out a long-suffering sigh.
"I miss ya, 'Samu."
"I'm right here," he tries, beginning to chuckle.
"STOP!" He flips a chair over. "Stop fuckin' deflectin'!" His chest heaves with the pain of being minimized, overlaid on a heart that has been breaking since the chasm placed itself between them. "It's not funny, Osamu." He confesses, small and quiet.
Atsumu is never small and quiet. He burns the brightest in every room he's in, talks with a conviction that would rival most prophets, and moves like he knows he'll get what he wants eventually.
This is not his Atsumu. Not the one he's had by his side his whole life. And Osamu stares at him, the realization sinking fast and deep in his stomach. That something has been quietly breaking his twin all this time.
"I know ya said we had ta stop touchin' each other." Atsumu sniffles, tears streaming down in long, unbroken lines. "But I fuckin' miss it. I miss feelin' yer heartbeat. I'm tired of fuckin' feelin' like I'm half complete." His voice breaks on the last word. "Well, life goes on, I fuckin' guess." The words leak out, a bitter missive against the wounds he's acquired with the distance. "Guess I'm tired of pretendin' shit's okay. Go back ta yer tasks." He swipes at his eyes, shouldering past Osamu.
"Atsumu—" he tries. But you can't unring a bell, much less pour blood back into a stone.
The door to their room shuts with a terrible finality.
Later that night, Atsumu is half-roused from his sleep by a kiss to the corner of his mouth and arms wrapping tight around his waist.
" 'Samu?" And he refuses to fight any longer against the way his heart swells, even skips beats when he sees messy golden locks, golden brown eyes barely cracking open, heavy with sleep.
"I miss ya too, 'Tsumu." He snuggles further into him. "And I don't give a fuck anymore." He kisses the nape of his neck. "We'll figure it out."
For the first time in a long while, Atsumu falls into the deepest sleep of his life.
They win against Itachiyama. Atsumu lifts Osamu high into the air in the locker room, their team cheering alongside them, some of them even beginning to cry. They had worked hard to withstand Sakusa's serves and spikes, Iizuna's setter dumps, and Komori being on practically every ball.
This was not a fluke. Atsumu had bandaged Kita's fingers on extended practices sessions, Osamu looking on with anxiety flashing every so often in his eyes. Their captain had shooed the team off after practices, but the twins had stayed around to make sure Kita wouldn't get himself into a bind. Osamu had been paired with Aran during skill workshops to sharpen their spikes; for Aran to further deepen his understanding of defense and for Osamu to dust off his setting skills. They also stayed after to get precious time in. The team had worked hard and long with each skill workshop to be as well-rounded as humanly possible.
Every point was earned with sweat and tears, even literal blood at times. But they held on to the possibility of victory, white-knuckled, even until the end. Held their breaths until the final whistle blew.
And now, long after the celebrations, the twins are back home. Muscles stretched and freshly showered, they lay wrapped in each other on the bottom bunk, in soft white cotton shirt and worn gray sweatpants.
"That katsudon was good." Osamu's head is pillowed on his twin's chest. "I'll be dreamin' 'bout it fer awhile."
"Ya would," Atsumu smirks, drawing patterns up and down his back. "But yeah, it was solid. Can't believe Kita's been hidin' that gem from us forever."
"He was prolly nervous 'bout the rest of us bein' menaces ta the owner." Osamu chuckles. "Can't exactly blame him." Atsumu concedes with a breathy laugh. Osamu's heart skips a beat as he looks up at his twin. Atsumu draws a gentle thumb down his face.
"Not half bad out there, scrub," Osamu murmurs, staring into golden brown eyes. Atsumu exhales a singular laugh.
"Same ta ya." Atsumu leans down to place their foreheads together. Osamu pulls back slightly to gaze at him, then trail his eyes down to Atsumu's lips, then back up. He leans in, the barest of kisses placed on his lips. Something in Atsumu uncurls and sinks its teeth into him. He deepens the kiss, hands scruffing the hair at the base of Osamu's neck, wraps a leg around his waist. Osamu digs a hand into his twin's roots, tongue licking into his mouth, teeth nipping at his lips. Atsumu tears away from him like he's been burned.
" 'Samu, I don't think we can do this—" He begins, panic rising in his voice.
"I'm tired of pretendin', 'Tsumu." Osamu tucks his face into Atsumu's neck. "Aren't ya tired of pretendin' too?" He kisses down his neck as his brother begins to protest. "And I'm not sayin' we don't talk 'bout it, 'cause we got plenty ta talk about. But that comes later." He pulls apart from Atsumu to place his hand on his chest. "What I need ya ta know now is that nothin' can make me stop lovin' ya, 'Tsumu. I don't care if we have ta hide this forever. I want ya." He gently grasps his chin to make his twin look at him. "All of ya, 'Tsumu. We'll figure all of this out together, like we always do." He places their foreheads together, drawing gentle thumbs across his cheekbones. Panic begins to rise in him when he feels tears flow against his fingers.
" 'Tsumu, baby—" Osamu tries, kissing his forehead and his closed eyes.
"Don't call me baby!" He smacks his chest. "And don't kiss my eyes like that!" He sobs. "Yer gonna make me cry even harder!" He sniffles. "Ya already think I'm a crybaby," he mutters, sulking.
"I don't mind that yer a crybaby, baby." Osamu whispers. "Think it's gonna be my favorite thing, seeing ya cry." Osamu grins wickedly at him.
"'Samu!!" Atsumu smacks his chest again, blood rising to heat his cheeks. "Ya can't say that…" He murmurs, shy.
"What? Can't say my 'Tsumu's gonna look pretty when he cries?" He gently teases, kissing him soft and sweet. Osamu's heart skips a beat when he feels Atsumu melt into him.
"Wanna kiss ya," Atsumu murmurs against his lips, heart beating against his ribcage.
"Ya just did, scrub." He says, amused. His twin sulks at him, kicking his foot out.
" 'Samu, just lemme…" He lunges for him, hands twisted in his shirt, lips sliding hungrily against his. Osamu takes control of the kiss, tongue and teeth trying to make a meal of his twin. Atsumu surrenders to it, shivering in his hold.
"Pretty baby, so soft and gorgeous fer me…" Osamu kisses down his throat. Atsumu's gasp hitches in his throat, goosebumps erupting on his skin. The front of his twin's pants brushes against his, feeling the chubbed bulge that pokes out.
" "Samu," he whines, grinding against his twin. Impatience and lust has him yanking Osamu's pants down and off, greedy hands dipping beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs to grope at his ass. One hand slides over to grab at his dick.
"Shit, 'Tsumu—" He bucks into his hold, panting into the crook of his brother's neck.
"Off, off—" Atsumu grabs at his shirt. Osamu makes quick work of it, tossing it behind him. Atsumu yanks his own clothes off in record time, grinding up against him.
"Fuck—" Osamu's breath stutters at the sight. Their dicks leaking obscene amounts of precome, hard and aching, rutting against each other.
" 'Samu, 'Samu, 'Samuuuu—" Atsumu whines, fast and desperate against him. "Please," he gasps, arms winding around his neck. "Touch me." Osamu closes a hand around both of their dicks and starts slow, steady strokes. The breath punches out of him at the wet, warm feel of his twin against him. He looks up at Atsumu and nearly goes into cardiac arrest, golden brown eyes almost rolled back in their sockets.
"Fuck, 'Tsumu," he breathlessly chuckles, half concerned. "Can't go dyin' on me just yet. Breathe fer me, sweetheart." He gently taps the side of his face. Atsumu takes a breath.
"Feels so fuckin' good," he moans, rutting up into his hand. "I didn't mean—"
"I know ya didn't mean ta lose yer breath," Osamu smirks. "Would have a helluva time explainin' why my twin is hard and naked ta the doc."
"Don't even say that," Atsumu hides his blushing face in his twin's shoulder. "Would rather fuckin' die." Osamu laughs, stilling for a moment.
"Nooo," he whines, grinding into his closed hand. " 'Samu, please." His twin begins to stroke them again. Osamu slides a hand between his twin's ass cheeks and rubs against his hole.
"Oh, fuck!" Atsumu bucks erratically in his hold, lightning spiking in his stomach. "Feels so good," he moans. "Ohhh, I think I'm close—"
"Yeah?" Osamu strokes even faster, tipping Atsumu's chin down, gazing into hazy, golden brown eyes. "Wanna come fer me, baby?" He nods frantically, whine high and needy.
"Can ya try somethin' on me?" He gasps out, hiding his lobster-red face in Osamu's shoulder.
"Don't have ta get shy on me." Osamu kisses him, quick and dirty. "Tell me how to make ya feel good." Atsumu clambers over him to rush to their drawer, hard dick bobbing as he comes back with a bottle of lube and a plain dildo. Osamu raises his eyebrows.
"Where the fuck ya get all of this?" There's no heat to the question, just genuine curiosity, if not a little awe. Atsumu shoves the things into his hand, face still bright red.
"Suna helped me with it." He lays back down, curled into him. "Him and his boyfriend know a lotta stuff…" He mumbles, eyes looking anywhere but at Osamu.
"Hey." Osamu tips his chin up and kisses him. He looks down at what he's been given. "Ya ever have ta use this on yerself?" He smirks, all lurid suggestion and heat, at his twin. He nods, biting his lip, golden brown eyes growing hazy.
"Only used it when ya were fast asleep. Yer a heavy sleeper, but I still kept quiet. Didn't wanna wake Ma up." Osamu curses.
"Ya think 'bout me when ya used this?" Osamu inspects the dildo, then looks at him. Atsumu nods fervently.
"Fuuuck—" Osamu white knuckles his grip on it. "Can't wait ta fuck ya soon." Atsumu moves to lay back and spread his legs.
"Use that on me first." Atsumu gazes up at him with hazy eyes. "Wanna show ya how well I take it."
" 'Tsumu, I don't hafta—" For all his concern, his dick betrays him, twitching at the thought. "…fuck ya tonight." Atsumu smirks, eyes slowly trailing from his twin's dick to his face.
"We don't hafta, but ya wanna." He opens his legs even more, spreading his ass to show off his hole. "Need ya in me, 'Samu," he pleads, breathless. Osamu pours a copious amount of lube on his finger and slowly pushes it in, working him open. Atsumu begins to roll his hips, pushing his finger in even further.
"More," he gasps. "More, please—" Atsumu claws at the sheets, head thrown back.
"Shhh, sweetheart." Osamu dips down and places a kiss just beneath his iliac crest, relishes the muscle twitching beneath his lips. "Gonna give ya what ya want." He slides in a second finger, curling in a come-hither motion. Atsumu arches off the bed, mouth open in a silent scream.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Atsumu wails. "Right there, right there—" Osamu curls his fingers again. "There!" He moans, loud and long. "Samu, I need—" His head falls back on the bed as he groans in pleasure.
"Just a little more, baby." Osamu soothes. After what feels like an eternity, he pushes in the third finger, the squelch of it unabashedly lewd. Atsumu's eyes flutter open and roll back, hips grinding to chase the sensation. His twin pulls out. Atsumu whines, eyes glassy with tears. He doesn't protest for long, rim fluttering open at the slick press of his dildo.
"Fuck, 'Tsumu." Osamu pushes the dildo in, inch by tortured inch, watching with awed lust. "Ya look so fuckin' good takin' it." He thrusts it in slow, measured strokes, his twin's voice rising with each thrust.
"Can't be too loud." Osamu pets his hip. "Much as I wanna hear ya, we can't risk wakin' up Ma." He runs a thumb over Atsumu's lips. He licks the tip of it, golden brown eyes looking up at him with lurid desire. Osamu pushes it in. Atsumu guides two more fingers in.
"Fuckin' hell—" Osamu's dick twitches several times over. "Ya can't be killin' me so soon before I'm in ya, 'Tsumu." Atsumu smirks as he goes down on his fingers, looking up from hooded, pleasure dazed eyes. Osamu watches with lascivious fascination as he plunges the dildo in and out. "Ya take it like a dream."
Atsumu pops off his fingers. "Could be takin' ya like a dream," he rasps, licking a stripe up the side of his finger. Osamu pulls the dildo out and throws it over his shoulder, earning a startled laugh from his twin.
"One track mind ya got there." Atsumu curls his legs around his waist, smirking at him. With all the single-minded focus of a man on a mission, Osamu lines himself up and slowly pushes in. Atsumu sighs at the pressure, eyes fluttering shut. Osamu thrusts, quick and dirty, his brother gasping with each press against his prostate.
"Fuckin' hell, fuckin hell, oh—" Atsumu whispers frantically, head thrashing. "Fuck me, fuck me, fill me up—" Osamu curses, the warm, tight clench of him fluttering around him so insistently. Atsumu's head flings back, eyes rolling back in their sockets, something akin to a pleasurable death rattle escaping his lips.
"Fuckin' hell—" Osamu hitches his twin's leg up, the slap of skin bouncing obscenely off the walls. "So fuckin' wet and warm and tight around me. Could fuck yer ass everyday, wreck that hole of yers." Atsumu groans, legs clamping around his twin's waist.
"God, I would let ya," he pants. "Fuckin' wreck me and fill me up with yer cum—" Atsumu's eyes pop open, mortified at himself for the slip. Osamu stares down at him, black overtaking the slate gray.
"Nah baby, nahhh," Osamu kisses his ankle, pulls almost all the way out, then slams back in. "Tell me how ya want me to fuck ya up." Osamu's smirk is all dark shadows and edges. A collage of images flash through Atsumu's mind, some of them involving that same smirk as Osamu presses a knife up against him, as Osamu cuffs him to a bed.
"I think 'bout how hot it would be—" He takes a shuddering breath, fear, thrill, and anticipation twining so tightly together in his stomach, he can't untangle their threads. "I think 'bout ya, pressin' a knife to my throat, fuckin' me, tellin' me to keep quiet or ya won't give me what I want." He gasps, high and desperate. "Ya fuck me fast and good and cum in me. Flip me over and tell me ta cum with the knife beneath my jaw." Atsumu whimpers at the image, the heat in his stomach tipping closer to his climax.
"Fuck—" Osamu stutters in his thrusts. " 'S that whatcha think 'bout when ya see me practicin' with my knife?" His fingers dig into the meat of Atsumu's thighs. Atsumu hopes it leaves bruises behind.
"Sometimes," he breathlessly confesses. "Sometimes, I think 'bout how ya'd trace the tip of the knife on my body, leave little marks."
"Fuckin' hell, 'Tsumu, yer gonna make me come—" Osamu picks up in speed, selfishly chasing his pleasure. Atsumu strokes himself fast and hard.
"Come fer me 'Samu, wanna feel ya," he gasps, pulling him down to kiss. It ends up being a clash of tongues and lips messily sliding against one another, but neither of them care. Osamu groans into his neck, spilling into him. Atsumu follows close behind, cum splattering on his chin and chest. His brother collapses beside him.
"We'll get cleaned up soon." Osamu murmurs, slinging an arm around Atsumu's waist, kissing his jaw. Atsumu leans into the touch, eyes growing heavy.
They, in fact, do not get cleaned up soon.
Early morning light peeks beneath the bottom of their curtains. Atsumu stirs from his slumber and checks his phone.
'9:30 A.M. Sat. Mar. 5, 20xx'
He falls back into the sticky, skin warmed crook of Osamu's neck, breathing in the remnants of last night's tryst and the musky sandalwood that seems to be forever branded into his twin's skin. Osamu rouses from his sleep soon after, turning his head to press a kiss to Atsumu's temple. He gazes at the picture they make; legs tangled together with sheets pushed haphazardly to the side, dried cum on their bodies with red, purpling marks on their necks and torsos. Osamu turns to take in his twin, dried tear tracks on his face with a hopeless case of bedhead. He exhales a single laugh. Atsumu rolls his eyes in playful exasperation.
" 'S not like ya look like absolute perfection too, scrub." Atsumu pulls back, eyeing his brother's unruly locks, takes in the bruised marks on his pecs and collarbones. Something tells him to turn Osamu's back to him and he exhales in disbelief.
"Shit." Atsumu raises his eyebrows at his own handiwork. It was nothing that warranted a trip to an emergency clinic, but the scratches would definitely stay for a couple days, if not scab over a little. "Didn't mean ta make ya look like a scratchin' post." He laughs a bit. Osamu shrugs, smirking.
"Just means I fucked ya good." He smirks, slotting his hand in Atsumu's waist and squeezes. Atsumu shivers, forehead falling on Osamu's shoulder.
"Ya can't do that, ya little shit." He mutters, muffled. "We still gotta get cleaned up."
And get cleaned up they do. Osamu takes care of changing and washing both their bedsheets, while Atsumu readies the shower for them.
A few minutes later, they hop in, letting the water run over them. Osamu holds his twin from behind, kissing his neck.
" 'Samu, ya literally wrecked me last night and ya want more?" Atsumu doesn't sound quite annoyed, but rather in disbelief with a mix of surprise.
"Yeah." He smirks into his neck. "We can fuck later, when we find the time. Right now, I just wanna hold ya." Atsumu melts at that and turns his head to give him a brief kiss.
Several minutes later, they lay on the bottom bunk in navy blue shirts and maroon sweats. A candle is lit with the windows open to air out their room.
"Talk?" Atsumu cradles his brother's face in his hands. Osamu takes a deep breath and nods, kissing his forehead. "When did ya know?" He doesn't need to elaborate.
For him, he's known since the 1st year of high school and says as much. Osamu nods; says he knew after Atsumu rejected a confession from a girl in their last year of middle school. How the relief felt less like a brother being protective and more like being possessive. Atsumu laughs, shaky and teary. Confesses that when Osamu got two boyfriends, it wasn't because he had more than one partner.
It was because he realized he wanted to be in their place.
Everything pours out from that point on. How Osamu struggled to keep his jealousy in check. How Atsumu danced around the depth of his feelings and redirected it to denials and delusions of him being a good older brother. How both of them would yearn for more beyond the usual affection they gave each other.
"I meant it when I said I wanna be with ya, 'Tsumu. I'm sorry we have ta hide." He kisses his twin, soft and sweet, thumb trailing over his cheekbone.
" 'S not yer fault." Atsumu shrugs, solemn and resigned, a rare occurrence for him. He leans into the touch and stares up into his brother's eyes. "Our type of connection isn't s'posed ta exist, at least ta them." His eyes grow misty, lip slightly wobbling.
"I don't give a flyin' fuck 'bout what the world says 'bout us." He cradles his twin's head against his chest, kissing the crown of his forehead. "I'd rather die than give up what we have." Atsumu fervently nods into his chest. "C'mon, let's head down and get some breakfast." Atsumu smiles up at him and gives him a loud kiss on the cheek. Osamu makes a show of wiping it off, eyes rolling with the corners of his mouth twitching up into a smile.
Osamu makes them tamagoyaki and wakame salad. Atsumu helps where he can, the banter between them light and playful. He kisses Osamu on the forehead and gets the kiss in return. Atsumu gazes into slate-gray eyes and sees what he feels reflected at him.
They're both walking on air and don't want to come down for awhile.
Well…
Mama Miya observes them as inconspicuously as she can. As much as she loves her boys, last night, she had to wear ear plugs and put her bluetooth speaker near her bed on low to play white noise. And she is genuinely happy for them, she really is. She knows this is just the beginning of a full and happy life for her boys, provided they guard what they have with the utmost discernment and fierceness. And as much as she wants to leave her boys in their happy little bubble, she does have to pull them out of it, before letting them pop back in. Still, she can afford them this little brief respite before raining on their parade a little bit. She sips on her tea, scrolling the news feed on the CNN world section, effortlessly playing the part of a seemingly oblivious mother. Osamu places a plate of food in front of his mom, while Atsumu places their plates on the table for them.
"Thank you, sweetheart." She smiles at him, ruffling his forehead.
"Yer welcome Ma!" Osamu beams at her. She does her utmost best to ignore the purpling mark peeking from beneath the collar of his shirt. They say their thanks and dig in.
Now, with their bellies full, the weekend sunshine streaming in through the windows, Mama Miya places her teacup down and looks at her boys.
"We need to talk." Mama Miya turns to look at Osamu, then Atsumu. And though they haven't been given a reason, their stomachs drop. The twins look at each other, fear swirling in their eyes.
"I know." Mama Miya lets that sit for a bit while she sips her tea. She lets the fear bloom on their faces, knowing the next words would stem the rivers of terror running through their veins. The twins open their mouths to deny and deflect, but their mother gathers one hand from each of them and holds it in hers. "And it's okay."
The twins stare at her for a long while.
"Oh." Osamu laces his fingers with Atsumu's, grip tight.
"Breathe, little loves." She runs her thumbs over their hands. "You're safe." She presses their hands to her cheeks.
Atsumu is the first to break, face crumbling and tears spilling over. Mama Miya gets up and gathers him to her chest. Osamu swallows the lump down in his throat, heart torn at his love looking so distraught. His own tears silently spill over, thumb running over Atsumu's hand. Mama Miya moves to also gather her other little one to her chest. Osamu turns to listen to her heartbeat, eyes closing at the kiss on the crown of his head.
"Your love will always be safe with me. Never doubt that." She kisses them on the forehead. "There are some things I need to talk to you about, but I think you're already aware of them, but still." She pinches one cheek each, earning scrunched noses. "Doesn't hurt to know whether we're all on the same page or not. Come on, let's sit on the couch."
"You have to be careful." Her twins snuggle into her, one on each side, her hands carding through their hair. "You know that the world will not accept your love. Make sure you talk to one another, that your stories line up as much as humanly possible. It's not the same, but when I had a girlfriend, we both learned to lie very well. Part of lying is that some things can explain themselves, and some can't. Learn those things, so you can protect your love well." She gives them each a pointed look before moving on to the next part. "And learn to cover your marks when you need to. If others know that you spent the night with each other and you come back with marks, there's a lot of questions that can be raised there. Also, maybe plan to have soundproof walls or something that doesn't give away your activities." She gives them another pointed look on the last word.
"Oh." Atsumu grows still and pulls apart to look at her, face red as a tomato. Osamu mops a hand down his face.
"Shit, ya heard us." Osamu looks at his mother, mortified. "Ma, I'm so sorry—"
"It's fine." She waves it off. "I took my own measures to block it out before I heard anymore." Regardless, the twins look like they want the earth to swallow them whole.
"Well, I'll leave my two lovebirds alone." She glances at them, faint amusement in her smile. "I'm meeting up with my girls to try out the new cafe in town." Mama Miya rises from the couch and makes her way to her bedroom, then stops at the entrance to the living room, looking back. "And Osamu?"
"Yes, Ma?" He looks at her, hoping her next words land easy.
"Don't fuck in my kitchen." She levels him a knowing look, continuing to walk away.
Atsumu presses his lips together and closes his eyes, willing the laughter to go away. His shoulders start to shake and he opens his eyes to look at Osamu. He's met with bugged out slate-gray eyes and a stone-still brother.
"Ya can shut the fuck up, ya little shit!" Osamu punches his upper arm. "See if I give ya any for the week!" He stomps off in the direction of their room.
"Wait, 'Samu!" He runs after him, laughing all the while.
"Any plans for today?" Mama Miya looks cozy and content in her fluffy bathrobe, sipping on her Dalgona coffee in a tall, frosted glass tumbler.
" 'Samu wants ta check out the new Korean fried chicken place in Osaka." Atsumu digs into the oyakodon.
"It's had good reviews so far since its grand opening," Osamu hums, skimming over the reviews on his phone. "Figured we'd drop in while we walk 'round the city."
"You've both gotten better at covering your marks." Mama Miya hides her smirk behind her cup.
"I would hope so." Atsumu blushes a little, in spite of himself. "Much as I wanna show off my marks on him, don't wanna be fieldin' questions about it, 'specially after I've spent the night with my baby brother." He smirks, gazing at Osamu.
"The both of ya are menaces and yer lifetime reduced price onigiri is banned for a week," he deadpans, sipping on his sencha. Mama Miya merely laughs, while Atsumu throws out his token protests.
"Can't remember the last time I had rosé topokki this good." Osamu hums, eyebrows raised, chewing happily.
"Swear to the gods, I thought I'd never get to eat this again." Atsumu sits across from his brother, chomping into a golden, crispy drumstick. Globe light pendants hang above the black, plush, pleather booths. Shades of navy blue and black adorn the dining area, a sleek reception area at the front and the back of the restaurant. Calm, steady tones of lofi play on low volume on the speakers above them. The restaurant is nearly empty, save for a couple of patrons that sit at the bar, sipping on their drinks and munching on edamame. They stare up at the mounted TV, looking at the latest highlights of the EJP vs. Falcons match.
"Goddamn, Suna whooped ass up on that net." Osamu chuckles, taking in the middle hit that bounced off of the libero's arms and out of bounds. Suna reels his fist back from the air, teammates slapping him on the shoulder or ruffling his hair.
"He wasn't jokin' when he said he was gonna be a nuisance." He smirks into his glass of lychee soju.
"Aran has his work cut out fer him before the playoffs." Osamu takes a piece of kimchi and pairs it with a bite of topokki, eyes closing in bliss at the flavor combination. Atsumu places his chin in his palm and stares fondly at his twin.
"I missed spendin' time like this with ya." He murmurs, low and warm. He takes another sip of his soju and places the glass down on the table.
"I did too." Osamu smiles, closed lip, eyes alight with happiness and contentment. He nudges his twin's foot under the table.
Give or take 30 minutes, they step out of the restaurant and walk the streets. Atsumu nudges his brother's shoulder every so often, pointing at a window display, or tugging on his arm to stare at the murals that dot the walls here and there.
"How do painters even do this?" Atsumu's voice is hushed and full of awe, staring at a hyper-realistic mural of a meadow full of wildflowers. The sky is dotted with fluffy clouds, rays beaming through. Off to the side, a bunny sits on its haunches, amber eyes wide and alert.
"The insane things that they can produce, gods alive…" Osamu stares along with him, fingertips running across the details, half-expecting the picture to jump out at him.
On their way home to the train station, they pass a photo booth. Atsumu drags his twin inside to sit on his lap. He sticks his face in Osamu's neck, breathing in the scent of his cologne, hum low and insistent.
"Baby," Osamu coos, hand cradling his brother's jaw, tipping it up. "Ya need ta take the edge off a little?" He hums. Atsumu nods, tipping his head back. Osamu plants kisses along the line of his neck, Atsumu's dick twitching in response. Atsumu digs a hand into the nape of his neck, moan hushed.
"Please," Atsumu breathes, arms looped under his twin's, nails digging into the meat of his shoulders. Osamu wrenches his jaw and devours him in his kiss, snagging his twin's lip in between his teeth. Atsumu grinds instinctively in response, then stops, gasp catching in his throat.
"Needy baby," Osamu murmurs against his jaw. "Can't go a day without bouncin' on his brother's dick." Atsumu feels his mean smile and shivers in response. "Needs hands on him all the time or he'll fall apart like the needy slut that he is." He growls, squeezing Atsumu's ass hard enough to make him buck.
"Samu!" He gasps, every line of him held in delicious, wretched tension, ready to pounce on his twin, consequences be damned.
"Be good fer me and I'll reward ya when we get home." Osamu whispers beneath his earlobe, his voice dark shadows, the crunch of gravel underfoot.
It takes all of Atsumu's control to close the front door like a civil man while wrenching Osamu by the hand down the hall. He uses that same control to close their bedroom door, bunks replaced by a queen bed. It snaps in the same instance as he drags Osamu down with his arms looped around his neck.
" 'Samu, ya promised, ya promised—" he whines in between ravenous kisses, nails raking down his twin's clothed back, hips rolling insistently into his.
"I know, baby, lemme just—" Osamu fishes his phone out of his back pocket, sending their mom a quick text. She replies immediately. "Oh thank gods, she's still out." He tosses the thing in some direction, making it future Osamu's problem to find later on. Atsumu laughs, tugging him back down to kiss more.
"Taste so fuckin' sweet, could eat ya alive if I wanted to." Osamu bites his bottom lip. Licks into his mouth, the pull of their lips growing more heated and wet. Atsumu whines into it, licking the trail of spit on the corner his twin's mouth. "Could take my knife and carve pretty little lines into ya. Would ya like that?" He grabs Atsumu's waist in a bruising grip, teeth worrying at the junction between his neck and shoulder. "Carve my name into ya, so they fuckin' know not ta take what's not theirs." Atsumu's moan cracks against the walls, head thrown back, scrabbling at his brother's clothes.
"Fuckin'—" Atsumu tugs at Osamu's shirt like a madman. "Off!" He cries, hands bunched in the shirt, until his twin yanks it off. "Gonna fuckin' die if I can't feel ya on me." Osamu makes quick work of the rest of their clothes. Atsumu certainly can't be bothered, given that he's a writhing, needy mess against their maroon duvet. He winds his legs around Osamu's waist, bringing their cocks together. Atsumu grinds against him, breathing heavy into his shoulder.
"Ya act like you've never been filled in yer life before, ya slut." Osamu yanks his head up by the roots, smile mean and condescending. Atsumu gazes at him, teary eyed and hazy.
"But I'm yer slut and I need ya," he pouts, every inch the spoiled brat Osamu knows him to be. "Want ya ta make a mess of me," he confesses against his twin's lips. Osamu curses. He makes the difficult decision to wrench himself from Atsumu, running to get the lube from their dresser, high whines reaching his ears.
"Can't even be away from me fer one fuckin' second," he coos condescendingly, sitting on the bed, iron grasp on Atsumu's jaw to force him to look at him. He nods, pathetic. Crawls into Osamu's lap and grinds down, pulling him into a kiss.
"Want ya so fuckin' bad," he whines. "Want ya ta fill me up, fuck me stupid until I can't breathe." Atsumu's cock squirts even more precome out, leaking hard and heavy against Osamu's cock. Osamu utters a bitten off curse, rearranging Atsumu on their bed like a doll. His twin's legs are spread, arms high above his head. Osamu does not have the patience for games, so he slathers two fingers in lube and slides them right in.
"Yes, yes, yes—" Atsumu sighs, rolling against him. "Fuckin' feels so good," he breathes, hands twisting in the sheets.
"So fuckin' tight, like we never fuck every two ta three days," Osamu bites out, curling his fingers. "Ya keep yer pretty little hole tight fer me, 'Tsumu?"
"Yes, always," Atsumu gasps, sucking his twin's fingers in. "Want yer cock to feel good in my ass." Osamu's sharp gasps tears through the air.
"Bet ya'd just let me pull those little Jackals short down and fuck ya the moment ya got home from practice." Osamu nips the inside of his inner thigh. "Fill that ass with cum and keep ya plugged until I fucked ya bent over the couch with the windows open." Atsumu cries out, hole fluttering around his brother's fingers. "Knew a slut like ya would like that." He laughs, mean.
" 'Samu, please—" Atsumu begs, desperate. "Want ya in me, please, please, please—" All the breath leaves Atsumu's lungs as Osamu lines himself up and shoves his cock in. Atsumu's eyes roll back in their sockets, back arched in tortured bliss.
"My pretty little whore, all pliant and soft fer nii-chan," Osamu coos, wrenching his twin's head back. "Fill him with cock and he shuts right up." Osamu's kiss is carnivorous, all greedy, ravenous teeth and tongue. Atsumu lays on the altar, a picture perfect sacrifice offered up to the maw of his brother's hunger.
"Please, want ya to destroy me." Atsumu whispers, practically prays against his lips. Osamu stills, wrenching his brother's head back, face impassive for a second.
His smile is a tiger opening their jaw for the kill, a hunter locking in the moment they know they've caught their prey.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Atsumu wails, leg hitched high on Osamu's shoulders, thrusts so rough the slap of skin on skin echoes against their bedroom walls. The coiling heat in Atsumu's abdomen grows tighter, head fuzzy with pleasure. Tears spill down his face, breath catching in his throat.
"Gonna make ya scream yer pretty little voice out." Osamu growls, hands clamping on his twin's legs. He swipes a thumb through his tears, sucking it into his mouth. "Gonna fuck ya up so bad, yer gonna limp when ya walk."
"Want it, ohhhh—" Atsumu cries out, cock hard and leaking like a faucet.
"Gonna fill this hole," he smacks his brother's ass, the crack of it loud in the air. "Gonna fill it with my cum, fuckin' let ya leak with it, before pluggin' it up." Osamu flips him over, forces his ass up in the air and slides back in. "Gonna fuck ya till yer stomach swells with it." Atsumu sobs into the sheets, face ruddy and body sticky with heat and need.
"Fuck if I could just—" Osamu bites off, breath hot and sudden against the back of his twin's neck. Atsumu cries out, coil growing white hot in the bottom of his stomach. Osamu yanks him back by his hair, every thrust dead on to his prostate. "I'd fuck ya out in the open, have them watch yer pretty little face twist and hear how gorgeous ya sound." Osamu breathes, hot in his ear. "Ya want that, little thing?" He twists Atsumu's face to look at him. "But I'm the only one allowed ta touch." Atsumu's so close, he can see the specks of black in his lover's eyes.
"Yes, yes, only want yer hands on me!" Atsumu's back collapses on Osamu's chest, neck open for the taking. Of course, he takes his fill, marking what belongs to him. Atsumu begins to bounce on his dick, thighs shaking with the effort. "Touch me, onii-chan." Atsumu grips his twin's wrists to drag them down. Osamu's hand roam, covetous against his brother's chest and stomach, fingers trailing up the side of his cock. Atsumu shivers hard with the movement, stuttering in his rhythm.
"Ya think you've been good enough ta come?" Osamu whispers beneath his earlobe, hand wrapped around his cock.
"Yes, please, want it—" Atsumu gasps. "Want ya ta fill me up," he keens, bucking up into his hand.
"Shhh baby, gonna give ya whatcha need," Osamu murmurs, strokes fast and hard, thrusting up into Atsumu to chase his own release. The heated coil in Osamu's stomach rapidly grows tight.
"Fuck!" Atsumu wails, cum splattering against his chin and chest. Osamu shouts his 'fuck!' into his twin's shoulder, his hole impossibly tight and warm as he spills into him.
Atsumu lays in between Osamu's legs in the bathtub, steam rising from the water. The scent of lavender and eucalyptus fill the air from their bath salts.
"It looks like I fought ya before I fucked ya," Osamu chuckles, taking in the beginnings of a hand shaped bruise on Atsumu's waist and several hickeys dotting his chest and abdomen. Bite marks adorn his shoulder and the tops of his thighs.
"Felt like ya were trying ta eat me alive," Atsumu shrugs, smirking with his eyes closed. "Makes sense."
"Aran and Kita are tryna plan an Inarizaki reunion at the bar here." Osamu cards a hand through his twin's damp locks. "Ya wanna go and catch up with them?"
"Sure, why not? Haven't seen those little shits in a while anyways." Atsumu turns, Osamu leaning in to give him a sweet, lingering kiss.
Atsumu settles against him, their breathing syncing up, the feeling of home sinking into his bones.