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12:01 and why won’t you tell me what the secret is?
12:02 there r some things even i won’t say over txt
12:02 i want to b there w u when i say it
12:03 i want to see ur face
12:03 i want to b able to hear u say it back
12:05 i don’t think you ever needed to hear me to know i was saying it back
Kenma stared up at the door, heart hammering away in his chest. He glanced at his chat log, scrolling briefly through the messages. The past few weeks had been everything, but this—this was the point of no return.
He bit his lip and typed, open the door.
The door flung open, and staring back at him with wide eyes, breath coming fast from what was likely a mad sprint to the door, was Kuroo. His eyes scanned over Kenma, from his far, far outdated dye job, to the too-big sweater that Kenma had stolen from him years ago, to the nervous way he wrung his hands as a force of habit.
“You’re here,” he said, lips slowly stretching into a grin (not one of his normal smirks, not at all).
Kenma offered up a small smile of his own. “I’m here.”
He waited for Kuroo to move, to do something, but he was just standing there, smiling, and Kenma suddenly got hit with a wave of nerves. A breeze blew down the hallway and he buried himself deeper in the sweater, saying blandly, “It’s cold.”
Kuroo jerked like he’d been splashed with cold water. “Fuck, I—you’re here,” he gushed once more, then took the two steps out of the door to engulf Kenma in his arms. All those years of friendship had brought with them many hugs, but this… Kenma blushed, nudged his nose against Kuroo’s collarbone. Was he—? Well, shit—
“You’re taller,” Kuroo said with a laugh. He pulled back an inch to grin down at Kenma’s face which, sure enough, was now an inch closer. And that inch made all the difference.
Kenma glanced at his lips, then back up, nodding slightly. Go on then, he urged.
But Kuroo simply cleared his throat and stepped back, allowing Kenma to come inside and shuffle off his shoes. Kenma eyed him, not sure whether to feel frustrated or amused, that all-bark-and-no-bite Kuroo, Kuroo who-makes-sex-jokes-like-no-one’s-business, Kuroo who-had-nearly-said-what-they-both-knew-they-were-feeling was just standing there, not making any moves.
Kuroo barked out a laugh when he registered the sweater, and then helped pull it over Kenma’s shoulders, hands briefly skimming Kenma’s sides along the way. “Thanks for returning this,” he said, hanging it on the coat rack.
Kenma rolled his eyes. “I’m taking it on the way out.”
“Of course you are,” he said, eyes scanning the rest of Kenma’s body, likely in search for any more stolen possessions. When he didn’t find any, he bit his lip and rocked back slightly on his feet.
“Did you miss me?”
It was such a loaded question that Kenma had to resist the urge to get annoyed with him. Shut up, he thought, and then for the hundredth time that day, I want to kiss him. It’d been so long that even this urge felt justified to Kenma—after all, they hadn’t actually said it, but they both knew what there was between them, and how it wasn’t just quite friendship any more. The entire train ride there had consisted of him nervously fiddling with his phone, each game seeming to blur into nothingness. Which was odd—that he knew, since games were typically the only thing he was interested in. That is, except Kuroo.
And now Kuroo was here, in the flesh, after practically three months of not seeing him. (It wasn’t that long, he had to remind himself. It could’ve been longer.) And he was standing so close, too; Kenma could see the freckles that stubbornly tried to hide themselves every winter, and could feel the soft pants of Kuroo’s breath against his cheek, and could smell the apple shampoo that he always, always used. Kenma had never wanted to kiss him more.
Kenma swallowed. “Kuroo—“
“I know,” Kuroo said quickly. He nodded. “I know, just— Just let me—“ He flexed his hand like he was grasping at thin air, then let out a frustrated noise. “I don’t want to mess this up.”
“You’re not going to mess it up,” Kenma replied, and realized that their voices had dropped to whispers. He swallowed again.
Kuroo stared at him and took a breath. “I know.”
In a second, the space between them shrunk to inches and Kenma felt his back hit the wall first and then—Kuroo’s lips, on his, Kuroo’s hands on his waist. Kuroo’s eyes were pinched comically tight, his lips a bit too tense, and Kenma sighed against him, reaching one hand up to cradle his cheek. He relaxed into the touch, lips softening and moving in a delicate motion, like Kenma would break from too much pressure.
Kenma leaned off of the wall, rising up onto his toes to press more firmly against Kuroo and then—Kuroo opened his mouth, perhaps out of surprise, and Kenma chased him. And then it was just as he had imagined, Kuroo’s lips softer than they looked, but his teeth sharp with each nip, his tongue swift and knowing.
Kenma had spent a lot of time imagining what it must be like to kiss Kuroo. Hell, he’d even spent a lot of time watching Kuroo kiss others, throughout the years, at parties and saying goodbye to dates on his front doorstep. But he was better than he looked. And watching was nothing like how it felt to be the person Kuroo kissed. Kenma wouldn’t have been surprised if everyone else on earth had suddenly disappeared and it was just the two of them.
But Kuroo had a few years on Kenma, and this compared to his first kiss was so much different. Kenma felt his cheeks color at the thought, nerves making his movements go shaky. He tightened his hand, reaching back into Kuroo’s hair and giving a soft tug.
Kuroo let out a low hum, pushing Kenma back against the wall. He sucked on Kenma’s lip slightly, pulling it between his teeth and then releasing it. Kenma imagined his lips would be swollen later, like he’d been ravaged—ravished—by some animal. He nipped back, tongue gently sliding behind Kuroo’s teeth.
Kuroo moaned, before pulling back suddenly, eyes widening. “Bo—“ he started.
Kenma silenced him with another kiss. “He’s already finding somewhere else to sleep tonight.”
“You—“ Kuroo laughed softly, peppering kisses against the corner of Kenma’s lips, his cheeks, his nose. Kenma wrinkled his nose at the ticklish sensation. “You really thought that far in advance, didn’t you?”
Kenma swallowed, reaching one hand up to trace his fingers over Kuroo’s lightly-stubbled jaw. His throat felt tight as his eyes scanned over Kuroo’s face, taking in every single detail that he hadn’t been able to see in those occasional video chats over the past few months. Kuroo was handsome—beautiful, even. It’d been far too long since he’d been able to look at his face; far too long since he’d allowed himself to look at that face and think about how much he wished to always be near it.
His thumb brushed against Kuroo’s lips, feeling the soft stuttering in Kuroo’s breath.
“Kenma—?”
Kenma blinked, realizing that Kuroo had actually asked him a question. He swallowed again, face burning as he admitted in a near-whisper, “I wanted you to myself.”
Kuroo cursed under his breath, shaking his head. “You’re going to kill me,” he groaned, and in one swift motion lifted Kenma in his arms and started stumbling further into the room. They knocked over a trash can in their haste, and Kenma had to refrain from laughing as Kuroo yelped out in surprise, kicking his desk chair out of the way.
He released Kenma at the foot of the bed, lips immediately moving to meet his jaw. Kenma hummed lowly, hands fisting in Kuroo’s shirt to lock him in place. A puff of air tickled Kenma’s neck as Kuroo laughed, reaching up to dislodge Kenma’s hands. He shook his head and kissed down, along his collarbone, and then the bit of exposed skin above the collar of his shirt. Kuroo’s fingers pushed the shirt up as he descended, peppering kisses along the expanse of his chest and stomach.
Kuroo glanced up, still bent as he pressed a final kiss to Kenma’s hipbone. “Is this okay?”
Kenma didn’t think he could summon the words if he’d tried. Please, he figured he wanted to say. You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this. Instead, he nodded, a bit breathless.
Kuroo dropped to his knees, holding Kenma’s gaze steadily as he dipped his fingers beneath the waistband of Kenma’s sweatpants and tugged them—agonizingly, tortuously slow—downward, across the white of Kenma’s thighs, until they pooled around his ankles. Kenma swallowed. His throat felt tight, breaths shallow as Kuroo glanced at the bulge straining against Kenma’s boxers and then back up to Kenma’s face. The tip of his tongue swiped over his lower lip, palms splaying across Kenma’s thighs and moving upwards beneath his boxers. Kenma reached a hand to his mouth, stifling a whimper behind his palm and letting his eyes flutter shut. The touch of Kuroo’s lips, feathery soft and warm against the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, sent a shudder running up his spine. He felt a rush of cold over his skin, causing goosebumps to form along his arms.
Kuroo nipped softly at his thigh, causing Kenma’s breath to stutter and his eyes to flicker open. He held Kenma’s gaze, lips curving upward into a smirk—one that was way too soft for his usual, as if Kuroo was scared of pushing his boundaries—as his tongue smoothed over the spot. His hands reached higher up in Kenma’s boxers, fingers smoothing over his hips. He leaned forward, pressing his lips against a spot higher up on his thigh and sucking—
Kenma gasped from behind his hand.
“Can I—?”
Kenma nodded, closing his eyes—out of pleasure or embarrassment, he wasn’t sure; no one had ever seen him naked, and although it was Kuroo, his heart still raced at the thought. His body wasn’t anything to write home about. It wasn’t smoothly muscled like Kuroo’s, didn’t consist of a broad chest and tapered waist that he figured was the ideal. Kenma didn’t mind it himself, but the idea that Kuroo might set him on edge.
Kuroo’s fingers worked their way up to the top of his boxers and hooked on, tugging down. Before Kenma could let his nerves get the best of him, they were off, the cold air pressing against his torso.
And then there were Kuroo’s lips on him, wet and soft, just mouthing around his head. Kenma couldn’t resist the urge to whine, because this wasn’t fair, if only Kuroo would stop teasing, and if just this felt that good, he wasn’t going to make it. “Kuroo—“ he started.
Kuroo’s lips opened and he sank over Kenma’s cock, spreading the warm wetness. Kenma felt his thighs shake just the slightest, and on impulse reached a hand out to tangle in Kuroo’s hair. Kuroo laughed slightly, the vibrations from it sending shivers up Kenma’s spine. He whimpered.
Kuroo moved his head back, and then forward again, starting out a slow but steady rhythm. And if Kenma had thought he was gifted with his tongue before, well— “O-oh, god,” Kenma gasped, pulling on Kuroo’s hair and causing Kuroo to moan around him. It was enough to nearly send him over the edge.
But he wanted more, couldn’t let things stop here, not when this was what he’d been longing for for oh-so-long. Kuroo would’ve done anything for him, even if that meant leaving Kenma standing on shaky legs while Kuroo received nothing in return. But Kenma needed him, wanted him, yearned to be held and kissed and be closer than this.
“Stand up,” he choked out, eyes blinking open.
Kuroo blinked up at him, sliding off of him with a lewd noise. His pupils were blown wide, spit clinging to his chin and lips berry red. It could be called disgusting, Kenma thought, wiping Kuroo’s chin with his thumb as Kuroo rose to his feet, but he looked beautiful like this.
“What’s wrong?” Kuroo whispered, taking a half-step forward to lean his forehead against Kenma’s.
Kenma took comfort in the touch, raising his other arm to smooth his hands over Kuroo’s jaw, feeling the stubble—Kuroo hadn’t even had energy to shave that morning, likely—under his palms. He shook his hid slightly, closing his eyes. “I want—“ The thought became hard to vocalize. Swallowing, Kenma opened his eyes, looking to Kuroo for understanding. He’d understood him all these years, surely—
Biting his lower lip, Kenma slid his hands down from Kuroo’s jaw—along his neck, over his shoulders, flattening against his chest. He pushed, causing Kuroo to stumble backwards, knees buckling by the bed frame. He landed amidst the blankets, chest still heaving with the irregularity of his breath as he supported himself on his elbows and watched Kenma with wide eyes.
Kuroo’s lips parted. “Kenma—?”
Kenma swallowed, avoiding Kuroo’s gaze as he edged onto the bed, balancing on one knee and reaching forward to hook his hands under the waist band of Kuroo’s pants. “I want you,” he whispered. He fumbled with Kuroo’s belt, hands shaking a bit too much to be fully functional.
“God,” Kuroo breathed in response, reaching down to envelope Kenma’s wrists with his hands. He sat up, holding Kenma stationary, and kissed him long and slow. Pulling back for breath, he moved Kenma’s fingers, unbuckling the belt with haste. “Let me—let me help.”
Kenma nodded, cheeks blazing with warmth. He made quick work of the button, the zipper—why, of all things, had Kuroo decided to wear jeans?—and then tugged on the leg of the pants. Kuroo helped, too, kicking his jeans unceremoniously onto the floor, and jolting when Kenma returned his hands to his waist, only one layer of fabric between them.
“These too,” Kenma said, and pulled.
Kuroo helped him, and then they were both there, clothes discarded, and Kenma suddenly didn’t quite know what to do. He knew in theory, of course, and had thought about it plenty. But performance was something else entirely.
“I can get on my knees,” Kenma offered, glancing away with burning cheeks.
“No,” Kuroo said, too quickly. He sat up, reaching a hand out to cup Kenma’s cheek. Kenma blinked, waiting as he elaborated sheepishly, “I want to look at you.”
Kenma nodded, ducking his head so that his hair pooled around his face. His fingers tightened into fists, resting on his lap. He wasn’t exactly sure what was so embarrassing; they’d already gotten this far, and he wanted this. Talking about it just made things harder. He was never good at talking. “So—?”
There was a pause. “Come here,” Kuroo said softly.
Kenma glanced up to see Kuroo gesture slowly at his lap. He was sitting, and Kenma wasn’t really sure how the logistics of this would work, but he crawled forward nonetheless, pulling his knees up on either side of Kuroo’s waist and settling against his thighs. Their cocks brushed together in the movement, and he shivered.
Kuroo took a breath. “Good,” he breathed. “Is this okay? Y’know…what happens now?”
Kenma nodded.
“Alright.” Kuroo kissed him slowly, hands trailing down his back, pausing to give his hips a squeeze, an assurance, and then moving around the curve of his ass. His fingers were nimble enough to distract Kenma from whatever he had been worrying about, to make him forget there was any discomfort to begin with. Kuroo fumbled with something from the bedside table, and Kenma heard a slick pop, and then the fingers returned.
Kenma whined and shifted against Kuroo’s hands, reaching a hand down to grab Kuroo’s dick with his and give a soft tug. Kuroo sighed, resting his forehead against Kenma’s collar.
He moved from one finger to two, and Kenma had to resist from digging his fingernails into Kuroo’s back. And then came a third, which hit just the right spot— “Kuroo,” he gasped. “Please.”
Kuroo cursed, and the fingers disappeared for a moment, leaving Kenma feeling empty. He watched idly as Kuroo tore open a condom, hands shaking—in some sort of nervous, impatient sexual energy that Kenma was understanding all too well for once.
“Kenma.” Hands smoothed the hair away from Kenma’s face, tucking the strands behind his ears. He was hot—too hot—and sweaty, but Kuroo’s gentle touch didn’t seem to care. Kuroo brought his face close to his, eyes like molten amber. Kuroo took a breath, voice sounding heavy, and asked, “Are you okay?”
Kenma nodded, breathless. He pressed a kiss to Kuroo’s forehead, Kuroo’s cheek, the corner of Kuroo’s mouth. “Yeah, I—“ He shifted closer, feeling the slight friction as his dick rubbed against Kuroo’s stomach and sent sparks flying through his bloodstream. He nodded once more. “I’m okay.”
Kuroo swallowed, nodding in response and taking a careful hold of Kenma’s hips. Slow enough to make Kenma hyperaware of their every movement, he guided Kenma down, angling him just right until Kenma felt the press of his head against his entrance. Ducking his head into Kuroo’s shoulder, Kenma attempted to relax as much as he could as Kuroo pushed in, filling Kenma with heat. Kuroo peppered kisses down Kenma’s neck, almost soothingly. Kuroo gave him plenty time to adjust, moving slowly but never stopping, until he sat fully sheathed within Kenma. His breath came out in a long sigh, but the nearly inaudible, “Shit,” didn’t go unnoticed by Kenma.
“Are you—?”
“I’m okay,” Kenma gasped. His fingers twitched, scrambling for a hold on Kuroo’s shoulders. Relaxing was a feat in itself; getting himself to breathe was another step altogether. He took a moment to collect himself, heart pounding in his throat, and gave a small trial thrust. “You can move.”
He started slow, likely afraid to hurt Kenma, each movement sending heat straight to Kenma’s core. Kuroo’s hands were all over him, seemingly everywhere at once, from cradling his face to squeezing his hips to splaying out over his thighs. And it was hot, though Kenma couldn’t tell if the heat was coming from the now-stifling bedroom air or from within him.
Kuroo thrust in deeply, and Kenma threw back his head in a moan. Kuroo took the chance to nuzzle against his exposed neck, nipping at all the right places. His hips stuttered and then he pushed again, hitting just right.
“Please,” Kenma urged, digging his fingers into Kuroo’s shoulders.
Kuroo made a low noise. “I know,” he said in between pants. “I just—I want to—“
Kenma laughed, despite himself. “Outlast me,” he guessed. Another thrust made his legs quiver.
Kuroo shook his head, hair tickling Kenma’s chin. “I want to say—“ He gasped as Kenma rolled his hips, cutting him off. “Fuck, let me say—“
Kenma moved one hand to cup Kuroo’s cheek, keeping up the new rhythm that they had created.
“I love you.”
It came in a whisper, Kuroo’s forehead pressed into the skin of Kenma’s neck as his mouth worked around gasps of breath. A slight whimper escaped Kenma’s lips, and he responded with a well-timed roll of his hips, taking delight in the broken noise that Kuroo gave him in response. Kuroo’s arms wrapped up around his back, tips of his fingers pressing firmly into the soft skin—hard enough to make sure that Kenma felt their warmth into his very core, soft enough that they wouldn’t leave angry red marks come morning.
“G-god, I love you so much,” Kuroo breathed, planting open-mouthed kisses against the delicate white of his neck. The hitch in his voice sent shivers down Kenma’s spine, causing him to release his breath in a long sigh, tilting his neck back to allow Kuroo more space. His hips ground began to grind out a quicker pace, dick struggling for friction against the flat plane of Kuroo’s stomach.
Kuroo bucked upwards in time with Kenma’s gyrations, teeth grazing the skin just beneath Kenma’s ear and eliciting a startled squeak from his lips. He repeated once more in Kenma’s ear those three words, and then once again, and then a third time. Kenma tangled his fingers in Kuroo’s wild hair, one hand reaching around him to drag his nails slowly across his shoulders.
“You—uhn—you talk too much,” he accused lowly, leaning into the hot embrace of Kuroo’s hands—on his shoulders, the back of his neck, running down his back, his sides, cupping his ass, everywhere. He ducked his head onto Kuroo’s shoulder, gasping as his thrusts grew more hurried by the ill-concealed want of release. Digging his nails into Kuroo’s shoulder until he could practically feel the breaking of skin, and the sharp intake of breath against his neck, Kenma sank down as far as he could, bringing their hips flush against each other.
Kuroo let out a shaky moan, one that he stifled by biting into Kenma’s shoulder, the hard-enough-to-bruise pressure shooting straight to the ever-tightening coil in Kenma’s stomach. “O-oh, fuck,” Kenma hissed, eyes squeezing shut and fingers tightening their grip on Kuroo’s hair.
Kuroo made a series of huffy breaths, sounding far too strained to be called a laugh. “I’ve never heard you curse before,” he murmured, hands sliding down to Kenma’s hips to pull him back down at a faster pace. “It’s surprisingly—ah—it’s really hot.”
Kuroo’s fingers dug into his waist—all lean strength—and then they released slightly, almost as if hesitating. Kenma made a low noise, pressing his lips to Kuroo’s neck before moving back and kissing him slowly, drinking up the muffled moan against his lips. He pulled away after a long moment, breath coming in shallow pants, and leaned his forehead against Kuroo’s, hand in Kuroo’s hair making sure that he held his gaze.
“You don’t have to be so careful with me,” he whispered, his voice driven slightly higher than normal by the presence of Kuroo inside him.
Kuroo stared back with wide eyes, hesitation clouding through them. And so Kenma sunk down once more onto Kuroo’s length, intent on driving it all away, until Kuroo couldn’t think to remember anything more than perhaps Kenma’s name. Kuroo’s eyelids fluttered shut, brows drawing together with a sharp intake of breath.
“Are you sure?” he replied, breath ghosting Kenma’s cheeks.
Kenma raked his hand through Kuroo’s wild hair, pulling him closer. Kuroo had always been—though with the best of intentions—a bit slow, a bit too careful, a bit too scared of hurting Kenma. “I’ve wanted this for as long as I could remember,” he murmured, lips brushing against Kuroo’s with each word as Kuroo stared, transfixed. “Give it to me.” His words, paired with a steady, controlled roll of his hips, were enough to steal Kuroo’s breath away.
“Shit, Kenma, Jesus—“ he allowed with a needy whine, nodding. “Whatever you want.” And then he returned the pressure to Kenma’s waist, hands digging in nearly hard enough to bruise, his own hips gyrating upwards, and leaned in to seal his mouth against Kenma’s.
“Tetsurou,” Kenma breathed when he pulled back, pressing his lips to Kuroo’s head. “Tetsurou.” Kuroo’s hands were on his waist, pressure unyielding and ever-quickening thrusts blazing a fire deep under his skin. “Tetsu—ah!” A shudder ran up his spine, thighs tensing as Kuroo hit a certain spot.
Kuroo released a shaky groan, voice low and hoarse. One of his hands moved to cup Kenma’s face, fingers sliding back into his silky hair.
He hit it again, thrusts growing closer together as Kuroo lost his patience, and Kenma gasped, nails raking down Kuroo’s broad shoulders. “Tetsurou, Tetsu—fuck, fuck, god—“
Kuroo’s fingers twitched, tightening their grip on Kenma’s hair and tugging to tilt his head back. Kuroo’s teeth grazed his neck, voice blown out and reverent. “Fuck—I’m going to—“
Kenma felt the release of pressure in his core, felt his thighs clench as he came against Kuroo’s stomach. He gasped as Kuroo continued thrusting, once, twice, a third time more. And then Kuroo was coming, too, filling Kenma with warmth and exhaling shakily against Kenma’s skin.
They sat in silence for a moment, nothing but the sound of their shaky breaths mingling in the hot air, and then Kenma felt the warmth of his surroundings, the sweat mixing with cum as their stomachs touched. He pushed himself off of Kuroo in a slow movement, rolling to lie next to him, as his legs were far to shaky to carry him anywhere else.
“I love you too,” Kenma said quietly after a moment, turning to glance at Kuroo. It felt weird to say the words aloud, though they had been dancing around them in their texts for the past few weeks, and though he’d been dancing around them in his head forever.
Kuroo rolled onto his side, grinning from ear to ear. “Well, I’d certainly hope so,” he said with a laugh. He rested his cheek on one of his arms, watching Kenma. He reached out a hand and gently brushed the hair back from Kenma’s face. “After that.”
Kenma blushed and covered his eyes with one hand. “Was it okay for you?”
“Okay for me? Are you kidding?”
“You know what I meant.”
“Yeah. Yes, better than okay.”
Kenma peeked out from between his fingers and fixed Kuroo with a look. “Well, I’m here for a few days, so…We can do it again later.”
Kuroo flung himself back down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “God, Kenma, you’re going to be the death of me. Always were.” He held out his arm, gesturing for Kenma to come and lay his head against his shoulder. At Kenma’s crinkled nose, he said, “Oh, c’mon.”
“You’re sticky,” said Kenma, but moved over anyways. He could hear Kuroo’s heart from here, and even though they were gross and he would probably rather be in the shower, he was content. This was somewhere he could get used to. It already felt like he had.
“We should go see Bokuto soon,” Kenma continued.
Kuroo hummed. “But first, let’s lay here a bit.”