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Of all the things that could possibly shake Sawamura Daichi’s sturdy core, he had never expected it to be a simple, dinky, pastel blue bow tie.
To his credit, the formidable focus he’s known for holds up during practice. It’s the before and after where he falters.
When he thinks about it all - because Suga so seamlessly occupies the entirety of the non-volleyball space of his mind - it’s not just the bow tie that drives him wild. It’s the weight of Suga’s stare during class. The maddeningly coy look he flashes when their eyes connect. The tight collar of his shirt hugging his neck, the hickey barely hidden beneath the soft fabric that dares him to deepen its colour.
There’s absolutely no doubt his boyfriend is doing this on purpose. Just last week, Daichi reached a point where he’d bought a spare uniform for his own sanity. His rascal of a boyfriend had a habit of stealing his uniform and wearing it when they were alone . “I need you close to me,” he’d murmured, under the darkness of Daichi’s duvet cover, “I can’t get enough of you.” The smell of Suga lingering on the fabric was intoxicating.
And when Hinata had commented on how many practices Daichi had ended early, he knew he had no other choice but to stutter out a request to Shimizu. Mercifully, she hadn’t probed him further, but the look she’d given him rendered him unable to make eye contact with her after that.
His brain grinds to a halt.
Is this that term Tanaka uses for his thighs, the one he utterly fails at whispering to Nishinoya? ...A kink?
“What are you thinking about?” Appearing out of nowhere, Suga slinks up to him, like a genie that’s granted all his three wishes but still has one more trick tucked up his sleeve. His arms settle on Daichi’s shoulders, fingers dancing along the back of his neck. Suga’s scent fills the air, fruity and overpowering. There’s a fire blazing in his eyes. Daichi wants it to devour him whole.
It’s not an innocent question by any means. He considers his response. Your eyes. Your lips. That goddamn bow tie I want to rip off after practice and-
A hot whisper of breath in his ear stops his thoughts in its tracks. “Careful, Captain” Suga says. The warmth of his hand, now resting on his hip, burns through the material. “Your kouhai is watching.”
Daichi swallows, watching Suga eye the movement of his throat with hunger, before glancing warily at the kouhai in question.
From the bench, Tanaka watches them both open-mouthed and glued to the spot. He doesn’t look away. Maybe he hasn’t noticed Daichi’s stare. Or maybe he can’t.
As always, Daichi’s gaze returns to Suga. He watches as he winks at the player with the mental strength second to his own. It’s completely understandable, he thinks, when he hears Tanaka splutter and trip over his feet. There’s no-one on earth who could tear their eyes away from someone like Suga.
All too quick, Suga’s touch leaves him. Daichi mourns its loss but his voice makes up for it, dripping with promise.
“Study at mine after practice?”
***
Somehow, Daichi survives. He ends practice on time. None of his receives go astray. He’s even able to look at Shimizu for a second. On the latter two counts, the same can’t be said for Tanaka. Daichi feels sorry for the poor guy but he has faith he’ll recover soon enough.
As for himself? Well. That’s something else he’s yet to answer.
The walk home is the same as normal. They hold hands, fingers interlaced, discussing the highs and lows of their day, hinting at the future they want to spend with each other.
Time passes and before he knows it, they’re at Suga’s front door. Even though Suga has texted him this fact multiple times and makes a show of unlocking the door he still proclaims, with a ridiculous wiggle of his eyebrows, “My parents are away for the whole week.”
“Good.” Daichi snorts, masking his amusement with a deadpan expression.”The quiet will help us focus.”
There’s an unsubtle huff from Suga who has clearly discarded his thinly-veiled pretence as quickly as his scarf. Daichi raises an eyebrow.
“I’d like to finish at least one study session this time.” The depth of his Suga-occupied mind tells him this is impossible at best. But Sawamura Daichi rises to every challenge that comes his way.
“We’ll see,” Suga counters and with those two simple words, just like when he sees that bow tie, Daichi’s stomach sparks with heat.
As they go through their English notes, the buzzing under his skin is constant, but Daichi manages to prevail. Three topics down and the muscles in his shoulders start to relax. Two years of friendship and two months of dating means he’s certainly no stranger to Suga’s mischief. It’s a waiting game. One he intends to see through.
It starts. The sound of the chair scraping back. Biting his lip, Daichi readies himself. This is where he’ll strike.
“Let’s take a bre– ah!”
With one swift movement of his arms, Suga goes from standing upright to being pinned onto his lap.
Then, Daichi kisses him. Hard.
There’s a taste on Suga’s lips he can’t get enough of. He chases them, because he loves the feel of them under his own, because Suga seems too breathless to respond. Daichi smirks, feral and wide, tugging at his bottom lip.
“You really thought you had the upper hand?”
A noise escapes Suga’s mouth but for all the verbs and adjectives they’ve just revised, he can’t find the words to describe it. Daichi's brain is running on pure primal need. It’s trivial, not worth the effort. What matters is Suga, here, in front of him.
They are close enough that he can feel Suga’s heat seep into his body. It’s not enough. He pulls on that bow tie, tossing it aside, the ripping of fabric shooting pleasure down his spine. It’s a clip-on, of course. Suga can barely find the energy to make breakfast in the morning, a duty Daichi is happy to fulfil for both of them.
More importantly, with the bow tie out of the way, he can finally enact his revenge.
“From now on,” he states, husky and low and directly into his ear, “from the second you wake up to the second you go to sleep, you think of me.” He licks the spot on his throat that has taunted him for weeks. “Not that guy on your wall,” he nips at the skin, redness blooming in its wake “Not Tanaka watching us.” Pressing Suga’s hips close, he looks up, levelling him with a gaze full of intent.
“Me.”
It’s unquestionable.
And although he’s fallen right into Suga’s trap, the wide blown eyes and gaping mouth tells Daichi this is a round of cat and mouse he’s conquered with ease.
Needless to say, they don’t get much studying done after that.
***
The next day, Suga keeps his hands mostly to himself.
Though Suga seemed to have had no qualms in extending that break overnight, Daichi wonders if he’d gone too far. They still hold hands on the way to school but there’s no notes passed in class together, no synchronised ‘toilet breaks’ in classes apart from each other. He trusts that Suga’s just biding his time.
His trust is well-placed.
At practice, in front of the team, Suga kisses him right on the mouth. Deeply, deviously and full of passion.
It’s no secret that they’re dating – hiding it had proven to be a futile effort. Distantly, he registers a mix of reactions from the team in the background. Some groans, some sighs and what might be a sob. He doesn’t have the brainpower to assign them each to a specific person right now. Not when Suga is short-circuiting his brain.
“Happy birthday, babe. Since you ruined my pre-birthday plans, this is all you’re getting.” Suga’s parting gift is a smack on his backside and even though he should be used to it by now, his cheeks still blaze something fierce.
"By the way," Suga grabs Daichi's jaw, forcing him to make eye contact, "jealousy is such a good look for you. Let me keep that spare uniform and maybe I'll let you come to mine after practice."
That’s when the aftertaste of cherry hits him.
Oh no.
Suga shoots him a look that travels directly to his gut.
Oh yes.
The game was far from over.
And Daichi couldn’t wait for the chase.