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There is an unspoken rule between Tetsurou, Kenma and their parents, and that is of keeping the door of their bedrooms open whenever they are together. Tetsurou and Kenma never told them that they are dating and never acted like a couple in front of them, but apparently it was evident enough that even Tetsurou’s father realized, so whenever they hang out the door is open. That is also one of the reasons why they never do much besides kissing, but also because they don’t really need to.
It feels like they have all the time in the world, knowing that they are going to be together for the long run, so why rush things?
So, Tetsurou never entertains thoughts like having Kenma lay on his bed under him and all he does is blush brightly whenever Bokuto smugly reminds him that the two of them will have a flat all for themselves next year, with no parents around, and how he promises to never “cockblock them”.
However, today feels a little different. It’s as if he’s hyperaware of every little thing about Kenma since morning: his hair getting longer and framing beautifully his face, the shorts he is wearing because the weather is getting ridiculously warm, showing off lean legs and his skin glowing slightly because of the intense sun and warm temperature. He looks healthier thanks to the summer air, lying next to him on his bed (his father downstairs clicking away at his laptop, working even in summertime) one leg stretched all the way and the other bended slightly, his face relaxed as he taps at his PSP.
Tetsurou feels very lucky, looking at the blinding sunshine that comes in through his window and hits Kenma’s hair, making it gleam. The dark roots look healthy and strong, ebony black under the light, while the bleached ends resting against his neck and mattress remind him of endless golden fields.
Having Kenma right there in his teenage bedroom shouldn’t set his heart on fire, Kenma has been visiting since they were children, but the tension between them makes it feel completely different.
The tree branch outside his window projects shadows over them, that move every time the breeze decides to caress its leaves, play of light on Kenma’s downcast eyes.
Tetsurou sighs, putting Mrs Dalloway to the side, and he leans in to press a brief kiss on Kenma’s forehead, that wrinkles under his lips, making him huff a laugh.
His boyfriend stretches, back arching, legs lengthening like a cat’s, rustling against his wrinkled sheets. The sound makes his cheeks burn but he banishes it firmly from his brain, blaming Bokuto for planting certain thoughts in his mind.
A wave of fondness hits him when Kenma curls his toes, -his feet look so delicate, the ankles slim and graceful- and sits up with a grunt and yawn.
He blinks at him in silence, exhausted by the heat and sleepy from their lazy afternoon. Big golden eyes, looking like a jar of honey held against the sunlight, stare at him like they always do, calmly and reassuringly. Their weight on him is familiar and still as thrilling as it was the first time.
Kenma sighs happily, leaning in, close to his face, a small amused smile curling the corners of his lips when his nose bumps into Tetsurou’s.
“Hi.” he mumbles, basking in the feeling of having Kenma so close.
“Hello.” replies the boy, moving closer and resting his weight on Tetsurou’s chest.
It should feel uncomfortable, considering how warm it is, their skin a bit sticky and their breaths hot but the proximity stirs something in Tetsurou’s chest that tingles when Kenma angles his face up, silently asking for a kiss.
He glances at the open door, showing an empty corridor and he leans in, pecking his soft lips.
Kenma looks disappointed when he moves away, a judging look in his eyes, resting his palms against his chest.
“What?” he asks defensively, knowing already what Kenma wants but enjoying teasing him a little.
“That does not even deserve the title of kiss.” mutters the setter, once again angling his face up.
“You never asked me to give you a kiss.” points out Tetsurou, smiling at Kenma’s deadly glare.
He raises his eyebrows, waiting impatiently.
“You have to ask, Kenma.” he says evenly, enjoying greatly Kenma’s frustration.
He moves his hands to play with his hair, noticing that it is getting longer and that the shampoo Keiji had given him as a birthday gift is working, limiting the split ends and making his hair look and feel healthy and silky. It’s very warm, having absorbed the sunlight pouring from the window, especially at the top.
It reminds him of the time they went to the beach and he had to force Kenma to put on sunblock on every two hours, since he burns easily, and the younger boy was refusing to do so, because he hates the feeling of moisturiser on his skin. His lips tasted salty from sea water and a few freckles had popped up on his nose, so naturally Tetsurou had spent the ride home on the nearly empty bus kissing the bridge of his nose, making Kenma giggle and grumble, both of them unaware of the marine landscape turning into Tokyo outside the dirty windows. He also had to apply aloe vera on him for the following three days, rubbing as gently as possible his burnt shoulders.
“Fine,” spits out the setter, his fingers tangling with Tetsurou’s shirt as he straightens up.
His feeling of victory crumbles quickly when he sees the calculating look in Kenma’s eyes, the one that makes the other teams shiver with fear.
“Tetsurou,” he breaths against his lips, cruelly batting his eyelashes, his hands resting on his shoulders for balance, “kiss me?”
His sharp intake of breath is already an admission of defeat but Kenma never calls him by his name, always using the nickname he chose when they were children. The more debilitating factor is how genuine the request sounds, even when he knows he is being tricked, with those gorgeous eyes staring up at him in anticipation and his lips a vibrant pink in the sunlight.
So, he leans down, satisfied in seeing Kenma’s eyelashes flutter as he closes his eyes smirking in victory, and he presses their lips together.
He promises himself to keep an ear out for any of his dad’s movements but realistically he knows Kenma’s presence is so intoxicating he will forget about his surroundings in less than five seconds.
It’s exactly what happens, because Kenma’s lips are softer than he remembered, and his fingers are buried in his messy hair, nails grazing the scalp in the exact way that makes him melt on the spot and sigh a little.
His left hand is firm on Kenma’s jaw, his thumb stroking lovingly the soft skin of his cheeks, while his right hand finds his waist. Tetsurou likes how he can cover most of Kenma’s middle with just one hand, while also feeling his abdominal muscles from training working under his thumb, his strong thighs tense against his.
He knows in the back of his mind that it would be better to stop now, before they both get too riled up, but Kenma is sneaky, strategic and he knows exactly how to get what he wants, so he scratches lightly once again Tetsurou’s scalp and when his lips inevitably part under his in a small gasp, he takes his bottom lip between his. Tetsurou can’t possibly stop now, because Kenma’s mouth is hot and red and sucking his bottom lip just right, so he tightens his arms around his waist and he pulls him impossibly closer, reciprocating the kiss.
He tries to slow things down, because Kenma is eager and impatient, so he pulls a way, holding Kenma still with a hand on his jaw, that causes the younger boy’s skin to be covered in goose bumps and a needy whine to escape his lips.
His lips are a red colour, dark enough to make his head spin, and his hair a bit ruffled, eyes unfocused staring at Tetsurou’s mouth with determination.
He kisses the corner of his mouth, just a peck and then his nose, ignoring Kenma’s annoyed and impatient glare. He nips lightly at his top lip, feeling Kenma’s hand in his hair open and close roughly around a lock when his teeth graze his lips slowly, making him tremble in his arms. The slow pace predictably doesn’t last long because Kenma surges up with no warning, knocking their teeth together and making both of them giggle a bit, before thrusting his tongue in Tetsurou’s mouth making him dizzy, wet sounds the only noise his ears seem willing to record, apart from their fast breaths and occasional grunts. If his dad were to rush up the stairs right now, Tetsurou wouldn’t notice and he honestly doesn’t really care at the moment, feeling like he’s exactly where he is supposed to be, trapped between the headboard and Kenma’s warm smaller body. The kiss in the summer heat makes every touch of Kenma’s lips feel scorching hot, making him burn up like the worst fever as he exhales shakily when Kenma settles down in his lap, vengeful from being teased before and wicked with sparkling eyes brighter than every star and cherry red lips.
“Kenma,” he whispers, trying to find the will and the words to stop what they are doing, hearing again the steady tap tap of his father’s fingers on the keyboard, now that Kenma’s presence isn’t intoxicating him anymore.
He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, closing his mouth quickly, scared of the sound he might make when Kenma rests his face in the crook of his neck. It’s not the first time he does this, but it feels radically different from when he sleepily rests his cheek against his collarbone on the Nekoma volleyball club bus, after a long match. No, his face is pressed against him, eyelashes tickling as he bats them, lips parted and hot puffs of air ghosting over his skin. His brain zeroes instantly on that feeling, suddenly the point of contact of Kenma’s lips on his neck the only thing that matters or that he is even aware of, forgetting their tangled legs or Kenma’s hand on the other side of his neck. The heat is nearly unbearable, the summer temperature in the room cool now compared to Kenma’s hot breath making his head spin. He is frozen on the spot, letting Kenma trail soft closed mouth kisses from his ear to his collarbone again and again, the repetition of the motion making him crumble like a cliff hit by the same ocean wave, the same patience, the same sense of inevitability.
There is a revelation there, in the fact that he turns into putty as soon as his brain registers the feeling of Kenma’s hot body against him, a solution to the tension he felt whenever they walked close, whenever he saw Kenma land elegantly on his feet after setting, or when he watched him rest his pen against his lips.
He feels a million thoughts whirling in his mind coming to a stop as soon as Kenma parts his lips, letting his hot tongue lap at Tetsurou’s skin. His brain is suddenly empty, his pulse is hammering like never before and Kenma can probably feel it, leaving hot, wet, slow kisses on his neck. It feels even better than what he was doing before which is honestly shocking, considering Tetsurou was already losing his mind. He is painfully aware of being speechless and of the fact that his brain is empty, everything still like in the middle of the storm, while he pants heavily clutching to Kenma for dear life.
The contrast of Kenma’s soft lips with his teeth, the slow exhales from his nose, the hand resting on his thigh to find balance, the thumb rubbing under his ear as he slowly drives him to madness, all the small details slot together in the perfect puzzle making him fully give up. He decides to concentrate as hard as he can on simply not making any sound while Kenma’s teeth graze his skin setting a maddening rhythm.
Forgotten his book, forgotten his father downstairs or the unbearable heat: everything is Kenma. All he is aware of is the light, comforting weight of his boyfriend’s smaller body against his, the brush of his hair, the softness of his lips and the dampness of his tongue.
His calm state lasts for about a minute before he lifts Kenma and he lays him down gently on the mattress, crawling over him.
Kenma raises his eyebrows expectantly, clearly thinking Tetsurou is going to try to one up him. Really, all Tetsurou wants to do is take a good look at him and fix the image of his dishevelled hair and scarlet lips in his memory forever. He carves out a space in his mind for this breathless Kenma, with dilated pupils swallowing most of his sunshine irises, a hunger he only expressed for video games and his hair fanned out against Tetsurou’s dark blue bed sheets, like the first rays of sun splitting the night sky at dawn.
He finds comfort in the fact that this Kenma will always exist in his mind, next to sunburnt freckled Kenma, grumpy wrapped in layers during winter Kenma and every single detail about his boyfriend along them. No matter where life takes him, this moment in time will be his and only his forever, a hidden treasure, a supply of comfort and reassurance forever engraved in the walls of his mind.
“You are beautiful.” he manages to say shakily, the weight of what he is feeling hitting him like a volleyball straight to his chest. The word beautiful seems inadequate to express how strong the impact of the sun lighting up only half of Kenma’s face is, or how the love he feels in his chest seems to expand daily, pushing his lungs aside, conquering steadily every inch of his body.
Nothing seems to measure up when it is compared to Kenma: Tetsurou’s presence next to him, the words clouding his brain desperately trying to describe logically the wave of emotions he feels. They’re like fireflies flying in the night, trying to escape his six-year-old self and his tiny glass jars. It’s indescribable, so Tetsurou decides to listen to the voice in his brain that sounds like Yaku telling him to “maybe shut up then” and he leans down. As usual, Kenma is on the same wave length as him, even without verbal communication, his kisses softer and slower, the urge from before has vanished. All that remains is the steady comfort of the pressure of his lips and the warmth of his body, no longer dizzying but calming.
When they part is only after exchanging a few lazy pecks, Kenma pushing his chin up to meet Tetsurou leaning forward.
He exhales slowly, resting his forehead against Kenma’s, their gazes never leaving each other. It’s bliss, it’s the entire universe in one room or better, in Kenma’s eyes. Testurou can’t find a single reason for wanting to leave his bedroom as long as Kenma is in it. Nothing is better than what they have, even when it was only sharing the silence together, before they realised their feelings for each other, Tetsurou wouldn’t have traded it for anything in the world.
He doesn’t really know how long they stay like that, just basking in the other’s presence, letting their heartbeats slow down, as the sun rays become weaker and their colours warmer, approaching the end of the afternoon.
Tetsurou’s blood runs cold when he realises that the sound of his father tapping his laptop’s keyboard has been replaced by the noise of him making his way up the stairs.
He opens his eyes immediately, meeting Kenma’s and knowing he realised as well.
He knows he should move away, not because his father would be angry but to avoid the embarrassment and the crossing of a line they are all aware of without ever stepping over it, but he can’t move, his reflexes slow, his limbs lazy and content to remains exactly where they are.
He’s already imagining the awkward silence and stares that are about to come, when in a blur Kenma flips them over, pushing him in his usual position, back pressed against the headboard and throwing his forgotten book at him.Tetsurou grabs it by reflex just in time for his father to open the door. Kenma is on the other side of the bed, curled up on the side, his back facing Tetsurou.
“Tetsurou?”
He blinks, the words on the page blurry, raising his head.
“Yes?”
“Sorry to bother you, I was just wondering if Kenma was going to stay for dinner.”
Tetsurou meets Kenma’s eyes, interpreting effectively his placid blinks.
“Yes, he will.”
His dad nods, rubbing the back of his neck the way Tetsurou learned to do just from him. His hair is sticking in different directions and he has a five o’ clock shadow, that makes him look even more exhausted than he probably is, but he gives both boys a smile, before turning away.
“Ah, boys,” he says, facing them again “you are both flushed, which is not surprising considering how warm it is. You might want to open the window.”
Tetsurou knows his cheeks are turning even redder than they were before and he realises with dread that Kenma’s hair is a bit of a mess.
He catches a glint of amusement in his father’s eyes before he turns away again, closing the door behind himself.
They stare at the closed door in shock for a few seconds, waiting for the handle to lower, before Kenma starts laughing quietly, a melodic sound that usually sparks joy in Tetsurou. However, now he turns to glare at his laughing boyfriend, tapping him with his foot on the shin to catch his attention.
Kenma’s laugh only intensifies when he sees Tetsurou’s disapproval.
“Oh, you are going to get me in trouble.” he ends up sighing, a smile on his face that he knows spells how smitten he is.
The only answer he gets is an angelic smile, eyes twinkling with mischief.
“I only see what happened as a victory.” justifies Kenma, standing up and opening the window.
Tetsurou raises an eyebrow in a silent question. Kenma turns to answer.
The light coming from the window makes him look ethereal, otherworldly with the wind combing through his hair, the strands dancing next to his face. He is mostly a silhouette because of the amount of light behind him, but Tetsurou can still see his smile and the joy in his eyes.
“The door is closed now, isn’t it?”
Their laughter is carried away by the wind.