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Around that time in the morning when the day begins to warm in earnest, Akaashi notices that Bokuto is fidgeting.
The two of them are on Akaashi’s bed. Kenma and Kuroo are seated on the rug adjacent to the bed, the smaller tucked securely in Kuroo’s lap. They’ve been glued to Bokuto’s new PlayStation for the past hour, which he brought with him from Osaka; Kenma hadn’t been able to snag one for himself before they sold out, and he’d arrived earlier today declaring that he wouldn’t leave before he completed this game in its entirety or his thumbs fell off from trying.
Bokuto is chattering with Kuroo, the two of them keeping up a lively commentary on the game. Every few minutes, Kenma contributes to the conversation, though the majority of his comments are instructions to Kuroo on how to improve his performance. Akaashi doesn’t participate and instead reads the new book Bokuto brought him.
Around fifty pages in, Bokuto starts jiggling his leg. It’s an unfortunate habit that he picked up from Atsumu and has still not managed to quit. Though Akaashi can sometimes appreciate it for how it brings attention to his thick thighs, he’s currently rocking the entire bed frame. It’s becoming really difficult to read.
So Akaashi speaks up. “Koutarou, you’re making the bed shake.”
“That’s what she said,” Kuroo chortles. He holds his palm out to Kenma for a high-five, who ignores it.
Bokuto laughs. “Good one, bro.”
And then, Bokuto looks at Akaashi. His expression changes, from open and relaxed to something… different.
There is a weight to his gaze that’s familiar, though Akaashi isn’t able to immediately place it. He scrutinizes the other boy, who’s gazing openly at him. What does he want?
He waits for Bokuto to say something, but the latter is quiet for once. He’s also no longer shaking his leg, but now he’s twitching in a different way. He’s shifting his hips almost imperceptibly, moving his hands from the mattress to his legs, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. And all throughout, he stares at Akaashi.
“Is there something you need to say to me?” Akaashi finally asks.
Instantly, Bokuto smiles at him, like he knew Akaashi would notice and respond. “Kinda.”
And then Bokuto wiggles into Akaashi’s personal space, placing one hand high on Akaashi’s thigh and the other on the back of his neck—and, oh, Akaashi realizes, he’s horny.
Akaashi barely manages to shove his bookmark into place before Bokuto’s lips are on him. His boyfriend skips over casual and goes deep, kissing him so hard that Akaashi feels breathless in mere seconds. For a moment, Akaashi forgets where they are, who they’re with. His hands flutter up to cling to Bokuto’s firm chest, and he allows Bokuto to consume him.
“You dropped your book, Keiji,” Kenma comments, bored.
Face hot, Akaashi pushes against Bokuto, who backs off easily.
It should probably be embarrassing, knowing that his friends just saw him heatedly make out with his boyfriend. It should instantly kill any mood he finds himself in. But Akaashi’s dick doesn’t get the memo. Instead, he’s getting hard in his sweatpants, his lower abdomen warm and tight with arousal. Attempting to shake it off, Akaashi yanks at the hem of his t-shirt so it covers his bulge. He bends down to pick his book off from the floor.
“You got it, Keiji?” Bokuto asks, voice all open friendliness. Akaashi nods, not quite ready to look the other boy in the eyes. “Pass it over, I’ll put it on the nightstand for you.”
Akaashi obeys, handing the book to Bokuto. The latter tosses it on the table, then hooks a possessive hand under Akaashi’s left knee. He squeezes it once.
Then, he yanks.
Akaashi yelps as he’s dragged flat on his back, all of the air completely knocked out of his chest. Bokuto hauls himself up and over until his body is pressed flush on top of Akaashi’s with intention. He kisses him again, firm and eager. It doesn't take much effort on Bokuto's part to coax his lips open, lure Akaashi’s tongue into his mouth.
He laces his fingers through Akaashi’s, lifting his arms over his head to pin them against the pillow. His hips ease into Akaashi’s. The friction makes Akaashi gasp, dropping back from the kiss. Bokuto’s mouth goes to Akaashi’s neck, hot against the sensitive skin. Akaashi takes a loud, shuddering breath.
For a split second, Akaashi wonders if Bokuto has lost his mind. Kenma and Kuroo are right there, less than two meters away. Though they aren't looking directly at them, the bed is very obviously in their peripheral vision. But weirdly enough, it also makes a stupid amount of sense that his boyfriend wouldn't give a damn. Shameless Bokuto, who always takes what he wants without even a modicum of embarrassment—why would he suddenly be shy about wanting to fuck his boyfriend?
Akaashi bites back a laugh as an imagined conversation comes into his head, unbidden: Bokuto saying, flabbergasted, “I don’t get it. They already know we’re a couple, Keiji! They know we have sex with each other all the time. Why do we have to wait until they’re gone when I want to do it right now?”
But just because Bokuto is okay with this doesn’t mean that Kenma and Kuroo are. Biting on his bottom lip to block any potentially embarrassing noises, Akaashi’s gaze skitters over to Kenma and Kuroo. The former’s attention is still trained steadily on the game, but Kuroo glances over at the bed every few seconds, curious… but not averse.
Akaashi's hips buck involuntarily at the feeling of teeth at the junction between his shoulder and his neck; Bokuto’s noticed that he’s distracted. “Don’t mind them, Keiji,” he chides between bruising kisses against Akaashi’s throat.
“We can’t,” Akaashi whispers. “It’s not polite to Kenma and Kuroo.”
Bokuto pauses, considering. Then, he sits up on top of Akaashi, pinning him down in a way that has his groin pushing against Akaashi’s, so hard that it teeters on that delicious cusp between pleasure and pain. Akaashi gasps and squirms against the mattress.
“You guys mind if I fuck Keiji right now?” Bokuto calls over, petting through his boyfriend’s hair.
Kuroo looks over at them, blushing prettily. “Ummm, I’m fine with it if Kenma doesn’t mind,” He answers.
“Go for it.” Kenma’s eyes don’t leave the screen. “Just don’t be too loud. This is a really important part of the game.”
Bokuto looks at Akaashi, golden eyes earnest and sweet. “Are you okay with it too, Keiji?”
Akaashi burns with pure desire. "Yes," he mumbles, unable to meet Bokuto's gaze.
Bokuto brightens. Left hand still bracing his body over Akaashi's, he uses one hand to tug his top over his head. Akaashi helps, more than a little self-indulgent as he slides his hands against bare, warm skin to help his boyfriend rid himself of his shirt. Once it’s fully off and flung somewhere behind the two of them, Akaashi traces his fingers all over Bokuto’s bare skin, paying particular attention to the taut muscles of his chest.
Akaashi’s not stupid. He recognizes this for what it is: Bokuto knows how worked up Keiji gets when he sees his tits. But it still fucking works—the self-consciousness he felt earlier from Kuroo and Kenma’s presence completely disappears. Head emptying itself everything except Bokuto’s chest, Akaashi reaches up to pet him. He squeezes his pecs into his fists and watches how the firm muscle strains outwards in the gaps between his fingers. He can’t fit all of Bokuto in his hands; though Akaashi’s hands are on the bigger side, Bokuto’s tits are even fatter, and it makes his mouth water.
Heat rises in his face. He gives in, latching his lips around Bokuto’s right nipple. He licks a circle around the hard center and then sucks gently, blinking up through his eyelashes at his boyfriend.
Bokuto groans, low and deep and loud enough that Akaashi sees Kuroo twitch.
Akaashi pops off with a wet sound. The skin around his nipple is puffy and red with the promise of pretty, velvety bruises in the coming days. A satisfied smirk slips onto his lips, and he switches to the other nipple. Bokuto lets out a shivery laugh.
Akaashi’s hands fumble at the waistline of Bokuto’s pants, shy but eager all at once. But the other boy grabs his hands, stopping him.
“Can I suck you off first?” Bokuto breathes. “Please, Keiji?”
And normally, Akaashi would cave in (after all, it’s hardly a burden to have his extremely sexy boyfriend go down on him), but right now his mouth is practically watering for Bokuto’s dick. “But I want to,” He frowns.
“Please, please, please? Oh, Keiji, please let me, I’ll make it so good for you—”
“Yo, just do rock, paper, scissors, or something,” Kuroo chimes in. “Winner goes first.”
“Dude, you know that Keiji always beats me at rock, paper, scissors,” Bokuto complains.
“Why don’t you both do it at the same time?” Kenma suggests.
Bokuto grins cheekily. “Keiji doesn’t like 69-ing because he can’t see my face… and my mouth.”
Akaashi swats at his shoulder but doesn’t deny it.
“Okay. I think Bokuto should get to do it because he asked first,” Kenma says, with all the patience of a preschool teacher breaking up a recess argument.
“I think so too,” Bokuto agrees immediately.
Kuroo chortles. “Alright then, me three, I guess.”
“You all suck.”
“You would know,” Bokuto tells Akaashi, giving him a cheesy wink. He sits back so that he’s on his knees, still placed on either side of Akaashi’s hips. His fingers come around Akaashi’s hips, deftly curving under the elastic waistbands of his pants and boxers to palm his ass. “Help me get these off?”
Planting his weight on his feet and shoulders, Akaashi arches off the mattress so that Bokuto can roll his sweatpants and underwear down his thighs and knees, baring Akaashi’s flushed cock. Then, he lays back down but lifts his feet so that Bokuto can fully pull off his clothes. He discards them somewhere unseen behind him.
Bokuto presses a knee between the inside of Akaashi’s legs. Obediently, Akaashi spreads his knees apart so that Bokuto can settle in between them on his stomach. His boyfriends kisses up his thighs, chaste at first, then with more teeth. Bokuto fists slowly over his cock a few times for him, helping coax him to full hardness. Eyes focused, he milks out the first beads of precum, then releases him and returns to mouthing along his legs.
“You’re so soft, Keiji,” Bokuto marvels after finishing up a particularly vicious kiss mark.
“Not all of us are professional athletes,” Akaashi replies, suddenly a little insecure. He knows he’s gained weight after high school, as a result of living the sedentary manga editor life. On the other hand, Bokuto’s physique has only gotten more impressive, a testament to the rigor of V-League athletics.
Bokuto bites into Akaashi’s thigh, sharp enough to make him whimper. “It’s a good thing, obviously,” Bokuto scolds. Then, his tone lightens up. “I want to fuck your thighs,” He says dreamily.
“I thought you wanted to suck my dick.”
Bokuto’s eyes refocus. He beams at Akaashi. “You’re always right, you know that?”
And Bokuto takes the head of Akaashi’s cock into his mouth. He tongues the slit almost contemplatively, like he’s idling in the street to figure out which direction to turn. Then, he bobs down once, lingering around the crown afterwards. A second time, deeper into his mouth. Then Bokuto is sliding his lips up and down Akaashi’s shaft in a steady rhythm. While he works his mouth over Akaashi, a free hand comes up to stroke the part of his dick that his lips can’t reach.
Akaashi takes shaky breaths through his mouth, trying to focus on being as silent as possible. When the building pressure within him threatens to become too much, he bites into the flesh of his wrist, blocking his small grunts from being heard by everyone in the room. The other hand tightens into the sheet underneath him. It would be hot, he acknowledges, for him to be as loud as he usually is. To know that Kuroo and Kenma can hear him, and to maybe even hear them comment on that. But he also doesn’t know if his ego can handle other people hearing him scream for dick, so he keeps quiet.
But then, Bokuto looks up. His eyebrows furrow, and Akaashi realizes too late that he’s going to take this as a personal challenge.
Bokuto shoves his mouth lower, takes Akaashi deeper into him. At the bottom, so much of Akaashi’s cock inside of him that his nose is practically touching Akaashi’s pelvis, Bokuto takes a slow, meaningful swallow.
The tightness of his throat clenching around Akaashi’s dick breaks him—a loud whimper escapes through his tightly pressed lips as he throws his head back into the pillow in an effort to keep the rest of himself still and good for Bokuto.
Bokuto slides his lips back up then pushes back down again. His eyes are watering and pink and blissed out, mind against body as he takes Akaashi so far down his throat that he nearly chokes on him, and Akaashi has never seen anything sexier. “Oh my god,” Akaashi whines as Bokuto lingers at the base of his dick to hum happily, sending vibrations through Akaashi’s entire body.
“Please focus on the game,” Akaashi hears Kenma tell Kuroo. “You’re making us lose.”
Kuroo mumbles something to Kenma, too quiet for Akaashi to hear over the sounds of his own panting, of Bokuto’s slick mouth on his dick.
Kenma reaches a hand behind his shoulder to stroke the back of Kuroo’s hair. “Be good, and I’ll take care of you later.”
Akaashi’s attention is suddenly torn away from the side conversation by the sensation of Bokuto’s lips moving from his cock to his balls and then to his asshole, sucking sweetly at the edges of the puckered skin. “K-Kou!” Akaashi gasps sharply like he’s been slapped. He almost launches himself off the bed from how hard he drives his heels into the mattress. “Oh god, Kou, that’s—oh god oh god—”
Bokuto takes his mouth off. His lips are red and shiny with spit and precum. “That’s what you get for being distracted by Kuroo when I’m giving you a blowjob,” He sulks.
“I apologize for being devastatingly sexy,” Kuroo calls over. His delivery on the joke is noticeably strained.
Instead of replying, Bokuto lowers his head back to Akaashi’s ass and tongues over his hole. He does this enthusiastically several times, taking Akaashi apart with each lick. Too sensitive, Akaashi cries out and squirms and loses control. His legs jerk up, trying to close together.
Anticipating this, Bokuto catches both of his thighs and pins them down firmly. His tongue finally breaches Akaashi’s rim, inside of him, too much and not enough all at once.
“Stop, please, please, I’m going to cum—” Akaashi whimpers.
Bokuto obliges, sliding his mouth off. He darts in only to give one final, sloppy kiss to the spit-shiny head of Akaashi’s cock, then rolls over to stand on the floor.
Dazed from his near-orgasm, Akaashi pushes himself unsteadily into a sitting position. But before he can bend down or get on the carpet or assume whatever position Bokuto wants him in for reciprocation, Bokuto cuts him off with an open-mouthed kiss. He tastes salty, like Akaashi’s skin and pre-cum, and Akaashi feels a deep throb of both lust and adoration for him.
“Can I fuck you, please?” Bokuto asks eagerly, eyes nearly sparkling, once Akaashi backs off from the kiss to breathe, head spinning.
“Yes,” Akaashi whimpers. “Yes, please, yes, anything for you—”
Bokuto turns away to retrieve the spare lube and condoms stashed in the drawer of his nightstand. Akaashi takes a second to admire the strong curve of his shoulders and the mouthwatering dimples in his lower back. When Bokuto returns, he helps Akaashi out of his shirt, then tips him over until he’s on his back again. Kneeling on the bed in front of Akaashi, he uncaps the lube and squeezes a generous amount on his finger. The way he rubs it between his fingers to warm it up simultaneously makes Akaashi’s heart melt and his dick harden.
Akaashi scoots himself closer to Bokuto, then folds his knees and hugs them to his chest. “Now,” He demands.
Bokuto laughs, planting a wet kiss on Akaashi’s stomach. He circles Akaashi’s rim with the pads of his fingers, giving just enough pressure for Akaashi to know that he’s there but not enough to actually push inside of him. “Now? But what if I want to take a break?”
“No,” Akaashi whines. “Fingers, now.”
“Well, since you’re asking so nicely,” Bokuto grins at him, then presses in the first finger. As he carefully pumps it in and out, he brings his other hand to Akaashi’s cock, playing with it loosely.
Akaashi sighs at the familiar sensation of fullness. “Another, please.”
Bokuto complies, sliding in a second.
“Kuro,” Kenma says dryly. “Bokuto’s not even inside Keiji yet. If you’re this affected already, you’re going to cum in your pants before they finish.”
“How can you say it that bluntly!” Kuroo squawks indignantly at him.
From the corner of his eye, Akaashi spots Kenma shooting his boyfriend an unimpressed look.
Akaashi covers his face with his hands, embarrassed. Bokuto frowns at this. His fingers slide out of Akaashi, and his hands catch Akaashi’s, pulling them gently away so that he can look at him. “Keiji, you’re blushing so much,” He says, worried. “Are you okay? Are you too embarrassed? We can definitely stop if you want to.”
Akaashi swallows hard. His pride flares in his chest, balking at the idea of admitting that he’s getting off on having an audience. But the arousal that threatens to drown him is too insistent, overwhelming, undeniable. “N-no, I’m okay,” He stammers. “I—I’d like to continue. So long as Kuroo and Kenma don’t care.”
“I still don’t mind,” Kenma answers.
“I’m fine,” Kuroo says gruffly. “Though I ca—I might have to, ummm, step out for a bit. To… take care of things. If it comes to that.”
Kenma places a hand over Kuroo’s bicep for a half-second, and something about it is so intimate to Akaashi—even though he’s the one with his balls out, begging his boyfriend to get back inside of him—that he immediately averts his eyes.
“Awesome!” Bokuto chirps. Without another word, he slides both of his fingers back into Keiji, scissoring them open broadly.
Akaashi gasps, his whole body snapping to attention.
Bokuto fingers him patiently, thoroughly, thoughtfully. He works Akaashi up until he’s twisting under Bokuto’s hands, slick everywhere from sweat and lube and precum, pushing back insistently against him for more, more.
“What are we thinking?” Bokuto asks. “Another finger, or do you feel ready?”
“Ready, definitely ready,” Akaashi replies immediately, voice tilting up in a whine.
Bokuto’s touch leaves Akaashi’s body. He grabs the discarded condom and lube, but before he can do anything else, Akaashi reaches out for them. Bokuto willingly hands over the supplies, smiling sweetly at him.
“Come here,” Akaashi tells Bokuto, ripping open the packet. Once Bokuto has shucked off his pants and moved closer, he rolls the condom down Bokuto’s dick, then dribbles the lube directly on it, straight from the bottle. A few messy pumps of his hand over the shaft, and then Akaashi is leaning back again.
The first press of the head of Bokuto’s dick to his entrance has Akaashi biting back a loud moan. Akaashi lifts his hips slightly to help Bokuto ease in. It’s always a little much at first—Bokuto is so big, so, so thick, and Akaashi feels his size no matter how carefully he’s prepped. When Bokuto is halfway in, he pauses, giving Akaashi a moment to breathe. “You doing good, Keiji?”
“So good,” Akaashi sighs. His hands come up to cup Bokuto’s face, then slide down to stroke down his chest, grip his lower back. “Want more, Kou.” He guides his boyfriend’s hips further down, letting out a soft “ahhh,” as Bokuto’s dick sinks an inch deeper into him.
Bokuto perks up at the encouragement. Tentatively, he gives Akaashi one shallow thrust of his hips. Akaashi nods eagerly, fingers tightening into Bokuto’s sides. Finally, finally, Bokuto begins to fuck into Akaashi. The familiar sound of hips slapping against bare ass fills the room, fighting for attention over the sounds of Kenma and Kuroo’s video game.
Akaashi nearly purrs with satisfaction. He crosses his ankles behind Bokuto’s back, arms going around his shoulders. He brings him in to make out sloppily together, almost drunkenly, intoxicated with everything about his boyfriend: his amazing tits, his golden supernova eyes, his absolutely fucking perfect dick—
"You guys kiss a lot during sex," Kenma comments mildly.
Bokuto pulls his mouth away, smirking at the way Akaashi instinctively chases his lips. "Keiji likes it," he says, voice frustratingly even for someone who currently has his dick inside his boyfriend.
"You like it too," Akaashi gasps.
Bokuto beams. “Obviously.”
Bokuto pulls him slightly forward by his hips and pushes back in. That small change in angle has the head of Bokuto’s cock brushing against his prostate. A new sense of urgency and need flares under Akaashi’s skin. He keens, long and sharp, as Bokuto ruts into him relentlessly. He tries to buck back against Bokuto’s thrusts, but his position on the mattress neutralizes all of his movements until all he’s really doing is squirming and crying for more, harder, need you, fuck me harder, Koutarou, harder.
And Bokuto notices. “Keiji,” He says, tone brimming with pity. He circles Akaashi’s nipples with his thumb, then leans forward to press open-mouthed kisses to each of them. Akaashi cries out, arching forward into his mouth. He whines even more loudly when Bokuto pulls off. The latter soothes him by petting through the hair on the back of his head. “You wanna fuck yourself on my dick, baby? Should we flip you over?”
“Yes,” Akaashi breathes. He sits up, letting Bokuto’s shaft slide out of him with a loud, sloppy noise that seeps a raw, reckless pleasure through his chest. He wonders whether Kuroo and Kenma heard that—if they know how good he is for Bokuto, that his whole body is for Bokuto, that he has given all of himself to Bokuto.
Before he can flip himself over, Bokuto grabs his wrists. “Wait, wait,” Bokuto whines. Akaashi stops moving and lets Bokuto kiss all of the air out of his lungs. “I’ll miss kissing you,” Bokuto says, pouting, after he pulls back.
Akaashi’s heart flutters. “Me too.”
“He’s literally just going to turn around,” Kenma deadpans, at the same time Kuroo grumbles, “You two are actually disgusting.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being very in love with your very sexy boyfriend.” Bokuto sticks out his tongue.
“Not normally, no….”
While Kuroo and Bokuto banter back and forth, Akaashi settles on his elbows and knees, dropping his head to the rest against his forearms. He smirks when Bokuto’s next retort dies mid-sentence when he sees him, dripping and ready.
Bokuto’s hands go to his sides, stroking down his waist. His dick presses into the cleft of Akaashi’s ass, grinding into it. Akaashi lets out a long, keening noise as his fat head catches his swollen rim, the sweetest shadow of what he actually needs. But then Bokuto backs up, and it’s like he was never there, and Akaashi can’t have that. His tongue trips over itself to beg, “Put it in, Kou, give it to me, stretch me out, fucking shove it in there—”
Bokuto pushes into him with one sharp thrust.
Akaashi yells.
Bokuto strikes up an unforgiving pace, hips smacking so hard against Akaashi’s ass. It’s an out-of-body experience, how perfect Bokuto feels when he dicks him down, and Akaashi gives it as good as he gets, slamming his ass back against Bokuto on each thrust. It’s so good, too good, the way Bokuto stuffs him full—overwhelmed, he shoves his head into his pillow and screams himself hoarse.
“Holy fucking shit,” he hears Kenma mutter.
Bokuto is so big, and from this angle it feels like he’s reaching impossibly deep inside of him. Akaashi is convinced that if he had the strength to look down at his stomach, he’d be able to see the outline of Bokuto’s dick, fucking inside of him like it’s determined to carve an eternal imprint into him.
“Kouta—” Akaashi gasps, turning his head so he can breathe. There are tears now, and the pillow is wet underneath him from where he’s sobbed and mouthed into it—he feels like he’s seconds away from completely unravelling. His fucking mouth runs without thinking, begging, “I l-love you so much, please, please—ahhh more more more more—”
With willpower that he didn’t realize was left within him, Akaashi clenches his ass with each inward stroke around Bokuto’s dick.
Bokuto’s hips go wild, frantic. The rhythm stutters as he moans, fingers tightening around Akaashi’s hips. Akaashi lets him use him like this, lets him guide his body exactly as he wants it. He can do it—hold still for him, be good for him. His head slumps over his shoulders, but he keeps his ass high, his back arched tightly, so that Bokuto will keep going, keep fucking him, do this forever and ever and ever—
Bokuto groans sharply. He shoves Akaashi’s hips flush against his own, dick bottomed out completely, and holds him there. Akaashi grinds back, easing his boyfriend through his orgasm, and Bokuto lets out a weak moan in appreciation, giving him a few shallow thrusts.
Then, Bokuto pulls out, dick soft between his legs. Akaashi rolls over on his back and watches, still feverish with need, as he takes a quick second to toss the used condom into the wastebasket next to the bed.
“Are you guys done?” Kenma asks. “We should eat lunch soon.”
“We better fucking not be,” Akaashi says viciously, shooting Bokuto a glare as if he were the one who dared suggest that.
Bokuto smirks. “Patience, Keiji.”
He returns, crawling up the bed. Akaashi lets out a short, surprised cry as Bokuto suddenly hoists Akaashi’s legs over his shoulders. He manhandles Akaashi into a position where he’s practically bent in half, hips trapped against Bokuto’s chest.
Instantly, Akaashi recognizes this for what it is, the inevitable ending that it presents. The pressure that it places on his shoulders also lets him know that he won’t be able to hold this stance for long. But before he can say anything, Bokuto puts his mouth to Akaashi’s hole and begins to eat him out enthusiastically, and—okay, Bokuto definitely does not intend for this to last long at all.
It’s different than before. Now, Akaashi is messy and sore from being fucked open. The lightest touch from Bokuto’s mouth feels like he’s seizing Akaashi’s entire body, and Akaashi hopes that he takes it all. “Oh, Kou, so good, that’s—s’good, you’re tooooo good to me,” Akaashi babbles as Bokuto fucks his tongue in and out.
Bokuto takes his mouth away, reaching for Akaashi’s dick, red and swollen and screaming for attention. He gives it a few pumps, dragging his fingers over the head, and Akaashi shouts, hopelessly writhing against Bokuto’s shoulders and chest.
Bokuto lets go again and returns to mouthing wetly over his puffy, used rim, and Akaashi screams so loudly that Kuroo jumps. “I’m cl’se, I—” Akaashi thrashes against the mattress, losing his goddamn mind. He sobs when Bokuto pushes a thumb in beside his tongue, holding Akaashi’s loose hole open so he can lick further in. His legs nearly fall off of Bokuto’s shoulders, but Bokuto just calmly readjusts them in his hands, hitching Akaashi up just that much bit more—
And something about that is so obscenely sexy that it tips Akaashi over the edge. His cock kicks, and he meets that inevitable ending he knew was coming since Bokuto first folded him in on himself: his cum shoots out over his own chest, his neck, his face.
“Yes, Keiji,” Bokuto hisses, holding him in place as he finishes all over himself. “Come for me, just like that—yes, baby, yes.”
When Akaashi has finished shuddering through his orgasm, Bokuto gently lays him back down on the mattress and takes off to find tissues. He stays there limply while his boyfriend cleans him up. All throughout wiping the cum off his face and body, he coos to Akaashi about how good he was for him, how beautiful and perfect he is.
When Bokuto is done, he leans down and kisses him once more, close-mouthed and chaste. But Akaashi knows the truth; it’s pressed against his stomach, hot and quickly firming up.
“Y’re hard aga...ain,” Akaashi slurs, drunk on his orgasm.
“Already?” Kuroo exclaims. “Holy shit, Bo, it hasn’t even been ten minutes.”
Bokuto puffs out his chest, clearly smug.
“Ko….”
Akaashi rolls over onto his stomach. Legs shaking, he pulls his knees up so that his ass is in the air, thighs drawn tightly together. All for Bokuto.
“K’t’rou, d’you wanna fuck m’thighs?” Akaashi sighs against the sheets.
Koutarou groans, a low, guttural sound that sends a shaky tendril of arousal through Akaashi’s stomach. “God, Keiji, you’re going to kill me one day.”
There’s some shuffling on the bed behind Akaashi that he can’t see, then the tell-tale snaps of the lube being opened and closed. After a few seconds, Akaashi suddenly feels Bokuto’s strong, callused hands massaging the insides of his thighs, getting him slick and ready. His soft cock gives an interested twitch when he accidentally (or intentionally) brushes against it, and Akaashi whimpers.
Bokuto positions himself behind Akaashi, hands holding him steady. Letting out a shaky breath, he rocks his dick through the narrow gap of Keiji’s thighs. He humps his thighs at a leisurely pace, almost excruciatingly slow, like he’s sipping a dessert wine. The wet sounds of Bokuto’s dick against lubed-up skin make heat simmer in Akaashi’s gut, but he ignores it in favor of keeping his thighs close together and his ass high for his boyfriend.
Akaashi gasps when Bokuto’s dick slips upwards, rubbing against his sensitive cock and balls. His thighs tremble. “Whoops, my bad,” Bokuto says, then immediately does it again, and Akaashi groans.
Bokuto laughs. He leans down to kiss Akaashi’s lower back. “Sorry, Keiji! Couldn’t help it—you’re so cute like this.” His knees shift on the bed, and he drives his dick with purpose through Akaashi’s thighs. Akaashi moans and pushes his face further into the mattress.
Just when Akaashi thinks his brains might leak out of his ears from how overwhelming it’s all becoming, Bokuto slides out. From behind, Akaashi hears the familiar sounds of Bokuto jerking himself off, his ragged pants. He wiggles his ass encouragingly, laughing to himself when Bokuto groans at the sight.
A few more strokes, and then Bokuto’s cum is landing in warm, wet stripes across his bare ass. Akaashi collapses on his stomach, eyes immediately falling shut. He lets Bokuto fuss over him, wiping him down and petting his hair and kissing his shoulders and murmuring in his ear that he’s going to love him for the rest of his life, and everything feels perfect until someone rudely shatters his post-sex afterglow.
“Are you two done now, or are you gearing up for round fifty?” Kuroo asks.
Akaashi effortfully opens his eyes. The game’s save screen is displayed on the television, and Kenma is scrolling through his phone, still in Kuroo’s lap. The latter’s face doesn’t match the snarkiness of his voice. He’s distinctly pink, possibly sweating a little, though it’s hard for Akaashi to tell, bleary-eyed as he is.
Bokuto rolls his eyes, still curled up next to Akaashi, an arm thrown around his waist. “Everyone knows it’s physically impossible to have more than twelve rounds of sex in a day,” He tells Kuroo.
“The fuck—eww, Bo, too much information,” Kuroo winces.
“Kuro wants hamburgers,” Kenma informs them. “I’m going to order for delivery, and you guys are going to answer the door when they come.” He stands, carefully positioned in front of Kuroo so that they can’t fully see the other boy’s lower body. He helps Kuroo up.
“What are you two going to be doing?” Bokuto asks.
“Just taking care of him for a bit,” Kenma answers. “We’ll be in the bathroom.”
Akaashi feels Bokuto still in confusion, then perk up when understanding dawns on him. “You guys don’t have to leave,” Bokuto says, clearly puzzled. “You can stay here with us. Do you want the bed?”
Kenma looks pointedly at the bed, covered in lube and sweat and cum and, most importantly, a thoroughly fucked Akaashi, who would rather die than move at that moment. “Next time, maybe,” He replies, and pulls Kuroo out of the room.