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Bokuto usually takes the seat in front of him in classes they share together. In part because Bokuto has trouble concentrating unless he’s close to the lecturer and in part because Akaashi doesn’t like being within calling-on distance of the lecturer and hiding behind Bokuto’s bulk tends to accomplish what it needs to.
Also it’s easier to correct Bokuto’s notes when Akaashi is within viewing distance of his laptop screen.
So when a broad figure plops down in front of him 20 minutes late to the lecture while he’s digging around his bag for his charger, he doesn’t think twice about it. He looks up to see the logo of their university’s volleyball team stretched out across wide shoulders and thinks, huh, Bokuto’s sure late to class today. Then he remembers Bokuto isn’t in this second-year psychology lecture with him.
A second later, the stranger’s hoodie is being pulled over his head with both arms, the skin on the small of his back visible before the hoodie is finally released over bleached blonde hair and his t-shirt falls back into place.
Oh, Akaashi thinks, ignoring the quick stab of warmth in his gut. Now is not the time.
The stranger takes a second to artfully rake his hair back into place before taking a look around him. Akaashi is the only one around him within whispering distance and he twists his upper body so that they’re nearly facing each other.
“Hey,” he whispers, and Akaashi immediately tilts his laptop screen a little lower to get a full view of his face.
He’s handsome, features sleek and chin pointy.
“Could I get yer notes after class? Sorry, I missed the first half.”
When he speaks, Akaashi’s gaze can’t help but flick to his mouth. Slightly elongated canines drop down to break an otherwise even row of white teeth.
Ooh, Akaashi thinks. Maybe now is the time.
“Yeah,” Akaashi whispers back, eyes snapping back to meet his. “No problem.”
The boy grins, fangs even more prominent. He must have come to class hungry.
“Great. Thank’ya.”
He turns back around and Akaashi tries to slow the rapid anticipatory beat in his chest, knowing he can probably hear it.
++
Forty-five minutes later, Akaashi’s pushed up against the wall of an empty discussion room, Miya Atsumu’s teeth in his neck as he feels the dull creep of blood up his veins.
Fuck.
He always forgets it hurts at first.
Miya’s arm around his waist just pulls him in closer at the whimper that escapes Akaashi’s lips, and he makes a sound that sounds a lot like a chuckle.
“Don’t laugh at me,” Akaashi mutters, trying to relax into Miya’s hold.
Miya mumbles something unintelligible around his neck, just hiking him up higher against his thigh in response and Akaashi lets out another sound even less dignified and in no way related to the injury currently occurring at his pulse point.
It always hurts at first, and then it feels–
Akaashi moans as the pain morphs into something lighter, a rush of endorphins sinking into his veins. Atsumu rolls his hips into his, only burrowing his head closer as he continues to take his fill.
“Fuck,” Akaashi breathes out, before Atsumu finally unlatches with a final lick, Akaashi only just around the corner of lightheadedness.
They stay like that for a second, Akaashi’s head starting to loll lazily onto Atsumu’s shoulder before Atsumu takes him by the hips, moving them apart with a small step.
Atsumu’s eyes are slightly glazed over but quickly regaining focus as he looks at Akaashi.
“What’d ya say yer name was again?”
Akaashi frowns, throwing him a slightly annoyed look.
“Akaashi Keiji.”
Atsumu grins, showing clean white teeth. He can’t say the same for the collar of Akaashi’s button-down. Akaashi hates messy eaters.
“Thanks ‘Kaashi.”
Atsumu steps around him, stooping down to pick up his forgotten book bag and hoodie.
“Guess I’ll see ya next week,” he says, stopping to call over his shoulder as he steps out of the room. “And thanks for the notes.”
He’s suddenly gone and Akaashi takes a moment to scoff to himself, swallowing around the lingering sense of desire still in his throat.
Well, he thinks, wincing as he resigns himself to pulling his jumper over his button-down in order to hide the blood on his collar. Talk about being left high and dry.
++
He first found out being fed on, well, did something for him during his second year of high school, when Bokuto’s friend from another school, Kuroo, came by and a few provoking comments later Akaashi found himself offering out his wrist while Kuroo stood by with a satisfied smirk.
Akaashi had let out a gasp at the first prick, inadvertently moving closer until Kuroo was cradling his arm against his chest and Akaashi’s face was flooding with heat.
Embarrassingly, afterwards he’d launched himself at Kuroo’s mouth without thinking, and they half-heartedly made out against a wall in Bokuto’s backyard until Akaashi’s head cleared and the kisses trailed off awkwardly.
Kuroo then stepped back, smiling kindly when he said they probably just got carried away by the feed, and Akaashi agreed, neck burning at the all-too generous conclusion.
He wouldn’t lie though, there was still a curiosity in his mind about the whole thing (less about Kuroo Tetsurou than about that whole feeling) when a few months later Kuroo met Tsukishima Kei at a local museum and he never got a second chance to figure out exactly why the feeling of being fed on lit his veins alight.
It probably would’ve done him well to figure it out with a trusted third-party before he began flirting his way through their university’s vampiric population, but, alas.
++
The next week, Akaashi plants himself in the exact same spot as the last time, trying to temper his anticipation everytime he spots the lecture hall’s door open in the corner of his eye.
Finally, a familiar figure walks through, cap pulled low and a black backpack slung over one shoulder. He slides into the aisle in front of Akaashi, stopping a few seats to the right of him this time and plops his stuff down without a single word.
Akaashi frowns, trying not to feel hurt at being blatantly ignored.
He gives him a few more minutes, watching as the professor shuffles through his papers and begins to get his presentation set up before he finally caves.
“Psst,” he whispers, leaning slightly over his desk to subtly catch Atsumu’s attention.
“Miya-san,” he calls out.
He watches Atsumu’s brow furrow for a second before he pivots around, turning to face Akaashi full-on and–
“Atsumu?” Akaashi blinks, brain thrown into a weird doubt.
It definitely looks like Atsumu, but–
Maybe-Atsumu looks at him with lidded eyes, something flashing in his eyes before it’s suddenly gone.
Maybe-Atsumu smiles, greeting Akaashi with a slight lift of his cap to reveal pitch-black hair.
“Close,” he says, “Atsumu’s my brother.”
Akaashi flushes, leaning back into his seat in embarrassment.
“Oh, sorry about that,” he says. “Your brother and I exchanged notes last class.”
Not-Atsumu still smiles, flashing pearly whites as his voice takes on a more playful tone.
“Ah, no’wonder his notes were so good last week. Knew the idiot didn’t take those himself.”
Akaashi allows himself a chuckle, eyes subtly scanning his features.
“I’m Osamu,” Osamu whispers, bringing a hand up to half-way shake Akaashi’s as the lecture starts up below them. “‘Tsumu and I switch off on comin’ to this class since he’s got volleyball sometimes and I’ve got a’job on campus.”
“Ah, makes sense,” Akaashi says, despite his academic morals.
“What yer name?” Osamu asks, not even bothering to pick up his pen to take notes yet.
“Akaashi Keiji.”
Osamu grins, canines clearly longer than they were before.
“Nice ‘ta meet you, Keiji.”
++
After class, Akaashi finds out Miya Osamu knows how to devour him in the exact way he was originally hoping his twin would.
Osamu’s got him sitting up on a desk, abdominals shaking as Osamu leans him over with two hands on his face, tongue delving deep into Akaashi’s mouth.
“Mmph,” Akaashi mumbles, breaking away for air as Osamu makes his way down the side of his neck.
His fangs scrape against his pulse point before he turns away to capture Akaashi’s mouth again.
Akaashi moans, muffled, as he grabs at Osamu’s chest to get a hand under his shirt.
“I want you to feed on me,” he says, feeling his way up Osamu’s sides.
Osamu hums, dipping down to nip at him again.
“My brother came back from class last week and said he came across another fangbanger–”
Akaashi flushes, indignant, though another part of him is mortified to find he kind of likes it.
“–but yer real cute. He didn’t mention how cute you were.”
Akaashi hides his face in Osamu’s neck and Osamu laughs as he gently pulls Akaashi’s head back by his hair.
His fangs are fully extended now, and Akaashi suppresses a shiver at the sight.
“Ya sure?” Osamu asks quietly, checking in on him.
Akaashi surprises even himself, leaning up to lick around the tip of one of his canines.
“Positive.”
Osamu’s eyes flash and he bends down to bite.
++
Atsumu is back the next week, Akaashi is slightly disappointed to find.
Atsumu greets him loudly this time, hair still wet, probably from practice.
“Kaashi-kun,” he says, sideling into the seat in front of him. “Did ya miss me?”
Akaashi slides his laptop out of the way just as a drop falls from Atsumu’s hair onto his desk.
“Perhaps,” Akaashi answers nonchalantly. “I didn’t know you had a brother Miya-san.”
“Ah yeah, Osamu, that pig,” Atsumu responds, putting his bag down on the seat next to him. “He’s workin’ one of the dining halls today. Not sure why since nothing tastes as good as–”
He cuts off for a moment, throwing Akaashi a sly look.
“Well– ya know,” he finishes with a wink.
Akaashi looks away with a huff.
If he still lets Atsumu stick his teeth into his carotid without so much as a complaint after class is over, well – that remains between them.
++
Osamu calls him out on it a couple of weeks into what Bokuto is calling Akaashi’s twin tour.
“Ya flirtin’ with my brother Keiji,” Osamu says, tone not entirely annoyed as they absentmindedly neck in an empty classroom after Osamu’s had his fill.
Osamu never leaves behind a mess, just one more reason in a long list of why Akaashi has decided Osamu is clearly the superior twin.
He hasn’t told Osamu this yet, though he intends to. At some point. Once Atsumu stops so generously offering to pull his blood out through his neck in an overwhelmingly satisfying way.
Akaashi blinks sleepily, still a little light-headed from their activities. Plus, following that train of thought probably won’t lead him anywhere rational.
He glances up at Osamu.
“Your brother flirts with me,” he protests mildly.
Osamu makes a noise of indifference.
“He does,” Osamu shrugs.
He eyes Akaashi guardedly, before his frown loosens slightly and Osamu sighs, bending down to place feather-light kisses against the side of his face.
“Ya don’t flirt with me,” he murmurs, tone slightly petulant.
Akaashi peels back to stare at him incredulously.
“Of course I do,” Akaashi says, face getting warm. Talking about what exactly they’ve been doing is suddenly vaguely shame-inducing. “You’re the only one I’m sleeping with,” he mumbles.
Osamu sighs again against his lips, kissing him softly once, twice.
“Then why are’ya still lettin’ him feed on ya?”
++
The next time he sees Osamu, it’s in class.
He’s walking in on an off-week (not that Akaashi keeps their alternating schedule marked in his planner, no way), Atsumu following behind him with what can only be described as a certified pep in his step.
Akaashi’s pulse picks up, heart pounding in his ears as he catches Osamu’s eyes on his way up to his row.
Osamu’s eyes are indecipherable, but Akaashi’s somewhat comforted by their last conversation.
He doesn’t really like Atsumu, he’d explained. At least not like that. But he did like the way being fed on made him feel, he said, with not an insignificant amount of embarrassment.
He’s not entirely sure where they netted out, but it’s not the worst sign in the world that Osamu is still willing to be around him.
Lost in his thoughts, he’d missed the moment where the twins split up, but suddenly Atsumu is plopping down in the seat directly to his right and Osamu is to his left.
He tries to not jump at the surprise.
Atsumu sheds his jacket, dropping his book bag onto the floor as he leans into Akaashi’s space and plops an elbow down on Akaashi’s desk.
He leans his chin into his palm, blonde hair falling into his face and grin splitting wide across his features as he opens his mouth.
“So, ‘Kaashi,” he says, “Heard ya really are a fangbanger, like I first thought.”
Akaashi’s eyes widen, swiveling around in his seat to look at Osamu in betrayal.
Osamu just smiles innocently at him, placing a wide hand on Akaashi’s upper thigh as he does.
Atsumu continues next to him, face coming closer to his.
“I know ya like my brother, ‘Kaashi–” he starts.
Osamu chimes in next to him, voice low. “But we also know ya like givin’ us what we need,” he says, raising a brow at Akaashi’s slowly reddening face.
“So just this one time,” Atsumu continues. “‘Samu’s gonna be a good brother for once–”
“And we’re going ta’ share,” Osamu finishes, holding Akaashi’s gaze.
His eyes are heated, but just vulnerable enough to give Akaashi an out, if he wants.
Akaashi looks back at grey eyes, searching.
Oh, he wants.
“Ok,” Akaashi says, voice weak before he clears his throat. “I’m ok with that.”
Osamu squeezes his thigh once, leaning in for a quick peck on Akaashi’s cheekbone as Atsumu rolls his eyes next to him.
“Good,” Osamu responds, grinning and Akaashi suddenly catches his canines elongating in real-time.
Akaashi suppresses a sudden whimper that threatens to break out of his mouth.
Next to him, Atsumu also curls his lip up, revealing a sharp smile.
“Now jus’ try not to pass out on us,” he says.
Akaashi curls back in his seat, eyes wide as he looks toward the front of the room.
This is about to be the longest lecture of his life.