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Akaashi spends more time at the twins’ apartment than he really should.
He dips in in-between classes, or directly after their shared psychology lecture, when Osamu insists on walking him “home” and “home” ends up being his apartment more often than not.
“Are you ever actually going to walk me home?” he teases Osamu, bringing a palm up to his sweaty hair as he pushes himself up with one elbow on the pillow.
Osamu gives him a once-over from where he’s sprawled out on the sheets.
“Honestly, prolly not.”
That’s fine. Akaashi has a roommate. Osamu doesn’t.
Atsumu only half counts. He and Osamu don’t share an actual room anymore, not after the stupid fights they got into during their first year, and Atsumu is in and out more often than either of them. Between Atsumu’s classes and volleyball and his quite active social life, Akaashi’s pretty sure he spends more time in the apartment than Atsumu does.
It’s also easy now that Akaashi has a key. Osamu subtly slid it onto his keychain two months ago and Akaashi isn’t proud of the way he’d randomly flushed in the middle of his writing seminar when he first noticed.
“Do you have something you’d like to share with the class Akaashi-san?”
“No,” he gasped out.
To Atsumu’s credit, he only blinked the first time he opened the door to his own apartment to find Akaashi alone, curled upon their couch with a book in his hand.
“‘Kaashi-kun,” he said, dropping his gym bag by the door. “My brother let you out of his sight for once?”
Akaashi huffed.
“Osamu’s at work. And my next lecture is in thirty minutes so I figured it was easier to wait here rather than go all the way back to–”
Atsumu put up a hand to stop him, walking up to the back of the couch.
“Stop. I don’t actually care where my brother is. Ya smell good though,” he murmured, suddenly running his nose along the back of Akaashi’s neck.
Akaashi sat up in his seat, an electric current suddenly running through his spine.
“And I’m starvin’.”
His book fell out of his hand with a thud when Atsumu’s teeth sunk into his neck.
“Atsumu–” he choked out, scrambling on the couch to get a hand in that blonde hair.
It’s funny. Osamu is almost the complete opposite.
When Osamu gets home to find Keiji on their couch, he’ll greet him with a soft kiss to the cheek before he puts his stuff down and moves into the kitchen to start dinner.
It takes Akaashi practically climbing into his lap to get him to step away from the stove.
He’s not above that. Climbing into his lap and sucking on his tongue to get his attention.
In fact, that’s where they are right now.
“Keiji ,” Osamu groans underneath him. “I was making dinner. I’ve got water on the stove.”
“I don’t care,” Akaashi murmurs, bringing his mouth to the side to suck a hickey into the skin below Osamu’s ear. “It’s more for me than it is for you anyway.”
“That’s not true,” Osamu argues weakly, hands roaming across Akaashi’s ass as he lets himself get pushed further up against the counter. “I enjoy our dinners too.”
“Mm,” Akaashi hums. “But I think you enjoy this more.”
Osamu groans again, head coming down to fall onto Akaashi’s shoulder.
“Yer a menace,” he accuses.
Akaashi rolls his hips into his, bringing two hands up to guide Osamu’s face lower, into his neck.
“Bite me,” he says, impatient.
Osamu ignores him.
“Did ya eat today?”
Akaashi sighs in irritation.
“I did.”
He passed out once ok? Just once.
And he’ll argue that was both because he skipped lunch and he was also getting particularly well-railed.
Either way, Osamu won’t let him live it down.
“I had a sandwich with Bokuto between my seminar and office hours,” he responds, knowing Osamu won’t go any further until he does.
“It was very filling,” he adds.
“I’m glad,” Osamu says, nuzzling into his neck again.
Osamu begins to nip at his neck with his regular teeth, not enough to break skin but just enough to tease him and Akaashi whines underneath him.
Osamu’s hand tightens around his waist and Akaashi thinks they’re just about to get somewhere when a shuffling at the doorway makes them briefly break apart.
“Oh,” Atsumu says, stopping at the entrance of the kitchen, popping an earbud out of one ear. “You’re here.”
There are bags under his eyes and despite the fact that he’s dressed in his full team tracksuit, his hair is dry. Which tells them… he probably didn’t play tonight either.
“The kitchen again? Really?” he continues, stepping slightly around them to open up a cabinet. He grabs a full box of cereal, closing the cabinet door mildly aggressively. “Don’t worry, I’ll get out of your hair."
Atsumu turns back around to leave, and Akaashi can’t help but open his mouth, upper body twisting slightly where he’s still in Osamu’s loose grip.
“Aren’t you going to have dinner?” he asks, keeping the concern out of his voice. He knows Atsumu wouldn’t appreciate it.
Atsumu hardly turns around, shaking the box of cereal until it rattles.
“Got it covered.”
“Ok but real dinner,” Akaashi says pointedly.
Atsumu stops at that and turns around, an annoyed glint in his eye.
“Why? Are ya offering?” he asks flatly.
Akaashi’s heart breaks into a sprint at the prospect, and almost immediately, Osamu’s grip clenches tight around his waist. It’s impossible to miss.
In front of them, Atsumu chuckles.
“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
“Wait,” he says, as Atsumu turns to leave again, twisting around in Osamu’s grip until he’s fully facing him. He feels Osamu somewhat startle behind him, and he lets his fingers rest on Osamu’s upper thigh in what he hopes is a reassuring touch.
Atsumu pauses again in the doorway, one brow raised.
This is silly.
Akaashi knows they’ve never exactly done anything like this, anything with both of them in the same room. But Osamu knows Atsumu is feeding on him. And Atsumu knows Osamu is feeding on him – and more.
There was an agreement three months ago, in theory. A conversation in a lecture hall.
Atsumu is still standing in front of him impatiently, waiting for Akaashi to sort out his jumbled thoughts.
“You said you’d share,” he quickly blurts out, before he can lose his nerve. “When I agreed to this. You said you’d share.”
Atsumu’s eyes widen, and they flicker up briefly to meet Osamu’s before landing back on Keiji. He doesn’t know what expression is on Osamu’s face behind his shoulder.
It’s not entirely new.
They’ve never done anything together but he’s pretty sure Atsumu can hear them through the walls.
And he and Atsumu have kissed occasionally, which Osamu also knows about. Mostly initiated by Akaashi, when he pushes in closer in his lust-addled mind after Atsumu’s fed on him. Atsumu has allowed it once or twice, softly, before he cuts him off.
But that’s about it.
Osamu is undoubtedly his, and vice versa.
But there is affection there with Atsumu.
He’s also been unsure sometimes, since Atsumu can and often does get his kicks somewhere else. He and Osamu hypothesized for a second there that he may have been hooking up with one of his teammates, but he’s not sure where that ended up.
Plus, they also know Atsumu has not been having an easy time of it recently.
Benched by their university’s team for their last four games. Replaced by some prodigy first-year.
“He’s sulking,” Akaashi said, keeping his voice low as he sidled up to Osamu’s side in his bed.
“He’s being a big baby,” Osamu retorted.
“He’s hurt.”
Akaashi doesn’t break eye contact with Atsumu, who is deftly hiding his surprise, though Akaashi can tell there’s a wavering uncertainty underneath his skin.
“M’not sure you’ve really thought that one out ‘Kaashi-kun,” Atsumu says flippantly, bored expression firmly back in place.
Atsumu turns to leave, and Akaashi takes only a single step forward to grab onto the sleeve of his jacket and pull him back.
Atsumu turns around, clearly surprised at his tenacity.
“Stay,” Akaashi says firmly, stepping back so that he can still feel Osamu’s warmth behind his back. This time, Atsumu follows, drawn in by Akaashi’s grip.
Atsumu steps in close, still looking at Akaashi warily as he sandwiches him in between them.
Akaashi doesn’t have enough clearance to turn and really look at Osamu’s expression, but he chances a glance and finds him inscrutable.
He decides to go for broke when he kisses his brother.
“Mmph–” Atsumu mumbles under Akaashi’s mouth, hands flying up to grab at his elbows.
Akaashi doesn’t let him pull away early, bringing both hands up to center his face as their mouths move together.
Immediately, Osamu’s hands slightly come off of him, hovering awkwardly at his sides until Akaashi loses his balance and he stumbles back into him.
Akaashi takes his mouth off Atsumu’s.
“Is that ok?”
“Ergh–” Atsumu stammers out, but Akaashi pulls him back in before he can fully answer.
This time, Atsumu seems to get past his shock to grab at Akaashi in return, hands coming up right under his ribs, warm above the thin material of his sleepshirt.
Akaashi makes a noise low in the back of his throat as Atsumu tries to shove his tongue in his mouth.
Behind him, he can tell Osamu is as stiff as a board.
Without breaking the rhythm in his kiss, Akaashi throws one hand backward, fingertips searching until he finds Osamu’s shoulder. His hand continues its climb until it’s looped firmly around the back of Osamu’s neck, pulling his nose up against the nape of his neck.
He feels Osamu’s low groan more than he hears it, short hairs at the base of his neck fluttering.
Osamu begins nosing at the back of his neck affectionately, and the touch seems to go far in relaxing his body.
In front of him, he continues kissing Atsumu, breaking away only occasionally to breathe before he reconnects their lips.
Osamu’s hand comes back on his hip, right below where Atsumu’s hand is on him.
“What do ya wanna do baby,” Osamu says softly at his ear when Akaashi and Atsumu break apart. There’s a suaveness to his tone, but Akaashi can tell he’s also genuinely looking for some guidance.
Akaashi lets out a shuddering breath at the question.
“Uh–” he starts.
In front of him, he stares at Atsumu with wide eyes, suddenly confronting his choices.
“C’mon,” Atsumu teases after a silent moment, his confidence seemingly returning to him gradually. “Ya said ya wanted to share. Ya must’ve thought about this before.”
Atsumu pushes in close again, heat radiating. The fog of arousal in Akaashi’s mind is making it hard to think.
“What were we doin’ in yer dreams Akaashi?” Atsumu murmurs.
Behind him, Osamu begins kissing his way down his neck, and Atsumu’s thigh has found a place between his legs.
Akaashi swallows.
“What do ya think about?” Atsumu continues, bringing his mouth down to Akaashi’s collarbone on the opposite side.
His other hand is testing the water, teasing Akaashi’s inner thigh as his fingers slightly hike his sleep shorts up higher. Faded bite marks are exposed with each new stretch of skin revealed.
And then Atsumu, ever the asshole, can’t seem to help himself.
“Do ya think about me when you’re with my brother?” he breathes out hot against his neck.
Akaashi bites back a whimper, affronted, but the compelling heat of Atsumu’s hands on his thighs prevents him from reacting any further.
Behind him, Osamu sucks in a tight breath.
“This isn’t a game, Atsumu,” Osamu warns, all the self-control in the world seeping through his voice.
“Mmmm,” Atsumu hums, running the pad of his thumb up even higher past the seam of Akaashi’s shorts. “Why not? Ya scared of playing for keeps?”
This time, Osamu does snap, nearly roughly pushing Akaashi away in his motion to wrap a fist into the collar of Atsumu’s shirt.
“You piece of–”
However, with Akaashi still between them, the only thing he manages to do is pull Atsumu closer against Akaashi’s chest.
Atsumu grins at his brother, showing sharp white teeth, his chin coming up in defiance against the stretched collar of his shirt.
The air and pressure against his chest is suffocating him. Akaashi needs to take back control.
“Hey–” he interjects, winded. It’s a bit too breathy to be commanding but the sound of his voice gets the job done either way.
“Stop.”
They both freeze, Osamu’s lip pulled up into a snarl that looks on the wrong side of human as Atsumu’s smirk stays static on his face.
He sometimes forgets how fucking insane they together, having spent so much time with them individually.
“I want to,” he starts, feeling them melt only slightly.
“I want you,” he says, gaze floating between the two of them. “Both of you.”
There’s still a tension hovering in the air, but Akaashi thinks it’s slightly better than before.
He’s about to reach out and pry Osamu’s hand off Atsumu’s shirt when a clatter by the stove startles all of them. A glance tells him the water has boiled over, lid strewn on the stovetop.
Osamu’s hand loosens, and he lets Atsumu go with only the barest shove. He maneuvers himself out from behind Akaashi with a fleeting kiss to the side of his face before he strides over to the stove, lowering the heat and checking on his other ingredients.
Akaashi watches him fondly for a moment before turning back to Atsumu, whose fingertips are back on him, this time peeking underneath the hem of his shirt.
“So,” Atsumu starts, looking boyish once again. “Can I feed on him?” he asks, glancing in Osamu’s direction without even looking at Akaashi.
Akaashi feels the vein on his forehead throb. Osamu grimaces.
“I’m not his keeper,” Osamu complains at the same time that Akaashi protests, “Ask me yourself.”
Atsumu grins, unfazed. He unzips his jacket, throwing it carelessly on the dining chair behind him.
“Can I bite ya?” he asks Akaashi through long lashes, leaning down slightly to nip at his neck.
It’s almost embarrassing how quickly his annoyance melts off of him.
Atsumu begins kissing at his neck, soft and wet as he sucks at the skin around his carotid.
Akaashi sighs, the tail-end of his breath turning into a huff as his back hits the edge of the kitchen counter, Atsumu’s uncovered arms boxing him in.
In the periphery of his vision, Osamu has turned back to attend his stove.
Akaashi looks back at Atsumu, nodding.
“Yes,” he responds, and immediately he can feel Atsumu’s satisfied grin against his neck.
“But,” he interrupts, hands coming up to push back at Atsumu’s shoulders. “Not there.”
Atsumu’s brow quirks up inquisitively.
The back of his neck burns as Akaashi takes Atsumu’s hands off where he’s bracing himself on the counter behind them, and brings them down to rest on his upper thighs again.
“Oh?”
“Here?” Atsumu’s thumbnails dig in hard against the fleshy part of his thighs and Akaashi can’t help the slight moan that comes out of his mouth.
It doesn’t help that he’s been half-hard since this all started.
Atsumu sucks one last kiss into his neck, definitely leaving a mottled mark behind, before he drops to his knees and if that doesn’t do something for Akaashi’s brain.
He brings his knuckles to his mouth when Atsumu immediately drags his wide tongue up the inside of his thigh, as if lapping up a blood drop that hasn’t yet spilled.
Atsumu’s eyes flick up to the tented front of Akaashi’s shorts, and his brows seem to lift in a wordless question that makes Akaashi recklessly nod before he can even think twice about it.
He whines sharply around those same knuckles when Atsumu’s other hand comes up to press against his cock over the thin material of his shorts.
To his right, he hears a clatter by the stove and a curse under his breath as Osamu drops something.
But Osamu doesn’t turn around, continuing whatever he’s doing as Atsumu continues to work his way up Akaashi’s legs.
At this point, his mouth is hot over Akaashi’s covered length, mouthing at him with a viscous heat that makes Akaashi throw his head back until it hits one of the cabinets behind him.
“Atsumu-'' he lets out, allowing his fingers to dig into soft blonde hair. “Fuck ,” he whispers when Atsumu pulls off for a moment, only to pull Akaashi’s shorts and boxers down to his feet. He immediately takes Akaashi back into his mouth, tongue lapping against the head eagerly.
Akaashi’s legs twitch underneath him and Atsumu puts his hands back on his thighs to steady him, continuing to move the hot suction of his mouth around Akaashi’s cock.
Akaashi is breathing hard, wisps of hair beginning to stick to the top of his forehead as he looks down at Atsumu.
“I thought you were going to feed on me?” he tries to tease, swallowing around the excess saliva in his throat.
Atsumu pulls off, tongue licking a stripe up the side of his cock before he responds.
“I am,” he says, breath hot against Akaashi. “Want ta’ make you feel good though.”
Akaashi moans as Atsumu moves his mouth down again before popping off again wetly. His hand comes up to replace where his mouth had been, pumping him lazily.
“Ya ready?” he asks, teeth once again nipping at the tender skin of his thighs. Against his skin, Akaashi can feel Atsumu’s fangs begin to elongate.
Akaashi nods, hands coming back to brace himself against the counter.
Atsumu gives his thigh one last kiss before his fangs slide in, finding a vein, and Akaashi gasps.
He bites his lip, adrenaline coursing through his body as Atsumu drinks him in, murmuring in pleasure below him.
“Ah,” Akaashi pants out, knuckles white against the countertop. Atsumu’s hand is still on him, mixing the excitement from being fed on with the molten-hot arousal stimulating his body.
He’s done this plenty of times with Osamu, but it never stops being a lot.
Speaking of–
He peeks an eye open from where he’d screwed them shut.
“Osamu?” he calls out faintly, suddenly wanting his boyfriend’s arms around him once again.
It turns out Osamu is already watching him, face impenetrable. His arms are crossed as he leans against the stove, burners already off, and his eyes are glued to Akaashi’s face.
“Yeah babe?” he responds, a slight smile on his face but his typically-lazy eyes are burning with something intense.
“Come here.”
Osamu blinks, immediately moving toward Akaashi. He manages to maneuver them both without jostling Atsumu too much, so that Osamu’s directly behind him once again.
Akaashi hums in satisfaction when he feels Osamu’s arm wrap around his waist.
“Ya feeling good?” he asks, mouth coming in to kiss at the left side of Akaashi’s face.
Akaashi nods, a warmth crashing through him as something in him entirely relaxes, letting himself be taken over by the sensations around him.
“Really good,” he manages, arm coming up above him to loop around one of Osamu’s shoulders.
Underneath him, Atsumu’s hand picks up the pace, and Akaashi can’t help the loud moan that escapes him.
“Shit,” Osamu curses behind him, other hand suddenly coming up to tweak at one of Akaashi's nipples through the fabric of his t-shirt.
“Babe– baby, I’m gonna–”
Akaashi whimpers again, beginning to feel lightheaded when Osamu, without warning, nudges his face to the side with his head. Akaashi’s head lolls to the side obediently, not even questioning what Osamu’s about to do when he suddenly feels a tight heat at the side of neck.
Osamu’s bitten him as well.
“Oh!” Akaashi gasps, hand on Osamu’s nape scrabbling to catch hold of something and only finding the collar of his t-shirt.
“Oh my god, ” he moans out loudly, mentally apologizing to their neighbors who most definitely can hear him through the walls at this point.
It’s not his fault, he thinks, swallowing the further noises threatening to escape his throat as he ruts his hips against Atsumu’s hand desperately, clutching onto Osamu’s neck behind him and bracing himself on Atsumu’s shoulder below him.
They feel different, he realizes, brain trying to make sense of the different sensations occurring at his neck and at his thigh. The way they feed feels different.
He’s pretty sure he can tell who is who, just by the distinct threads of pleasure coursing through his veins.
It’s like they taste different, he thinks wildly.
He also may just be losing his mind.
That’s also a strong possibility.
He whimpers, and there must be something primal in the sound that makes Atsumu pause for a second, hand on his thigh rubbing against him once soothingly before he detaches his mouth from the wound and also lets go of his cock.
Atsumu swallows hard, mouth falling open in a sigh as he looks up at Akaashi with hazy eyes.
At his neck, Osamu is still going.
Akaashi’s head falls back onto Osamu’s shoulder, not caring what kind of sounds must be coming out of his mouth at this point.
He keens, vision beginning to get a bit spotty at the edges.
Below him, the glaze over Atsumu’s eyes begins to clear up, and he seems to notice that Akaashi’s gradually losing consciousness.
“Samu,” Atsumu murmurs in warning, eyes flicking up to look at them from where he’s nuzzling against Akaashi’s thigh.
Osamu doesn’t even pause.
“Samu–” Atsumu says more insistently, head coming up in concern.
“It’s ok,” Akaashi blurts out, breathless. “I like it.”
And bam, there’s the truth. The truth of the last time he passed out.
He liked it.
He actually liked it quite a lot.
It’s not something he’s quite yet talked about to Osamu, but he thinks he may know anyway.
Underneath him, Atsumu’s eyes widen, and then he puts his head back down against Akaashi’s thigh with a drawn-out groan.
“This is so fucked,” he hears Atsumu breathe out to himself, and Akaashi chuckles just as Osamu detaches from his neck.
“You agreed to it,” he says weakly, letting his head loll back once again onto Osamu’s shoulder. He already knows he’s not going to pass out this time though. He was just at that edge, but he’s been brought back.
At his neck, Osamu is closing over his wounds with a lick, but at the corner of his eye he can see Osamu’s chin is covered in red. His eyes are a bit wild too. Messy, in a way he usually isn’t.
Akaashi didn’t know this would have the added benefit of watching his boyfriend go feral.
He bites at his own lip, eyes jumping to the wound on his neck.
There’s a loose drop of blood threatening to make its way down his collarbone, about to slide under the loose collar of his t-shirt.
Akaashi grimaces, about to arch his neck in a bid to get Osamu to stop it before it can roll down his chest and smear when Atsumu suddenly pushes himself to his feet.
He pushes in against Akaashi tight, eyes locked on Akaashi’s neck before he grabs back at Akaashi’s cock with a firm grip and uses his other hand to pull the thin material of his t-shirt down. He plants his tongue on Akaashi’s nipple first, dragging the flat plane of it up until he’s caught the rolling bead in his mouth, along with the trail of red it’s left as it crawled down his neck.
Atsumu pulls back and looks Akaashi in the eye, red tongue still peeking out of his mouth, before he sucks at his teeth, showing fang.
The sight of it, and the way Atsumu suddenly cocks a sharp eyebrow up at Osamu, as if mocking him for being the messy one this time around, has Akaashi absolutely losing his damn mind.
Around him, Osamu’s hands tense to the point of bruising and Atsumu’s hand suddenly speeds up and–
“Oh–” he cries out, finally tipping right over an edge he didn’t know he’d been so close to (and right before one of the twins can commit fratricide), and comes with a shudder into Atsumu’s hand, arching his back against the warm expanse of Osamu’s chest at the same time.
“Fuck,” he bites out, eyes screwing shut as his chest gets tight with a much-needed breath in. Behind him, Osamu is shuddering with arousal at the sight of Keiji, mouthing aimlessly at the skin under Akaashi’s left ear. Akaashi can feel the hard line of him through his jeans.
He whimpers one more time, arm coming out in front of him to pull Atsumu in tight as he shakes through the last few waves of his orgasm.
The strength of it has him breaking into a new sweat, and he doesn’t even realize he’s been nearly keening through it until he stops. He jerks away from Atsumu’s grip once with a last sound in the back of his throat, as the overstimulation begins to set in, and Atsumu lets go of him.
“Jesus fuck,” Atsumu says, forehead coming down to rest on Akaashi’s collarbone and hands sprawling across his ribcage.
“Yeah,” Akaashi agrees breathily, focusing on not letting his legs buckle underneath him. Not that both of them wouldn’t catch him.
They all stand there, breathing for a moment.
Atsumu’s breath is hot against his collarbone, while Osamu’s nose stays pressed against the left side of his face. Osamu takes a deep breath in, before releasing it through his nose, tickling the fine hairs at Akaashi’s nape.
He’s the first to speak.
“‘Tsumu,” he says, head pivoting to the side a bit to look at his brother with one eye, but refusing to break the skin-to-skin contact with Akaashi.
Atsumu slightly tilts his head up in acknowledgement.
“Ya?”
Akaashi can feel the tension in Osamu’s thighs, the effort required to keep his hips from shamelessly grinding into Akaashi’s ass. It’s clear what he wants, and Akaashi feels a dull spark run through him at the prospect.
“Get out.”
Atsumu chuckles, forehead still heavy on Akaashi’s chest.
He takes a beat, then his hands do come off his waist. There’s a drop of blood on his track pants from where he’d pressed up against Akaashi’s thigh.
“Fine.”