Archive of Our Own

The line outside the Darklada music bar stretched all the way from the gritty industrial front doors to half way down the next block. Akaashi stood at the very front right under the glitzy neon pink DARKLADA sign with a gaggle of his closest friends, and some of the fiercest ballet dancers in the Northern Hemisphere; Yui Michimiya, Kenma Kozume and Tadashi Yamaguchi. They were all beautiful, regal dancers, respected in their field and idolised by their peers. A reputation such as that wasn’t gained lightly. It took tireless years of blood, sweat and dedication for them to reach their Principal positions in the New York City Ballet Company. Naturally, they didn’t have many days off, so when it was suggested by their Ballet Master that they take the entire weekend off to rest for their upcoming Matinees, the highly respected ballerinas went straight out and bought a bottle of tequila.

Or two. 

They promptly spent all of Friday early-evening downing shots in their Manhattan apartment while twerking to Cardi B. After two shots of tequila washed down with a lime and salt, Michi had gone on the internet and impulse-bought them tickets to a gig out in Brooklyn. 

Akaashi drew his arms around himself in the line, the November air bitingly cold despite the drinks he’d had. His dark blue eyes stared blankly at a pebble on the road. Although his friends were chatting, he was a million miles away.  For the last eight weeks they had been preparing for their winter show, which would be his debut as a soloist. He had been working towards this goal his entire life, and now that it was within his reach it didn’t feel real at all. 

Usually he felt confident in his dancing ability. Dance was his life, his breath, his heartbeat. There was seldom a moment of the day when he wasn’t thinking about it; how to improve a jump or a turn, a facial expression or a leg extension. But now, knowing that he was going to perform to a crowd of 3000 in a matter of days, his mind was going blank. A panic began to blossom within him and take hold— what if he forgot his choreography, or one of his queues on stage?

The possibility throbbed in his gut. He tried to avoid thinking about it as much as possible, but that made him think about it all the more. He just had to trust in himself, as Michi had said, but god, it was so hard.

And waiting in line in the blistering cold for half an hour was not helping. There was too much room for his mind to wander. He felt himself mentally spiral thinking about Act II, Scene III. How was he supposed to start that Act again? On the violin queue or just after? Fuck. 

As he silently panicked, his friends stood beside him blissfully unaware. They talked animatedly to one another, buzzed on the tequila and the excitement of the line. As they chirped and laughed and jostled, Akashi’s expensive black shoe tapped twice on the concrete, then extended. In his head the industrial crowded Brooklyn street melted away, replaced by polished wood and mirrors; the studio he had spent more time in than his own bedroom. Slowly, he dragged his foot to the side on the concrete, soft and graceful, barely scraping the surface. His right arm twitched to follow suit, mirroring the small circle he drew on the ground. What followed next he knew was a soft bend—

“Akaashi!” Michi hollered at him, clamping her hastily-painted dark fingernails down on his shoulders. The studio melted away from his mind as she pouted in his ear. “I can see you moving your feet, quit practising on our night off!

He shrugged her off apologetically and snapped his feet back to neutral. “Sorry,” 

Akaashi’s guilty smile always made Michi weak. She threw an arm over his shoulders in a side hug, and squeezed him a little. 

“Awww loosen up!” she chuckled, her little black dress swishing around her thighs. “Just trust me, you’re gonna LOVE his band.”

“I’ve never listened to emo rock music in my life,” he reasoned, wondering just how well his best friend actually knew him. 

“Pffft that doesn’t matter!” she bubbled in her tipsy state. “I’ve been following these guys for ages. They’re all hot! That’s what matters. And I think they’re all just your type.” 

“What’s Akaashi’s type?” Yamaguchi chimed in, sipping smoothly on a silver flask full of mixer.

Michi turned to him. “Bad boys and girls,” she said matter of factly, complete with an eyebrow wiggle. 

Akaashi groaned inwardly. He hadn’t meant to tell Michi his bad boy preference, she’d weaselled it out of him during one of their long practices in the studio after hours. She sure could be persistent when she wanted to know something. 

“Well, yes, but I don’t plan on getting laid tonight.” Akaashi drew his arms back around himself, fighting a blush as Kenma and Yamaguchi stared at him openly in astonishment. This information probably came to them as a shock, seeing as he hadn’t dated anyone in the few years they’d come to know him. But it sure was true. Akaashi couldn’t picture himself with another prima ballerina, he liked it too rough for that. 

“Are you kidding me?” Michi scoffed, plucking the flask from Yamaguchi’s warm hands. “This is our first night off in ages, of course you’re getting laid.”

She said it like it was the most obvious thing in the word, and punctuated her words with a descent swig out of the flask. Once she'd downed half the vessel she  messily wiped off her mouth on the back of her hand, like the classy ballerina she was. 

“Hell, we’re all getting laid,” she grunted. “There’s four of them and four of us. It’s basic math. We’ll have an orgy back at the apartment.” 

Just as the words left her lips an attractive man in line next to them turned to look at her. Michi caught his eye and didn’t hesitate to throw a glittery wink at him, which he happily returned. Catching wind of this, the emo girl beside him sent her fist slamming into his arm. He turned back around so hard he probably gave himself whiplash. 

The ballerinas dissolved into giggles. Wiping her eyes quick to stop her mascara from running Michi offered thrust the flask at Kenma who took it, shaking with laughter. 

“While you prey on the general public-” Akaashi began, setting Kenma and Yams off into another fit of giggles. “-I think I’ll be just fine on my own. I need a good night’s sleep if I’m going to survive dress rehearsals next week.”

She gave him a blank look. “Twenty bucks says you sleep with someone tonight.”

Akaashi rose to that look. “You want to give me the cash now, or transfer me later?” 

An uproar from the crowd drew them away from their challenge as the doors ahead of them finally opened. Their group hurriedly swept forward in the rush to get inside, and in no time were flashing their tickets at a huge, burly bouncer, standing guard at the end of the black velvet rope. He nodded at them, giving them the go ahead, and along with the rest of the mob they made their way inside.

Beyond the front doors lay a set of stairs that led down down into the bar. Akaashi flew down them with his friends, the pink neon of the street fading into dark light and smoke, like portal to another world.

The Darklada lounge was something else, Akaashi had never set foot in a place like it before. The dim lighting, shady characters and musky, burnt scent made it hard to believe he was still in Brooklyn. 

Eager for a another drink, Michi directed their group towards the bar. Akaashi took in the room as they weaved through the growing crowd. A stage dominated the back wall, with a few well used instruments stationed across it, shrouded in grey light. The electric guitar in the centre caught Akaashi’s eye. It was lacquer black and glossy like a Rolls-Royce. It suddenly struck him that it was rather sexy, though he’d never thought of an instrument as sexy before— he chalked it down to the liquor. 

When they reached the long bar Michi threw herself against it to flirt with the bartender for a round of plain vodkas with seltzer. Akaashi looked around at the other gig-goers. These definitely weren’t his usual group of people, but he felt some thrill in that. Almost everyone there had some sort of face piercing or neck tattoo. He’d always wondered what it would be like to get a tattoo, but never thought of actually getting one due to dance.

He also noticed most of the women in the bar were wearing very little, confidently strutting around in fishnets, corsets, and what qualified as stripper heels. Upon further inspection a couple of the guys were too. One hottie in particular walked right past Akaashi, the ballerina’s eyes landing on his spiked, heeled combat boots. He wondered if he kept those on during…?

Akaashi quickly whipped back around when his drink was put in front of him. He didn’t need Michi catching him checking anyone out, he didn’t want to give her the satisfaction.

With their drinks securely in hand the group pushed back through the crowd to go find a spot at the back of the venue. From there they had a great view of the stage and were able to see everything above the heads of the gathering audience.

Akaashi sipped his vodka while the rest of his friends downed theirs. He’d lost count of how many they’d had. Heck, they’d lost count of how many they’d had, and it showed. Yams and Kenma were both bopping in place despite a lack of music, and Michi had begun to talk even more animatedly, her arms and legs swinging all over the place. All Akaashi could do was stand there and watch it unfold. 

They started shouting at each other to talk as the bar filled up. Minutes passed. Akaashi had finished half his drink by the time he guessed they’d hit full capacity. The place was truly swarming and humming and buzzing with anticipation when the lights went low.

And the crowd screamed.

Phone camera flashes ruptured the dark, then, like a punch to the face, the stage lit up in raging white light. 

Akaashi truly feared for his ear drums as a group of four leather-clad musicians made their way onto the stage to take up the positions behind the instruments. From where he was standing, they looked larger than life, like gods, and understandably, the screaming continued.

Kenma, Yamaguchi and Michi all leapt with excitement. Tossing back their drinks they threw them down on a nearby table, Akaashi following suit. Then, before he knew what was happening, a squealing Michi grabbed him by the wrist and mercilessly hauled him towards the edge of the mosh pit. 

They took up position at the back since there was no point in trying to push through the iron wall of people in front of them. His friends didn’t seem to care they were in the nosebleeds and started screaming at the top of their lungs. From their new spot he could see the musicians better, though he had to go up on his blistered tippy-toes to catch a glimpse of them. 

Starting from the middle the lead singer was a tall, muscular guy with dark hair and a fringe oozing over his left eye. Akaashi wasn’t surprised at all to see tattoos creeping out from underneath his black, tight fitting t-shirt and winding their way up the side of his neck. He oozed the confidence of someone who was sexy and knew they were sexy, and when he dipped the microphone in his hands low, everyone in the venue took a collective breath.

“Hello lovers—” he said in a soft purr, his smile sinful. The crowd erupted, one girl screaming like she might die, it might have been Yamaguchi. “Thanks for coming out tonight, feel free to shake it, nobody watching but me.”

He winked, and Akaashi swore he heard panties drop. 

The singer didn’t give them anything more. The punk woman on drums punched out a beat, and they rocketed into their first song.

It was chaos. 

Think Fall Out Boy meets My Chemical Romance meets Panic! At the Disco. The guitar and bass slammed to life while the drummer thrashed out a dance beat and the singer clutched the microphone like he might fuck it later, his incredible, commanding voice blasting out of the speakers as lights fired off around them. Not a single soul in the room wasn’t ‘shaking it’, except Akaashi. 

As the room pulsed around him, the ballerina stood there, his lips parted, agape.  Innocently enough he’d gone to check out the rest of the band. There was a tall blonde on bass, also covered in tattoos, his brow knit together in exertion and concentration. Then there was the woman on drums; she was hot. Her dark hair was pulled into a ponytail revealing a neat purple undercut beneath, and her vintage tank showed off her toned arms as she pounded her instrument, sweat dripping openly from her brow.

They were both hot, sure. But Akaashi’s whole definition of hot changed when he took one look at the guitar player. 

Silver hair. Tall. Tight black shirt. Equally tight jeans. Piercing gold eyes. Tattoos: black ones, wove across his collar bones and up his arms, promising that there was more to be seen underneath.

Akaashi watched hungrily as his large hands stroked up and down his glossy black guitar. He got himself so wound up looking at his skilled fingers that he actually felt a throb between his legs. It worsened when he caught sight of the man’s expression. As he slammed and worked his guitar his face was remained neutral, relaxed; like he was fully in control and hardly breaking a sweat. It was hot as fuck. Akaashi felt his stomach knot as he pictured kneeling down in front of him and receiving that exact same look, calloused fingers running through his soft hair and a voice whispering, good boy—

“Holy shit.” Akaashi said as the first song came to an end and the crowd’s cheering died down. 

Michi grinned and leaned into him, her eyes following his to the guitarist knowingly. “Nice right?” 

He nodded. “You know me too well.” 

“Freakishly well!” she agreed.

The band fired up again, sending the crowd into more frenzied rapture. Akaashi found himself dancing on the spot as the first verse started, the beat hammering right into his chest. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the guitar player, even as Michi grabbed his arm.

“I want the drummer!” she shouted at him, then, “we should get their attention!” 

Akaashi was about to laugh her drunken idea off, but found himself being violently tugged back a few steps behind the crowd. He wanted to call out to Kenma and Yams but they were too busy dancing crazily to even notice him being dragged away. He desperately wished they’d take pity on him; Michi may have been his best friend, but her ideas could still be bat shit crazy.

“What are we doing!?” Akaashi shouted at her as the music boomed in his ears.

He watched her eyes fire up. That wasn’t a good sign.

“Follow my lead!” was all the warning she gave before she jumped at him, just as the band blasted into another high-energy verse. Astonishingly he caught her, his hands landing tight on her waist in a familiar hold. So familiar— This was the first move of their duet for the showcase, and now they were doing it right in the middle of a packed out concert.

Instinct took over and Akaashi spun them on the spot, gripping her firmly, just under her ribs. For a moment she seemed to fly, then she descended to stand in his arms. Akaashi was about to let go, walk away, this was embarrassing— but she kept moving, and his body couldn’t help but move with her as it had for the past three months, fluidly, gracefully, effortlessly. 

Having just enough space at the back of the crowd, they moved with and against each other. Pushed and pulled like water. Akaashi lifted and spun Michi, dipped and bent her, her dress hem swishing around under his hands. Although he couldn’t hear it, he could see that she was laughing breathlessly from the exhilaration. Dancing to high energy rock music was so different from the classical music they were used to— that combined with the electric atmosphere of the club made Akaashi’s blood itch with adrenaline. He felt so alive, and soon he was laughing along with her too. 

He leapt higher, twisted faster, dipped Michi low and high and close then far away. If her idea had been to get the band’s attention with their duet he doubted they’d be able to see them back here in the dark, and sure the guitarist was hot- but in that moment, it hardly mattered to Akaashi. He was having the best fun of his life on the dance floor with his bestie.

Akaashi caught Michi in their final pose right as the drummer slammed the drums on stage, the song coming to an abrupt end. They’d been perfect. So perfect that when the crowd roared to applause it felt like it was for them. 

Near tears, Michi grabbed for Akaashi, crushing him tightly against her sweaty chest in a hug, and he hugged her, equally as sweaty, gasping to get his breath back. He was deliriously happy. In that moment it felt like all his hard work had payed off. He wasn’t going to forget his steps, he lived his steps, he just needed to trust himself, trust Michi—

When they finally pulled away from each other, Michi planted an affectionately wet kiss on his cheek, which he laughed at and furious wiped away with his sleeve.

“I love you, you dork!” he shouted at her as the band started up again. 

“And I love you, double dork!” she shouted back.

It was juvenile but it made him laugh all the more. A smile still shattering his face Akaashi drew his eyes back up to the band. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting— not any sort of reaction, after all, there was no way those guys on stage could have seen them right?

Wrong.

Piercing golden eyes froze him right to the spot. The guitar player, still strumming his instrument cooly in the white heat of the lights, had his eyes narrowed right in on Akaashi. They locked eyes, and butterflies inside the ballerina’s stomach erupted as the side of the man’s mouth quirked up, his lips pulling into a small, sinuous smile.

It was all over as quickly as it had begun. The musician’s hot gaze dropped back to the crowd, his smile fading as he roughly thrashed out the next part of their song. It was already too late for Akaashi. His mind had gone blank. His heart raced. 

This man had him. He could do anything he wanted to him. 

X x X

After an hour of thrashing their instruments the band wrapped up, the dust cleared, and most of the bar goers trickled out the door; off to wreak havoc on New York City.

Akaashi found himself sat back at the bar, silently shell-shocked.  Kenma, Yams and Michi were all buzzing from the show, sipping new, fruity drinks. They could have left and gone to another bar, but Michi had insisted they stay, and Akaashi just knew she was hoping to meet the band on their way out. The thought of that happening made him tingle all over with nerves. 

But if he were being honest, he wanted to meet them. He wanted to see just how far that guitar player would tower over him, and feel just how rough his hands were. Though he honestly doubted it would happen. Akaashi guessed they had a back entrance to the bar, like they did in the theatre. 

And it wasn’t like they were the only ones in there lingering round, waiting for them. He noticed a few groups of girls off to the side mingling without drinks or purpose. Maybe some of them knew the band, or was dating one of them or something. Akaashi fingered the half empty glass in front of him. What a shame that would be.

“If it isn’t the ballerinas from the back row,” came a low voice from behind them, a purr. 

The ballerina’s heads all turned in succession to find the dark haired singer of the band standing before them, flanked by the female drummer and the blonde bass player. Akaashi couldn’t believe his eyes or ears. Not only had the hot-as-fuck singer addressed them and was looking at them but by god did he look even more fantastic close up. They all did. Ethereal and larger than life.

Akaashi sat up straight, eyes flicking round, but… the guitar player wasn’t with them. Disappointed, he tried not to pout in his seat, Michi, Kenma and Yamaguchi, however, couldn’t be more star struck.

“You guys were amazing!” Yams said, practically bouncing in his seat. “But how do you know we do ballet!?” 

The singer chuckled and sidled up next to them at the bar, all eyes in the room trained on him like an invisible spotlight followed him around. He grinned pearly canines at Yamaguchi, “try asking your friend.” 

Yams and Kenma collectively snapped their heads round to look at Michi— she was always the culprit in these kinds of shenanigans.

“Oh, you guys noticed that, huh?” she said, playing it cool as a cucumber. She cast a sideways glance at Akaashi, and he could practically hear the I told you in her look. “Akaashi and I did Act V at the back of the mosh, thought it was a good time to get some practice in.”

Their friend’s eyes popped open in awe remembering the exact routine. They couldn’t believe no one had been injured, either Akaashi or Michi or some innocent bystander getting in the way.

The singer caught their look and roguishly chuckled again. He moved to order a drink from the bar, his bandmates doing the same. “It was pretty hard to miss, I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“Glad you enjoyed it,” Michi grinned, if she was standing she might’ve curtsied. “You guys weren’t too bad yourselves.”

“Gee thanks,” the singer scrunched his nose as he laughed, clearly more humble and down to earth than his dark exterior and stage persona suggested. Taking ahold of his foamy, freshly poured pint of beer, he leaned back against the bar, eyeing the ballerina’s fondly. “So, we’re at a loose end at the moment waiting for the bar manager to pay us, would you all like to join us for a drink?” 

“Yeah sure-!” Michi and Yamaguchi said eagerly, both jumping at the chance. Akaashi sipped his drink quicker, Kenma did the same.

The singer grinned and straightened up. “Sweet, let’s go grab a table at the back.” 

Soon Akaashi found himself perched on the end of a booth at the back of the lounge, as he, and his friends, and the band— all cozied up around it. It was such a typical Michi scenario.

“I’m Kuroo,” the singer began setting his drink down. “Tsuki here’s on bass and Kiyoko’s our drummer.”

“Tsukishima,” the bassist corrected, shooting him a look.

“Well, nice to meet you guys! I’m Michi,” said Michi, eagerly. “These two are Yamaguchi and Kenma, and this is Akaashi,“ she added clapping a firm hand on his shoulder for emphasis. 

Kuroo smiled at them, his tattooed hand curling back round his drink again. “So what’s the deal, you two together? You’ve got mad chemistry.”

Michi was quick to answer. “Akaashi’s not my type,” she said, casting a heated look at the drummer who met her eyes. Kuroo got the message right away. 

They fell into easy conversation, and went so far as to order a second round. As the others all eagerly talked Akaashi offered little to the conversation. Not out of rudeness, he just tended to speak less when Michi was around since she did all the talking for him. The band seemed nice enough though. His first impressions of the drummer and bassist was that they weren’t as outgoing as the singer, but maybe that would change as they drank some more and loosened up. It certainly didn’t escape Akaashi’s notice that Michi had already started playing footsies with the elfin woman under the table. He was just about to protest as her roaming foot bashed against his for the eighth time in a row when a large hand landed on top of the leather behind his head. 

“Mind if I slide in?” a deep voice asked from above him. 

Akaashi’s eyes followed the intricately tattooed hand up to find the drop dead gorgeous guitarist staring down at him, a loose, sexy smile on his lips while his silver bangs fell over his smouldering golden eyes. The ballerina’s breath was effectively stolen away upon seeing him up so close— there wasn’t a part of him that wasn’t dangerous and rugged. His nose looked like it’d been broken before, and it somehow made him look more attractive. Then there were his thick skilled hands (of course), and his tight, rippling arms— Akaashi bit his lip, he was almost perfect, and he was looking right at him, fire behind his eyes.

And he wanted to sit beside him on the already crowded seat. 

Akaashi moved over gladly, the guitarist’s smirk unchanging as he slid into the booth beside him, his huge toned thigh coming to rest right up against the ballerina’s. He was so hot and so close, Akaashi’s blood boiled.

“Yo Bo!” Kuroo greeted him. “You get your guitar fixed?” 

“Yeah all done, couldn’t find the strings,” ‘Bo’ said, using his hand to rake his fingers through his hair while his other draped casually over the booth behind Akaashi. Now that he practically had him arm around him the ballerina ached. Fuck. He could smell him; all wild and musky from the show. It made him feel so horny he tried not to fidget on the seat.

Almost as if he could sense the heat coming off him, the guitarist glanced at Akaashi curiously, then drew his eyes back to Kuroo. “And Ukai’s not at the bar?” he asked him. 

Thank god he didn’t notice. Akaashi reached for his drink to calm his nerves. 

Kuroo shook his head “Nah, he’s run out to get us cash. We’re waiting for him to get back.” 

“And so you found the ballerinas,” Bo said approvingly, capturing Akaashi’s gaze in his own once more. For a moment his eyes glinted and he almost looked hungry. Akaashi knew then and there, that he wanted to be fucked by this man. Hard. He was so sexy he could barely stand it.

Michi’s face sprung up from Akaashi’s side. “And, you are?” she asked, breaking the spell so suddenly that Akaahsi almost groaned. 

“Bokuto,” he said, his eyes flicking to her.

“Great,” she chirped, happily turning to the rest of the table. “I’m Michi- Kenma- Yamaguchi, and Akaashi,” she said, gesturing to each of them. “And we’re all single,” she added with a wink.

Akaashi considered confiscating her drink for that, but the thought died in his head as the guitarist spoke his name.

“Akaashi,” he said, trying it out on his tongue. “You’re pretty talented. The dancing was incredible.” 

Akaashi, not for the first time in his life, was absolutely speechless. 

“Well it should be! We’ll be on stage at the Lincoln Centre in a week!” It was Yamaguchi that chimed in to save him this time, his face dusted pink and his eyes crinkling from all the alcohol.

It took a moment for what he said to sink in across the table, and when it did, you could hear a pin drop.

“Wait, the actual Lincoln Centre?” the drummer Kiyoko asked, having come damn near close to spitting out her drink.

The band looked around at the ballerinas like they’d only just set eyes on them. 

Tsukishima smirked into his drink. “So that means you guys are from-?”

“The New York City Ballet,” Akaashi blushed, embarrassed by their reactions.

“Oh he’s just being humble,” Michi nudged his shoulder. “Akaashi here IS the New York City Ballet.” 

“Michi-“ he warned. He was about to scold her but was cut off my Kuroo’s ringing laughter.

“No way! This is crazy!” he howled, smacking his hand down on the table in pure disbelief. “You guys are like New York royalty next to the Yankees and the Knicks! So what, you got a show on at the moment? Swan Lake or something? Giselle?” 

Tsuki threw him a look. “How the hell do you know what Giselle is?”

Kuroo drew a hand to chest, mock-offended. “I’m cultured! I’ll have you know I went once, on a school field trip.”

“School field trips don’t count,“ the blonde said blankly.

“…What’d you think of it?” 

The table grew quiet. Kenma’s small voice had piped up from the end by Kuroo’s side. The petite blonde hadn’t spoken in a while, despite the alcohol he wasn’t great at conversing with new people, especially hot ones. But after Kuroo said the magic word ‘Giselle,’ Kenma’s honey eyes had flown to him.

A slow grin split over the singer’s face.

“From what I remember it was stunning,” he said, voice lowering an octave. “You know it?” 

Kenma moved ever so closer to him on the booth. “It’s actually one of my favourites.”

Akaashi knew this was a complete understatement. Kenma had seen that show performed well over fifty times— he’d go so far as to say it was his favourite thing in the whole world— and the mere mention of it by Kuroo was enough for the ballerina to want to be absolutely railed by him.

And Kenma didn’t usually hook up with strangers, so that was going to be interesting. 

Soon the table split off by conversation. Michi and Yamaguchi got into a heated argument with the drummer and bassist over where in New York you can find the best $1 pizza by the slice. Then there was Kenma and Kuroo flirting up a storm in the corner of the booth, Kenma giggling and Kuroo’s hands disappearing under the table as he did god knows what with them.

That left Akaashi with his sex god. The ballerina came up short for things to say and cursed himself for not drinking more at their apartment earlier. Luckily for him, Bokuto spoke first.

“So, what’re you drinking?” he asked, tapping his finger against Akaashi’s glass, their eyes meeting.

It wouldn’t have taken any extra effort on the ballerina’s part to start kissing him right then and there.

“Vodka seltzer,” he flushed, hot from his thoughts. 

The side of Bokuto’s mouth quirked up, just like it had on stage. “That your usual?”

That smile was too hot. Akaashi allowed himself to laugh, if only to calm his fizzing nerves. “It’s actually pretty awful, Michi got it for me.” 

“…Shall we go get you something better then?” 

Akaashi blinked at him. It was an innocent enough invitation to go to the bar, but at the same time, it wasn’t, Not with the way he was looking at him, like he was the last piece of candy at the counter.

Bokuto slid out of the booth, offering him a hand up, which he took, gladly; ‘take me I’m yours’ practically painted on his eyelids,

“Oi, where’re you going?” Michi hollered at them.

“Just getting another drink,” Akaashi said as Bokuto’s hand moved to the small of his back, guiding him over towards the bar. Michi rolled her eyes at the pair of them, already deciding in her head what she wanted to spend her $20 winnings on. 

Akaashi let himself be led across the lounge, loving every second of it— especially the jealous stares the other patrons were throwing his way. There was no doubt they were fans of this man who had his hands on him. Too bad Akaashi was too horny to care.

When they got to the bar Bokuto dropped his hand from Akaashi and flagged the bartender down, leaning up cooly the wood on folded arms.

“Can we grab two Pina Colada Roger crafts? Smalls? Thanks man.” 

He slipped the barman a crisp $20 as Akaashi stared at him oddly. 

“Pina colada?” he asked, both intrigued and fighting the urge to giggle. The rock star exterior and the fruity drink order did not match up at all.

“Pina Colada craft beer,” Bokuto corrected as their drinks were set down in front of them. “My friend has a small brewery in Bushwick, go on, cheers.” 

They each lifted their glasses and clinked them together. Akaashi took a tentative first sip. At first the cold liquid rushed over his tongue and all he could taste was rich beer, but then, as he swallowed the taste of fruity pineapple blossomed over it, leaving a sweet, smooth finish. He quickly took another, deeper sip. Why the hell had he been having vodka when he could’ve been drinking this all night?

“Okay that’s actually good?“ he licked his lips as he set the glass down. “Who would’ve thought?” 

The musician’s eyes darted down to Akaashi’s glistening lips, so fast the ballerina almost missed it. “So,” he began, swirling his glass around. “What brings you out tonight?”

Tell him you want to fuck him. “My friends brought me,” Akaashi said smoothly. “I hadn’t actually heard of you guys before.” 

“Ouch, you’ve wounded me-“ the musician smirked. “You’ve seen the show, would you say you’re a fan now?”

A small smile crept over Akaashi’s lips. “Maybe…” he teased, thinking he wouldn’t mind screaming his name. “Though you seem to have plenty already, this place was packed. You seem to be taking off.”  

Bokuto shrugged, his elbow knocking Akaashi’s “It’s starting to pay the bills, I guess.” 

“You’ve been a musician for a while then?”

Bokuto nodded. “Yeah since I was a kid, I’m guessing it’s the same with you and dance.” 

“Yeah, since I was two,” Akaashi said fondly.  

All throughout their conversation Bokuto’s eyes bore right down into his, all smoke and fire, drawing Akaashi to him like a moth to a flame. They grew so close and quiet that the dancer almost groaned, he’d never wanted someone so badly before.

“You have ballet everyday?” Bokuto murmured down to him, a brazen tattooed hand coming to rest on his slender dancer’s hip.

Akaashi’s breath caught at the small touch, though he tried to pretend it didn’t effect him. "I usually have five or more hours of class a day, yes.” 

Bokuto hummed, working the material of one of Akaashi’s belt loops between his solid fingers.“You must be pretty flexible, then,” he said. The observation made something tighten deep down in Akaashi’s stomach. It wasn’t just the words that had done it, but the way his eyes dragged right down over his body and back up again, like he was picturing him naked, wet, and panting, with his legs splayed wide for him on a hotel bed. 

Akaashi bit his lip. Oh, he’d spread his legs for him alright. “I am pretty flexible,” he breathed, playing innocent. “And you practice your guitar everyday?” 

“Every night, at least an hour.”

“You must be pretty good with your hands then.” 

Akaashi watched, pleased as Bokuto visibly swallowed, his hand stilling on his hip. “I’m very good with my hands,” he whispered, voice dripping with sex. 

Time slowed as they shared a look between them that made Akaashi’s groin heat up. He danced soft fingers over the top of the musician’s tattooed hand.

“I’d like to see that.”

Lips touched his ear, “I’d love to show you,” 

Akaashi chewed his lip before he could let out a moan right then and there. His back gave the smallest of arches imagining it— the musician running his hands all over his body naked body; between thighs, over his ass, in his mouth— The thought was so vivid and hot that he felt like he was being touched for real. Unfortunately, his dick thought that too, their exchange leaving him half hard and desperate. 

Sucking up all his pride the ballerina shielded himself from the other bar patrons against the man’s body in front of him, intentionally brushing his lower half against his hip. “Do you have somewhere more private we could go?” he asked, pressing forward just enough to let him know how much he wanted to go.

He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but the look Bokuto gave him was dark and far too indecent under the light of the bar.

His rough hand slid into his. “Come with me.”  

Abandoning their drinks Bokuto pulled Akaashi off through the lounge, his strides fast and deliberate, the ballerina hastily moving to keep up with him. He felt his heart hammer loudly in his chest as they exited the bar floor through a side door, the walls turning from black to shabby grey, the light shining harsh from the ceiling. 

They were officially backstage.

Akaashi zeroed in on the ripple of muscles on the back in front of him, his pulse jumping in anticipation. Just what was this sex god going to do to him behind closed doors? He half wished he’d just fuck him there in the hallway.

But luckily he didn’t have to wait much longer. Once they got to the second door on the right of the corridor Bokuto threw it open and tugged him inside. As soon as the door clicked shut Akashi was slammed up against it, a pair of lips ghosting over his own.

“Is this what you want?” he asked. 

All Akaashi could feel was yes.

The ballerina leant up and kissed him, already moaning as they crashed together, heatedly making out.

Bokuto’s hand came up to caress his jaw, his rough thumb sliding over his bottom lip as he pulled him close. He pressed his finger gently between Akaashi’s lips and hooked it over his bottom teeth, dragging his mouth open wide enough for him to slip his tongue in. 

Akaashi moaned again, louder this time, feeling a small, smooth, metal piercing glide over the tip of his tongue. How had he not noticed that when they’d been talking? He didn’t have too much time to think about it. Bokuto was ravishing his mouth, but he needed more. Akaashi’s hands dropped between them to find the belt loops on the other man’s jeans. Grabbing ahold he tugged his hips forward and they ground together, the ballerina’s hardening erection pressing firmly against his crotch

Bokuto smirked into their kiss, feeling just how hard he was with little to no provocation. He slid his knee between Akaashi’s legs so that he could grind against him all he wanted. And he did. Unashamedly. He was already so hard and it already felt so good that he couldn’t help but rock his hips into him. 

Abruptly, Bokuto pulled back, Akaashi panting hard for air as he kissed up the side of his neck. “You want me to fuck you?” he asked roughly, moving his large hands down to cup Akaashi’s ass over his pants. Akaashi barely bit back a whimper. 

“Yes,” he moaned, because that sounded like a great idea. A really really great one. He threw his arms around the musician and their lips met again, clumsily, feverishly; Akaashi wanting to get swept up in him and drown in his hot kisses. 

Drunk on lust he barely noticed as his back pulled away from the door. 

“We better get you out of those clothes then,” the musician said playfully, picking him up by the ass and hoisting him into the air so suddenly that a rare, nervous giggle escaped the dancer’s lips. He clung to him for dear life, slightly embarrassed as he hadn’t been carried around outside of a ballet studio before.

Soon he was being tossed onto a conveniently placed, ratty-old couch, with 100 pounds of pure muscular testosterone with a hard-on the size of a truck pressing him down into the fabric.

Their lips smashed together again. Akaashi’s hands roamed over the musician’s firm chest as they made out, that pierced tongue sliding in and exploring his mouth. God he tasted so good, and his muscles felt so firm—but yes, their clothes were getting in the way. 

Akaashi broke their kiss with a gasp just as Bokuto’s strong hands wrenched his shirt up, exposing the sensitive skin of his chest to the cold air of the dressing room. Next, the musician moved down to Akaashi’s neck. Passionately he kissed his jugular once, twice, then—

“Wait-!” Akaashi yelped, his hand coming up to push Bokuto’s chest away. Dark golden eyes peered up at him. 

“No marks,” he said, very serious. “I don’t wear much in rehearsals,”  

“Yes sir,” Bokuto grinned. 

Placing a chaste kiss to his neck so that he wouldn’t be tempted, he moved lower down his body to run his tongue over one of his nipples. He nibbled at it gently, the action sending shooting pleasure right up Akaashi’s spine. It really got him wet. He couldn’t wait for him to see. 

The ballerina pulled his shirt off over his head as Bokuto kissed and licked a line right down his abs. Sinking to the floor between his spread legs the musician pulled Akaashi’s hips towards him, continuing to kiss his skin eagerly like he couldn’t get enough.

He only stopped when he met the top of his pants. Leaning back with a cocky smile he cupped the front. Akaashi jolted as he kneaded the fabric, running his hand up the length of his twitching, hard cock.  

The tease was almost too much. The ballerina wiggled under his touch, aching for more friction. He stared down into Bokuto’s golden eyes and pleaded, just as he drew the zipper of his pants between his teeth.

He unzipped him slowly. “Lift your hips for me, love,” he murmured, releasing the metal from his teeth. Akaashi obeyed, finding the strength to plant his feet and lift his hips into the air. Quickly his clothes and shoes were slid off his body, leaving him completely naked. 

“Good boy,” Bokuto purred, kissing and licking everywhere but his now exposed, dripping wet cock. 

Soon Akaashi was a complete mess in his hands, clutching onto the couch cushion feverishly. He needed to be touched, and thought he was about to get what he wanted as Bokuto’s hands grasped his thighs, spreading his legs further apart— but no. The musician leaned forward only to spread butterfly soft kisses to his lower stomach, leaving him bucking up into the empty air. 

 A whine left his throat as a firm hand landed on his hip, forcing him back down onto the couch, a low, chuckling laugh filling the quiet of the room.

“Shhh baby,” Bokuto said, kissing nearer to his dripping dick like a cat toying with his kill. “I’ll give you what you want.”

Before Akaashi could gather himself the musician leaned down and deep-throated him, swallowing his dick down to the hilt. The ballerina whined, high in his throat, his hands grasping out to tangle in his silver hair. 

Bokuto sucked him hard and fast. Having not been blown in a while, it felt fucking good— especially after all that teasing. He moaned, feeling his smooth piercing run up and down the underside of his shaft as he bobbed, hollowing his cheeks as he got to his head. 

The musician dipped his tongue back low over him, and Akaashi suddenly shuddered, finding himself dangerously close to orgasm. Bokuto, intrigued by his reaction, did it again, delighting as he jumped underneath him.

“AH!” he cried out as that sinful piercing scraped over his base and very close to his sensitive balls. “f-fuck-stop, I’m going to—“ 

 Bokuto looked up at him as he sucked him off, his eyes smouldering like he fucking owned him. “You can cum,” he rumbled, flicking his piercing back and forth, back and forth over Akaashi’s slit until the ballerina couldn’t take anymore. 

With a strangled cry that definitely echoed into the hallway outside, he threw his head back on the couch and came, right into his waiting mouth, his whole body tensing with release. 

Bokuto released him, and he fell back against the couch. Through hazy eyes he watched as the man swallowed like he’d just had another pina colada beer. It was unbelievably sexy. 

As Akaashi’s heartbeat settled he stayed there, down between his legs, running his hands over every bit of skin he could touch, soothingly. 

“Hmm.. did you like that?” he asked, massaging his hips. 

Akaashi nodded, blissed out. He was almost ready to return the favour but Bo kept his hands on him, and was already back to kissing his thighs.

This was far from over.

The ballerina yelped as his hips were suddenly yanked off the end of the couch and his thighs were wrenched apart. 

“Ah-!” Akaashi gasped in surprise as Bokuto’s tongue ran right over his rim. “I-I just came- w-wait—” he tried to reason.

His pleas fell on deaf ears. Bo’s calloused, tattooed hand found his limp, saliva slicked cock and gripped it, just as his pierced tongue pushed through his ring of tight muscles down below. 

Akaashi’s jolted off the couch as the musician plunged his tongue into him, his golden eyes closing to savour his taste. Not a moment later his hand on his cock starting moving, squeezing and pumping and sending him into a frenzy.

He writhed under his touch, waves of unbearable pleasure breaking over his body like buzzing electricity, shocking him so much he shook. 

Bokuto smiled as he caught him trying to squirm away. With strong hands he pulled him right back into place. 

“Oh no no, I’m not done yet,” he tutted, grinning wickedly as he slid his tongue back into his ass, thrusting it in deeper than he had before.

Unable to escape and having to accept the pleasure that wracked through his body, Akaashi panted so hard it hurt. He just had to sit there and take the tongue-fucking, fisting the top of the couch so hard his hands went white. 

Soon his erection was forced back to life, and Bokuto finally pulled away to admire his handy work. 

Akaashi, flushed with dark lust-drunk eyes, stared back at him, his rigid dick flushed and oozing between them.   

“Fuck, look at you,” the musician murmured, sliding his hands over the tops of his pale thighs. The ballerina weakly caught his hands in his own, he couldn’t take any more of this torture

“Please…” was all he said. It was all he needed to say.

Bokuto stood, lust storming behind his eyes, and unzipped the front of his jeans. Gazing down at him with full desire he pulled his dick out of his sleek black underwear— and it was huge. 

Akaashi blinked at it, mesmerised. Before he knew what he was doing he was sinking to the ground on his knees in front of him, salivating.

Bo smirked down at him. Lazily stroking himself with his hand, he caught Akaashi’s jaw with his other. “You want to suck it?”

Akaashi could only nod, eyes sparkling up at his stiff cock.

The grip on his jaw tightened. “Open that pretty little mouth for me then.”

Akaashi’s lips parted obediently, and Bokuto watched as his thick cock pressed onto his soft tongue. His breath catching, the musician shoved up his shirt up to give himself a better view, exposing his tight abs to the dressing room. “Ohhh good boy,” he groaned, his other hand grasping at Akaashi’s hair, pulling him forward. “Take it deep.”

His own cock leaking from the praise, Akaashi took as much of him as he could right to the back of his throat, like he was starving for him. Bokuto groaned above him, watching him closely.

“Mmm, so fucking pretty,” he murmured, Akaashi’s sparkling eyes looking up at him as he sucked him off. With his jaw starting to ache he pulled back with an obscene ‘POP’, quickly licking his tongue all over his length to taste him more.

The musician’s fingers twitched in his hair. “Yeah, that right baby—” he said. “Get it all nice and wet.” 

Akaashi moaned and took him back into his mouth, determined to make him come. He began to bob up and down faster, slurping loudly and sucking and twisting his lips in a way he knew would blow the musician’s mind.

And it was a success. Bokuto’s eyes started to roll back from the pace, his fingers in Akaashi’s hair tightening.

Then came a knock at the door.

“YO BO!” Kuroo’s voice came shouting through it. “YOU COMING?” 

Yeah, really soon— Akaashi thought, sucking harder. Bokuto didn’t seem to care much about their new company either and pressed his hips forward, Akaashi’s eyes watering from the force of his dick hitting the back of his throat.

Kuroo’s fist bashed on the door. 

“BO YOU PRICK!!” he shouted, bashing it again. “OPEN UP!”

With a groan Bokuto pulled back and hastily tucked his dick away, walking over to the door before his friend could break it down. He opened it a mere crack, making sure to shieldthe couch from view.

He leaned against the doorframe. “What?” he asked, his voice bored.

“Fuck, finally,” Kuroo said, grinning with the news he had to share. “You ready to go? We’re having drinks at our with the ballerinassss.” 

“Sure, we’ll meet you guys there.” 

He moved to shut the door, but Kuroo caught it with his hand.

“We’ll—?” he winked

Bokuto glared at him. “Anything else?”

The singer thought for a second, knowing there was some other reason he’d come to bug him. The time it took him made Bokuto’s teeth grind together. “Oh yeah!” he said, finally. “And don’t forget to grab your share from Ukai on your way out,” 

Bokuto nodded curtly, very ready to get rid of him. He went to pull the door shut, but Kuroo planted his foot in the way, the wood whacking against it with a thud. 

“Oh, and Bo,” he grinned cheekily. "How is he?” 

Bokuto shoved him backwards and slammed the door shut, flipping him off in the process. Kuroo’s cackling laughter followed him all the way off down the hallway. 

Turning back around the guitarist sighed, the bulge in his pants still large and pronounced. He took a moment to lean back against the door, ready to spew an apology for his friend’s behaviour before he heard a soft moan.

Flicking his eyes up he saw the performance that awaited him on the couch. Akaashi, flushed and panting, waited eagerly for him, an expression so sinful on his face that Bokuto may as well have already been fucking him. His eyes hotly trailed the length of Akaashi’s arm, down down to where his hands were stationed below his creamy thighs.

The ballerina was fingering himself, with two of his dainty digits thrusting in and out of his tight ass so fast that he was really getting off on it, his soft pants and mewls filling the room.

Bokuto walked towards him slowly, pulling his restless dick from his underwear again, they weren’t going to be interrupted this time. 

He stopped beside the couch firmly stroking his hard length, eyes locked on Akaashi’s hole. 

Now that he had his full attention, it was Akaashi’s turn to smirk. This was where he thrived after all; in the spotlight. He pulled his fingers from himself and made a show of trailing them right up to his mouth— Bokuto’s eyes narrowed as he brought them between his parted lips, moaning as he ran his tongue over them.

“Fuck…” Bokuto rumbled, crawling onto the couch on top of him. 

Akaashi, with a playful smile on his face brought his foot up to brush it over his sizeable cock. “Fuck,” he mimicked cutely. 

The musician cursed again, pushing his leg out of the way and bringing his calloused fingers to the entrance of his wet hole. “You want it bad, don’t you?”

Akaashi’s back arched as those fingers entered him, thicker and rougher than his had been. 

“Mmhm,” he nodded innocently as he bit down a moan, feeling himself leak under his touch. 

Bokuto noticed. His eyes flickered and he leant down, unable to help himself, and licked up the bead of pre-cum off his sensitive tip. This, coupled with his two fingers thrusting in and out of him made Akaashi see stars. He was quickly brought to the very edge of orgasm, only for the feeling to be wrenched away. 

Bokuto grabbed the base of his dick and squeezed, keeping his at his mercy. 

“If you’re going to come again it’s gonna be on my dick,” he warned, rolling a condom on with his other hand. 

Akaashi’s heart hammered as he spat on his hand and slicked it up his length. This was it. All the teasing was coming to an end. In one fluid motion Bokuto stripped off his shirt and tossed it to the other side of the room. He threw one of Akaashi’s legs over his broad shoulder, then prodded the tip of his thick dick against his rim. Bracing one arm above him on the couch, the musician wasted no more time. 

He slowly, steadily, pushed his head in through his tight muscles.

“Yeah- ahh—” Akaashi moaned, gripping the musician’s back and digging his nails in into his skin. His dick was so huge and hot inside him, he almost couldn’t handle it. He was so full— his whole body was set alight. Just when Akaashi thought there couldn’t possibly be anymore to his length Boktuo buried into him deeper, right up to the hilt, until he almost lost his mind.

Incoherent, he let out a shuddering whine as the musician’s balls meet his skin. He was full with him. 

Bokuto’s wet lips ran over his forehead, bringing him back to reality. “You good?” he asked, on the brink of losing his mind too.

Akaashi gripped his back tighter. “Y-yeah-”

“Good,” Bokuto said, though it sounded like a warning. 

Before the ballerina could prepare himself the musician snapped his hips into him, hard, ramming right up against his prostate with such accuracy it made his voice spiral out into the room. Flushing with embarrassment and pleasure, Akaashi clung to him and buried his head in the crook of his neck.

Bokuto smirked above him. “No no, don’t do that-“  he tutted, pulling him off him and trapping his hands above him on the couch, just as he started to fuck him faster. He licked the side of his open, panting mouth. “I want to hear you moan-“ 

And Akaashi did moan. He moaned so loudly that his throat hurt, the couch rattling violently beneath them.

“Such a good boy…” the musician teased in his ear. 

Slowing down he released his hands, and for a moment Akaashi forgot which way was up. Bokuto pulled out and flipped unceremoniously onto his stomach.

“You like this baby?” he asked darkly, grabbing handfuls of his ass as he started wildly rutting into him again. “You like my cock?”

Unable to form a sentence, Akaashi simply whimpered, sticking his ass out and nodding his face into the ragged couch as the musician’s balls slapped rhythmically against the backs of his thighs. 

Before he could get too comfortable, a hand landed on the back of his neck. Without pulling out Bokuto wrenched a gasping Akaashi up onto his knees and slammed him up against the backrest of the couch, the ballerina’s face pressing hard into the concrete wall behind it. With his hand still grasping his neck, Bokuto’s hot breath ghosted over his ear. 

“Why don’t you tell me how much you like it?”

Akaashi’s eyes widened as the musician thrust into him slowly, teasing him with his dick. He chewed his lip, desperate to be pounded again. “I… like it…” he said quietly, looking around at Bokuto with pleading blue eyes. 

The musician liked that. He rolled his hips into him a little faster, gnawing on his pretty earlobe. 

“Yeah…?” he panted. "How much?” 

Akaashi couldn’t take it anymore. He sucked up his pride and moaned wantonly, fucking back on the musician’s dick because he couldn’t get enough. “I love your cock-!” 

It did the trick. Bokuto gritted his teeth, grabbed his hips roughly and slammed into him again and again and again. He railed him, right into the wall, and Akaashi’s back arched for him, his legs spread out in a perfect triangle, shiny sweat and pre-cum dribbling down the inside of his thighs.

The ballerina jolted, hearing a door slam shut outside in the corridor. People. He could hear them clearly; a pair of women talking about the show. 

And if he could hear them clearly then… 

The ballerina bit his lip so hard and so suddenly that he knew it’d bruise as he fought to keep quiet. The thought registered with him dimly that his makeup team at the company were going to throw a fit, but that didn’t matter as Bokuto’s voice rumbled dangerously in his ear. 

“You close?”

“Yes—!” Akaashi whined like a slut.

Bokuto’s veiny, tattooed hand landed on the wall next to his head. “Then come for me baby. I don’t care if they fucking hear you.”  

Akaashi saw white, his orgasm ripping through his entire body as he was fucked through it, his cum splattering all over the couch in front of him.

Gritting his teeth, Bokuto’s jaw locked in an effort to slow down. He pulled out, ripped off the condom caging his cock, and stroked himself, letting out a ferrel growl as he coated Akaashi’s ass and puckering hole with his cum. 

The dancer felt the fluid dribbling down his body as he crumpled against the wall, his legs finally giving out. The cool wall in front of him was very welcome against his forehead. He needed to cool down, he felt hot. So hot and dizzy.

He hadn’t been railed like that in a long time. 

And in all the commotion, the hallway outside had gone quiet.  

Before he could really collapse into the couch, calloused hands grabbed for him, and breathy kisses were pressed to the back of his neck. Bokuto manoeuvred him down onto his clothed lap, and didn’t hesitate to run his tongue right over Akaashi’s lips and eventually back into his mouth.

Akaashi fought the urge to moan as he melted into him, Bokuto’s rough hands gently caressing and stroking the body he’d just abused. The ballerina loved his kisses, his teasing, his cock. 

Surely once wasn’t going to be enough? he thought idly as Bokuto pulled away, ducking his head to run his tongue up the side of his neck. Akaashi’s toes curled. Yeah, once wasn’t going to be nearly enough-

But before Bokuto could slip his hand back between Akaashi’s thighs, a violent guitar riff erupted from a duffle bag in the corner on the other side of the room. The entangled pair jumped at the sound, now clearly understood to be a phone ringing.

“That’s Kuroo’s ringtone,” the musician murmured against his skin. “I should probably take it.”

“No problem,” Akaashi said, trying not to look too disappointed as he slid down onto the couch.

Bokuto pulled his pants up as he went over to the howling device, his voice drawling as he answered it. 

“Yeah Kuroo, what’s happening…?” 

Akaashi shivered, suddenly much colder before. He bit his lip, gazing at the eye candy in front of him. Should he get dressed or put on another show for him? 

The goosebumps flourishing over his skin decided for him. With a shiver he scanned the room for anything to clean himself off with. Thankfully there was a discarded rag on the ground- god knows where it had been or what it had seen but it would have to do. He grabbed it and wiped off the mess off his body, threw it away, then reached for his underwear and pants and slid them on. He had almost gotten to his shirt by the time he heard Bokuto end the call. 

The musician walked over to him, frowning seeing he’d gotten dressed so quickly. 

“Are my friends at your place?” Akaashi asked him, pulling his shirt back over his naked torso. The same torso that the man in front of him had sucked a line down earlier.

“Yeah, and they’re all wondering where you are. Though I don’t feel too bad for stealing you away.” Bokuto smiled down at him, genuinely this time, and it made him look even more attractive if that were possible. 

Akaashi’s felt his face heat up. That was bad. He was not going to catch feelings for someone who had just fucked him on a decrepit couch backstage at a gig. 

But… His dick had been so good. He couldn’t help but want to do it again.

Before he could plan his next move, Bokuto proposed a location change. “Kuroo said they’ve got a party going, you wanna go?”

Hmm… Akaashi had to think about that. Although he wanted to stay and get screwed senseless for a few more hours, his friends were probably worried about him. That, and there would be plenty of opportunities to sneak away at the party to some secluded bedroom, right? Oh, what it would be like to ride that thick dick surrounded by soft sheets…

With that one thought burning in his mind, Akaashi peaked up at Bokuto through his eyelashes. “Only if you’ll be there,” he twinkled.

The musician was very pleased with his answer. He leant down and kissed him, hotly, clearly having the same intentions for the party ahead. Their tongues met again, sending a new wave of heat flooding between the ballerina’s legs.

Before he could lay another hand on him, Bokuto backed off, if only by an inch. “How about I finish getting dressed, we go grab my pay, and we get the hell out of here?”

Akaashi, breathless and hot, nodded. “Sounds good to me.” 

Bokuto released him and went to throw his shirt and shoes back on. The ballerina watched him all the while, blue eyes curling over the muscles on his back, and the cut of his jawline. A small smile tugged at his lips. He felt awfully proud of himself for having managed to sleep with this guy. And god it had felt good— he needed to get out of the studio more often. And damn, didn’t the man in front of him look like the perfect excuse to do just that?

The musician swept his silver bangs back, shouldering his heavy bag. Akaashi stood to meet him, and Bokuto laced their fingers together, placing a chaste kiss over his knuckles. 

“Let’s head.” 

The pair walked back out to the bar together, beady eyes locking onto their joint hands from all across the room. Akaashi wasn’t sure if people were looking at them because they’d heard what they’d just done, or if they were jealous fans of the band. Regardless, he quickly realised he didn’t give a fuck. He’d never see these people again, and the sex had been too good for him to care. 

They got to the bar, Bokuto got his money, and they made their way back up the stairs to the world of the living. Outside, the air was near frozen, with dull foggy clouds billowing above the street lamps. Everyone had gone home now, or had championed on to a different bar in the city that never slept. Akaashi himself was usually exhausted by this hour, but after all that excitement he was left wide awake.  

Bokuto led him down the road half a block, holding onto Akaashi’s small hand in his jacket pocket. The ballerina couldn’t contain his smile as they rounded a dusty corner, revealing a vintage motorcycle parked up on the curb, shining in matte black.

All he could think was, of course.

A thrill rushed through him as Bokuto fished the keys out of his bag. He went over and opened the seat compartment, pulling out a spiked leather jacket which he placed around Akaashi’s shoulders. 

The ballerina shrugged it on, though he was swimming in it, and was pleased to find that it took the bite out of the cold winter air. Bokuto smiled, seeing just how big it looked, but his face fell as something caught his eye behind them. 

“What is it?” Akaashi asked, worried. 

A lazy smile overtook the musician as he nodded in the direction of the building across the road. Akaashi turned to see an alley way, half shrouded in darkness, which had an image displayed on the side, three stories high and staggering.  

It was Akaashi, just his face, taking up the entire side of the building, his blazing blue eyes gazing ethereally down over the street below with the words New York City Ballet 5/11 printed on the bottom. 

“Looks like I’ve got precious cargo,” Bokuto chuckled, placing a sleek helmet over Akaashi’s head and sliding it securely down into place. “I better get you to this party in one piece or the city might have my head.” 

Akaashi smiled at him from under the helmet, moving to straddle the bike. “Yeah, if I were you, I’d drive slow.” 

Grinning after him, Bokuto slid on in front, placing his own helmet on as Akaashi wrapped his arms around his muscular torso. 

“Hold on tight babe,” he said, and a kick later the bike roared to life. 

As they rolled off the curb, the noise from the engine punched through the midnight air and boomed all the way over to the Hudson. 

They rode on past the lights of the city, with the stunning Manhattan skyline greeting them as they tore up a Brooklyn street by the water. In the distance, thousands of posters of Akaashi stared out over the night, and Akaashi, feeling breathless from the wind and the view, stared right back.