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It is Saturday when Daichi opens his clothes drawer to find it almost completely bare, with nothing but an old shirt and a few miscellaneous pieces of clothing rattling around in it. He supposes it is a logical outcome, given that he and Kuroo have been neglecting laundry in favour of work and volleyball. When he opens Kuroo's drawer, it is in a worse state than his, even though he is sure that Kuroo has at least double the amount of clothes he has. But he supposes it is another logical outcome, given that he has been taking Kuroo's shirts without really looking at what he was leaving for him in the drawer. Daichi closes Kuroo's drawer quietly and pulls open his own again, taking the lone shirt and putting it on.
Daichi spends the morning searching the house for loose pieces of clothing, dumping them into the laundry basket and dragging the whole thing into the laundry room. He is sorting the clothes into piles on the floor when Kuroo finally makes an appearance, yawning widely as he peeks into the room on his way to the bathroom.
"Is that why I can't find anything to wear?" Kuroo remarks, shuffling into the room and staring down at the heaps of laundry. He is only in his boxers, like Daichi was before he uncovered that one shirt, which is now possibly the last clean shirt in the house. Daichi isn't going to give it up.
"Do you need to be anywhere today?" Daichi tosses a stray sock into the sock pile, frowning when he can't find its pair.
"Not particularly, but can I at least get a shirt? It's cold today."
"Take your pick." Daichi gestures towards the piles and Kuroo fishes one out, sniffing at it tentatively.
He makes a face and drops it back down. "Ugh, no. How long has it been since we last did the laundry?"
"I don't know, when did you last do the laundry?"
"Before that one volleyball meetup where Bokuto challenged everyone not to drop the ball for thirty minutes straight. No wonder everything stinks," Kuroo says mournfully before backing out of the room.
Kuroo doesn't return for a while and in that time, Daichi loads the washing machine with the biggest pile, prays that it holds out and starts the cycle. He is contemplating the pile of clothes in need of handwashing when Kuroo makes a reappearance, grinning broadly as he leans against the doorframe.
He's found a shirt, Daichi notes absently as he rearranges the piles of clothes. Then he pauses mid-motion to look at Kuroo again, squinting at the label at the top left corner of his shirt.
"Where did you find that?" Daichi says, amused.
The label on the shirt says "Karasuno" in black letters, faded from too many hours in practice and the washing machine. The shirt itself is threadbare, the collar stretched out, and Daichi knows there is a hole right under one of the armpits. It is too small for Kuroo, given that it is a relic from Daichi's high school days and they have both grown since then.
Kuroo strikes a pose and when he stretches, it rides up to reveal a flat expanse of skin between the hem and his boxers. "I found it at the back of the closet with all your old stuff. It smells kind of musty actually."
"I'm glad that you won't freeze today then." Daichi walks over to him, dropping his arms around Kuroo's waist as he leans up to kiss him. "Now help me with the laundry."
The afternoon sees them at their balcony, hanging up clothes under the sun. There is a slight breeze and Kuroo takes that as an excuse to press close to Daichi, shivering as the wind hits his skin. The washing machine is still hard at work when they go back inside, loaded up with the latest batch of clothes.
"Here." Daichi nudges Kuroo with a foot, passing him a cup of coffee before sitting down next to him on the floor with his own cup. It's hot and Kuroo sticks his nose into the cup, inhaling deeply before drinking it.
"How much more do we have left?" Kuroo asks.
"I think we're washing almost every piece of clothing in the house," Daichi replies pensively. "How did we let things get so bad?"
"Life," Kuroo says sagely. "And bad planning. I would ask you to stop taking my shirts but then that would be to no one's benefit."
"We'd have more backup shirts to wear if I stopped."
"No one's benefit," Kuroo insists. He tangles his feet with Daichi's, nudging at the side of Daichi's foot with a toe.
Daichi glances sidelong at him. He doesn't want to admit it, but Kuroo is distracting. Not because he is being annoying on purpose and trying to get a rise out of Daichi, but because of the way he is wearing Daichi's shirt.
Honestly, it looks ridiculous. It is too small on him and the cloth stretches out tight around his broad shoulders. But Kuroo is lean enough that the shirt fits comfortably around his waist and the jut of his hipbones is just visible under its tattered hem.
"What is it?" Kuroo says, smiling at him, and Daichi realises that he is touching him, running his thumb over Kuroo's hipbone as if unconsciously drawn to him.
"Nothing." Daichi drops his hand and scoots away.
Like he expected that, Kuroo touches a hand to the side of Daichi's face, his fingers sliding into place under his jaw. He leans forward and presses his lips to Daichi's, kissing him sweetly and convincing him to stay where he is, his eyes bright with promise as he says, "You can touch me if you want, Daichi."
Daichi feels fingers creep under his shirt, pressing into the bare skin at his waist and nudging him forward into Kuroo. Kuroo kisses the tip of his nose and it catches him off guard as Kuroo drags him down onto the floor. He hears all the air in Kuroo's lungs leave as he lands on his chest, but Kuroo recovers quickly enough, rearranging Daichi's legs so that he is straddling him.
"Daichi." Kuroo directs his attention back upwards, catching him in an open-mouthed kiss.
Kuroo runs his tongue over the roof of Daichi's mouth, getting his hands in Daichi's hair and pulling him down to deepen the kiss. Daichi slides his own hands under Kuroo's shirt in response, travelling up the lean cut of his stomach and mapping out the flat planes of muscle with his palms. The first stirrings of heat have started to build up in him and he presses down against Kuroo, aligning his hips with his.
"You know, it might be a good idea to take off our clothes now," Kuroo says as they break away from each other, breathless but pleased as he swipes at the corner of Daichi's mouth with a thumb. "I took great pains to find this shirt."
"It's my shirt." Daichi huffs out a laugh and tugs at the bottom of Kuroo's shirt. He gets the shirt up and over Kuroo's head, messing up his bedhead even more on its way out. Kuroo pulls Daichi down for another kiss and drags his shirt upwards, his hands curving in to brush against his skin as he takes it off and tosses it in the direction of where his shirt landed.
Daichi moves away before Kuroo can reach for his boxers, landing kisses against the side of his jaw. He trails down the long curve of Kuroo's neck, nipping at the sensitive skin under his jaw and pausing to leave a mark right at the base of his throat. Kuroo exhales and Daichi feels his chest dip under him as he bites down, not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to leave a faint imprint of his teeth. Kuroo gets a hand on his ass, groping him once before Daichi moves out of reach again.
Daichi lowers his head onto Kuroo's stomach and mouths at the skin there, scraping his teeth against his hipbone teasingly before stopping right at the edge of Kuroo's boxers. There is a budge at the front of his boxers and Kuroo raises an eyebrow at him, trying and failing to look nonchalant when what he wants is showing clear in his face. And in his boxers, if the way it reacts to Daichi's proximity is any indication.
Daichi stifles a snort and slips his fingers under his waistband, tugging Kuroo's boxers down and getting them off his ridiculously long legs. Kuroo's breathing hitches somewhere above him as Daichi takes his cock in his hand, stroking him until it is flushed red before he lowers his face to it. He huffs a breath across the head of it and Kuroo keens, his hands reaching for Daichi. Satisfied by this reaction, Daichi straightens up and sits back against Kuroo's thighs.
Kuroo looks frenzied, the colour high on his cheeks as he whines, "Come on, Daichi—"
He goes abruptly quiet as Daichi hooks his thumbs into his boxers and raises himself up to his knees. Kuroo doesn't look away, can't look away, watching with rapt attention as Daichi eases his boxers down to his knees, pulling them off one leg at a time, going slow so that he doesn't tangle up in them. If he thought Kuroo had looked frenzied, Kuroo looks completely desperate now, swallowing hard as Daichi slips his boxers off his ankle and drops them to the side. There is an ache building up in Daichi's cock as he lowers himself onto Kuroo until he feels the heat of Kuroo's cock pressing up against the cleft of his ass.
"You're so hot," Kuroo murmurs feverishly, finding his voice again as he drags his eyes away and upwards to Daichi's face.
"Thanks." Daichi grins, biting down on his lip as he feels Kuroo swell against him.
"Do you wanna, uh," Kuroo licks his lips, concentrating hard to find the words he wants to say, "get the lube first before you start?"
Daichi groans, falling forward onto Kuroo so that he can tuck his face into his shoulder. His voice comes out muffled as he says, "I keep forgetting that."
"Maybe we should start bringing it around with us at home." Kuroo pats him on the head, rolling his hips suggestively under Daichi as he brings his lips against Daichi's ear to whisper, "Or you could always do it dry."
"Like I'm doing that again after what happened the last time." Daichi lifts his head to scowl at Kuroo and Kuroo smirks back at him, grinding up against him in slow, lazy circles.
The friction feels good, persuasive even, and Daichi thinks about letting Kuroo hold him in place here, sliding his cock against his ass and pushing the tip of it into him. But the memory of pain and a friction that had hurt inside him makes him straighten back up, pushing himself away from Kuroo's chest.
Kuroo is still moving against him, tugging at Daichi's hips to get him closer while he had been distracted. The scowl on Daichi's face deepens and he grinds down hard against Kuroo, tearing a strangled yelp from Kuroo's throat and making him go embarrassingly high pitched at the sudden rough contact. Kuroo isn't moving when Daichi gets off him and stomps off to the bathroom in search of the lube.
When he returns, Kuroo is still splayed out on the floor, a hand pressed over his heart as he stares up at the ceiling.
"I'm dead. You've killed me," Kuroo croaks out as Daichi stands over him.
"Stop that, you're fine." Daichi sits back down on Kuroo, straddling his thighs as he pops open the cap of their lube.
Kuroo cranes his neck to look at Daichi, suddenly interested in what he is doing down there. He groans as Daichi wraps his fingers around his cock and slicks him up, his hips jerking up reflexively as Daichi works his hands meticulously over him. Daichi pushes his weight down against Kuroo to keep him in place, locking his heels around the backs of Kuroo's knees.
Kuroo shivers between his thighs, his hands drawing restless patterns against his knees as he watches Daichi. He probably isn't going to last any longer if Daichi keeps doing this and Daichi finally takes his hands off him, raising himself up on his knees. He reaches behind him, guiding the tip of Kuroo's cock to his entrance, and pauses there, looking back at Kuroo while keeping his eyes downturned and lashes lowered.
Daichi isn't immune to the heated sensation of Kuroo's skin trembling under his touch, nor the pleading noises Kuroo has been making under him, and his voice comes out thick and heavy with want as he murmurs, "Tetsurou?"
Kuroo strains under him, the muscles in his stomach tightening under Daichi's hand. His eyes are wide, his pupils dilated, as he digs his fingers into Daichi's skin and groans, "Goddamnit, Daichi."
He's leaking, Daichi notes with satisfaction as he swipes a thumb over Kuroo's tip and it comes away sticky with pre-come. He can't exactly blame him when his own cock is standing against his stomach, pulsating with hot blood. He hasn't touched himself yet, but if he leaves Kuroo like this he might actually kill him this time.
So Daichi relents, sitting back against Kuroo's cock and feeling its head push past his entrance. There is a sharp intake of breath from Kuroo but Daichi keeps to his own pace, going slow as eases himself onto Kuroo's cock, indulging in the familiar stretch of it. He knows this sensation well, after all these years of being with Kuroo, and a moan slips past his lips as he takes Kuroo in deeper and deeper until he is fully seated on all of him.
His cock is throbbing, almost painfully, and Daichi strokes himself to take the edge off as he glances down at Kuroo again.
"Do you need help there?" Kuroo asks, his voice hopelessly strained. But there is something wild about the look in his eyes and Daichi has a feeling that if he teases Kuroo any longer, he might have to fight him so that he doesn't end up on his back.
It serves as a pre-emptive strike when Daichi leans in, putting his hands on either side of Kuroo's head as he pecks him on the lips. "I'm fine."
"You sure?" Kuroo asks doubtfully and Daichi kisses the smirk off his lips, tracing his tongue across the seam of his mouth.
He snaps his hips back against Kuroo and Kuroo gasps into his mouth, pulling at him with his hands, trying to get him to do it again. The friction feels good and Daichi bucks against Kuroo, sinking his teeth into Kuroo's bottom lip to stifle his own moans. Kuroo has his arms wrapped around him, his hands resting on the small of his back before sliding down slowly, like he doesn't want Daichi to notice, to the curve of his ass.
Fingers dig into his skin and a gasp catches in Daichi's throat as Kuroo shoves him upwards so that only the tip of his cock remains in him before pushing Daichi down onto him again in the same breath. The blunt pressure of Kuroo's cock hits his prostate and Daichi arches off Kuroo, his hands slipping against the floor as a tremor runs through his body. Kuroo runs his hands over the dip in his back, smirking under him as he grabs his ass again.
Daichi sits up quickly, leaning back so that Kuroo loses his grip on him and planting his hands firmly on Kuroo's stomach so that Kuroo can't follow him up. They are both panting, but Daichi can tell that Kuroo is just a bit more desperate than him, too close to the edge to take it slow. At this point of time, Daichi wants anything but slow, but something in him makes him raise himself all the way up to Kuroo's tip and take him back in so achingly slow that it makes Kuroo tremble under him, his mouth falling open in a long, shuddering whine.
Daichi is determined to make Kuroo come first and he keeps his eyes trained on Kuroo, watching the way he comes undone. Kuroo's hips are bucking up in between his legs, trying to get Daichi to go faster but he can't quite move when Daichi uses his weight to pin him down against the floor.
"Daichi," Kuroo breathes, low and heady like a warning, and Daichi stops moving entirely.
Daichi really isn't doing himself any favours by being stubborn when all he wants is to fuck himself back on Kuroo's cock, hard and fast like Kuroo wants. But there is something about being on the other side of the teasing for once and seeing Kuroo hot and desperate under him that makes him want to be contrary, just to see how much Kuroo wants him. Maybe Kuroo has rubbed off on him. If he complains about this later, Daichi is going to tell him that it is his own damn fault.
Kuroo exhales raggedly, dragging his hands down Daichi's thighs as he takes a deep breath and then another like he is learning to breathe all over again. "Daichi. Daichi, please, please move before you actually kill me for real."
"You sure?" Daichi asks. He thinks that is what Kuroo said to him just a while ago, but it is sort of hard to think at all through the heat hazing his head.
"Yes." Kuroo grips his thighs, his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, and Daichi finally gives in, following his motions down and sinking back onto Kuroo's cock.
Daichi moans at the stretch, tightening around Kuroo as he feels heat brush against his prostate. The hands on his thighs shift up to his hips, pressing into his skin insistently, guiding him up and easing him down until Daichi is thrusting himself against Kuroo at the pace they both want. His thighs burn from the strain and he leans back, his hands grasping at Kuroo's forearms as Kuroo's cock presses deep into him.
Kuroo's body has gone taut under him, his heels digging into the floor and curving his hips up into Daichi. He shuts his eyes tightly, a dark red flushing across his face, his lips forming Daichi's name like a prayer as he spills into him. The back of Kuroo's head hits the floor hard and Daichi hears the resulting thunk loud and clear. He would laugh but he doesn't have enough air in his lungs for it, not when there are sounds coming from deep inside his chest and blocking up his throat.
It's too hot inside him and Daichi braces his hands on Kuroo's thighs as he rocks against him frantically, trying to relieve the pressure building up inside him. He wraps a hand around his own cock, pumping it fast as he grazes his prostate over and over again, his thighs trembling around Kuroo's hips as he tries to keep up the pace. He is too far gone that he doesn't see Kuroo's eyes flash at the sight he makes, his hands slamming against the floor as he surges up against Daichi in one fluid motion and growls, "Fuck, Daichi."
Instinctively, Daichi wraps his arms around Kuroo's shoulders, expecting his back to hit the floor, letting out a low whine as the heavy heat of his cock presses up against Kuroo's stomach. But Kuroo stays upright, keeping Daichi on his lap as he runs his hands along the underside of his thighs and guides Daichi to wrap his legs around his waist. With his full weight on his hips, the head of Kuroo's cock hits his prostate deep and Daichi cries out, the sound dragging out into a strangled moan as Kuroo grinds up into him, his fingers digging into his thighs to hold him in place.
Kuroo's mouth finds his, kissing him hungrily and swallowing up his moans, leaving Daichi with barely enough air to breathe as he comes. Even then, Kuroo doesn't stop moving, curling his tongue against his and wrapping his fingers around his cock to work every last bit out of him. Daichi squeezes his eyes against the pleasure wracking through him, trying to form Kuroo's name, his lips moving soundlessly with Kuroo's mouth sealed tight over his.
The next thing Daichi knows is that he is horizontal and his head is pillowed against Kuroo's shoulder. There is a hand stroking his hair and it falls away as Daichi lifts his head to look at Kuroo.
Kuroo looks pleased with himself. "You came so hard I think you blacked out for a moment there."
"Oh," Daichi says, taking a moment to collect himself.
His body doesn't want to move, too blissed out to listen to him and he lets himself sink back against Kuroo, content with letting Kuroo stroke his hair. Kuroo is warm and although he isn't the cuddliest of people, Daichi makes do with his bony shoulder, nuzzling it until he finds a comfortable spot to lay his head. His thighs ache, probably from overworking them, and the skin on his knees feels tender from where they were rubbed raw against the floor.
"You know, my back hurts," Kuroo says aloud, breaking the comfortable glow surrounding them.
Daichi pinches his side viciously. "Why are you complaining? I did all the work."
"Yeah, but you kind of rode me into the floor while doing that. The cold, hard floor," Kuroo emphasises, leaning over to kiss the top of Daichi's head. "Let's try that on the bed next time."
"We just washed our sheets."
"We can wash them again."
"No, you can wash them again." Daichi raises his head to glare at him.
"Fine."
Kuroo kisses Daichi on the forehead, his gaze adoring as he pulls back. It is a huge change from how he looked just now, going from frantic heat to soft all around the edges. His hair is an even bigger mess than before, tufting up at all angles and getting into his eyes. It is all so stupidly endearing that Daichi grumbles as he presses his cheek back against Kuroo's shoulder, curling his arms around him as he tries to ignore the butterfly-light kisses Kuroo peppers his hair with.
In the next room, the sound of the washing machine dies down, whirring softly until it falls completely silent.