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Atsumu’s favourite part about his relationship with Kiyoomi has always been how comfortable they are with one another. There’s a certain level of trust built there, where neither of them is left feeling like the other is hiding something, as they can be completely honest with each other. How exactly they got to talking about high school crushes is beyond Atsumu, but it’s exactly that trust that lets the conversation go on easily, without any underlying worries.
“Your team captain from second year?” Kiyoomi laughs, “Seriously?”
“Seriously! Maybe I have a thing for authority figures, ya don’t know that.” Atsumu quips. “But enough about that, how about you? It’s only fair if you tell me about all your high school fantasies too.”
“Well, obviously, there was you-”
“Boooring,” Atsumu interjects. “Duh, I liked ya too, but I assumed that was a given. Tell me somethin’ juicy!”
“Fine. Ushijima Wakatoshi.”
Atsumu pauses, taking a moment to read Kiyoomi’s face. It’s not a joke, he can tell that much from Kiyoomi’s typical flustered pout. He feels like he’s malfunctioning just thinking about it all. Ushijima had never been his type in high school, though in retrospect he can get the appeal for Kiyoomi. These days though? Adlers wing spiker Ushijima, who has probably 20 pounds of sheer muscle on both Atsumu and Kiyoomi? He gets it.
“Atsu,” Kiyoomi asks, waving a hand in front of his face, “Are you alright?”
“Oh, yeah, it’s nothin’ Omi-Omi, just thinkin’s all,” Atsumu responds, bringing himself back down to earth. “Are you, by any chance, still interested in Ushijima at all?”
“I’m dating you, aren’t I?” Kiyoomi scoffs.
“Sure, but I’m sayin’ hypothetically if you had the opportunity for a one-night stand or whatever, would ya take it?”
“This isn’t some elaborate set-up, is it?”
Atsumu just shakes his head. “Well,” Kiyoomi sighs, “It would have to be under some wildly specific circumstances, the first of course being your approval, and assuming he would be interested too, and who knows what else... But sure, I guess theoretically if all those requirements were hit, then I would consider it.”
“Okay,” Atsumu nods. “Interesting. Hey, I’m gonna hop in the shower real quick, why don’t you go ahead and pick out something to watch tonight?”
And with his phone in one hand, Atsumu’s off. Though a bit confused about Atsumu’s insistence on pushing the topic, Kiyoomi tries not to think about it too hard. Surely that was the answer he was expecting, and if he was upset about it he would’ve spoken up.
It’s only a few days later, splayed out on the couch, when Atsumu is bringing up their conversation again.
“Ushijima Wakatoshi,” He muses, “What is it about him that you liked so much anyway, Omi-kun?”
“Are we really doing this again, Atsumu?” Kiyoomi sighs. “Why does it matter what I liked about him?”
“It doesn’t matter exactly,” Atsumu laughs, “I’m just curious. Sure, he’s got skill and dedication to the game but I bet it's more than that. I mean I wasn’t the only horny teenager, right? Did you watch the way his muscles tensed and glistened with sweat, all the while gripping at the bench.”
“Atsumu, this is hardly appropriate,” Kiyoomi replies, although the blush covering his whole face isn’t fooling anyone.
“Did you search for the outline of his dick in his shorts, just to wonder how much bigger he is when he’s hard? Was he the first thought in your mind when you’d get in the shower? When you laid in bed at night, filled with indescribable lust?”
Kiyoomi doesn’t say a thing, but his heart is racing. Atsumu may be right, but he just doesn’t understand why he’s bringing all this up right now. Obviously he’s more than moved on from this high school infatuation, so why won’t Atsumu just let it go? He can feel Atsumu’s eyes on him, baring into his soul. His stare is without malice though; he’s not asking to make Kiyoomi feel bad, this much is clear. It’s not until this moment that he gets the notion that his boyfriend may actually be getting off on this line of questioning. He nods.
Atsumu cocks his head, knowing he has Kiyoomi right where he wants him. “Do you think he’s bigger than me?”
Kiyoomi hides his face in his hands, refusing to make eye contact and shrugs.
“It’s okay if the answer’s yes, Omi. Ya know what, I bet he is.” Atsumu’s voice is soft and heady, and has Kiyoomi damn near short circuiting. “Ya think he’d stretch you better than I do? Yeah, I’d like to see him try... I’d like to see him do a lot to you actually.”
As he speaks, Atsumu moves closer and closer to Kiyoomi until their faces are mere inches apart. There’s a fire in his eyes, one Kiyoomi’s not sure he’s ever seen before, one that exudes pure desire. He’d never pegged his boyfriend as a cuckold before, but he certainly isn’t complaining if the mere thought works him up like this. He has half a mind to ask how Atsumu even discovered this fascination of his, but when lips finally meet the thought is pushed from his mind as quickly as it entered.
A couple of weeks go by without incident and Kiyoomi has all but forgotten the discussion he had had with Atsumu. That is until Atsumu is rushing into their shared apartment, flushed and yelling, “Omi-kun, close your eyes! I have a surprise for you!”
Reluctantly he follows the orders, and without warning is met with a hand on his own. A hand larger than Atsumu’s, he’s sure of it.
“Atsumu,” Kiyoomi begins, wearily. “What’s going on?”
“Well, talking about high school crushes got me thinking, y’know? Like ‘maybe I could do something special for my Omi-Omi,’ and I do happen to know that one Ushijima Wakatoshi is not currently tied down, and, well... Surprise!”
Kiyoomi opens his eyes, immediately meeting Wakatoshi’s heady gaze. He’s stunned silent at the sight, and suddenly hyper-aware of the way his skin is burning under the point of contact. Truthfully, it feels like some absurd dream; Atsumu’s always been one for big outlandish ideas, but this feels like more than even he’d set up without mention. It’s not as though he’s upset, by any means, but the whole situation is a bit overwhelming, to say the least.
“If you’re at all uncomfortable just say the word,” Wakatoshi whispers, leaning his face closer to Kiyoomi’s. “But you should know, I’ve been looking forward to this moment for some time.”
It takes more effort than he’d like to admit for Kiyoomi to tear his eyes from Wakatoshi, the way his face seems to bare his whole, honest soul. Kiyoomi has no reason to believe he’s being anything but truthful, so he lets himself consider. Is he uncomfortable? Sure, he’s a little surprised, and maybe a touch confused, but not quite uncomfortable.
“Atsumu,” Kiyoomi asks, finally turning to face his boyfriend. “Are you sure about this?”
“More than ya know,” Atsumu says, leaning in to brush his thumb over Kiyoomi’s cheekbone. “Anything to see my baby feeling good. Now let’s get the two of ya in bed, hm?”
Kiyoomi nods and with the go-ahead, Wakatoshi easily picks him up by the waist. He already feels a little out of breath at the way Wakatoshi can so effortlessly manhandle him, like a ragdoll in his grasp. The nerves he’d built up all but dissipate when he’s dropped on his bed, Wakatoshi leaning over him with an animalistic glint in his eyes. From across the room, Atsumu sits in a desk chair with his legs spread, already palming at the front of his pants.
“I wish I had known how you felt in high school,” Kiyoomi shivers as Wakatoshi’s thick calloused hands draw up his sensitive sides, “Then it wouldn’t have taken so long for me to stake my claim.”
As he continues to drag his hands all over Kiyoomi’s body he can’t help but squirm under the touch. He’s being toyed with, and he is loving every second of it; the proverbial prey, with Wakatoshi as predator, playing with his food before going in for the catch. Wakatoshi quickly removes his and Kiyoomi’s clothes, eager to begin pumping Kiyoomi’s steadily hardening cock. From there, it doesn’t take much convincing on Kiyoomi’s part to have him lubing up his thick fingers and teasing them at his hole. Wakatoshi pushes a single finger in while staring down Atsumu.
“Get yourself fully undressed as well.”
“Nah, I’m alright as is, ‘Toshi,” Atsumu responds with a laugh, having now pulled his waistband down just enough to reveal his cock. “Keep on doin’ what yer doin’ though, ya put on quite the show.”
“Interesting. I thought you were a good boy, Atsumu, what with your setting this up all for Kiyoomi’s sake. Don’t good boys do as they’re told?”
Honestly, Atsumu could scoff. He invites someone into his home fuck his boyfriend, all out of the goodness of his own heart, and suddenly they’re acting like they own the place. Who does Wakatoshi think he is to-
“Oh, he can be a good boy if he tries,” Kiyoomi purrs, only cutting himself off to let out a high-pitched moan as Wakatoshi slips in a second finger, brushing them against his prostate. “Isn’t that right, baby?”
His words are dripping with lust and more than enough to have Atsumu listening to Wakatoshi’s every command if it’s to please his boyfriend. In no time flat, Atsumu is stripping and he can’t help but love the way both of the other men eye him down.
“Much better,” Wakatoshi mutters. “Now hold off for a bit. Don’t touch yourself again until I say so.”
This time Atsumu is quick to comply, simply grabbing at his thighs, tight enough to stave off the aching need between his legs. For Omi-kun, he reminds himself, pushing away the thought that it really did not take much convincing for him to follow instruction.
It doesn't take long for Kiyoomi to fall into a rhythm, loudly and graciously accepting everything Wakatoshi has to offer him. It's almost as though he'd never been nervous in the first place. After being fucked on dexterous fingers for quite some time, Kiyoomi rolls over - Wakatoshi helping to position him on all fours - staring right at Atsumu. Anticipation has been building in Kiyoomi’s gut since the moment he opened his eyes to find Wakatoshi in his home, but especially now, seeing the passion in Atsumu’s eyes while another man kneeled behind him; There’s nothing he wants more than for Wakatoshi to finally sink into him. All it takes is the thick head of Wakatoshi's cock pushing at his entrance to have him whining and shaking against the bed. All the while he keeps his eyes locked on Atsumu, a look that almost asks is this what you wanted?
It is, in fact, exactly what he wanted, getting to watch his boyfriend in pure ecstasy. It doesn’t even matter to him that it’s on another man’s dick, he’s a vision in bliss, and Atsumu wouldn’t have it any other way.
Wakatoshi starts slowly, almost carefully, as though Kiyoomi were fine china about to shatter under the wrong touch. If he was china, Kiyoomi thinks he would be fine with being broken, and eagerly pushes back onto Wakatoshi’s dick. The movements are sloppy and mismatched, but exactly the memo Wakatoshi needs. He digs his fingers into Kiyoomi’s hips to steady him and take back control. His pace is ruthless, fucking Kiyoomi like it’s what he was born to do. Atsumu is sure that if anyone was born to fuck Omi it would be him, but he has to hand it to Wakatoshi: he's a probable second best, if Kiyoomi’s stuttered moans are any indication.
“You're soooo big, Wakatoshi, even bigger than Atsumu,” Kiyoomi slurs, locking eyes with his boyfriend, "you just fill me up so good."
Atsumu's breath is caught in his chest. His own words, used against him, and he's not even allowed to touch himself. Kiyoomi clearly knows exactly what he’s doing, despite the hazy fucked-out look in his eyes. Watching this erotic display has Atsumu aching between the legs, desperate for contact. He fleetingly considers asking for permission, but is far too big a man to stoop to begging. Yet, at least.
Wakatoshi slows, turning his focus to Atsumu. "God, I can see you leaking, even from here, is he always this eager, Kiyoomi?"
He's all but lost his powers of speech at this point, simply shaking his head never tearing his lustful eyes off of Atsumu. Shit, maybe he is ready to beg.
“I wasn’t going to give the okay quite yet, but clearly you need it. Kiyoomi, dear, what do you think?”
Were he not so lost in the pleasure, Kiyoomi may take advantage of the opportunity to play with Atsumu a little more, but at the moment all he wants is to watch his lover feel good too. One gentle nod and Atsumu’s hand is flying back to his cock. Euphoria washes over his face at the first touch and Kiyoomi knows he made the right decision.
Atsumu knows it would not take much of this to cum. He wants it so badly, his hand a blur on his dick. He’s sure he’s never been this turned on in his life.
“Not so fast, Atsumu, you’re being greedy,” Wakatoshi commands, “slow down, match my pace.”
He’s gruellingly slow now, Atsumu swears this must be some sick form of torture, but Kiyoomi still looks as though he’s in pure ecstasy. He’s flush and panting, his moles painting constellations across his beautifully arched back. Nearly every breath is accompanied by the faintest whimper, and suddenly, it’s all much more bearable. Atsumu remembers what this was all about; making Omi feel good, and clearly a damn fine job’s being done. Of course he’s still desperate to cum, but as long as Kiyoomi’s looking like that he’s willing to do as he’s told.
Matching pace becomes much easier as Wakatoshi speeds up, and although Atsumu hates to admit it, it’s incredibly hot. Who knew just jacking himself off could feel so good? Of course he knew that simply watching would do unspeakable things to him, but he hadn’t prepared himself for being such an active participant. Maybe if he had, every pump would not be sending fire through his veins, the pleasure burning up every inch of him. At least that’s what he keeps telling himself.
“Fuuuuuuck,” Wakatoshi groans, grinding as deep into Kiyoomi as he can. “Fuck, you’re too good. Atsumu, you need to tighten your grip, I know you know how tight he is.”
Atsumu shivers, and quickly complies. It’s the first time he’s heard such lust on Wakatoshi’s tongue, and it only makes him want it more. He wants to hear the quiver in Wakatoshi’s voice, the audible sign that Kiyoomi’s body is driving him crazy. He’s right, too, that Atsumu knows just how to tighten his grip, and it’s as though he can feel Kiyoomi around himself. He’s painfully close to the edge, ready to give in and just let himself cum, Wakatoshi be damned, when he hears that sinful voice calling his name, “Not yet, Atsumu. What kind of a man wouldn’t make sure his boyfriend cums first?”
Immediately he lets go of his dick to buck into nothing, knuckles going white as he grips the edge of his chair. For a moment he’s certain he’ll cum anyway, as his mind endlessly repeats Wakatoshi’s order. A part of him - maybe an embarrassingly large part - really was getting off not just on the show in front of him, but on the way he was being bossed around. Maybe it was his fault for putting all the cards in Wakatoshi’s hands, but at this point he can't help but follow his every command. Especially not when such filth sounds so sweet coming from his lips.
Luckily for Atsumu, Kiyoomi is not too far himself. When he does cum he’s not moaning Wakatoshi’s name, but Atsumu’s, which of course has him reeling. The beautiful obscenity of his boyfriend crying his name on another man’s dick alone probably could’ve had Atsumu cumming, but paired with the hand that’s now flying back over his cock he’s gone, dissolving into the pleasure.
With what little energy Kiyoomi has left he crawls to the corner where Atsumu is sitting. He starts lazily lapping at the mess of cum and nuzzling against Atsumu’s spent cock, whispering sweet nothings about how pretty he looked cumming for them. The two are so lost in the moment, they’re nearly falling asleep when Wakatoshi arrives with a damp cloth and tenderly wipes them both down.
Unsure if they’ll even hear him, or if they’ve completely passed out, Wakatoshi leaves with a soft, “Thank you for this. I should be on my way now, but I’ve left a small gift on your table to express my gratitude.
It could have been minutes or hours before they both eventually find the willpower to move from the spot their bodies have now intertwined, they can’t say for sure. The only thing keeping Atsumu from crawling straight into bed to sleep for the next 18 hours is Wakatoshi’s voice repeating in his head something something gift. You can’t blame a guy for his curiosity.
Waiting for them on the kitchen table was a neatly wrapped box of fancy French chocolates with a handwritten note atop it that reads: What say I have my way with Atsumu next time?
Atsumu’s about ready to pull out his phone and call Wakatoshi back right then and there, but the exhausted part of his mind - about 90% of it - opts to pop a chocolate in his mouth and shuffle back to bed. Delicious.