"So, Miya, do you happen to have any idea why you're here today?" Kiyoomi’s tone was patronizing, and the way he looked down at Atsumu—who was sat down in the desk chair of his room, hands a bit preoccupied—made the blond shiver. Kiyoomi’s dark curls cascaded over his eyes, and the onyx color still managed to shine in the dim light of the bedroom. The way he was standing up, not bending down in the slightest when he spoke to Atsumu, commanded attention. Kiyoomi was talking down to him, quite literally, and Atsumu wasn’t quite ready to admit how much he was into it. He craned his neck up, trying to get some of his boyfriend’s attention. It worked, of course. Even in this position, Atsumu was confident in his charms. Just one look at Kiyoomi, staring up through his long lashes, was sure to get him something. “I asked you a question, didn’t I?” Kiyoomi prodded, arching an eyebrow. He was playing right into Atsumu’s game by giving him the attention he was so desperate for, but he still managed to keep the upper hand. “Do you know why you’re here?”
“If ya say ‘yer under arrest for stealin’ my heart’, I’m gonna get up an’ leave.” Atsumu wished there was any weight behind his words, and prayed that Kiyoomi couldn’t hear the pleading tone behind his empty threat to exit. Atsumu would cross his arms over his chest if they weren’t already fixed behind his back, held together by a pair of golden handcuffs. The quality wasn’t perfect, Kiyoomi had to purchase them online for the sake of privacy, but they were doing their job. They looked gorgeous against Atsumu’s tan skin, glinting in the soft bedroom light. It had been somewhat of an impulsive decision on Kiyoomi’s part, having placed the order a week ago, hours after the pair had finished up a photoshoot for a 2022 calendar. Some of the photos had been released ahead of time, all a part of their marketing to promote Japan’s national volleyball team leading up to the 2021 Olympics. Kiyoomi thought it dumb and a bit distasteful—Bokuto knew nothing about firefighting, but he looked good enough holding a heavy hose that he’d been given that occupation for the shoot—but the preview photos did a good job of garnering some global support for the team. Kiyoomi’s assignment had been that of a doctor, and he wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be a joke about his appreciation for cleanliness, or so fans could watch him caught in the middle of snapping on a pair of latex gloves for the entire month of May.
For at least a half hour, Kiyoomi had been walking around the room while Atsumu sat stuck in the chair, only able to watch what Kiyoomi was doing. And even if the acts were completely innocent—he was only tidying up the room—Atsumu wanted out. Out of the chair, out of the cuffs. He wanted to be on his feet, walking over to Kiyoomi, touching him. Technically, Atsumu could get up from the wooden chair. It was only his arms that were out of commission, pulled back behind him with wrists bound in gold, but he wasn’t tied to the chair at all. At least, he wasn’t restrained by anything physical. But Kiyoomi had told him to stay sitting, so he sat. And waited. For anything. For what felt like ages. Atsumu’s lips twisted into a pout when Kiyoomi didn’t react to his response. Kiyoomi wanted an answer, and Atsumu gave one, so what the hell was he waiting for?
“That’s not right.” Kiyoomi stated, voice so cold and calculated. Atsumu whined, and then bit his lip to shut himself up. He and Kiyoomi hadn’t had the chance to do anything past soft pecks on the forehead in upwards of a week—such was the life of an Olympic athlete just a month before the games—but Kiyoomi had promised Atsumu he’d make him see stars in a whisper Atsumu could only describe as sinful when they entered their apartment. So Atsumu was eager, awaiting, but Kiyoomi hadn’t done anything, save for denying Atsumu of attention, not counting when he’d originally restrained Atsumu with the handcuffs. So the fact that he was already getting worked up was just a bit pathetic, and Atsumu knew it. He stifled another whine from slipping out by shifting around in the chair. At least Kiyoomi hadn’t called him out on it—yet. “Do you have another guess?”
“No—” Atsumu’s word came out strangled, and he cleared his throat before speaking again. “No, Omi, I don’t.”
“Of course you don’t…” Kiyoomi sounded disappointed, and it made Atsumu want to scream. “It’s because of how you were acting last week.” Atsumu’s mind flashes back to seven days ago. The photoshoot. The handcuffs. He gulps, clarity dawning on him. “Don’t act surprised. You and I both know you’re beautiful, but to flaunt it around right in front of me when you’re supposed to be getting your picture taken for our little marketing scheme?” Atsumu flushes at the compliment. “Either you’ve just been so pent up recently that you couldn’t even keep your composure for a few hours, or you wanted to be a tease. Which is it?”
Atsumu was only wearing a light tee shirt and a pair of athletic shorts, the air conditioning on in their apartment, but he still felt hot all over. Kiyoomi knowing how to read Atsumu like a book coupled with the fact that he was talking to him without paying any mind to how worked up he was already getting just made Atsumu’s blood run hot. Kiyoomi was right, Atsumu had in fact become fed up with only being able to get himself off hurriedly in the shower. He’d wanted to make it known to Kiyoomi that he was missing him, craving him, but he wasn’t exactly expecting this to take place. “Both…” He mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.
“What was that? You need to speak clearly if you want me to understand you.” Kiyoomi was smirking, and it made all of Atsumu’s blood rush south. He squeezed his thighs together and groaned as if that would help his situation in any way.
“I said both. I...” Atsumu shivered once more, looking up at Kiyoomi. His brow furrowed, a weak “Omi…” falling from his lips. It came out like a beg, a plea. Did Atsumu know what he was asking for? No. Did that stop him from repeating his boyfriend’s name once more? No.
Kiyoomi had no visible change in his demeanor, making Atsumu go more insane by the second. Atsumu felt like he was getting lightheaded, dizzy from arousal and impatience as he waited for anything from Kiyoomi. And finally, he said something. Atsumu looked up towards Kiyoomi’s face to hear, well, not exactly what he was looking for. “What’s your color, baby?”
Atsumu’s fists clenched in his restraints. Kiyoomi knew what the hell he was doing to Atsumu, knew how much he wanted this, but he just had to drag things out—all while being so careful and considerate at the same time he was driving Atsumu wild. “Green, Omi, I’m green. Just, please, do something.”
“I still need you to answer my question. Until I get a satisfactory response, you don’t get anything.” Kiyoomi almost laughed. He was in the same position as Atsumu, deprived of the other man for more than a week, but Kiyoomi would rather tease Atsumu past his breaking point than take things quickly and have them be over as soon as they started. They finally had a night to themselves followed by a rare day off tomorrow, and Kiyoomi wanted to use this time to his advantage, to see Atsumu utterly blissed out, shaking under him, completely spent. After all this rising tension, it was the least Kiyoomi could want. He’d been thinking about this ever since the day of that damned photoshoot, there was no way he’d let go quickly.
“Both, Omi.” Atsumu’s voice was louder this time. “I’m…” Atsumu shook his head, rolling his eyes. He knew what Kiyoomi was asking for, he knew that it should be an embarrassing thing to admit. Atsumu should have hated it, but here he was, nearly ready to abandon all pride just to get Kiyoomi to touch him. “I’m desperate.” He spits out. “I wanted to tease you because I wanted attention.” His cheeks burned. It was the truth. Atsumu’s little outfit had been that of a cop, they’d costumed him in a uniform that was exceptionally tight on his thighs, and the stylists made sure to draw attention to that by clipping a set of silver handcuffs to one of his belt loops. Atsumu had spent all the time he hadn’t actively been getting his photo taken playing with them directly in Kiyoomi’s line of vision. He’d clasped one of the cuffs around his wrist, putting the other between his teeth. He’d spun them around his finger while making eye contact with Kiyoomi, raising his thick eyebrows in a way Kiyoomi hated to admit was attractive. He’d switched them to be in his back pocket at one point, bending over to make sure Kiyoomi had gotten a full view of that change. He’d pressed his wrists together, hugged close to his chest, and batted his lashes at Kiyoomi from across the studio. Yeah…he’d been a bit of a tease. Atsumu bit his lip harshly, trying to distract himself from the fact that he had gotten so worked up from Kiyoomi’s few words and attitude alone.
“Was that so hard, Atsumu?” Kiyoomi brings a hand under Atsumu’s chin, forcing it up even farther, taking the time to study his boyfriend’s features. His eyes darkened upon seeing Atsumu already red in the face, lower lip between his teeth. “You look gorgeous like this.” He commented, hand trailing up Atsumu’s jawline. Atsumu bit back a plea for more and leaned into the fleeting touch. “Now, I’d love to let you have what you want, but I can’t let that happen so easily. I had to deal with you teasing me that entire day, didn’t I?” Kiyoomi sounded so condescending, Atsumu’s head started to swim. “So I regret saying this,” No he didn’t. Atsumu could hear it in his voice. “But it’s gonna take more than just wanting me to have me.”
“Kiyoomi, please.” Atsumu rasped, squeezing his eyes shut, pouring all his willpower into not bucking his hips up into nothing. All of Kiyoomi’s words were heating the pool of desire that was nestled deep inside of Atsumu’s stomach. He could let enough of his pride slip away to be fine with begging, but Atsumu believed he should still look like he has some physical self control left. “Please, I don’t just want ya, alright? I need this, need ya, please. ”
“You’re cute, baby.” Kiyoomi bent forward so that he was at eye level with Atsumu, who couldn’t decide whether or not he wanted to scowl at Kiyoomi for denying him what he wanted, or to plead silently with just his eyes. “I’d bet you really want to touch yourself, isn’t that right?” When Atsumu didn’t answer, and instead just averted his eyes, gazing towards the floor, Kiyoomi laughed, an almost haughty sound that started low in his throat. “Or are you already too far gone that you can’t answer a simple question?”
At that, Atsumu’s eyes instantly snapped back to Kiyoomi. He glared at him, offended by the implication that he was already so lost in his own mind. “I don’t give a sh*t ‘bout touchin’ myself, Omi, want yer hands on me.”
“Where do you want them? You really should be specific…” Kiyoomi cooed. This saccharine sort of timbre his voice took on in times like this was all a ruse, they both knew it. There was something darker, evil, tucked away beneath his sugarcoated tone. Something sinister lurked under the sweetness, and Atsumu wondered how long it would take to bring it out. “Even if I decide to give you what you want—though that’s highly unlikely—I need to be sure of what you’re clearly so desperate for.”
Atsumu groaned, throwing his head back in frustration. It was obvious where he wanted Kiyoomi to touch him, but no, the man just has to get off on hearing Atsumu say it. “Touch my dick since ya seem to be so good at bein’ one yerself.” Atsumu won’t give him the glory of a full victory just yet. He answered Kiyoomi’s question, sure, but the response didn’t come without Atsumu’s signature attitude.
“Ah, you still have some bite in you.” Kiyoomi had to hold back his laughter when Atsumu’s eyes met his, the seated man turning even redder from frustration. Atsumu loved whenever he managed to work his way under Kiyoomi’s skin, and hearing how harmlessly his insult rolled off Kiyoomi’s back left him pissed. “I think you should do it yourself. Show me how much you really want me.”
“Omi…” Atsumu whined, annoyed. He didn’t know how Kiyoomi expected that to even happen, considering the predicament his wrists were in, but he was sure enough that it didn’t actually matter. Atsumu wanted to bash his head against the nearest hard surface. With each of Kiyoomi’s sentences, Atsumu could feel his shorts tighten around him. “I can’t. Ya cuffed me yerself so ya should know that unless yer mem’ry’s gone to sh*t. An’ I know I was teasin’ ya and I shouldn’t’ve but that’s over and done with, an—ah…” Atsumu’s rambling devolved into a choked off moan. Kiyoomi had placed his hand against the prominent bulge in Atsumu’s shorts, causing him to tilt his hips up off the chair. Lightly, Kiyoomi ran his fingers up and down Atsumu’s clothed co*ck, relishing in how responsive he was to the gentlest brushes of his fingertips. “f*ck, Omi, more…”
Kiyoomi stilled his movements and pulled his hand away, leaving Atsumu chasing only air with his hips. “I’m being more generous than I’d planned, Atsumu. You’ll take what I give you, and if I decide you’ll get more, then you’ll get more.” He tilted his head down to make eye contact with Atsumu, a sad*stic grin blossoming on his face. “Convince me you deserve it.”
Atsumu groaned with frustration, letting his gaze fall. His entire body heated up when he noticed he wasn’t just slightly turned on anymore, he was embarrassingly hard from a few seconds of Kiyoomi’s fingers. “Lemme suck ya off.” He said, looking back up at Kiyoomi.
“Was that a question or an order, baby?” Kiyoomi asked with a killer smile. “You know I’ll only consider one of those options.”
“Ugh, yer so—” Atsumu swallowed down the rest of his complaint, willing himself to not make this worse. “Please, Omi, can I please suck ya off?” Atsumu asked through gritted teeth, irritation bleeding through his tone. He despised the fact that Kiyoomi acting all dominant and co*cky and aggravating affected him so much. He tried pouring as much anger into his voice as he could, but his accompaniment of a glare dissolved when Kiyoomi ran a hand down his chest, fingers brushing the soft cotton.
“If you really want to, baby.” Kiyoomi’s voice had practically no emotion to it, and if anything, that spurred Atsumu on even more. He had a goal now, a challenge. He’d make Kiyoomi a mess from just his mouth if it was the last thing he’d do.
“Obviously I wanna. ‘S kinda why I offered, y’know?” Atsumu spat, pout clear on his face.
“Such a bratty mouth, my god…” Kiyoomi said airily. “Good thing we’ve found a better use for it.” Atsumu didn’t budge, rather he sat back against the chair almost expectantly. “Why aren’t you moving?” Kiyoomi questioned, pointing to the small floor space in front of him.
“Ya really want me on the floor?” Atsumu groaned. “If I had use of my hands I think I’d punch ya.”
“Don’t forget, Atsumu, I could just walk out at any moment. Lock the door and leave, and you’d be sitting here, hard and aching for as long as I deemed fit.” Kiyoomi declared. Atsumu paled at the thought. “But I doubt you’d want that. So get over here, on your knees, and suck me like you said you would.”
“Why the hell do I put up with ya?” Atsumu asked. He shuffled forward a bit awkwardly before dropping from the chair onto his knees. He wobbled for a moment after the impact, almost crashing forwards, before Kiyoomi helped him regain his balance with a hand threaded through his hair.
Kiyoomi smiled sweetly as he pushed Atsumu’s bangs out of his eyes that had fallen over his face when he landed on the floor. “You love me.”
Atsumu grunted in response. Kiyoomi was right, but that didn’t mean he needed to acknowledge it. He broke their eye contact, and instead centered his focus on the growing tent in Kiyoomi’s sweatpants. Kiyoomi wanted to deprive Atsumu of his hands, yeah? Well two could play at that game, and Kiyoomi would just have to accept whatever Atsumu gave. He bent forward, connecting his mouth to the small exposed patch of fair skin right above the waistband of Kiyoom’s sweatpants, and sucked hard. He nipped at the skin, loving how he could feel Kiyoomi tense despite the man’s best attempts to hide it.
“Atsumu.” Kiyoomi was much better than the man in question when it came to keeping his composure while being in the midst of arousal. “I told you to do something, did I not?”
“I dunno how ya really want me to start, Omi.” Atsumu’s voice was pumped full of mock innocence. “I can’t use my hands, so how does Omi want me to be able to blow him?” Atsumu grinned when he felt Kiyoomi’s hand tighten in his hair, nearly to the point of causing pain.
“You really can't think of another way to get my pants off?” Kiyoomi sounded somewhere between disappointed and bemused. “You're that far into your own head that you're thinking the only thing your pretty little mouth is for is pleasing me? You’re pathetic, Atsumu.” Kiyoomi practically growled his name, pulling on Atsumu’s hair just to wipe the triumphant smirk off of his face. He let go of Atsumu and lightly pushed him backwards so that his back rested against the front two legs of the chair. After taking a moment to make sure Atsumu was stable in that position, Kiyoomi hooked his fingers in the waistband of his sweats. “Just look at you now…” He taunted, slowly pulling his pants down. “Already wrecked just from the thought of getting your mouth around me.”
Atsumu whined as Kiyoomi took his sweet time with the task of lowering his sweatpants, phrases like “Just f*cking hurry up…” spilling from his lips. Kiyoomi laughed as he gripped Atsumu by the hair again, harder than the first time, and pulled him forward. His other hand finished pulling down his sweatpants, proceeding to kick them off the rest of the way, and Atsumu was greeted with a sight he hadn’t expected, but was more than pleased to see. Kiyoomi had done a very-rare-for-Kiyoomi thing, and skipped underwear, leaving him bare from the waist down, right in Atsumu’s line of sight.
Atsumu’s mouth fell slightly ajar, and the buildup of saliva that had been collecting in his mouth slipped out the corners of it. If Atsumu could actually move his hands, he’d have wiped the spit from his mouth. But he couldn’t, which meant he was literally drooling over the sight of his boyfriend’s co*ck. But to be fair, Kiyoomi’s co*ck was worth marveling over. It was longer than average, curved in a way that always touched Atsumu in the right spots, just a few shades darker than his normal skin tone and flushed the prettiest of pinks. And apparently, it was the impetus that caused Atsumu to tilt his head up toward Kiyoomi and beg, “Omi, please, please lemme suck ya off, want you in my mouth, please…”
Kiyoomi licked his lips and used the grip he had on Atsumu’s hair to guide him toward his co*ck, muttering, “C’mon, Atsu, show me you deserve this.”
Atsumu whined in response to the nickname, opening his mouth and leaning forward to wrap his lips around the head of Kiyoomi’s co*ck, his eyes fluttering shut. To say that Atsumu enjoyed having Kiyoomi in his mouth was an understatement. Not only did Atsumu have a bit of an oral fixation that involved needing to have something in his mouth whenever he was stressed or angry or anxious, he was intoxicated by everything related to having his lips around Kiyoomi. The heaviness against his tongue, the scrape of his teeth against his lips, the stretch of the corners of his mouth, the way his jaw would ache when Kiyoomi got rough, the taste of salty precum dripping into his mouth, and the way he would feel Kiyoomi twitch inside of him before nearing his release were all magical to Atsumu. He adored giving head, even more so when it was for Kiyoomi.
He swirled his tongue around Kiyoomi’s tip in a lazy manner that made the man groan above him, whispering curses under his breath. Atsumu dug his tongue into the slit of Kiyoomi’s co*ck and hummed softly, knowing how the vibrations drove Kiyoomi crazy. One of Atsumu’s favorite parts of being in a long-term relationship was having the experience to know exactly what pleased his partner. Kiyoomi bit back a moan, silent as he pushed Atsumu’s head farther down his shaft. Looking up at Kiyoomi through long eyelashes, Atsumu thanked God for not burdening him with a gag reflex and pushed himself down all the way to the base of Kiyoomi’s co*ck. Maintaining eye contact with Kiyoomi as he hollowed his cheeks and swallowed around him was the first thing that allowed Atsumu to draw a moan—low in pitch, coming from the back of his throat—from Kiyoomi. Feeling confident, Atsumu started to repeat his actions, increasing in frequency and speed until Kiyoomi was panting, both hands in Atsumu’s hair, whispering his name like a prayer.
Atsumu was in heaven. Seriously, if he was lucky enough to make it up there once he died, he hoped that this would be his eternity. On his knees for Kiyoomi, swallowing him down to the base, his nose nestled in neatly trimmed dark curls and filled with the scent that was specific to him—a perfect mix of sandalwood, soap, and his natural scent that left Atsumu feeling lightheaded. He worked Kiyoomi’s tip back into his throat, moaning as the intrusion cut off his air flow. His eyes fluttered shut, not wanting anything to distract him from this, as he bobbed his head up and down. His tongue swirled around Kiyoomi’s co*ck, taking time to trace a vein on the underside of it and then moving back to lap at the precum leaking into his mouth. He swallowed it earnestly, unable to grin at the taste but showing his appreciation in another way by increasing the pressure with which he sucked Kiyoomi off. Atsumu suppressed a shiver that threatened to work its way through his body, but he wasn’t able to subdue the twitch of his dick inside his shorts. It was easy to get lost in the pleasure that came with blowing Kiyoomi, but he couldn’t ignore his own arousal forever. He was achingly hard, and the inability to use his hands to relieve himself was only making that fact more apparent. With a swift exhale through his nose, Atsumu continued his work, spit spilling down his chin.
“Atsumu…” Kiyoomi threw his head back, not resisting the urge to stop himself from bucking into the warmth of Atsumu’s mouth, his skin feeling like it was burning from the constant wet heat. “Atsu, baby, f*ck, pull off…” He warned. “If you don’t stop, I’m gonna cum, and I still need to f*cking f*ck the tease out of you—”
Atsumu giggled around Kiyoomi’s co*ck as best he could, the intense vibrations making his eyes roll back in his head. It was rare for Kiyoomi to speak so casually, to be so vulgar with his words, especially when he was in a scene like this as a Dominant—it meant Atsumu was doing everything right. He paid no mind to Kiyoomi’s warning, lightly grazing his teeth against the vein on the underside of his co*ck and giving himself a mental high-five when a high pitched moan was dragged out of Kiyoomi. His pride only lasted a moment though, broken into pieces when Kiyoomi’s hand gripped his hair the tightest it had that day, nails scratching against his scalp, and harshly pulled Atsumu off his co*ck, a loud pop reverberating through the room. Atsumu looked up at Kiyoomi, pupils blown wide with lust, and whimpered when he hissed, “Get up. On the bed. Now. Face down, ass up, or you’re really gonna be in for it.” Atsumu ducked his head in near shame. Being an athlete made it so that it wasn’t difficult to get from his knees to his feet without the use of his arms, but between the limited mobility and his own arousal, he certainly wasn’t the most graceful. As he walked the few feet to their bed, his back to Kiyoomi, he whined as he heard him say, “So f*cking pathetic. So desperate for my cum that you can’t listen to simple orders…”
Part of Atsumu wanted to look back at Kiyoomi, but the dregs of rationality that managed to still exist in his mind knew that it would only invoke more of the man’s anger. He was silent as he clambered onto their bed, his clothes already sticking to him from the layer of sweat that had built up when he’d been losing himself in the pleasure of sucking Kiyoomi off. Getting into the position Kiyoomi had ordered was difficult without having his arms to balance on, and it ended with Atsumu’s face pressed into his pillow, practically smothered by it. He needed to turn his head to the side to be able to breathe, and opted for the side that wouldn’t be facing Kiyoomi, not daring to provoke him more than he already had. His back was arched at an awkward angle, legs bent under him and spread to try and compensate for the leverage his arms couldn’t give him. He could only imagine how pathetically desperate he looked, and the thought sent another flare of heat through his body. It took everything Atsumu had in him to not let his hips drop to the mattress and start grinding on it like a bitch in heat. Atsumu practically jumped out of his skin when he felt Kiyoomi’s hand rest on his lower back, the surprise touch setting his nerve endings alight. “Before we go any further, tell me your color and our safeword.”
“I’m green, Omi, ‘m green. A-An’ it’s marigold.” Atsumu’s voice was breathier than he would have liked to admit.
“Good boy. I want you to use it the moment you feel you need to.” Kiyoomi’s hand was rubbing Atsumu’s back soothingly, and the blond tried to arch his back even further to get more of the soft feeling. But as soon as had started, he stopped his motions. “It’s a shame you can’t be that good all the time. We wouldn’t be here now if you could manage that, yeah?” After a few heartbeats of silence, Kiyoomi’s voice got deeper when he spat, “I asked you a damn question, Atsumu.”
“No, Omi, we wouldn’t be here if I was actin’ good.” Atsumu sounded frustrated still, but there was a defeated quality creeping into his tone. Beneath his bratty nature, he did like being good for Kiyoomi. And he was, most of the time. Acting up for every single scene just wouldn’t be fun for either of them. “I’m sorry…” He mumbled, his legs starting to tremble underneath him.
“Sorry for what?” Kiyoomi asked. The typical caring tone that was normally in his voice when he spoke to his boyfriend was nowhere to be found. “And I told you I wanted you with your ass in the air. Are you really losing stamina that quickly? You’re an Olympian, Atsumu, I expect better from you.”
Atsumu bit back a huff and readjusted his position, ignoring the dull ache in his arms and slight burn in his legs. “I’m sorry for not listenin’ to ya and not pullin’ off like ya—” Atsumu practically choked when Kiyoomi’s hand snaked under his propped up body and slid down his stomach before resting on top of his straining co*ck. “Like ya said.” The last part of Atsumu’s sentence came out rushed and slightly slurred.
“You know, I could see it in your eyes that it was more than just disobedience. You didn’t want to stop for a reason beyond just ignoring me.” Kiyoomi stated, moving his palm in a way that put a constant pressure against Atsumu’s co*ck, regardless of the awkward angle. Damn his abnormally flexible wrists. “What was it?”
“S’embarra-ah-ssin’.” Atsumu mumbled, his admission broken by a low moan. His hands clenched into fists when Kiyoomi palmed him roughly, rubbing the material of his athletic shorts against him in all the ways so wrong they felt right. A stern ‘Tell me,’ escaped Kiyoomi’s lips, and Atsumu inhaled shakily. “Like havin’ ya in my mouth. Like makin’ ya feel nice, tastin’ ya, when you cum because of me, when you force me to take all of ya.” With every reason Atsumu gave, Kiyoomi increased the pressure he put on Atsumu’s co*ck, causing him to end his list of reasons with a near sob.
“co*ckslu*t.” Kiyoomi muttered, retracting his hand and laughing when Atsumu rolled his hips down into nothing but air. “You’re always so collected on the court, Atsumu. Commanding, even. You know how to bend the game to your will. Your fans and your spikers, too. You seem so in control of everything, and you even seem like you enjoy it. But you know your place is beneath me, obeying me. You love it when that control is ripped away from you.”
Atsumu tried to pull his hands out of the cuffs for what had to be the fourth time tonight, obviously to no avail. Everything about the way Kiyoomi was speaking, how small and dirty it made him feel, sent hot flashes of desire spiraling down Atsumu’s spine. All he wanted was to be touched, have something, anything, to relieve the pain his hard-on brought him. “Omi, please, want yer hands, anything…” Atsumu’s words were muffled from his face being pushed into the pillow.
“That’s funny, Atsu. Like you actually deserve it.” Kiyoomi’s hands hooked around Atsumu’s shorts but didn’t yet move them from their position. “You must still think that being a disobedient little tease is gonna get you what you want.” His fists closed, and he yanked Atsumu’s shorts, along with his briefs, down his legs. It forced them together, causing his hips to slightly drop. Kiyoomi let go of the clothing, taking note of how they pooled around Atsumu’s bent knees. “What? You really can’t take these off yourself?”
“f*ck, Omi…” Atsumu was going insane. His hips stuttering into the air as if that would bring him any relief. “No, obviously I can’t f*ckin’ do that, jeez, just— Please, Omi, Kiyoomi, I need ya to touch me.” Atsumu’s lack of arm mobility meant he couldn’t prop himself to look down underneath him, but he didn’t need the visual to know how wrecked he already looked. Whole body flushed red, co*ck hanging heavy between his legs, already dripping onto the fresh sheets below him.
Kiyoomi didn’t respond, but gently maneuvered Atsumu’s clothing down and off the rest of his legs before turning and walking away. Atsumu could hear him lightly padding around the bedroom, but couldn’t muster up the energy to crane his neck uncomfortably to see what his boyfriend was doing. Judging by the rustling that came from an area next to their bed, Atsumu could deduce that Kiyoomi was rummaging through the nightstand. It must have been his own, as Kiyoomi had claimed the left side of their bed and Atsumu’s head was facing right. The unmistakable clicking of the cap of a lube bottle confirmed Atsumu’s predictions. He was silent as he listened for Kiyoomi’s footsteps to come back around to the bed.
After what felt like ages to Atsumu, Kiyoomi returned to their bed and settled his own weight on it, directly behind Atsumu. His face might be mostly immobilized by a pillow, but that didn’t stop the delicate scent of strawberries from floating into his senses. “Omi,” Atsumu whined, his legs squeezing together. “Usin’ yer favorite?”
“I felt like treating myself.” Kiyoomi answered, one of his hands resting gently on Atsumu’s waist. “Is that a problem?” Atsumu would have said no, of course, but before he got a chance to answer, one of Kiyoomi’s fingers was probing around his entrance, circling it without pushing in. Atsumu couldn’t stop a gasp from escaping his lips—not only was the action abrupt and seemingly out of nowhere, Kiyoomi’s fingers were damn cold. “Atsumu, with your face in the pillow like that, your voice is muffled and I can’t hear you very clearly. If you need to use your safeword, I also want you to snap your fingers when you say it. That way even if I can’t hear your voice clearly, I’ll be able to see your hands and hear the snap. Okay? I want you to repeat what I said, I need to make sure you understand.”
“Mm…gotcha, Omi. Snap with the safeword if I need it. I got it, Omi, I do, just touch me already.” Atsumu’s head was practically swimming, already short-circuited from the feather-light touches against his hole. He couldn’t help but to push back against Kiyoomi’s finger, desperately trying to make it go inside. The hand on Atsumu’s waist stilled his hips.
“You take what I give you, Atsumu. Don’t try and get more, or I’ll stop everything. And the only way I’ll let you get off is by rutting against our bed like a hot and bothered bitch.” Atsumu hated the way Kiyoomi’s words went straight to his dick. Kiyoomi pulled his finger back, letting Atsumu whine out a complaint before roughly shoving his finger inside the man, smirking as a gasp fell from his lips. Kiyoomi could see the way Atsumu’s legs were shaking—it wasn’t a hard thing to notice—but wasn’t sure if it was from the exertion of holding himself up or the willpower he was exercising trying to not push back against finger. With each shallow thrust of his finger, Kiyoomi bent it at a different angle, ceaselessly rubbing at Atsumu’s walls while purposely missing the one spot Atsumu wanted him to hit the most. Atsumu’s pleas for more increased in both volume and pitch, and Kiyoomi decided after a moment of hearing his sweet babble that Atsumu was ready for more. The blond always took his fingers well, and besides, there wasn’t much he could do to stretch him out with only his middle finger. He pulled out of Atsumu and poured the lube out on his fingers, the cold, pink-tinted liquid drenching all except his thumb.
Harshly and without warning, Kiyoomi used his grip on Atsumu’s waist to pull him back against his hand, two fingers slipping inside of Atsumu with a fair amount of ease, the lube helping the slide. A broken moan was ripped from Atsumu’s throat as he felt Kiyoomi’s hand moving inside of him, fingers spreading in a scissoring motion to relax him, loosening up the muscle. He was panting open-mouthed against the pillow, brow furrowing as his eyes squeezed shut. Atsumu couldn’t arch his back any more, not without it starting to hurt and not in the pleasurable way, and he cursed between soft moans when he realized Kiyoomi was right—there was nothing he could do except take it. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise, because now Atsumu could focus his energy on breathing and relaxing into the touch, opening up from Kiyoomi’s deft handiwork instead of trying to rock back against him. Before long, Atsumu felt one more of Kiyoomi’s fingers breach his hole, and the corners of his mouth twitched up into a smile as his body welcomed the intrusion. Kiyoomi using two fingers was primarily to prepare Atsumu, albeit soft and teasing, he purposefully avoided Atsumu’s most sensitive spot. His usage of three fingers, however, was entirely different. His movements were quick and harsh—but not at all sloppy—and with every thrust of his fingers, he dragged his fingertips over Atsumu’s prostate, unrelenting in the intense pressure he applied to the bundle of nerves. Atsumu’s legs were shaking so much they were practically vibrating, the constant stimulation against his prostate coupled with no relief for his aching co*ck bringing him nearly to tears.
Atsumu almost didn’t register that Kiyoomi had worked a fourth finger inside him; he’d been too focused on trying to hold his position like Kiyoomi had wanted him to while also trying to keep himself from letting too much saliva spill from his mouth onto their freshly washed pillowcase. But when Kiyoomi crooked his fingers in just the right way, dragging each fingertip against Atsumu’s prostate with an almost overwhelming amount of pressure, the setter let out a loud, drawn-out moan, whimpering, “Omi, f*ck, m’gonna cum, please—”
It was exactly what Kiyoomi needed to hear. He quickly pulled his fingers out of Atsumu and reached under him, wrapping his hand tightly around the base of his co*ck, ending his impending org*sm before it could start. A strangled cry forced its way out of Atsumu’s mouth as he bucked his hips forward, trying to chase the climax that Kiyoomi wouldn’t let him reach. “f*ck— Kiyoomi, god f*ckin’ damnit, I was so close—” Atsumu’s bound hands clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white.
“I know you were, baby. Hence why I stopped.” Kiyoomi’s tone was patronizing, and with every whimper Atsumu gave, he tightened his hold around his base until the mewling stopped. “Doesn’t feel good to be teased, does it?” Kiyoomi’s hand left Atsumu’s waist to instead rest against his shoulder, rubbing it gently, a clear juxtaposition to the harsh grip he still had around Atsumu’s co*ck. “Face me. I want to look at you.”
Atsumu groaned, the dizziness from his ruined org*sm starting to fade, and pushed his head farther into the pillow. His strength was gone for the most part—he had an early afternoon run and practice to blame for that—his limbs trembling as he struggled to lean backwards, picking his head up and turning his neck so that when his head hit the pillow once more with a dull thump, he was looking directly into Kiyoomi’s eyes. He smirked, removing both of his hands from Atsumu’s body. “You’re especially beautiful like this…” He murmured, reaching down to lazily stroke himself, low moans spilling from his lips. Atsumu was whining, wishing he could be the one to have his hand around Kiyoomi and pull those sounds from him. “Can you sit up for me? Back against the headboard?”
Nodding, Atsumu squeezed his eyes shut. His legs trembled violently as he started to sit up, beads of sweat rolling down his back. It took a short while, but Atsumu eventually reached the point where he was stable sitting back on his heels. His back was pressed flush against the cool wood in a space that Kiyoomi had provided him, moving around the pillows so that he had an open spot to sit. He faced Kiyoomi with his legs spread, lower half on full display. The way Kiyoomi was looking at Atsumu made it appear like he was studying the man, scrutinizing every aspect of him. Atsumu tried to push his legs together, self-conscious, but Kiyoomi grabbed him by the knees and forced his legs farther apart, a small whine escaping his lips. Against his better judgement, Atsumu looked down and couldn’t help but moan at the sight of himself. His co*ck was flushed red, especially at its head, and curved up against his stomach. Now that he was sitting up, his shirt had fallen back into place, and a precum stain was already forming against the cloth. Pathetic. When Atsumu looked back up at Kiyoomi, there were tears in his eyes.
“Give me your color, baby. And tell me how your wrists feel.” Kiyoomi’s sharp gaze hadn’t lost its intensity, but Atsumu could detect hints of care in it. “I’m having a good time, but your health is my top priority and I want us making sure your hands are still in top shape after this.”
“Still green, and they’re sore.” Atsumu tried to pull out of the cuffs once more, just for good measure. “Sore, but they’re okay. An’, well, I…I kinda like it.” His eyes dropped to the floor when he noticed how Kiyoomi’s eyes darkened at his admission.
Kiyoomi lowered himself onto the bed in front of Atsumu, dropping the bottle of lube and an unopened condom next to him. “You like it?” He questioned, reaching for the bottle and twisting its cap off. Atsumu nodded, his face burning, but Kiyoomi demanded a verbal response. When Atsumu acquiesced to the order, Kiyoomi smiled and started to let the contents of the bottle drip out over Atsumu’s co*ck. The pink-tinged liquid almost matched his dick in color, causing Kiyoomi to snicker darkly in the back of his throat. From the way Atsumu’s arms flexed behind him, it was obvious the man was trying to work his way out of the cuffs, most likely to try and wrap his hand around himself, using his body heat to offset the ice cold liquid being drizzled over him.
“Omi, f*ck, that’s cold…” Atsumu whined, his voice shaky and high pitched. “Please, Omi, god, I’m sorry I didn’t listen to ya earlier an’ I’m sorry I was teasing ya durin’ the shoot, alright? I need ya, it hurts, Omi…”
“Such a pathetic, desperate, f*cking co*ckslu*t, Atsu, aren’t you?” Kiyoomi questioned, his voice taunting Atsumu more and more with every syllable. “Acting all in charge when the cameras are rolling, but you’re really just desperate to be touched in any way you’ll get it. Isn’t that right?” On Kiyoomi’s last question, he wrapped a hand around Atsumu’s co*ck and started to stroke the man slowly. The action made Atsumu brokenly cry out, his hips jerking up to try and get Kiyoomi’s minimalistic pace to increase. Kiyoomi used his other hand to hold Atsumu’s hips down at that, a firm glare directed towards him adding to the force keeping his hips against the mattress. Kiyoomi pulled his hand off so he could add more lube to his palm, the excessive amount of it causing the room to flood with the scent of strawberries.
Kiyoomi despised making messes, but he loved making Atsumu a mess. The blond would get more and more worked up the messier and wetter he got, and Kiyoomi intended to bring Atsumu both to and past his breaking point today. His hand was drenched, some of the rosy liquid already spilling from his palm onto the blankets, and when he circled his hand around Atsumu once more, his response—immediately trying to thrust up into the feeling—caused a lewd, wet sound to emanate throughout the room. Atsumu’s face turned cherry red. When this sort of thing had happened in the past, Atsumu would always get embarrassed by the noise and how much of a turn-on he considered it to be, and he’d hide his face in his hands. But with everything from his shoulders down out of commission, Atsumu had nowhere to hide, leaving his flushed face exposed to Kiyoomi.
Kiyoomi kept repeating his motions, his pace never consistent. Atsumu’s moans and whimpers were breathy and haphazard, lacking a rhythm in the same way that Kiyoomi’s hand did. The room was silent except for the loud, wet, skin on skin sounds, and Atsumu’s soft gasps and pleas for more. “Tell me, Atsu, what made you think teasing me would get you anywhere good?” As Kiyoomi said Atsumu’s name, he swiped his thumb over the head of Atsumu’s co*ck, digging it harshly into the slit, bringing forth a strangled moan from him.
“Just, ah, f*ck—” Atsumu wanted to throw his head back in a mix of frustration and pleasure, but that would only end in his head slamming into the wall right behind him, and that wasn’t something Atsumu could say he was into. His legs were shaking, and he kept trying to roll his hips up into Kiyoomi’s grasp on him, but his attempts were in vain. “W-Wanted yer attention…” Atsumu groaned, stuttering when Kiyoomi once again thumbed over the head of his co*ck, applying a relentless pressure that had Atsumu squirming. “Missed havin’ ya like this, Omi, f*ck…”
Kiyoomi was listening quietly, increasing his pace until Atsumu fell back against the wall, unable to find the energy that would allow him to try and match the rolls of his hips with the pace Kiyoomi had been working his co*ck at. “Did you now?” Kiyoomi’s composure was untainted, a complete difference from Atsumu who was about to lose himself for the second time. “Did it not occur to you to just ask? There are better ways of getting my attention than acting like a brat. Or is it that you don’t care about the type of attention you get as long as it’s something?”
Atsumu’s eyes were squeezed shut, his head hanging forward. With the amount of sweat that had been building up on his legs from trying to balance himself on his calves and heels, he had started to lose a fair amount of his balance. Everything was just too much, the endless pressure around his co*ck and the way Kiyoomi was speaking to him made Atsumu wobble dangerously on the precipice of climax. “Kiyoomi, please—” Atsumu was barely able to choke out those few words. “Omi, please, please, I can’t take it anymore, I need to cum, please, Kiyoomi…” Atsumu threw his head back, just centimeters away from hitting the wall, bottom lip caught between his teeth. Small whines were falling from his lips, his chest heaving. He could feel his stomach start to tighten up, he could see the world start to go white hot behind his eyes…
And once again, Kiyoomi tightly gripped the base of Atsumu’s co*ck, squeezing tightly for a moment before letting go and leaving the man with no contact whatsoever. A loud sob was torn from the depths of Atsumu’s throat, and as the satisfaction of release was taken from him once again, the hot tears that had been building behind his eyes spilled over the edge. He fell forwards, forehead knocking against Kiyoomi’s shoulder. He was shaking, tears flowing from his eyes at a pace equal to his racing heart rate. “Hurts, Omi, it f*ckin’ hurts, please— Please, I need ya to touch me please, Omi, it hurts.” Atsumu shuddered as one of Kiyoomi’s hands snaked up his back, lightly massaging in between his shoulderblades.
“Tell me your color, Atsumu.” Kiyoomi gently orders.
“Ngh, green—” Atsumu’s response is instant. “Promise, I promise, m’okay, jus’ need ya—” Atsumu’s hyperactive breathing had started to calm down, and his streams of tears had stopped flowing, but the drying tracks still drew his eyelashes into clumps and turned his already flushed face blotchy. Atsumu’s body felt like it was burning up, all his nerve endings set alight.
“Alright…you’re being so good for me, Atsu,” Kiyoomi praised, bending down to place the lightest of kisses against the top of Atsumu’s head, lips gently touching the blond locks. “But that still doesn’t excuse your earlier behavior. Lie down now, either on your stomach or back, whichever you prefer.”
“O-Okay…” Atsumu stammered. He wished he could lie on his back—he’d be able to see Kiyoomi that way. But the golden cuffs that had been plaguing him this entire time would be digging into the soft skin of his lower back, something that Atsumu most definitely didn’t want. Slowly and shakily, Atsumu leaned back off of Kiyoomi’s shoulder, making quick eye contact with him before lowering his gaze. He let himself fall back against the bed, face bouncing against his pillow, stomach pressed flat against the mattress. Sure, Atsumu’s lower back was saved from the handcuffs, but his co*ck was now trapped between the comforter and his stomach, resulting in a constant rough friction. Atsumu was already sensitive beyond belief with the aftershocks of two interrupted org*sms still brewing under his skin, but he couldn’t stop himself from slowly rocking against the covers, trying to ease some of the aching.
“You’re face down again, so I need you to tell me clearly what our extra rule is.” Kiyoomi ordered, moving behind Atsumu with the bottle of lube in one hand and a wrapped condom in the other.
As the sound of the foil wrapper tearing filled the room, Atsumu’s shaky voice joined it, although he tried to make his voice as steady and clear as possible. “Snap along with the safe word if I need to use it.” Atsumu’s sentence was rushed, his fists clenching and unclenching against the small of his back.
“That’s my good boy…” Kiyoomi groaned as he rolled down the condom, pausing for a moment to lightly palm himself. “You really wanna make up for being so disobedient earlier, don’t you? Wanna be my good boy so you can get my co*ck?” Atsumu’s blood ran hot. Whenever Kiyoomi’s carefully calculated words fade away and he was left with this raw, cruder version of his boyfriend, he couldn’t help but get turned on. If it were possible for any more blood to fill his dick out, he was sure it would happen. Atsumu couldn’t decide what he liked better—Kiyoomie praising him or Kiyoomi making him feel utterly humiliated.
“Please, Kiyoomi. Please, I’ll be a good boy, I am a good boy, yer good boy, please.” Atsumu’s hips were still driving themselves down into the fluffed up blankets, the sheets rucking up and bunching up under his co*ck, making him crave the feeling of friction even more, sending him into an endless spiral. Atsumu froze when he felt Kiyoomi’s hands on the backs of his thighs, spreading them apart. Atsumu’s breath quickened, and he let his eyes fall shut as he awaited the feeling of fullness that Kiyoomi just didn’t seem to want to give him. Whining, he pushed his hips back, trying to get a feel of where Kiyoomi was and why the hell he wasn’t inside of him already. “God, Kiyoomi, just f*ck me already. Please.”
Kiyoomi laughed, the sound cold and clipped off. “I don’t like how impatient you’re getting. Tell me, Atsu, how much do you really want this?”
Atsumu’s co*ck twitched from Kiyoomi’s words alone. Voice muffled, he begged, “Please, Omi… I know I was bad earlier, but ‘m bein’ good now, please, I want your co*ck, Omi. Fillin’ me, stretchin’ me, and just f*ckin’ wrecking me, please, Omi, please, please, pl-” Atsumu’s repetitive pleas were cut off by a low groan of “f*ck yeah…” as Kiyoomi started to push into him without warning. Kiyoomi would normally give Atsumu time to adjust, but that gentle side was nowhere to be found amidst the need to discipline Atsumu and his own impatience. He kept pushing into Atsumu until he was fully buried inside his tight heat, an appreciative hum leaving Atsumu as Kiyoomi bottomed out. Both of Kiyoomi’s hands were splayed on either side of Atsumu’s shoulders to keep himself upright, his legs falling over Atsumu’s thighs and further pinning him in place.
Kiyoomi was more than grateful for his upper body strength; holding himself above Atsumu by only balancing on his hands and using all of his lower body to push against and into Atsumu’s broad body required more than minimal effort. With the close proximity, he could hear Atsumu’s soft panting and almost inaudible begs for more. Kiyoomi’s hips snapped forwards, making Atsumu cry out, trying to push his hips back against Kiyoomi, desperate to take more of him. Kiyoomi groaned as he supported all his weight on one hand, using the other to press Atsumu into the mattress by his slender waist, stopping any movement. “You take what I f*cking give you, Miya.” He growled, punctuating his sentence with a particularly hard thrust. “Screw up one more time and my ultimatum holds true. Do you understand?” Kiyoomi sneered, his thrusts never increasing from their lazy speed, instead only moving up in intensity. Atsumu wished he could do something, anything, even something as simple as knotting his hands in the sheets underneath him and squeezing the life out of them to distract himself from the torturous pace Kiyoomi had set. The feeling of Kiyoomi’s body weight pinning him against the mattress coupled with the immobility of his arms just made him feel so helpless, so powerless… And he loved every moment of it. “Answer me.” Kiyoomi commanded, his hand still firmly pressing down on Atsumu’s waist.
“Yes, Omi, jeez, I get it.” Atsumu’s body was trembling, each nerve being set on fire from a combination of Kiyoomi’s warning and the way he could feel him reaching deeper and deeper inside of him with each accented thrust. “I understand an’ I’m sorry, I won’t do it again, just f*cking please, Omi.”
Kiyoomi gave him no verbal response. His hand left Atsumu’s waist, pleased to see how the man didn’t move, and he put it back down in its original position on the mattress. He let out a groan of satisfaction after he was finally able to redistribute his weight between his arms. Kiyoomi had been intimate with Atsumu more times than he could count; by this point, he knew how to find the blond’s sweet spot within the first two thrusts, but now, he was enjoying missing it on purpose and dragging small whines out of Atsumu. But soon enough, Kiyoomi had given up on just teasing Atsumu—and himself by association. He leaned back, bringing his hands off the bed, and grabbed the connecting chain of the handcuffs, yanking them up towards himself and making Atsumu arch his back in the prettiest of ways. With the new angle, Kiyoomi began to drive his hips into Atsumu harder and faster than before, the loud sound of skin slapping skin echoing through the room. Atsumu wasn’t the only one that had been pent up all this time; Kiyoomi missed him just as much and had been fairly close to his own peak when Atsumu had been blowing him, so finally being able to have him like this was sending him down the path to org*sm exponentially quick. Kiyoomi drove into him hard and fast, sweat from the exertion starting to mat some of his curls against his forehead.
When Atsumu had been lying down, his moans were able to be muffled by the pillow he’d been biting down on. But now, his upper body lifted off the bed by his handcuffs alone, he had no barrier between his sounds and the outside world. His sweet, punched-out moans were quiet no longer, spilling out into the bedroom with reckless abandon. The angle at which his back was bent, the harsh way the metal of the cuffs were digging into his wrists, and the intensity at which Kiyoomi was finally hitting his prostate all made Atsumu’s moans increase in volume, frequency, and pitch, the constant stream occasionally interrupted by breathy curses or cries of Kiyoomi’s name. “Omi, f*ck, gonna cum, please let me, please, can’t hold back—” Atsumu’s neglected co*ck was aching, begging for release as hard as he was.
“Not until I do, baby. You know the rules.” Low moans were spilling from Kiyoomi’s lips. The way Atsumu was starting to clench down around him, drawing him farther into the tight heat was making Kiyoomi’s head spin, his hips stuttering into Atsumu even harder. His pace was relentless, thrusts becoming less strategic and more sloppy as he chased his org*sm, grip on the handcuffs tightening. With one last thrust, Kiyoomi let out a loud, deep moan of Atsumu’s name, eyes squeezing shut as his body went hot. His whole body shook for a moment before stilling, and he dropped his hold on the handcuffs, Atsumu falling back down on the bed. Kiyoomi spilled into the condom as Atsumu tightened around him, and whispered in a raspy voice, “Okay, Atsu, cum for me.”
Atsumu’s voice was tight as he whimpered out a “Thank you, Kiyo…”, the few words muffled from the way his face had hit the pillow. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, seeing white and nothing else. The white ropes of cum painted his stomach, the bottom of his shirt, and the mattress underneath him, and Atsumu was too far gone to even have the thought cross his mind of how they’d definitely have to put the comforter in the laundry before heading to sleep tonight. He felt boneless, twitching against the bed as he tried to calm his now erratic breathing. He barely registered the feeling of Kiyoomi’s hands against the cuffs binding his wrists, but he felt it nonetheless. He waited in silence, save for his ragged breaths, for Kiyoomi to unlock the handcuffs, remove them, and then gather Atsumu in his arms to tell him what a good boy he had been, but the moment never came. Kiyoomi just traced his fingers lightly over the gilded metal as he slowly pulled out, a hitch in Atsumu’s labored breathing coming with it. Kiyoomi shivered as he pulled the condom off and tied it, leaning over to drop the rubber into the waste bin conveniently placed at the foot of their bed. His cum was starting to cool and dry on him—an insanely uncomfortable feeling—so he reached over to the nightstand to grab a tissue and wipe himself down with it before crumbling the soft paper up and letting it fall into the waste bin.
“Omi?” Atsumu’s voice was small and soft. “Y-Yer gonna take ‘em off now, right?” He was trying to make his tone seem curious and fairly neutral, but the way his voice cracked mid-sentence betrayed his true desperation.
“Not at all.” Kiyoomi stated simply. “You were so desperate to be touched earlier, begging for me… There’s no way I could be done with you now. Sit up, baby.” He had the kindness to help Atsumu in switching positions, but his dark stare never left the other boy.
“You’re…” The weight of Kiyoomi’s words dawned on Atsumu, and he hated the way his body betrayed him, softening co*ck twitching in interest. “Omi, I can’t, I just came…” Atsumu’s mouth was hanging open, his whole body hot and flushed. The wooden headboard now once again against his back was cold, but even the smooth coolness couldn’t offset how hot his skin felt.
“You wanted me to touch you, and I am. You should be grateful.” Kiyoomi’s glance was borderline predatory, looking at Atsumu like he was his next meal. He leaned closer to Atsumu, checking his always expressive eyes for any signs that he truly didn’t want to continue. Seeing none, he grinned, and continued to bend forwards until his lips came in contact with Atsumu’s forehead. His skin was slick with sweat, but it didn’t stop Kiyoomi from pressing a soft kiss there, smiling against his skin. He leaned back, never losing the intense eye contact, and slowly backed away farther down the bed until his face was settled in between Atsumu’s legs. “God, Atsumu, everything about you is just gorgeous.” Kiyoomi’s breath was hitting Atsumu’s co*ck like it was a secret weapon he’d had deployed to try and get Atsumu hard again. It worked; Atsumu was shaking, the shocking sensation bringing him to tears again. Atsumu was tense as Kiyoomi spread his legs before bringing his palms to his thighs and pinning him down. Atsumu gulped, eyes falling anywhere but down in front of him, but his gaze snapped down after Kiyoomi delivered a light slap to Atsumu’s inner thigh, growling, “Look at me.”
Kiyoomi dipped his head down, tongue snaking out of his mouth to lightly lick at the head of Atsumu’s co*ck, the taste of lube and Atsumu’s cum entering his mouth. Sweet and salty, artificial and natural—not a terrible combination. Kiyoomi continued to gently swirl his tongue around Atsumu’s tip until he was back to being fully hard. He looked up once to make sure Atsumu’s eyes were still on him before sinking down, taking in Atsumu’s entire length in one bob of his head.
Atsumu was twitching already. His sensitivity was overloaded, and Kiyoomi was merciless when it came to giving Atsumu time without stimulation. That coupled with the visual of Kiyoomi going down on him, black curls tickling Atsumu’s lower stomach, already had him on edge. Atsumu was fully under Kiyoomi’s power—Kiyoomi had Atsumu pinned down, preventing him from bucking into his mouth, and Atsumu couldn’t move his arms or hands, making him unable to wind his hands into Kiyoomi’s hair as some form of relief. Watching Kiyoomi swallow him down and feeling his cum drying into a sticky mess on his skin made Atsumu feel utterly filthy, and he felt sinful for loving it as much as he did. Kiyoomi was humming lowly with his lips stretched around Atsumu, using the same tricks Atsumu had used earlier to drive him crazy. And Atsumu, who had no power or authority, no mobility, had to take all of it, regardless of his sensitivity. The wet sounds from Kiyoomi’s mouth were filling the room and adding a counter-melody to the symphony that were Atsumu’s breathy moans, hushed curses, high-pitched begging, and low whimpers of Kiyoomi’s name.
Atsumu could barely choke out a warning to Kiyoomi that he was on the verge of spilling over the edge once more, but Kiyoomi didn’t need any verbal warning signs. He could feel Atsumu’s thigh muscles twitching under his hands and his fruitless attempts to both pull away from Kiyoomi and thrust up into his mouth. Kiyoomi looked up through half-lidded eyes, long eyelashes adding to the sultry look, and made eye-contact with Atsumu. It was what drove the man over the edge, a long drawn-out whine slipping from his lips as he came into Kiyoomi’s waiting mouth.
Kiyoomi moaned as he pulled off of Atsumu, still keeping his cum inside of his mouth, covering his tongue. Normally, Kiyoomi would have just swallowed, and that would be the end of that, but he still wasn’t done getting back at Atsumu for his teasing. When he pushed himself up to lean close to Atsumu’s mouth, he was pleased to find that the blond’s eyes were closed, mouth hanging open as he tried to catch his breath. Kiyoomi lifted a hand to Atsumu’s head, running his fingers through the bleached hair, watching him lean into the soft touch. Kiyoomi bent forward, touching his lips gently against Atsumu’s. And Atsumu, who hadn’t gotten the opportunity to properly kiss Kiyoomi in days, eagerly kissed him back, mouth still open and spit-slick. Perfect. Kiyoomi slipped his tongue into Atsumu’s pliant mouth, and almost laughed when Atsumu tensed, nearly recoiling at the surprise taste of his own cum being pushed into his mouth. What Kiyoomi deciphered as a curse left Atsumu’s lips. Atsumu might have been startled at first, but Kiyoomi making him taste the bitterness and saltiness of his own org*sm was something he considered to be way too attractive for what it really was. Regardless, he licked into Kiyoomi’s mouth with passion and energy, their tongues running over each other’s. They both knew the inside of the other man’s mouth like the back of their hands; making out like this felt like second nature. It was as easy as breathing, a task neither of them seemed to remember they needed to do.
When Kiyoomi reached down in between them with the hand not in Atsumu’s hair and roughly gripped his boyfriend’s softening co*ck, Atsumu let out a cry so broken it was almost pitiful. He jerked his hips away, pulling back from Kiyoomi’s mouth. “No, f*ck, c-can’t—” With a mix of spit and his own cum dribbling from the corners of his mouth, his eyes glassy from the built-up wall of tears that had formed, and the incessant shivering from how overstimulated he felt, he looked absolutely wrecked. “Green, s’too much, god, so green, please…” He was absolutely wrecked. And Kiyoomi was living for it. “Omi, ‘m green, but there’s no way, I-I can’t…”
Kiyoomi stilled his hand and looked deep into Atsumu’s eyes. “Do you promise you’re still green? Don’t lie to me. Whatever is best for you is best for me, you know that.”
Regardless of all his protests, and his beliefs that there was no way Kiyoomi would be able to coax another org*sm out of him, Atsumu at least wanted to try. He had already come this far, was so far gone, and the inner masoch*st inside of him was coming out to play, begging for the pain and scorching heat that would come with a third org*sm. Besides, who knew when he’d get this much time alone with Kiyoomi again? Their lives were already busy as professional athletes, but with the Olympics coming up? Something like this was a rarity he wanted to treasure. And Atsumu truly did want Kiyoomi’s attention, so why waste it? “Promise.” Atsumu spoke confidently, truth in his tone, although his word was soft, uttered brokenly.
“Okay, baby.” Kiyoomi said, starting to move his hand slowly up and down Atsumu’s co*ck, his thumb applying a slight pressure to the head. “You know you can back out at any time.” Atsumu nodded, already twitching, toes curling, wishing he could twist his hands into something besides fists. Within less than a minute, the tears in Atsumu’s eyes had overflowed, the hot tracks dripping down his reddened face. His hips were stuttering off the bed erratically trying to either escape Kiyoomi’s tight grip or make it go faster—not even Atsumu knew which one. It looked like he was just thrashing around, and in all honesty, the assumption wasn’t too far-fetched. His breathing was rapid, chest rising and falling at the same rate it would be after playing a five-minute long rally.
“Omi. f*ck. Hurts.” Atsumu’s words were whispered, clipped off, staccato. He couldn’t stop his trembling, and it looked more as if he were vibrating against the headboard. “Too much, so good, ‘m almost done—”
“You’re all good, Atsumu.” Kiyoomi’s hand sped up once more, and he watched Atsumu properly for the first time tonight. He was silent this time, his mouth hanging open as his eyes screwed shut. Kiyoomi didn’t drop his gaze from Atsumu’s blissed out face, didn’t want to, and instead just felt a slight bit of warmth spread over his fingers. A quick glance down confirmed Kiyoomi’s suspicions—it was a dry org*sm this time, just a bit of precum dribbling out of Atsumu’s overworked co*ck to coat his fingers. Atsumu was gasping for breath, and slumped forward as Kiyoomi took him into his arms. “I’ve got you, Atsu, stay right there for a moment, I’m coming right back…” Kiyoomi promised, twisting around and pushing himself up off of the bed to quickly gather everything he needed: the key for the handcuffs, pajamas for both him and Atsumu to wear after they got cleaned up, and a pair of sweatpants for Atsumu to wear for the time being. Before walking back, he grabbed his own abandoned sweatpants from off the floor and pulled them on, returning shortly after with the addition of tissues. He wasn’t too fond of wearing clothes from the floor, but Kiyoomi knew he was just minutes away from a bath, so he would manage. Atsumu’s eyes were still closed when Kiyoomi sat back down on the bed, but his breathing had started to regulate. As Kiyoomi whispered quiet praises, he reached over to Atsumu’s back with the key in hand, gently twisting it into the lock. The snapping sound of the cuffs unlocking filled the room, and Kiyoomi pulled them off with as much care and caution as he could manage.
Atsumu let out a noise that could only be described as a soft sob. He fell forward, caught by Kiyoomi, who slowly wrapped his arms around the still shaking man. Atsumu buried his face into the crook of Kiyoomi’s neck, some of his tears finding their way to his skin. Kiyoomi’s hands were running up and down Atsumu’s back, gently tracing words like “I love you” and “you’re my everything” against his heated skin.
As Atsumu’s tears slowed to a halt, Kiyoomi began to whisper soft praises against the boy’s temple. “You did so well, Atsu, you were so good for me, and I am beyond proud of you. You’re beautiful, and you’re strong, and you’re everything I could ever ask for. I love you, Atsumu, so much.” Atsumu just shuddered in response to Kiyoomi’s words, letting the soft and sweet voice of his love bring him back to reality. Lethargically, Atsumu weakly lifted his sore arms and draped them over Kiyoomi’s shoulders. If he had the strength, he would pull Kiyoomi toward him. Kiyoomi seemed to understand Atsumu, though, and lifted him up the slightest amount to pull him forward, resting him on his lap. They stayed like that for a while, just breathing and existing in each other’s presence.
Eventually, Kiyoomi pulled Atsumu’s arms off from around him and brought his wrists up to his mouth. Thankfully, they weren’t extremely red, but it was clear there were marks and indents on his skin. Lightly, Kiyoomi began to pepper kisses along the slightly reddened skin, decorating Atsumu’s wrists with all the care in the world. Atsumu’s breathing had finally reached a normal rate, and his aching arms were starting to feel the slightest bit better, feeling returning to his shoulders and biceps. Kiyoomi moved away from Atsumu’s wrists, gently bringing his arms down—Atsumu was still lacking the strength needed to keep his arms up on his own—and grabbing the tissues and sweatpants from the side of the bed. He had already used some of the tissues on the way back on himself. “Alright, Atsu, this might not feel the best, but I have to get you cleaned up.” Atsumu hummed in response, eyes still lazily shut. He hissed as Kiyoomi ran the tissue up his soft co*ck to wipe up as much of the drying cum as he could. Kiyoomi’s heart constricted in his chest at Atsumu’s wincing. “Okay, baby, it’s over now. Let me get these pants on you, and I’ll tell you what we’re going to do next. Is that alright?” Atsumu was still silent, eyes still closed, but he nodded.
Kiyoomi cradled Atsumu’s face in his hands for a moment, pressing chaste kisses to his forehead, cheeks, nose, and lips, before letting go to fish around for the sweatpants. He needed to get them on Atsumu all by himself, even lifting his hips to finish pulling the clothing up, but Kiyoomi couldn’t care at all. He was a professional, this amount of exercise was nothing compared to what his daily schedule entails. “Alright, we’re going into the bathroom now, okay? I’ll run a bath for us, make sure you’re all cleaned up, and then we can get ready for bed. I’m going to make you some food and get you water, and while you’re eating up I’m gonna come back here and start cleaning up, getting all the dirty clothes and sheets in the laundry. I’ll come back, and then we can get in bed and just cuddle. I do wanna give you a massage though, I can’t imagine how sore your arms must be. You always work so hard and you were so good for me tonight, so I especially want to treat you. How does that sound, Atsumu?”
“Good…” Atsumu mumbled, still coming out of his headspace. His eyes had opened now, and he was staring at Kiyoomi with so much adoration it almost took the last of his quickly fleeting energy. “S’good, Omi…”
Kiyoomi smiled brightly. He got off the bed and stood up, his heart swelling in size as he looked down to see Atsumu reaching for him, a sated, glazed over look in his eyes. Kiyoomi took the clean pajamas in one hand and laid them over his shoulder. Bending down, he took Atsumu’s pliant body into his arms bridal style, holding the man close to his chest. It was the easiest way to carry him, especially when he was like this. Atsumu had tried to wrap his arms around Kiyoomi’s neck to support himself, but Kiyoomi had put an end to the futile attempt with a soft kiss to the crown of Atsumu’s head. Whenever Atsumu fell into subspace, he’d become deadweight in Kiyoomi’s arms—even if he had been able to lace his arms around Kiyoomi, it wouldn’t have made any difference. Kiyoomi took a few moments to just stand there with Atsumu close to him, their heartbeats syncing with one another. “Love ya, Omi… Really love ya.” Atsumu’s voice was low and raspy, and it made Kiyoomi feel at ease with everything in the world.
“And I love you, Atsumu. I really love you.” Kiyoomi responded, beginning his walk towards the bedroom door. He unlocked and opened it while Atsumu cuddled up to his chest, resting his ear where his heart was to both hear and feel the steadiness that was undeniably Kiyoomi. Walking out into the hallway, Kiyoomi almost felt sad. Sure, he’d get the rest of the night alone with Atsumu, tomorrow as well, but the time they had together was fleeting. The chance for intimacy, the ability to have privacy…if they thought it was bad now, what were they supposed to do when the games were actually taking place? Worries started creeping into Kiyoomi’s head, but they were quelled quickly. The uneasiness that Kiyoomi felt was erased by Atsumu’s soft whispers of just one repeated phrase.
“I love ya.”
