hold me to the light

"No no no Akaashi pleasepleaseplease just a little bit more just--"

Akaashi, kneeling on the linoleum clubroom floor, is coughing so hard he seems on the verge of throwing up, eyes watery and unclear, and does not respond in time to stop the first spurt of cum landing right on his cheek. Bokuto whines as Akaashi finally grasps his dick and aims it down into his own cupped palm, squeezing out the rest of the stuff in even strokes. It's not that it doesn't feel good, but compared to the newly discovered feeling of Akaashi's throat squeezing around him it's so boring.

"Akaashi, you're supposed to have drunk it!"

"Sorry," Akaashi says, voice still low and tight with nausea, and then, insanely, he glances down at the slippery white stuff he's collected in his hand and licks it all up in one go, swallowing it down without so much as a blink. He swipes his finger to collect the stuff trailing down his cheek and eats that too.

"Whoa! That's not what I meant! Doesn't that taste terrible?"

"Sorry, I just, um... I suppose I'm hungry?"

"Whoa. Okay, let's get food after this." Bokuto yanks Akaashi up by the armpits and sets him nicely down on his feet so they can look eye to eye. "Hey, did you like it? Giving me a blowjob? Apart from the part at the end where you choked."

Akaashi doesn't want to look eye to eye. "It's your fault that I choked, Bokuto-san."

"Ugh... I'm really sorry. It just felt so nice and I didn't realise what would happen. But seriously, what did you think?"

"It was diverting."

Bokuto doesn't know if that word has a good or bad meaning. He's getting a lot of mixed signals!

It was Bokuto who suggested this. Basically, he was curious what a blowjob felt like and he had a feeling that Akaashi was gay and would give him one if he asked. So he did ask. And it had worked out. Things generally work out for him when Akaashi is involved.

He stretches his hands above his head, and starts hunting for his clothes, trying to stave off the post-nut sleepiness. Akaashi is already on the other side of the room, already changed into his school uniform, so quick it's like his gym clothes are one of those tear-away suits that Bokuto dreams of wearing to an important event with some kind of awesome sequinned bodysuit underneath. Yep, the fast changing with his eyes always pointing down, that was why he first thought Akaashi was probably gay.

When he'd realised Akaashi was serious about volleyball and would be his setter next year (now was next year), he had started watching him quite a lot, trying to figure out everything about him. What skills he had and favours he could be asked for. How to make him play better and agree to more practice. He'd been eagle eyed. Owl eyed. The more he looked the more he decided that Akaashi was exactly what he wanted, as a setter or a friend or just to have around, and the best part is that, so far, Akaashi likes having him around too.

He watches some more as Akaashi unwraps a piece of gum and puts it in his mouth, cheeks puffing out as he chews, and sniffs for the faint smell of mint drifting across the stuffy room. The gay part was not supposed to matter apart from the perk that he gave better hugs, but now it seems like a way bigger thing.

"Hey Akaashi," he says, giving up on tying his tie and stuffing it in his pocket, "if I liked it so much does that make me gay too?"

"I suppose that's up to you. I won't tell anyone."

Some girls are really cute though. Would he magically stop liking girls if he decided to be gay? All this sounds complicated and hard. Bokuto crouches to peer at the chair seats under the little table, looking for his blazer.

"Bokuto-san." Akaashi plucks the missing blazer from where it's hanging off the noticeboard's hanging nail--oh right, he did put it there--and approaches, holding it open for him to put his arms in and then stepping around to smooth the lapels around his collar. "We can always try it one more time to check," he says, sounding as controlled and reasonable as he does at any other time, fingers busy making their way down the list of blazer buttons

Bokuto takes a deep breath of that minty smell, and feels in his body the flimsiness of the tiny bit of space between them and the way Akaashi's hands bridge it, lingering down at the hem of his blazer, and he realises, Akaashi is not doing this to help me, he's doing it as an excuse to touch me, and excitement zings through him.

"Nice thinking, Akaashi," he yells, feelings bursting out of him with his voice like the whistle of an overboiled kettle. He barges out of the clubroom into the chilly black night and slams the door shut extra loud, hoping that someone out there will hear it and wonder what those darn kids are up to. This is huge news for him and he can't tell anyone.

After that, Akaashi always manages to swallow every drop.

The branches on all the trees overhead are swaying frantically in the wind, clinging to their dead grey leaves, and Bokuto is perched on the bike racks across the street scoping out the members of the going-home club. They all seem so tiny. He waits forever for any third years to come out before overhearing some conversation and realising that third years just look a lot smaller than he remembers. Can a few months really make such a difference? He still doesn't feel like a grown-up at all. It's just that high schoolers have gotten smaller, surely.

Eventually he spots the one he's looking for. Yep, even Akaashi looks younger than he remembered. He's a head taller than most of them, with pointy features and thick eyebrows, but still, there's an awkwardness to his body from having grown so fast.

"Akaashi!" Bokuto calls, jumping straight up to balance between two metal loops of the bike rack and waving his arms. Akaashi makes a gesture that Bokuto knows means Get down from there right now or so help me and runs straight across the zebra crossing to him. Bokuto throws down combini treats for him, a hot Lipton tea and a cold salmon onigiri, and he catches one in each hand.

"Bokuto-san, how are you here!?" Akaashi shouts hysterically... okay, no, he says it normally. But the tiny expressions around his eyes are so shocked that it's kind of like that.

"Oh well," Bokuto says, deciding to be the chill one in the conversation, "I was thinking of you, and I remembered how we always used to go home together on the train. Remember that? And so I thought I would come to keep you company again."

"Not that. How did you know I would be leaving school right now?"

"Vibes!"

Akaashi has not said anything about quitting the volleyball club, but back when Bokuto and Kuroo were talking about Kenma's uni application stuff, Bokuto suddenly had this feeling, that Akaashi would definitely have quit volleyball to study for entrance exams by now. He would've quit months ago. Then after that it was confusing and freaky trying not to bring it up in their texts, and he also wanted to know what was up with Akaashi and see his body language and stuff so that was probably why he ended up coming in person as soon as he could. In fact, that conversation with Kuroo was yesterday, and he's skipping practice to be here today. His coach will be super mad at him, but he has decided that is okay. His coach is often mad at him. Coming back to Fukurodani and seeing Akaashi makes all of that stuff feel faraway and unimportant.

"Please warn me in advance if you're coming to visit me," Akaashi says as they round the corner of the school's low walls.

"I have to be at cram school in an hour and a half," he adds as they march past the courts where tennis players are practicing serves under bright white spotlights and another type of court where basketball players are dodging around each other for the ball.

"I'm upset because I can't eat or drink either of these things with both my hands full," he bursts out as the metro sign comes into sight at the end of the road. Bokuto laughs and takes the Lipton from him so he can hide in the dusty gap between two buildings and tear into his onigiri.

"Coach Yamiji was actually angry at me, if you can believe it," he says when they get out from the station at Akaashi's stop. Bokuto's eyes roam over the familiar signs for the cafe and dry cleaner's by the station exit and the big supermarket across the road which looks like it was made from grey plastic Lego pieces. "But afterwards he apologised and said it was his fault for relying on me too much."

"My parents said it was the right choice," he continues as they head down the side street to reach his apartment block, "but I still feel guilty making them pay full tuition for the last two terms."

The house is dark when they get in. The heavy fire door swings shut with a crunch of the lock, plunging them into uncertain darkness, and the only sound is the faint jingle of keys being put away.

"And you--"

Bokuto clicks on the light. Akaashi flinches and bends to slip off his shoes.

"Me?" Bokuto asks expectantly.

"Er... I wasn't sure what your thoughts would be."

Akaashi's room is the same as ever: bare and tidy except for the number 5 jersey on the wall, the small stack of books on the bedside table, and the explosion of textbooks, school-issued booklets, binders, densely written papers, tangled mind maps, and cryptic sticky notes on the desk. Okay, the desk might be worse this year. Akaashi sidles in and positions himself in front of it as if he can hide the mess from Bokuto's view.

"I like it," says Bokuto. He leans in and peers over Akaashi's shoulder. "I like seeing you do things I can't do." The top print-out on the left stack says, discuss the thematic and something connections between the following two passages. He doesn't even know how to read the kanji for something. A teacher has written '99' on top in pen.

"I guess it doesn't make a difference to you," Akaashi says.

"Yup, you should just do whatever you want," Bokuto agrees, leaning back to smile at him. Akaashi doesn't respond. He stares at Bokuto with a flat face but his eyes have hurt feelings. "Akaashi! I'm not gonna throw a tantrum and force you to come study sports science and play volleyball with me! I'm very mature!"

"Sorry."

"Do you think the only people I care about are volleyball players? Of course not! A team doesn't work with six wing spikers. You're a setter, Akaashi! So be a setter!"

"Bokuto-san... that's another type of volleyball player."

Gah! He should've never gone for the metaphor no matter how genius it seemed in his head.

Akaashi just gets these funny ideas sometimes and they cause problems. If they were on the volleyball court, Bokuto would know what to say to get them to the end of the match, but outside it's complicated. How can he make Akaashi feel close to him? How can he make Akaashi get the same peaceful feeling that he always gets when they're together?

Looking at the way Akaashi squeezes and pinches his fingers when he fidgets, Bokuto has an idea. Maybe he can physically force the feeling in. He hugs Akaashi, pinning his arms to his torso and squeezing tight. Their faces are now very close. "Akaashi," he says. "Listen." Akaashi's eyes flick wildly around. He's not listening! Bokuto drags him to the bed and lays directly on top of him so he can use one hundred percent of his body weight to squish him down, shoulders and hips and knees all aligned, and speak as directly to him as possible.

"Listen, Akaashi," he says loudly. "Don't. Worry. About. What other people think."

"Okay," Akaashi replies in nearly a whisper. He has shut his eyes so it's hard to tell if he is listening really, really well or not at all.

"Forget those other people. I support you no matter what."

"Okay."

"And you have to tell me things!"

"Okay."

He props himself up so that he's using less percent of his body weight and takes a big deep calming breath to encourage Akaashi to do the same. Maybe he's not that calm himself. He can breathe, in, wait, and out, and repeat, the way he learned, but his heart races from how close they are. While their rib cages and bellies are rising and falling warmly against each other he notices that Akaashi is like... super hard. He can feel it digging into the crease of his thigh. His own dick has woken up too, wanting to say hello to its friend.

"Hey, we only have like, thirty minutes, right?" he says. "What do you wanna do for thirty minutes?"

"Okay," Akaashi says again, before Bokuto can even start convincing him.

According to habit, Bokuto flops in the desk chair with a squeak, and reaches under himself and pulls the lever so he sinks all the way down. As soon as Akaashi's head comes in reach, he grabs it and guides it to where he wants it to be. He gets fully hard just from the feeling of Akaashi's messy hair under his hand and the feeling of Akaashi's clever fingers undoing the button of his jeans. Akaashi once said this is called a Pavlovian response, as in, my dick has a Pavlovian response to the top of your head.

He sprawls back in the chair and sighs at the feeling of Akaashi's lips sliding onto him. Then he makes a much more enthusiastic noise as he feels the sensitive tip of his dick being slowly accepted into the tight and unwilling back of Akaashi's throat. Like their super straight line shot, it's a skill born from extensive practicing together. He hunches over, toes curling, mussing Akaashi's hair with both hands. "You're still so good at this," he croons, "it feels so nice, don't stop--aww, you need to breathe already? Breathe quickly, okay?" He tenses as Akaashi pulls back to use his tongue instead, moving it in a complicated way that gives him zero satisfaction and a billion urgent horny feelings. "Hey, no teasing."

He feels himself get in deeper the next time. He knows that Akaashi needs to concentrate hard to let him so deep. Maybe this is the best method of all: he can empty Akaashi's head of all the extra thoughts and fill it with dick instead. He tightens his fingers in Akaashi's hair--it's just long enough to grab hold of, if he scrapes his fingernails against the scalp to get down to the roots, and something about that is a turn-on too--and pushes down just a little further, so he feels Akaashi go rigid with the effort of not choking, feels his throat clench up hard and work to take its pushy guest, before pulling him off again. Yep. More of that. There's a reset button hidden at the back of Akaashi's throat, he muses, and he just needs to press it good and firmly...

By the time he pulls all the way out to check, Akaashi has definitely had his button pressed, because he only waits, breathless and glassy-eyed, to receive whatever more Bokuto wants to give him. It's such a nice image that Bokuto doesn't want to disturb it. In a flash of inspiration he grips himself instead, jerking quickly, tugging at his twitching balls to keep them in place as he races to orgasm--after the first mindless grunt of relief, he touches his dick to the center of Akaashi's forehead. "Boop!" he says. Cum injection to the brain. Now, that would clear out some thoughts.

He knows Akaashi likes it--he knows because once the first drops of cum spurt out Akaashi shuts his eyes and actually pushes his forehead against the head of Bokuto's dick slightly as if asking for more; he knows because he sees just how tense Akaashi gets all over and how he breathes like he's pushing through the last point of a three-set match; he knows because he spies Akaashi plucking a fresh pair of underwear from his drawer before heading to the bathroom with a look of extremely determined calm. So what he doesn't know is why, when Akaashi comes back in, face washed, minty from toothpaste and already hoisting his school bag again, he says, "Bokuto-san, please don't ejaculate onto my face next time, that was very impractical."

"All sex stuff is impractical," Bokuto points out.

"You're the one who always tells me to swallow. That feels the best, doesn't it? Let's stick to that."

As puzzling as this is, Bokuto was already satisfied the moment he heard next time. "Okay," he says, knowing the difficulty of winning arguments against Akaashi. He lets himself be led down the hallway, and waits for Akaashi to help him into his jacket the same as always.

It gets a lot easier for them to hang out once they're both university students. Bokuto's favourite thing is when Akaashi comes to watch him play, and his second favourite thing is when he can convince Akaashi to call him up and explain his textbooks to him. They don't actually see each other that much, but it's nice that they can if they want. They call each other a lot more and Akaashi keeps him properly updated on what's going on in his life, such as the university sports newspaper he's joined (maybe Bokuto is a little bit jealous Akaashi is paying attention to all those other athletes), the first time he gets a story published in a student magazine (Bokuto buys a copy and they go over it together on the phone), when he has his first kiss, or when he gets a boyfriend--at least something boyfriend-ish even if he never calls it that. The boyfriend-ish disappears after a couple of months. Sucker. Who'd pass up on dating Akaashi?

That's what's at the back of his mind, that night in his dorm room. Akaashi is staying over and they've turned the air con off to sleep, supposedly to sleep, but Akaashi supposedly isn't sleepy yet so Bokuto is laying there in the dark on Akaashi's borrowed futon and his head is drooling out of his ears from the combination of sweaty heat and icy-numb-pleasure as Akaashi is giving him yet another amazing blowjob. He's just saying whatever comes to mind, like that's good, super good, keep going, and before he knows it the next thing out of his mouth is, "I bet your boyfriend went crazy for this."

"Let's not talk about him," Akaashi says. Well, no, he can't say anything in his current situation and he just pats Bokuto's thigh, but Bokuto can tell that's what he means.

He backpedals. "I meant it in a good way though, like, I bet you knocked the socks off anyone you've slept with, right. I'm proud of you. Me, I haven't gotten that far with anyone yet, cause you know I can be too hot to handle sometimes--and anyway, in the end, I usually think, eh, I'll just wait to see Akaashi cause Akaashi can handle me re-e-eal good--"

Akaashi actually pulls off this time. "Bokuto-san, you can't just expect that I'll always be available. What if I get into a committed relationship?"

His argument is weakened by how fast he returns to Bokuto's dick. It's like a stick of candy to him. "Hmm," Bokuto says, "do you think you'd choose your boyfriend over me?" Akaashi can't reply: his mouth is full. Bokuto grabs his head, scritches at his scalp near the base of his skull, wanting to hear him moan with the pleasure of it like he sometimes does, but he can't coax a sound out this time.

It does sound like a tough choice. There has to be a way both him and Akaashi can get what they want. Then he figures it out and he's so pleased by the idea he can feel himself spasm excitedly against the roof of Akaashi's mouth.

"Akaashi," he whispers, "let's date! Then you don't have to choose between me and your boyfriend. I will be the boyfriend."

Even as the words leave his mouth he can tell he didn't quite say the right thing. Akaashi tries to pull off him again, but he pushes back down, thinking he can still re-do the whole thing and get it right somehow. He can't think fast enough--Akaashi grabs his wrists and wrenches them away, getting himself free and leaving Bokuto's dick cold and needy in the hot air. Bokuto is shocked by the strength of it. He's used to Akaashi being soft, easy to rearrange, like a kitten. He didn't realise that Akaashi was being soft for him on purpose.

"Listen, you cannot be asking me out while your cock is down my throat," Akaashi says to him not softly at all.

"But—I'm sorry, Akaashi, I just said it without thinking! But it makes sense, right? Wouldn't you like it if we date?"

"Yes, I would, now you mention it. Thanks for being so considerate," Akaashi says in a really scary cold voice.

Bokuto needs a light; he can't see Akaashi's face in the dark like this. He needs to see! He jumps to his feet and hits the light switch; Akaashi's whole face is scrunched up tight against the white LED bulb for a second before it smoothes out into calm as he gazes steadily up at Bokuto. Underneath the calm he looks upset, and scared too.

"Bokuto-san, let me give you some advice," he says in his usual gentle voice. "Just because I have feelings for you doesn't mean you should give me a chance. And just because I am conveniently at hand it doesn't make me a better option than the countless others you will meet in the future. When it comes to relationships—"

Bokuto crouches down, looking right into his eyes. This part is important, he has to say this part right. "Akaashi, you're missing the point," he says clearly. "It's not about—"

"Okay, stop talking—"

"—not about whether we're dating or not because—"

"Bokuto-san," Akaashi says in such a way that Bokuto has no choice but to stop and listen. "Your words can be very persuasive at times. Please don't say anything to me right now."

"But—" Bokuto claps his hands over his own mouth. For a second it feels like he will just explode with all the things he wants to say and feelings he wants to feel. Of course he never thought of asking Akaashi out because their friendship already makes him so happy! Because Akaashi is already perfect for him and loyal to him! The reason he's a convenient option is because convenient means easy, and being together is easy for them because they're good for each other! Why isn't he allowed to say that? Why won't Akaashi just listen to him for two seconds?

Then he realises. What is he doing? This isn't him. He doesn't force himself on others. His teachers always told him so, Koutarou-kun doesn't make his friends play if they don't want to. He doesn't force anyone and he doesn't want things he can't have. He's a very realistic guy. Everything that was boiling up inside him drains away and now he feels nothing but a slight self-disgust and a cold feeling in his bare fingers and toes.

That person in front of him is saying something but he doesn't hear. He climbs back on his bed and sits right in the corner where the two white walls join so no one is there with him. A face appears at the corner of his vision: looking at it hurts. He puts his hand at the side of his face to block it out.

He guesses Akaashi and him are having a fight right now. When Bokuto was in middle school, if he had a fight with one of his friends, then it was just over for them. Now, he sometimes has fights with Konoha, but they only last for a few days or weeks before Konoha texts him a meme and everything is okay again. But Akaashi never texts him memes. It's so over for them. Akaashi will leave him and go off and have a stupid boyfriend without him. And he'll be fine. But he doesn't want to be fine!!! He squeezes harder into the corner.

There is a jingle. Mysteriously his phone and keys appear beside his foot, followed by a pair of socks, underwear, shorts, and a t-shirt.

Go outside and stretch your legs, the wall tells him.

This is my room. You can't kick me out, he tells the wall.

Well, one of us needs to leave for a bit, and I suspect that if it's me you won't let me back inside. Then I'll have nowhere to go because the trains have all stopped running. That would be bad.

It's difficult to win arguments against this wall. He goes out and hunches on the front doorstep to the dorms, where at least it's slightly cooler than inside and not as lonely: the breeze carries scraps of laughter from a late-night gathering, low voices gossiping, a split-second of some clip on someone's phone before it gets turned down. He stares out at the few stars still visible in the greyish light pollution of the Greater Tokyo Something Area and wants badly to cry, or throw up, but nothing comes out of him. Maybe he'll just wait here for hours and hours until someone comes out and finds him. Maybe it'd be his nice neighbour Saya, and she'd come and ask him, what's the matter? And then he could say, you see Saya-chan, I got kicked out of my own room by this guy who won't even agree to date me and says I should meet more people, and Saya would be like, you poor thing, come to breakfast with me instead, and then... Who even cares what then? Bokuto tears at his floppy hair in frustration and takes off running in a random direction.

It was a smart idea to send him outside like this. Moving his body around helps to clear his head, and then he comes straight back once he realises that he's dying for a cold drink and has no money on him.

He puff his way back up the two flights of dorm stairs and finally makes it into his room. It looks weird in there. It's not dark and it's not bright. The only light is coming from his desk lamp, a golden yellow colour filling the room that he's never seen before because he's never switched on that lamp once. He forgot he had it. Akaashi is sitting at the desk doing nothing, just watching him come through the door, with the honey-coloured light catching on his cheekbone and the heavy curves of his eyelids. He doesn't look scared or upset anymore.

"Hello, Bokuto-san," he says. "I got you a drink from the vending machine."

Bokuto spies the bottle of Pocari by his feet, still cold and sweating more than he is, and drinks half of it before even taking off his shoes.

Akaashi takes a breath. "Um--"

"What do you want?" Bokuto says, peeling off his sweaty shorts and t-shirt and dumping them on the floor the moment he can. There's no second chair for him to sit in so he stands there feeling out of place and irritated. Akaashi stands up too, twisting his fingers together.

"I'm sorry I lost my temper and shouted at you," he says. "I failed to see things from your perspective. Can we just pretend that never happened?"

"I guess."

"You were right, it was a good idea. Of course we can go out if that's what you want."

"Nah, I'm good."

Akaashi steps closer. "Look, let's do it completely over again. I'll suck your cock, you can ask me out and this time I'll say yes. Please?"

"That's so dumb," Bokuto says in disbelief.

Then Akaashi kneels down, grabs his hand and places it on the top of his own messy head, and Bokuto's stupid dick stands to attention in his briefs, reminding him that he didn't get to finish earlier. Akaashi leans forward and just puts his face against it, pressing his cheek against the outline in the thin cotton fabric and breathing in deep. Bokuto feels the faint touch so clearly; he feels sensitive everywhere, from the prickle of the hairs above his dick to the back of his heavy unspent balls. Why was he gonna turn this down again?

"You know, I really enjoy doing this for you," Akaashi says as he carefully pulls Bokuto's underwear down. "I like the smell of your sweat. When we first started, it would always be after practice and you would be the sweatiest boy alive. It's sentimental for me." He traces with his nose and tongue all around Bokuto's ballsack and up its center line. "I like the flavour of your skin too, and I like how you make lots of precum for me to taste." He licks up the underside of Bokuto's dick and rubs circles with his tongue at the sensitive spot under the head until Bokuto moans. "I like how you always give clear feedback. The noises you make are very sexy. Sometimes I masturbate while remembering them."

Bokuto feels hot, melting-hot. He stares around the alien yellow version of his room with the long shadows thrown everywhere and feels like he's stumbled into one of his own wet dreams.

"I like the size and shape of your cock," Akaashi continues serenely. "If you'll excuse the cliche, it's so big." He sucks at the tip, almost a kiss, before pulling off with a flick of his head, letting it bounce and hit against his chin. "Both long and thick. It's very impressive. I like how difficult it is to fit you in my mouth, never mind take you all the way down my--"

Bokuto groans and pushes at the back of Akaashi's head, hard. He wants to feel that now. He slides in, deep in, and yes, it feels so good in there, just how he likes it. He's vaguely aware of the hands that come up to help support his weight as he rocks his hips back and forth, in and out, the way smoothed with spit and sweat. Slowly, he goes slowly. He can't be damaging the mouth that praises him so wonderfully. He just wants to feel it and have it all to himself. He thrusts again and again, greedy for pleasure, and he expects his orgasm to come and put an end to things at any moment but it doesn't, the good feelings just keep getting stronger and stronger, building up tight in his core.

He snaps out of it as Akaashi pulls back. His hands push back hard against Bokuto's hips, holding him away from his mouth just barely. The way he looks up at Bokuto makes his eyes huge and dark.

"Will you ask me again?" he says hoarsely. "Please."

What is it Bokuto is supposed to say? Some tiny little thing, that will make Akaashi feel all better. Who says he has to make Akaashi feel better? He has the choice to say it or not. He can do whatever he likes. Does he dare...

"No." He says it before he can think, and a sweet thrill of pleasure goes through him, better than anything else he's felt tonight. He's proud of himself now. He's huge and strong. He waits to see if there will be a reaction, but Akaashi doesn't complain; his eyes, still gazing upward, are filled with tiny golden sparks as he slowly loosens his grip to allow Bokuto into his mouth again.

This, Bokuto likes. He doesn't have to ask for anything, he just gets what he wants. And Akaashi always knows so well what he wants. Things should work like this.

He pulls free at the last second, squeezing himself tight, fizzing with pleasure. "Please," Akaashi says again, as fast as his raw lips will form the word.

"No!" Bokuto tells him again, smiling wide. "Shut your eyes."

He does, and Bokuto lets go, making sure to smear his cum on every part of Akaashi's face. It's kind of like decorating a cupcake.

Bokuto didn't mistake what he saw before. He can tell from Akaashi's face and his body language: he loves this way of finishing off. He looks blissful with it. Bokuto feels smug about that for just a second, before all the horny leaves his body and he feels exhausted and confused and kind of guilty. Just because Akaashi feels good now doesn't mean he won't be mad later.

He brings Akaashi a wad of tissues, for which he gets a thank you, then retreats to his own bed and watches as Akaashi cleans himself up and switches off the light. There's some sounds of a blanket and pillow being rearranged as he makes himself comfortable on the futon. Nothing else happens.

Finally he can't bear the silence any longer and has to ask. "Are you mad at me? Are you upset?"

"No, I'm not. We're fine." Akaashi's voice sounds normal in the darkness. He could mean anything.

"Well, I feel... not fine."

"Come here?"

He sits down on the futon and Akaashi gives him a hug. They lay down and Akaashi gives him an even better and tighter hug with all their skin pressing together. It feels so good on the inside of him that the sweatiness on the outside doesn't matter. Didn't Akaashi say he likes the smell of Bokuto's sweat anyway? Does Akaashi really like him that much? Will they be okay?

"Hey, Akaashi. Do you really--you know, jerk off while thinking about me?"

"Do you want me to show you?"

"Yes!"

Akaashi turns around so that Bokuto is pressed against his back. His arm starts to move. It's slow compared to how Bokuto would do it, like he's taking his time, enjoying himself at his own pace. Is he really thinking about Bokuto? It seems like it would take forever this way. Does he spend a lot of time doing this at home? Laid out with his dick in his hand, stroking slowly, daydreaming. Daydreaming about Bokuto. The image hits him in a red jolt.

He wants to see Akaashi's expression, but he also knows that Akaashi likes the darkness. It must be that he always does this while lying in the dark. He reaches up and skims his fingers over Akaashi's face, his scrunched-up eyebrows, squeezed-shut eyelashes, his lips that are slightly parted with the breath beginning to come in hungry gasps—when he traces the top lip Akaashi sucks his finger in. He adds a second finger, hooks them in securely and feels the mindless swirling of taste buds against the pads of his fingers. Drool leaks out onto his palm and a low satisfied noise comes from the back of Akaashi's throat. Yeah, he can believe it: he's got hold of Akaashi. He has Akaashi.

Things between them are really smooth after that. It's not like they never have conflicts, especially with the stupid text messages that are ten times more confusing than speaking face to face and a hundred times easier for a certain somebody to overthink, but it just feels inevitable that each one will be solved with enough time and effort.

A lot has changed over the last few years, but Bokuto's favourite thing is still when Akaashi comes to see him play. The crowd is always so nice to him! His fans are the best and loudest. When all their eyes are on him, he can feel the rockets firing in his legs, his eyes sharpening till they are faster than the VAR cameras, and the laser sensors in his arms measuring the distance to the ball down to the last millimeter... but there is a difference between that and knowing there is Akaashi. The way Akaashi watches him is different. Not only does he see and understand everything going on on the court with his big setter brain, but he understands what's going on inside Bokuto's mind too; and it's so easy talking to him, that sometimes afterwards it's just like linking up with the other half of himself, the one that has seen everything from a bird's eye view.

Then again, sometimes Akaashi will just say 'Yep, you played great,' with that smile of his, and then Bokuto will know that he's saving the rest of the praise for later and get so excited that for a moment he'll even forget that they were talking about volleyball.

Now is later. Bokuto has come all the way to Tokyo for this later. Okay, he came for the latest Fukurodani VBC old boys' night and that was great, really great, but as soon as they all split off outside the izakaya he started thinking, Now is later and he hasn't thought straight since then. The red light at the last zebra crossing feels too long and his hands feel too empty in the cold. He wants to reach out and grab Akaashi's gloved hand or touch his butt through his coat, but he knows exactly what Akaashi would say if he did: Bokuto-san, for your own sake, please exercise some self-restraint.

"But it's been a whole month," Bokuto grumbles.

"It's been three and a half weeks," Akaashi replies. "Sorry again about last time. According to the latest polls, twelve percent of our readership would thank you for your patience if they knew."

"I wasn't patient. I was very im-patient."

The light changes and they begin to separate out from the pack of zebra crossers, taking the familiar route back to the apartment.

"You know I won't be mad if you find someone in Osaka."

"Akaashi! Don't be crazy."

Akaashi gives him a look like, Go on, tell me how I, the most sensible person you know, am crazy.

"I already play volleyball and the rest of the time is for coming up to Tokyo to see my friends. How am I gonna fit a whole extra person in?"

"With sufficient motivation..."

"And how's this extra person gonna be as good as you? I would rather have no sex with you than sex with no you."

Never mind sex. Who else already has his hair products in the bathroom? Who else bought the same brand of mattress and pillow that he uses in the MSBY dorms so he can sleep over and not wake up with weird pains if he needs to go to practice the next day? Who else packs him bento boxes with all the macros, so he doesn't have to figure out what to eat on three days of the week and that word satiety from his old textbooks has become permanently linked with said person in his head?

"Well, if that's what you want, I will do my best to deliver," Akaashi says with a smile. It's a really nice smile, rosy-cheeked not just from the cold.

The elevator at Akaashi's place is the type you get in department stores that has big mirrors on three walls. "I'll tease you a bit to start with, so please be patient," Akaashi says when the doors have closed behind them, and Bokuto sees his own eyes bug out in the mirror. The floor number ticks up behind him.

He gets the first go in the shower. When he comes out all nice and warm and clean Akaashi has barely moved away from the door. He hasn't taken off his long smart coat, or his burgundy (so it said on the label) scarf, or even his gloves; he's just leaning back against the kitchen counter and staring into space. Blinking back to awareness, he gives Bokuto a long look up and down, making him preen and making his dick stand up and beg for some attention of its own; when he draws nearer, Akaashi starts feeling him up, tracing all over his muscles, appreciating them nicely.

Akaashi's gloves are made of thin leather, and they still carry a chill from the winter night outside. Akaashi's long fingers, wrapped in the cold thin leather, raise goosebumps wherever they touch. Bokuto feels very, very naked right now, very vulnerable, very good for looking at and touching. He presses up closer. The rough material of Akaashi's coat rubs all over his skin and scratches at his nipples; the double row of buttons running down the front are points of ice against his stomach; he shivers and rubs his face against the fluffy woolen scarf.

He feels Akaashi press a quick kiss to his cheek. Then a cool gloved hand closes around his cock, stroking him lightly--he gasps and Akaashi's other hand comes to the small of his back to steady him. The unfeeling leather slips strangely over his sensitive bits, slicking up with more of his juices on every stroke. If Akaashi were to squeeze harder, the glove with all its hard creases and seams would surely become painful, so Akaashi won't squeeze harder; but that's no good either, because right now it's too light to be satisfying at all. The glove is getting in the way, but it's also the thing that has him so turned on. It's confusing. Bokuto himself doesn't know what he wants in this moment. Only Akaashi knows. It's a nervous, inside-out, happy and relaxing feeling.

"Are you done with teasing now?" he suggests when Akaashi finally lets go.

"That's right."

Akaashi inspects the hand that he was using to jerk Bokuto off: the glove is wet and shiny in the dim hallway light. He sucks at just the tip of his middle finger, making a slight noise to communicate that he likes what he tastes. Then he takes the leather between his teeth and gives a short tug, stretching it taut over his knuckles so that the entire glove comes slightly loose, and after that he can pull it off with his other hand in a single motion.

"That's hot!" Bokuto decides as Akaashi repeats the action with the other glove and drops them both in the sink.

"I practiced in advance," Akaashi admits. His lips are small and pink and have a particular shape, with that curvy upper part—the cupid's bow—defined extra clearly; his white teeth peek out from the curves when he speaks. He's figured out how to transfer all the sexiness from the glove to his mouth. It's amazing the things that Akaashi has answers for. "Let's go to bed," he says, sexily.

Akaashi's flat is tiny but the view from the window is nice. Bokuto lazes and inspects his Godzilla-sized nude reflection overlaid on the skyline while Akaashi finally undresses. Actually, he takes off hardly anything: he comes over still wearing his trousers and that tight thermal layer of his which shows his collarbones. If he is Godzilla then is Akaashi Mothra or... Bokuto does not finish his thought as Akaashi settles down between his legs and gives his half-softened dick a kiss, like it's its own little person that needs to be said hello to.

"This might take a long time," he warns.

"But you said you were done." Bokuto is anxious suddenly. Three and a half weeks!

"This isn't teasing," Akaashi says. "You like this." Then he does this thing where he kind of cuddles Bokuto's dick with his entire face, hugging it close with one hand, nuzzling and rubbing his cheek on it, and pressing tender kisses up the length of it. It's so perverted, but he makes eye contact after every kiss, so that Bokuto feels all that affection not only in his dick but in his heart.

"Hnghh," he agrees.

The idea of time slips out of his head. He lets himself be held in soft hands, and kissed and licked and stroked, everywhere from his straining dick to his balls and the insides of his thighs, all the way down to his asshole and back again. There's no proper dick sucking or squeezing or rubbing; nothing that would provide actual satisfaction. Just gentle affection and validation of every last bit of him. It makes him feel very horny but also very floaty. Would you like to come yet? Akaashi asks at some point, and he finds that once again, he doesn't know what he wants: relief from this, or more of it forever. But Akaashi says he wants to see it, and starts to use his mouth differently--lewd sucking kisses right on the spots that feel best, totally different to his usual dry bird-kisses--and faster, more repetitively, making all these tiny emotional noises, and suddenly Bokuto is going to come, way faster than he expected, from this almost nothing feeling, the feeling of love being poured into him faster than he can handle it. In the middle of all his moaning and panting and shivering Akaashi says something nice to him, something like you're doing beautifully or just you're beautiful and it's all over for him after that.

Once he calms down he is pleased to see that quite a bit of his cum has made it onto Akaashi's face. It looks good, the erratic white mess contrasting against his smooth pleased expression and drawing out in sticky threads between his lips and the head of Bokuto's cock. It feels right. Actually, it feels like the best thank you present Bokuto could give him.

He begs Akaashi not to let him fall asleep before they can get to a proper round two, so Akaashi pulls up a replay of Orzeł Warszawa's latest match on his phone for them to watch together, skipping precisely past every video challenge, timeout, and break between sets where he might be tempted to shut his eyes and drift off. It's an away game for them, and seeing Ushiwaka getting booed by the hardcore Plusliga crowd always sends chills down his spine. He's very happy to stay home in the V.League.

The crowds are the biggest reason, but not the only reason he is happy to stay home. There are many reasons. He leans his head against Akaashi's shoulder. After a while, trying to still feel as sleepy as possible so he doesn't think about what he's doing, he says, hey, should we be official or what.

Akaashi pauses the video. Then he says, "Bokuto-san, do you remember in university when you turned me down three times in a row?"

"Akaashi... When you put it like that I sound like a total idiot."

Akaashi twists to look at him and touches his arm in a reassuring way as if he's not a total idiot. "I'm glad you did. It helped me understand myself better."

"Like how?"

"Like I don't need approval for everything I do."

"Oh," says Bokuto, who needs one billion approvals for everything he does.

"Until that point, I think I was always waiting for some clear signal from the world--not from you, although that's certainly what I thought I was waiting for. For some confirmation that it would be worthwhile, or safe, or rational to feel for you as much as I did. Like a little boy waiting for permission. Afterwards, I realised that there was no need to wait. I like making you feel good and seeing you happy; I find it infinitely worthwhile... It's just been fortunate for me that you let me do it in quite so many ways."

Hmm... Fortunate? Lucky?

"So, um... thank you for accepting my feelings all this time. But yes, it would be lovely to offically be in a relationship with you."

They stare at each other in a weird silence for a moment. Then Akaashi gives him a peck on the lips, and he smiles back. He smiles so much he can feel his nose scrunch up.

He doesn't think it is just lucky that he likes Akaashi back. He thinks Akaashi probably made him this way. Sure, from when he first got to know Akaashi there was already something kinda perfect about him, but also... Akaashi makes everything go right for him, has done for years, ever since they were just little teenagers playing volleyball together. He doesn't ever need to change himself when they're together, not really, only let himself be changed; and that's so comfortable. No wonder he can't imagine being with anyone else.

Akaashi probably doesn't know that, though. Akaashi's blind spot is always himself. Maybe it's better if he doesn't know.

The next day is an off day, but they have a press thing at eleven so Bokuto has to catch the train soon. Akaashi's alarm hasn't gone off yet. Already dressed and about to leave, he sneaks back into the bedroom to watch Akaashi sleep for just a little bit.

The morning light glowing around the edges of the curtains touches Akaashi gently. Well, it better. He needs his rest. Hard to believe this guy who's so sincere, and gentle-hearted, and still needs to be given snacks and layed on top of when he's freaking out, is the same one who quietly and thoughtlessly got himself so deep into Bokuto's life, that it's impossible to imagine getting him back out. And all because he just wanted to. It's one thing to be praised and pleased; but to be caught, and kept—now isn't that something special?

Sometimes Akaashi's face is enough to get him hard. He doesn't even know when he stuck his hand down his pants. He works his waistband down, freeing his dick for a proper stroking; what he really wants is one more round of sex and then lots of hugs and kisses goodbye, but they are cool working adults and this will have to do.

He realises midway that he didn't get a tissue or something to catch his cum at the end. Where did they leave the tissues? Somehow his eyes fall back on Akaashi's face. Wouldn't that be a nice landing spot? Better than a tissue. Wait, has he contracted a kink for facials from Akaashi? Are kinks contagious? His mind starts flicking back through a photo album of all the many many times he's done it before, by accident or on purpose or because Akaashi guided him into it or just begged for it. It's so hot. He's one hundred percent sure that Akaashi would be okay with Bokuto coming all over his face in his sleep just like this, too.

He speeds up and a drop of precum flies out and lands on Akaashi's chin, a salty raindrop. Akaashi doesn't stir. If he doesn't get woken up and can get his full night's sleep with Bokuto's cum sitting on his face, all peaceful and satisfied, that'll be just perfect. He hisses through his teeth at the mental image—his hand gets slow and lazy as the satisfaction rushes through him and he watches a tiny shower of white splurt onto Akaashi's unresponsive face and neck.

Kinks are probably not contagious, he reflects. This is probably that thing again. What was it? Pavlovian conditioning. Well, Akaashi can Pavlov him anytime.

 +1.

"...but anyway! I came up with a new trick, a sexy trick. Wanna see me try it?"

The view of Bokuto's face, staring straight up from his pillow, sways gently inside its border on Akaashi's screen. He has his phone clipped into his beloved bendy thing (flexible mobile phone holder) and it tends to sway.

"As long as you won't strain anything," Akaashi says with his usual twinge of anxiety. Bokuto has a notion that the more difficult the pose he manages to hold on camera, the sexier it is. It's better to be watching, and ready to call emergency services, than to leave him to experiment on his own. And sometimes the poses are really worth seeing.

"Nah, it's an easy one. See, they had cupcakes for dessert at the cafeteria today, and it got me thinking..." Bokuto fusses with the camera angle so his whole body is on display. He's been naked for their entire call, apparently. And that gorgeous thing--and the little wet spot it's left shining on his stomach--it's entirely possible that he's had an erection for their entire call. Akaashi's hands, resting one on either side of his laptop to prevent him from distracting himself, flex against the table.

"It got you thinking," he prompts.

"Right! I know why I like coming on your face, because you like it so much. But I don't know why you like it. I mean, what's so fun about getting your face all messy and then having to wash it right after? And then I realised I can just try it."

"Okay," Akaashi says, making a mental note for next time they see each other. Then Bokuto pulls the pillow out from under his head and shoves it under his hips and that's when Akaashi connects the dots. What Bokuto is planning to experience for himself is literally the same thing as Akaashi, i.e. to have Bokuto Koutarou ejaculating onto his face. His own face. His own... ejaculate.

"Bokuto-san, do you know where the box of tissues is with your eyes shut?" he asks, struck by a new anxiety about pinkeye.

"Yup. Hey, Akaashi, stop thinking," Bokuto says, soothing, the low frequencies of his voice somehow transmitting through the tiny phone mic and out of Akaashi's earbuds to scritch at the base of his skull. "Just watch me."

Akaashi takes a deep breath. "Okay, I'm watching."

He has long suspected that, purely in terms of sexual pleasure, this is actually Bokuto's favourite thing to do, more so than any form of sex or physical stimulation that another person could provide for him. He gets complete gratification for himself and complete focus from his partner. Over long distances, focus is one of the few things Akaashi has to give; he finds it gratifying that Bokuto appreciates it quite so much.

"I can see you touching yourself," he narrates, since Bokuto is surely only looking at his own video right now, if he's looking at all. "I can see how much you're enjoying it already. You're so expressive."

"'S look good?" Bokuto asks breathily.

"It does. Pleasure suits you. You look delectable." His commentary becomes more obscene after this point.

Eventually, he gets concerned that Bokuto may have forgotten his original goal, and requests to see the new trick. Eager to please, Bokuto throws his legs up till his knees are against his shoulders, hips up in the air, and he has to reach around his own thigh to keep jerking off. "Oh, now I can see everything." Bokuto moans and spreads his legs even wider to fully expose his... everything. The tendons at the junctures of his thighs stand out like arrows, pointing inwards for emphasis, and his limbs tremble with the effort of keeping himself folded in half. Akaashi's mouth floods with saliva, and he finds he has to swallow twice before he can speak again. "It's a very impressive pose, and you're doing so good," he encourages.

"I'm gonna do it!" Bokuto says, strained, hand flying on his cock, then twitches, gasps and the opening salvo of his orgasm hits him square on the chin. He aims better for the rest, maybe too well: some of it goes up his nose, making him snort and groan in disgust. "Akaashi," he whines, eyes squeezed tight shut. His legs flop back down to the bed. "Akaashi, when do the good feelings start?"

"Can you aim the camera closer to your face again?"

Bokuto obediently brings it back to its previous angle. He looks so very pink and distressed and disheveled, splattered with his own enthusiasm. What a shame that Akaashi is not there to help him out in one way or another.

Akaashi sighs. "I'm sorry it doesn't feel good for you, Bokuto-san, but you do look amazing."

"I do!?" Bokuto at least perks up at that.

This was always going to be the end result of the experiment, but going through with it was much more efficient than dissuading him from trying. Sometimes Akaashi worries that he should be more responsible with the level of trust that Bokuto has in him, but this is not one of those times; it's just so aesthetically pleasing.

"Now I know even less what you like about it," Bokuto complains as he mops at his face. Thankfully, he has both tissues and wet wipes.

Bokuto wants to know, but Akaashi doesn't quite want to explain; it's a private experience of his. To put it into words would be reductive, but he can't help flicking through his mental dictionary for a few options. When Bokuto comes onto his face, the act feels... playful. Affectionate, generous, uninhibited. Crude, possessive, selfish and belittling. Baptismal. To be honest, due to the similarity in temperature between semen and skin, it feels like almost nothing. It feels like the last of his boundaries being run right over. Like giving up the last part of himself.

He shivers and leans his fingertips harder into the table. "Don't worry about it," he says. "Just stick to my face from now on."

"Oh, fine," Bokuto says, "I'll give you a really good one next time," and Akaashi holds that thought tight for after they hang up.