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Shinsuke didn’t usually let it get this bad, but there had been some extenuating circumstances.
Extenuating circumstances that looked like a tall, blond professional volleyball player with a blinding smile and an even more blinding ability to prevent Shinsuke from doing his chores. The problem was that they saw each other so little, so every moment they were together in Shinsuke’s little house in the country was precious. So precious that spending time with Atsumu had historically stopped Shinsuke from washing dishes, dusting, cooking dinner, and now, notably, doing laundry.
He’d meant to do it yesterday, but his extenuating circumstance had kept him in bed for most of the parts of the day that he wasn’t out working or showering afterward. He wasn’t complaining—Atsumu had gotten in late the night before and he’d seen Atsumu’s face for the first time in weeks while waking up next to him. It was a feeling that brightened his eyes and warmed him all the way down to his toes.
It was also, as many good things were, inconvenient.
So he hadn’t done laundry. It wouldn’t be a problem, if he didn’t run himself on such tight margins. He hadn’t meant to, but despite the usual death grip he had on his daily affairs some things did slip through the cracks. In this case, it had been his clean shirts.
Atsumu was out for a run and Shinsuke had finished the majority of his work for the day, so he decided to take a quick shower, half to wash away the sweat he’d accumulated and half to cool himself down. The cool water was refreshing and it didn’t fog up the bathroom the way a hot shower did.
When Shinsuke got out of the shower and went to his room, however, he discovered the problem. He opened his dresser drawer, expecting to see at least one shirt he’d be able to pull on, but the drawer was entirely empty. He glanced over to his laundry hamper, which was nearly full. Then he let out a long breath.
He couldn’t change back into his sweat-soaked clothes from earlier and he didn’t want to wear something that had been sitting with the dirty laundry for at least a full day. Shinsuke bit his lip and looked around the room. He knew for a fact that none of the button-downs in his closet were clean, and it was too hot for one of those anyway. Had he really just run out of shirts entirely? Had Atsumu been so successful in distracting him that he hadn’t noticed grabbing the last one?
Atsumu. There was a solution. He’d have to apologize (not that he thought Atsumu would mind, but it was the principle of the thing) for this, but he needed to have something on his body.
I wouldn’t mind ya without, either, the little Atsumu in his head said, syrupy sweet.
Shinsuke opened his underwear drawer and found, to his relief, a clean pair of boxer briefs, black. He slipped them on and hung his towel to dry, and then he padded over to Atsumu’s duffle bag.
He was only staying for a few days, so he’d packed fairly light. Shinsuke knelt by the bag and carefully unzipped it. It was perfectly fine to steal his boyfriend’s clothes every once in a while. It was what people in relationships did, right?
There were a few t-shirts, a pair of sweatpants, some shorts, and a few pairs of socks. Shinsuke considered one of the shirts, extracting it from the surprisingly well-organized bag and getting ready to unroll it.
Then he paused.
Underneath all of the other clothing, the number 13 stared up at him. Shinsuke stared back at it for a moment and then looked back to the shirt he was holding. He felt suddenly drawn away from it, toward the black fabric he saw, a few jagged stripes of yellow cutting through what little of the jersey he could see.
Why would Atsumu have packed this? Maybe he’d been in a hurry, or maybe he’d need it right after he got back and he wouldn’t have time to go home. Whatever the reason, he wasn’t going to need it during the next few days, right? It made sense, if Shinsuke was just going to be around the house, not to dirty up one of the shirts that Atsumu was actually planning to wear while he was here. Right?
Shinsuke knew a losing battle when he saw one. He was very, very good at controlling himself, at tempering his reactions, at keeping himself in line. He was also, fundamentally, just a man. A man who wanted to try on his boyfriend’s volleyball jersey. There was no harm in it. If Atsumu didn’t want him to wear it, he could put it back. He’d start the laundry the moment he was clothed, anyway, so it wouldn’t be long.
He pulled it out from under the other clothes, ignoring the shorts under it and then replacing the t-shirt he’d removed. He sat back on his heels as he unfolded the jersey and held it up. It was longer and wider than he’d expected. Atsumu had always been larger than him, but that difference had grown a bit in recent years.
Shinsuke did hard work, but he didn’t work out in a weight room three days a week and he didn’t spend most of his time jumping, or with his arms over his head. He had muscle, but he put it on differently from Atsumu. He ate well, but he wasn’t on a strict meal plan designed to keep him in peak physical condition. Their circumstances were simply different. Anyway, Shinsuke had always been smaller, just in terms of his height and bone structure.
What it all meant, though, was that Atsumu’s jersey was definitely too big for him. He brought it back down and smelled it, ostensibly to see if it was clean. It smelled like the detergent Atsumu used, which was comforting both in its reassurance that the shirt was clean and in the scent itself. It was a smell Shinsuke had come to associate with good things, though it felt a little hollow without the accompanying scent of Atsumu’s body.
Well, if Atsumu didn’t turn him into something else. He laughed a little to himself and slipped the jersey on. The fabric was softer and drapier than he’d expected, and it was very comfortable. The seams were off of his shoulders and the hem sat low on his hips, but it was serviceable. He just needed to have something on in case a neighbor came knocking.
Shinsuke went about gathering up his laundry and getting to work on it. For a while he’d had the idea in his head to wash all of his clothes by hand, but the realization soon came that he just didn’t have the time. Having a washing machine was a necessity, not a luxury.
Soon the first load of laundry was churning away. Atsumu wasn’t back yet, but he would be very soon. Shinsuke decided, because he knew Atsumu and what his one-track mind desired, that he should take a small nap to keep up his energy. It wasn’t as though he disagreed with the direction Atsumu tended to take their gentle touches and quiet words, so he didn’t have room to complain. He was in control most of the time, but, once again, he was just a man.
He went to his futon and laid down. It was warm, but as it started to verge on evening the air was going to cool. He didn’t bother with his blanket, lying on his stomach and pillowing his head on his arms. He closed his eyes and, though he probably wouldn’t fall asleep, waited.
It was only a few minutes before he heard the door and Atsumu’s light, “I’m back!” Shinsuke smiled to himself, unable to stop it as it came. He heard Atsumu slipping off his shoes, walking down the hall, and stopping by the bathroom. Then he heard the shower start up.
The hiss of the water, muffled through the wall, was comforting. Even more comforting was the quiet humming he could hear from inside. It always seemed like everything brightened when Atsumu was around, like the saturation of colors and the volume of sounds increased when he was with Shinsuke. Shinsuke’s life was comfortable and solid. He didn’t live beyond his means, and his desires were within his ability to obtain. He had a job he liked and he lived in a place he liked. Everything was good.
And then Atsumu would come around, and good suddenly became great, and Shinsuke was left breathless at his leaving, the warmth of normal feeling cold with the passing heat of Atsumu’s presence.
The shower shut off and Shinsuke listened carefully to the sound of Atsumu toweling himself off. Shinsuke wasn’t asleep, but he was drifting a little, wrapping himself in the sounds and the feeling of the fabric of Atsumu’s jersey on his skin.
His bedroom door slid open and he got ready to lift his head and greet Atsumu, but there were no footsteps into the room. There was an uncomfortably long pause, and Shinsuke finally looked up.
“Welcome home,” he said, the words trailing off as he met Atsumu’s gaze.
Atsumu was staring at him, slightly open-mouthed, eyes wide. He had a towel around his waist and his hair was wet, and he was standing in the doorway watching Shinsuke a little blankly.
“Atsumu?” Shinsuke asked.
“Hey,” Atsumu said slowly. “Um. That’s.”
“Hm?”
“You’re…um. That’s my…”
Shinsuke blinked, and then he understood. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I forgot to do laundry and ran out of my own shirts. I can take it off if ya want.”
“No,” Atsumu said immediately.
He finally stepped into the room, but he didn’t go over to his bag. Instead he crossed to Shinsuke, eyes trained on him the entire time.
“It’s a little big,” he said, voice low.
“Yer a little bigger than I am,” Shinsuke said, unable to maintain eye contact in this position.
“It looks good,” Atsumu said. “On you.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
“Really good,” Atsumu continued. He went around behind Shinsuke and then, unceremoniously, sat himself down just below Shinsuke’s ass.
Shinsuke laughed a little and turned to look at him. “What are ya doin’?”
“This is really hot,” Atsumu admitted. “You in this. Shit.”
“Really?” Shinsuke asked. “How’s that?”
“I don’t know,” Atsumu said. His hands found Shinsuke’s back, running lightly down from his shoulder blades. “Jesus, I’m way more into this than I thought I’d be.”
“Ya thought about it?” Shinsuke asked, closing his eyes as Atsumu’s hands reached the small of his back and then started to slide back up. He felt one of them do a bit of a strange motion, and he realized that Atsumu was lightly tracing his own number.
“It’s gonna sound so self-centered,” Atsumu said.
“That’s never stopped ya before,” Shinsuke said, the smile evident in his voice.
“Shin,” Atsumu complained. “Whatever. Anyway, I really, um. I really like seein’ ya with my name on ya.”
Ah. There was a giant MIYA on the back of the jersey, wasn’t there? Atsumu’s hands traveled all the way up to the base of Shinsuke’s neck, sending a light shiver down his body. Then Atsumu let one hand glide slowly down Shinsuke’s spine, following the path of the shiver and generating a new one in its place. Shinsuke sucked in a breath as Atsumu’s hand reached the top of his underwear and stopped.
Then, carefully, he felt the hem of the jersey lift and the paradoxical warmth and coolness of Atsumu’s hand on his back.
“Hard day?” Atsumu asked quietly.
“Normal day,” Shinsuke hummed.
“That means it was a pretty hard day,” Atsumu translated.
“Hard work is good,” Shinsuke said. “It makes ya feel like you accomplished somethin’.”
Atsumu’s hands slid up Shinsuke’s back again, this time pulling the jersey with them, and Shinsuke felt the tug under him as it moved. Then, very lightly, Atsumu dragged the tips of his nails down to the small of Shinsuke’s back.
Shinsuke sucked in a breath and the air changed around them. Atsumu’s hands went around briefly to his sides, bracketing his waist, and then he drew a line with a single finger up the length of Shinsuke’s spine. The breath Shinsuke let out was starting to get a little shaky. With the weight of Atsumu on him and the increasingly sensitive touches, he could feel his body waking up.
“Get up a little,” he said. Atsumu obliged, getting off of Shinsuke’s legs and giving him the opportunity to roll over. The jersey rode up a little on his stomach and Atsumu’s eyes were glued to the sliver of skin it exposed.
Shinsuke looked up at him, analyzing his face. Atsumu was watching him with a characteristic intensity, one Shinsuke had seen many times. It was bright and piercing, and it felt like it shot right through you. Shinsuke loved it.
He smiled a little. “Y’know, I figured, if anything, you’d wanna get this off me instead.”
“Normally,” Atsumu said, and Shinsuke chuckled. “You look so good, Shin. Not just the jersey, I mean.”
Shinsuke never quite knew what to do under Atsumu’s effusive praise. He knew that Atsumu meant it, because he seldom stoppered his opinions, good or bad. It was just hard to know what to say in return.
“You always look good,” he elected to say. Atsumu snorted.
“I wasn’t fishin’ for compliments.”
“I like givin’ ‘em anyway,” Shinsuke said.
He let his eyes run down Atsumu’s nearly-naked form, only cut by the towel that was now straining across his hips as he sat on top of Shinsuke. There were two ways this interaction could go, and Shinsuke considered them both carefully. It seemed pretty obvious which one Atsumu was gunning for. Shinsuke had dinner to make.
But look, he had a beautiful, nearly-naked man on his lap.
His hands decided for him, rising to Atsumu’s chest as far as he could reach and then running down Atsumu’s body. It still amazed Shinsuke sometimes, the fact that he was allowed to touch. The fact that Atsumu wanted him to touch, more than it seemed he wanted a lot of other things. Shinsuke smiled a little as he watched his own hands slide down to the edge of the towel.
He could feel the tight breath that Atsumu took.
“Ya seem pretty dry to me,” he murmured. Atsumu huffed out a little laugh.
“Yeah?” he asked.
“I don’t know if ya need this anymore,” Shinsuke continued, tucking his fingers into the top of the towel and carefully loosening it. Atsumu didn’t move as he opened the front of the towel and pulled it away, leaving Atsumu naked, his newly exposed cock showing the first flickers of interest.
“Y’know, I think yer right,” Atsumu said. Shinsuke ran his hands down the sides of Atsumu’s hips and continued along the tops of his thighs. Atsumu finally leaned down, placing an elbow on the futon right by Shinsuke’s head, and kissed him. His other hand crept up the jersey again, rucking it up to Shinsuke’s chest.
Shinsuke let Atsumu open the kiss, reveling in it for a moment, the familiar but always fascinating slide of their lips together. He kissed Atsumu’s upper lip and then dropped to his lower, sucking on it lightly, and Atsumu groaned. The jersey was all the way up one side of Shinsuke’s body, now, and Atsumu’s thumb found Shinsuke’s nipple, staying there for a moment as the pad teased it gently. Shinsuke sucked in a breath and his own hands wandered Atsumu’s body.
He could tell already that this was going to be a slow one, a moment where they just touched and moved together, no rush to get off or rough hands and rougher words. Shinsuke loved watching Atsumu come apart under him, but he loved this just as much.
His hands came up to Atsumu’s jaw and then up into his hair, and he felt for the first time the hard line of Atsumu’s cock against the inside of his hip. Atsumu rolled his hips slowly, leisurely, just a little. They remained connected at the mouth as Atsumu left the disturbed jersey where it was and his free hand drifted down to the waistband of Shinsuke’s underwear.
“Hm?” he asked, barely breaking the kiss. Shinsuke nodded a little.
Atsumu pulled back and got off of Shinsuke’s legs so he could hook his fingers into the top of Shinsuke’s boxer briefs and pull them down. Shinsuke lifted his hips and Atsumu did the rest of the work. Shinsuke went to take off the jersey but Atsumu stopped his hands.
Shinsuke stared up at him and then raised a careful eyebrow. Atsumu had the decency to look embarrassed.
“It might get dirty,” Shinsuke said, just a reminder, not a rebuke.
“Lucky I know how to wash it, then,” Atsumu said. Shinsuke hummed in acknowledgment.
“Laundry’s in right now,” he said. “Might not be enough water since we both took showers.”
“Then I’ll wash it at my place,” Atsumu said. When he was here, he never called his apartment in Osaka “home.” “Or tomorrow. Or I won’t and I’ll play in it dirty.”
Shinsuke watched Atsumu impassively. Atsumu watched him back, and after a long moment he broke. He huffed a little under his breath.
“Would it kill ya to laugh?”
“If you play a game in this without washing it after we have sex, you’re never allowed to bring it back here again,” Shinsuke said.
“Grumpy,” Atsumu complained. “I won’t, I promise. Cross my heart.”
“Okay then,” Shinsuke said. He beckoned Atsumu back.
Atsumu returned to his place astride Shinsuke’s legs and leaned down for another kiss, which Shinsuke accepted readily. The kiss drifted away, down to the side of Shinsuke’s neck, and he tilted his head to the side to provide better access. Atsumu knew exactly where to go to get Shinsuke to gasp, and he wasted no time.
“Can I leave a mark?” Atsumu murmured. There were already a couple of hickeys on the inside of Shinsuke’s thighs and his collarbone from their previous activities, but Atsumu was still considerate enough to ask. Shinsuke was a bit distracted by the feeling of Atsumu’s lips in the hollow just below his ear, but he nodded.
Atsumu went down to the juncture between Shinsuke’s neck and shoulder and started sucking and nipping at the skin. Shinsuke’s hand tightened in his hair. He could feel his own cock hot against his lower stomach, waiting.
Atsumu’s lips continued down, over the bunched-up material of the jersey, to Shinsuke’s chest. He went straight to Shinsuke’s nipple again, laving his tongue over it and drawing a tight breath out of Shinsuke. He scooched down Shinsuke’s legs as he kissed downward, pausing to dip his tongue into Shinsuke’s belly button. Shinsuke coughed out a laugh at the sudden tickle, an odd sensation that went very quickly from ticklish to something else, something good. Atsumu’s hands trailed down after him.
Shinsuke looked down, and as he did he met Atsumu’s eyes. Atsumu’s gaze was locked on him as his lips moved to the inside of Shinsuke’s hip, just skirting around Shinsuke’s cock. It was intense, the way Atsumu’s eyes often were, focused and clear. Not at all like when he was in Shinsuke’s position, when his eyes glazed over and he tipped his head back and made the most beautiful noises. It was one of Shinsuke’s favorite looks on him. Oh well, all in time. They had a few days yet, and Shinsuke intended to use them.
Atsumu’s hands carefully came to the insides of Shinsuke’s thighs and parted them. Shinsuke let himself be moved. Atsumu then guided one of Shinsuke’s legs up over his shoulder. Shinsuke never really felt unduly exposed around Atsumu, but his leg up and Atsumu between his thighs gave him a little thrill. Atsumu kissed a line between the marks he’d already left there, drifting inward with every touch of his tongue and brush of his lips.
Shinsuke watched him intently, unable to look away. Finally, as Atsumu approached the juncture between Shinsuke’s legs, he pulled away, replacing his mouth with his hand. It slid up to Shinsuke’s lower stomach, following the little trail of hair there down. Shinsuke let out a sigh and tilted his head back as Atsumu’s hand finally found his cock.
A few cursory pumps, and then Shinsuke looked down just in time to see Atsumu’s mouth closing around the head. He watched, rapt, as Atsumu slowly slid down, the wet heat of his mouth enveloping Shinsuke. His hand immediately found Atsumu’s hair, sliding through his damp locks, and he propped himself up on one elbow.
Atsumu took a second to adjust and then started a slow rhythm, Shinsuke’s hand on his head an encouragement but not yet guiding him.
“You feel so good,” Shinsuke murmured. Atsumu hummed in response. Depending on the situation Atsumu responded well to either praise or taunts, and Shinsuke knew this was a situation only meant for the former.
Shinsuke always did his best to keep himself under control, even during sex. He knew that Atsumu liked it when he let go, but habits were hard to break and Shinsuke only found himself giving up control in very specific situations. He remembered it well, the catharsis of allowing himself to relax, to be loud, to cling to Atsumu with tears in his eyes as Atsumu held him down and pounded into him. It was rare, but it happened. It probably wouldn’t happen now, but that was okay. Shinsuke was comfortable in control—of himself, of others, of situations, of duties.
That didn’t mean that it didn’t feel good as Atsumu’s tongue slid over him, as he hit the back of Atsumu’s throat and Atsumu made a tiny, choked-off noise, as Atsumu’s hand covered the parts of his cock his mouth couldn’t reach. Shinsuke allowed himself to close his eyes briefly, to just feel for a moment.
Atsumu made a little sound and Shinsuke’s eyes opened again, finding Atsumu staring up at him as he bobbed up and down. His eyes were glassy with gathering tears from Shinsuke’s cock nudging his throat. Ah. Atsumu loved eye contact, and Shinsuke was always able to provide. Atsumu’s head leaned into the hand that Shinsuke had there, and Shinsuke’s grip on his hair tightened in response.
“Want me to help ya out?” Shinsuke asked quietly. Atsumu nodded as well as he could. “You’ve done such a good job. Maybe I should take over for a little bit, give you a break.”
He started carefully directing Atsumu’s head up and down. Atsumu didn’t have a strong gag reflex but he still couldn’t do anything crazy, so he kept his hand there as a buffer for how deep Shinsuke could go. It was somewhat of a comfort, to see Atsumu acknowledging his limits and adjusting accordingly. It meant that Shinsuke could take control, moving Atsumu’s head. He couldn’t move his own hips much, not with his leg still up over Atsumu’s shoulder.
The hand that wasn’t on Shinsuke’s cock came down to play lightly with Shinsuke’s balls, then drifting lower, pressing into the skin there, and then falling even lower. Shinsuke sucked in a breath as Atsumu’s hand kneaded one cheek, dipping dangerously inward. Shinsuke wasn’t particularly in the mood to bottom right now, but he knew that this wasn’t necessarily a lead-up to that. It was just touch, a symbol of Atsumu taking advantage of the fact that Shinsuke’s body was his to have, to touch, and that included every part of him.
Shinsuke directed Atsumu to go a little faster, murmuring soft praises as he did. “I love that you love this,” he said. “That ya want me so badly. Don’t you?”
Atsumu groaned and nodded just a little.
“Ya make me feel so good,” Shinsuke continued. Atsumu liked it when he talked. “And you like that yer the only one, don’t you? Yer the only one who gets to do this.”
Atsumu let out another low sound and let himself be moved by Shinsuke’s hand. His other hand drifted down to his own cock, and Shinsuke shook his head.
“Don’t do my job for me,” he said.
Atsumu’s eyes squeezed shut and his hand came back up obediently. He probably knew that Shinsuke was going to stop him before he even tried. Shinsuke smiled a little, tempered by the way heat was starting to pool between his legs.
“Yer the only one who gets to see me like this,” he murmured, voice becoming increasingly strained. “And yer so good at it.” He let out a sharp breath as Atsumu’s tongue moved across the head of his cock. “Look at you. Hard and nobody’s even touched ya yet.”
Atsumu let out a quiet whine. Shinsuke’s hand in his hair relaxed. “Why doncha make me come, ‘Tsumu?” Shinsuke said.
Atsumu took over again with great enthusiasm and Shinsuke watched him as his lower stomach tightened. Atsumu met his eyes and Shinsuke felt not for the first time blown away by the desire in them, the intensity of emotion, all directed at him. For all that Shinsuke talked a big game during sex, he knew he didn’t deserve the power. He didn’t deserve Atsumu, not like this. And yet, somehow, he’d gotten him.
He’d never voiced it to Atsumu, and he probably never would. He didn’t want whatever response Atsumu would give. It would be a positive one, a placating one, a reassuring one, and Shinsuke would believe him with almost all of himself. Almost.
Now was not the time to be thinking about this. It wasn’t the time to be thinking about anything except Atsumu’s impossibly warm mouth and hands and piercing eyes. Shinsuke could feel his orgasm approaching and his breaths sped up. Atsumu could tell too, and he redoubled his efforts. The feeling grew and grew and intensified in an instant, and Shinsuke pulled on Atsumu’s hair.
“I’m gonna come,” he warned, but Atsumu didn’t pull off. Of course he didn’t. Shinsuke didn’t have the presence of mind available to warn him again. He bit his lip as he tipped over the edge, his stomach flexing and a small ah escaping his lips as he came into Atsumu’s mouth.
Atsumu worked him through his orgasm and then pulled off of Shinsuke’s cock, swallowing. That was something Shinsuke never elected to do, even if he found it hot. Shinsuke breathed for a moment and then pulled Atsumu toward him.
Atsumu went easily and Shinsuke brought their mouths together again. The first time Atsumu had given him a blowjob, he’d been so self-conscious about his mouth afterward, and it had taken a good bit of convincing on Shinsuke’s part to get him to believe that he didn’t care. Atsumu crawled back up Shinsuke’s body and Shinsuke laid back down. Atsumu hovered over him, boxing him in in a way Shinsuke had never known he’d like.
His hands slid down Atsumu’s body to where his cock hung hard between his legs. Shinsuke wasted no time taking him in hand and starting to pump slowly. Atsumu moaned and ducked his head into the crook of Shinsuke’s neck.
“After dinner,” Shinsuke murmured, right by Atsumu’s ear, “I’m going to do this right. I’m gonna lay ya down here and open you up so slow yer cryin’ by the end, and then I’m gonna fuck you until we’re too tired to keep goin’.”
Atsumu made a high noise as Shinsuke’s hand sped up, twisting a little. Shinsuke put his hand back in Atsumu’s hair, combing through it as he spoke. He nudged his lips into the shell of Atsumu’s ear and nipped at it, and Atsumu whined.
“Fuck,” he breathed. “Ah. Shin. A little faster.”
“I’ll give ya what you need,” Shinsuke said. “Don’t want it to be over too soon.”
Atsumu kissed Shinsuke’s neck and breathed hard against it, and Shinsuke did, in fact, speed up his movements, adjusting his grip a little tighter and whispering into Atsumu’s ear. Atsumu was much more expressive than Shinsuke, sounds falling easily from his lips and body moving in time with the pumps of Shinsuke’s hand. His breaths were shaky.
“I love you,” he murmured, and Shinsuke swallowed thickly. He hummed in response. Atsumu followed it up with a much less romantic, “Shit.”
“I love you too,” Shinsuke replied after a moment. Atsumu shivered. “Are you close?”
Atsumu nodded into Shinsuke’s shoulder.
“Want me to talk?”
Another nod, a little quicker this time.
“Mean,” he managed.
Shinsuke smiled. “I’m not even fucking you and yer like this,” he said. “One hand is all ya need, isn’t it? Why should I give you my cock when I can make ya do whatever I want with one hand? And yer crazy for it.”
Atsumu groaned. “What do you think?” Shinsuke continued. “Should I let ya come? Maybe I should get ya right to the edge and make ya wait. Put ya to work with dinner, and you’ll be squirmin’ in yer seat the whole time. Take our time with the dishes. I wish you’d brought a plug so we could fill you up. Get ya ready for me later. You’d love that, wouldn’t you? I bet yer so needy for me ya wear one around yer place. Can’t even wait a couple weeks.”
Atsumu was close now. He lifted his head and cut off Shinsuke’s words with a desperate kiss. “See?” Shinsuke murmured against his mouth. “Needy.”
Atsumu had, at one point, asked for more severe degradation, name-calling and insults that Shinsuke didn’t think he could muster. No matter how hot Atsumu thought it was, no matter how little it meant after the fact, there was something in Shinsuke that couldn’t sit there and call him a slut, or a whore. Shinsuke couldn’t bring himself to say anything that implied that he didn’t care about Atsumu, that he was worthless, even as an act he was putting on. The thought made his chest clench.
Instead of being disappointed when Shinsuke had told him this, Atsumu had hugged him, and he’d never pushed. Shinsuke was always thankful for him and who he was as a person, in a million ways, all the time. Maybe it was silly to get sentimental about Atsumu accepting a limit he had in bed. Maybe high school hadn’t had the intended effect on Shinsuke. Maybe he did need the memories.
He brought Atsumu right up to the edge, Atsumu’s breaths quickening and his grip on Shinsuke tightening, and with a soft, “Let go, ‘Tsumu,” Atsumu came with a groan.
All over Shinsuke’s stomach and the jersey.
Well, that had been expected. What other outcome would there have been? As Atsumu came down from his orgasm he kissed Shinsuke soundly. Shinsuke wiped his hand off on his own stomach—he’d have to clean up anyway—and kissed back just as firmly. The air around them changed, relaxed, the intensity of the moment drifting away and leaving only sleepy contentment in its place.
“Guess yer gonna have to wash this, after all,” Shinsuke said. Atsumu huffed out a laugh and pulled back just enough to see the damage.
“Oh, there’s barely anything,” he said. “One little splash.”
“You will not play in this without washing it,” Shinsuke said with finality.
“I wasn’t gonna,” Atsumu sighed. “This was genius, by the way. Don’t know what made ya pick it, but I approve.”
“I didn’t want to wear any of the shirts ya might need,” Shinsuke explained. Atsumu sat up and got off of Shinsuke’s legs, sitting on the futon next to him.
“Well, now yer gonna have to anyway,” Atsumu said.
“I only have to wait for the dryer,” Shinsuke said.
“This is some really sweet pillow talk,” Atsumu said wryly.
“Yer the one who brought it up.”
“What’re we makin’ for dinner?” Atsumu asked, pivoting.
“Could you get me some tissues, first?” Shinsuke asked. Atsumu looked down at the mess on his stomach and nodded.
He got up and stepped out of the room to enter the bathroom, where a little box sat. He returned with a few and, instead of handing them to Shinsuke, he knelt down next to him and started wiping him down.
“This gets me good boyfriend points,” he said. “And I swallowed. I’m just keepin’ us clean.”
Shinsuke didn’t grace that with an answer, instead sitting up as Atsumu finished wiping up the worst of the mess. The jersey fell back down to his waist as he did.
“Could you…” Atsumu started, staring at the jersey. “Um. If I get a washcloth and we clean up that little bit, would ya keep it on?”
Shinsuke couldn’t help his little laugh. Atsumu, as he always did, looked delighted at the sound. “If it’s all cleaned up, I’ll wear it until the laundry is done,” he allowed.
Atsumu beamed, as though Shinsuke had told him something much more exciting than that he’d wear a particular shirt. He got up and went to his bag, pulling out a pair of underwear and slipping it on. Shinsuke found his own on the floor and did the same, and then he did a cursory check of the futon to make sure nothing unfortunate had spilled.
Dinner was quiet, and they worked together in Shinsuke’s small kitchen seamlessly. Atsumu was a better cook than Shinsuke was, and Shinsuke always missed his food when he was gone. A few times, Shinsuke felt a hand on his back, right below his neck, gently running over the text there. He smiled to himself.
“You aren’t gettin’ any ideas, are ya?” he asked lightly. Atsumu blinked and then his ears began to turn red.
“Nope,” he said. “No ideas.”
“Mmhmm,” Shinsuke hummed. “Well, if ya do, we should talk about them first.”
“Obviously,” Atsumu said. “Not that I’m gettin’ any ideas.”
Shinsuke turned on a burner and dropped a little oil on a pan. “A little presumptuous of ya, though,” he said.
Atsumu grimaced a little. “I mean, if yer never gonna want to that’s fine—”
“I think Kita Atsumu sounds just as good,” Shinsuke continued, nonplussed.
He heard, but didn’t see, Atsumu choking on his own spit.
Maybe he should forget laundry more often.