You, [ Kuroo hisses through his teeth, heat blooming like the start of a wildfire along the line of his spine, ] are something else entirely, holy shit.
[ And then you can come inside me, Akaashi says, like Kuroo's not thought of it before. It's more than okay, and Kuroo thinks he should pinch himself a little in case this is just a very vivid hallucination - he'll wake up, come to his senses, and he'll still be in his room with Akaashi just a few feet away, only they're still possessed of their clothes and Akaashi's asking if he's passed from the summer heat.
But there's no mistaking the wet slide of his fingers, the slick sounds of fingers going from gentle strokes to jagged pistoning, Kuroo leaning in to press a chaste kiss at the corner of Akaashi's mouth - he's unsure of its welcome, given where his mouth has just been. The rest of him have no shyness, however; Kuroo curls his fingers, works them in deep, manages to work a third into an already tight fit. Akaashi's own fingers cinch at the base of his length and the sight of it pierces through Kuroo like a heated knife - it slides right between his ribs, tears open at his lungs and renders him breathless.
He works his hand in a twist, so that his thumb is pressing against Akaashi's knuckles where they're gripping him, dragging over the spur of the knuckles with every rock of Akaashi's hips, every push of Kuroo's own fingers. Kuroo on the volleys; Akaashi keeps him at bay.
In a way, it's a reversal of their roles on the court. ]
I can't believe you— Have you. Did you ever do this while thinking of me? [ Kuroo doesn't understand the urge that makes him ask. He's running with it anyway; he gives a vicious twist of his fingers, driving in so deep the knuckles are stretching the ring of muscle instead of just resting against the rim. ] 'Cause I have, you know?
I've jerked off thinking about you.
[ He keeps pushing, relentless. Kuroo ducks and says his piece against the line of Akaashi's throat. ]
I've come so many times thinking about if I got to fuck you against the lockers after practice during camp.
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[ And then you can come inside me, Akaashi says, like Kuroo's not thought of it before. It's more than okay, and Kuroo thinks he should pinch himself a little in case this is just a very vivid hallucination - he'll wake up, come to his senses, and he'll still be in his room with Akaashi just a few feet away, only they're still possessed of their clothes and Akaashi's asking if he's passed from the summer heat.
But there's no mistaking the wet slide of his fingers, the slick sounds of fingers going from gentle strokes to jagged pistoning, Kuroo leaning in to press a chaste kiss at the corner of Akaashi's mouth - he's unsure of its welcome, given where his mouth has just been. The rest of him have no shyness, however; Kuroo curls his fingers, works them in deep, manages to work a third into an already tight fit. Akaashi's own fingers cinch at the base of his length and the sight of it pierces through Kuroo like a heated knife - it slides right between his ribs, tears open at his lungs and renders him breathless.
He works his hand in a twist, so that his thumb is pressing against Akaashi's knuckles where they're gripping him, dragging over the spur of the knuckles with every rock of Akaashi's hips, every push of Kuroo's own fingers. Kuroo on the volleys; Akaashi keeps him at bay.
In a way, it's a reversal of their roles on the court. ]
I can't believe you— Have you. Did you ever do this while thinking of me? [ Kuroo doesn't understand the urge that makes him ask. He's running with it anyway; he gives a vicious twist of his fingers, driving in so deep the knuckles are stretching the ring of muscle instead of just resting against the rim. ] 'Cause I have, you know?
I've jerked off thinking about you.
[ He keeps pushing, relentless. Kuroo ducks and says his piece against the line of Akaashi's throat. ]
I've come so many times thinking about if I got to fuck you against the lockers after practice during camp.
If you ride me, can I lick you clean after?