( yes, okay, good. he rests a little easier once kuroo takes the lubricant, his body soothing out the arch his spine had gathered at some point, laying almost flat on the floor with his thighs propped up on kuroo's hips. there's a few seconds of fumble, of kuroo's reassuring hands and akaashi's eyes fluttering shut just a moment — and then he says nekoma and akaashi's eyes light up again, rising up on his elbows to get a better look at kuroo.
and himself, it seems. his body looks like a warzone in some areas, bitten flesh burning red like led signs lighting up, saying kuroo was here, and here, and here, the sight of which isn't unpleasant. he might have to wear sweats ( in summer ) to practice, and he marvels in the thought, having secrets to keep hidden and the truth for kuroo's dirty mind only. the angry flare of his teased cock curves upwards on his belly, leaking a thick pool of precome on his stomach that puddles and spills down the tracks of his abdomen muscles. he watches it, mouth slightly agape, head tilted to the side as if it's the most curious thing he's ever seen.)
Okay.
( silly, he thinks. now he can never say nekoma again. )
Ye — haa, yes and no. ( he says unhelpfully, although he can't be entirely blamed. wayward, intrusive fingers steal the majority of his thoughts, hips swiveling eagerly against them. there's an evident burn but not an unfamiliar one — not even an uncomfortable one, just a pressing reminder that this is happening, the kind of stuff you wake up in a cold sweat after dreaming about. ) Finger myself? Yes — yeah. Get fucked? No.
( he watches the captain's fingers disappearing between his legs, shining in some angles of the artificial light over head. entranced, maybe. the only thing he has to compare it to is his own time hidden behind locked doors and under the head of the shower, which isn't a fair compare and contrast, really. kuroo's fingers are so mindblowingly different and — and better, at that, deeper and braver and more experienced. akaashi wonders if masturbation will ever be the same. ( it won't. he has reality to back up his fantasy fodder now. )
gracefully, one of his hands reaches downwards to wrap a hard o behind the weight of his heavy balls, as further protection against coming too early. akaashi gives his question a few fleeting moments of hard thought, licking his lips again as he eyes kuroo's collarbone, his bare chest. he takes offense at the short still resting on his lean hips. )
You'll lay on your back, I think. ( he poses it as a question, despite the wording. ) And I'll sit on it. And then you can come inside me. Okay?
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.
( there's a boyish charm to the way kuroo works his fingers, overexciteable and almost too rough, which ends up making the experience all the better — living with the knowledge that he's worked up and wanton, and that akaashi is somewhat blamable for his current state of disarray. he'll reflect on it later, when perhaps his head gets out of the clouds and returns back to his body, and he has any sort of sensible thought that isn't more. he can't complain, regardless. kuroo's attentive eye has been the forefront of a number of desires for the past while, and akaashi is just eating it up, curved and eager beneath him.
he does make a genuine effort to keep quiet, in case kuroo's parents are still downstairs — but again, it's difficult. these hands are unfamiliar, and akaashi has almost exclusively seen them smacking volleyballs over net, or clenching a pen so tightly his fingers whiten, so to have them so — dexterous? so talented, lean, curving inside him and making the idea of orgasm very, very alluring is something else altogether. the back of his free hand raises to cover his red mouth, attempting to gather in the breathy moans that leave him and swallow them back up from where they came. his hips are apologetically ceaseless, twitching with every brush inside him.
it's the inappropriate move for hurrying things along, but akaashi sits up as much as he can, reaching a hand out to cup kuroo's cheek. he isn't much for affection, but there can be a few exceptions, leaning forward to steal a contradictory chaste kiss off his mouth, long eyelashes batting as he hovers in kuroo's space. )
I — yes. Frequently. ( he nips at his lips, biting the corner, licking the fleshy taste of cock off of him. ) I say your name, sometimes. I — like it. You could've had me on the lockers. Or the court. The baths ...
( his own fantasies falling tandem to kuroo's. his eyes roll in the back of his head slightly once kuroo manages to hit his prostate, leaving him breathless, puffy gasps of air shaking his body on every exhale.
close now, he reaches a hand out blindly to cup kuroo's cock through his gym shorts, squeezing it. )
Fuck — right now, you can do anything, Kuroo, please — come on.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
and himself, it seems. his body looks like a warzone in some areas, bitten flesh burning red like led signs lighting up, saying kuroo was here, and here, and here, the sight of which isn't unpleasant. he might have to wear sweats ( in summer ) to practice, and he marvels in the thought, having secrets to keep hidden and the truth for kuroo's dirty mind only. the angry flare of his teased cock curves upwards on his belly, leaking a thick pool of precome on his stomach that puddles and spills down the tracks of his abdomen muscles. he watches it, mouth slightly agape, head tilted to the side as if it's the most curious thing he's ever seen.)
Okay.
( silly, he thinks. now he can never say nekoma again. )
Ye — haa, yes and no. ( he says unhelpfully, although he can't be entirely blamed. wayward, intrusive fingers steal the majority of his thoughts, hips swiveling eagerly against them. there's an evident burn but not an unfamiliar one — not even an uncomfortable one, just a pressing reminder that this is happening, the kind of stuff you wake up in a cold sweat after dreaming about. ) Finger myself? Yes — yeah. Get fucked? No.
( he watches the captain's fingers disappearing between his legs, shining in some angles of the artificial light over head. entranced, maybe. the only thing he has to compare it to is his own time hidden behind locked doors and under the head of the shower, which isn't a fair compare and contrast, really. kuroo's fingers are so mindblowingly different and — and better, at that, deeper and braver and more experienced. akaashi wonders if masturbation will ever be the same. ( it won't. he has reality to back up his fantasy fodder now. )
gracefully, one of his hands reaches downwards to wrap a hard o behind the weight of his heavy balls, as further protection against coming too early. akaashi gives his question a few fleeting moments of hard thought, licking his lips again as he eyes kuroo's collarbone, his bare chest. he takes offense at the short still resting on his lean hips. )
You'll lay on your back, I think. ( he poses it as a question, despite the wording. ) And I'll sit on it. And then you can come inside me. Okay?
no subject
[ 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?
no subject
he does make a genuine effort to keep quiet, in case kuroo's parents are still downstairs — but again, it's difficult. these hands are unfamiliar, and akaashi has almost exclusively seen them smacking volleyballs over net, or clenching a pen so tightly his fingers whiten, so to have them so — dexterous? so talented, lean, curving inside him and making the idea of orgasm very, very alluring is something else altogether. the back of his free hand raises to cover his red mouth, attempting to gather in the breathy moans that leave him and swallow them back up from where they came. his hips are apologetically ceaseless, twitching with every brush inside him.
it's the inappropriate move for hurrying things along, but akaashi sits up as much as he can, reaching a hand out to cup kuroo's cheek. he isn't much for affection, but there can be a few exceptions, leaning forward to steal a contradictory chaste kiss off his mouth, long eyelashes batting as he hovers in kuroo's space. )
I — yes. Frequently. ( he nips at his lips, biting the corner, licking the fleshy taste of cock off of him. ) I say your name, sometimes. I — like it. You could've had me on the lockers. Or the court. The baths ...
( his own fantasies falling tandem to kuroo's. his eyes roll in the back of his head slightly once kuroo manages to hit his prostate, leaving him breathless, puffy gasps of air shaking his body on every exhale.
close now, he reaches a hand out blindly to cup kuroo's cock through his gym shorts, squeezing it. )
Fuck — right now, you can do anything, Kuroo, please — come on.