Work Text:
Saturday night (Sunday morning), 1:13am
Atsumu sighs into the kiss when he’s pressed up into the door of the apartment belonging to the stranger he’s picked up (or got picked up by? Listen, he’s getting laid. It’s a win on either count) at the club tonight.
He’d arrived with Shouyou, Tobio, Bokuto, and Akaashi on a humid Saturday night to, according to Bokuto, “get him laid it’s been ages”. The club they chose has just recently opened, so Atsumu thinks it’s the half price drink promotion and not his romantic life as the true reason to why they were out here tonight.
It’s not like he’s lonely. He’s doing pretty well for himself, thank you very much; a freshly graduated lawyer building experience in business contracts and employment, fancy business cards and all. He helped negotiate a decent contract between the family onigiri business spearheaded by Osamu and a popular line of convenience stores last week, so Atsumu deems that plenty cause for celebration, too.
He’d been winding his way through the dance floor sunken in the centre of the room, dancing and drinking with several different partners. He’d been attracted, but nothing had really clicked between them yet.
The man who was sitting at the bar, however – attractive just didn’t cut it. Dark curly hair with an undercut, pale skin, sharp jawline and cheekbones. Two charming moles above neat eyebrows. A transparent silk button up stretched across broad shoulders and floral lace blooming around his torso and arms. He’d been watching the group he was with get rowdier with a fond smile; some of them were dressed up for the club, and some were still in their office uniforms from overtime. From the way he remained seated, rebuffing requests to go dance or have stronger drinks, Atsumu figured that maybe he didn’t do this kind of thing that often.
When approached, Sakusa Kiyoomi is what the handsome stranger said before downing his drink, looking up and down at Atsumu, and asking if Atsumu wanted to come home with him – now, if that’s alright.
“Kiyoomi, you tiger! We’ve been here for only 20 minutes and you’re heading out? I told you it was a good idea to go out tonight.” A man with caramel brown hair smiles and wiggles his fingers at Sakusa, beer bottle dangling from them dangerously.
“I need to be out of here before four drink Ayane-san manifests in all her glory and she gets all over me,” Sakusa says. “You know I’m only here to be polite. Also, he’s hot. Tell the others I’m leaving. Later, Komori.”
Atsumu feels the back of his neck warm up at the blunt compliment. “Not that I’m opposed to this, but I haven’t even introduced myself to you yet.” Sakusa quirks his eyebrows as if to say go on, get on with it.
A little bewildered, Atsumu says, “Miya Atsumu. Pleased to meet ya’, and eventually do ya’, or the other way around.” Sakusa snorts and offers his hand. They shake hands, and Atsumu cracks up at the formality. Maybe he shouldn’t have drunk so fast, but: he was offered the drinks, and who’s gonna turn down free drinks?
“Charmed. Ayane-san is on 3.5 of 4 drinks. I’d much rather have you on top of me than her, to be frank.”
“I thought your name was Omi-kun?” Sakusa rolls his eyes, smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.
“You’re a nickname kind of guy, huh?”
“If you’re lucky, you can get me to call you any kind of name.” Sakusa’s dark eyes go a little molten even with the stilted flirting, and finally, Atsumu feels that thrum of want he’s been looking for.
Komori grabs Atsumu’s wrist before Sakusa drags him out. Smiling, he says, “I’m Motoya Komori, who’re you here with?” He looks over to where Atsumu jerks his thumb at and waves at Atsumu’s group, who are currently setting up an intimidating line of Jaegerbombs. “You guys look like you know how to party. Nice to meet you, Atsumu! Kiyoomi’s a little prickly, but he’s a good guy, promise.”
“I’m sure Omi-kun will be plenty good to me,” Atsumu replies, and Komori toasts them with a laugh.
“Send us a text if you need anything! Use condoms!” Hinata shouts, three drinks in one hand, and the whole group waves goodbye with minimal wolf whistling.
Now they’re here, making out against the door. Atsumu is irked to realize Sakusa is actually taller than him, but the complaints vanish when Sakusa closes a strong hand around where his jaw meets his neck to tilt his chin up and deepen the kiss.
They break apart, and both push and pull at each other at the same time and start laughing. “Nice place,” Atsumu comments. “Where’s your bedroom?” The apartment is clean and furnished with simple, modern furniture. They stumble past the kitchen and living room and through the small hallway leading to Sakusa’s room.
Atsumu pulls Sakusa into his own room and smacks a kiss onto his mouth. “You wanna be on top? Or I can – I like both.”
Sakusa gives him a light push towards the bed. “I’ll be on top for now. Pants off.” Atsumu hooks his fingers into Sakusa’s belt loops and takes him with Atsumu onto the bed.
Atsumu strips his shirt off and tugs at the shirttails from Sakusa’s pants, calluses on his fingertips catching on the silk. Sakusa fumbles at their belt buckles and the buttons on their tight jeans and pulls them off to toss them onto the floor.
Grinning, Atsumu backs himself up on the bed towards the pillows and sucks in a sharp breath when Sakusa follows and palms his erection through his briefs. He immediately loses that breath when he gets a good look at the black lace panties bracketing Sakusa’s hips, stretched taut over his cock. He brushes his fingertips over the head and is pleased to watch Sakusa shiver in response.
“Dressed up for the occasion, didja?”
“I’m nothing if not coordinated.”
He palms Sakusa’s ass with both hands, slotting their clothed lengths against each other.
“I like em’,” Atsumu says, grinding up to meet Sakusa halfway. “Let’s try a pink pair next time.”
He’s worried for a second that asking for a next time has overstepped unspoken boundaries but feels a blush creeping up his neck when something in Sakusa’s eyes soften, even when he’s devilishly snapping the lace waistband against his skin.
“Bows and garterbelts and everything,” Atsumu continues, to push the blush away, and swallows when he feels Sakusa’s fingertips brush against it.
“I’d have to be convinced. Lingerie isn’t exactly cheap.”
“Oh, I think I can make a pretty good go at convincing you, Omi-Omi.”
“I’ll admit you’re doing pretty well so far.” Sakusa runs his palms down Atsumu’s chest and abdomen and Atsumu squirms, ticklish.
“Yeah, ‘m a lawyer, it’s kind of my job.”
“Can we not talk about work while we’re doing this?”
“Omi-kun, this is flirting, which clearly should be my job considering I’m the one actually good at it out of the two of us.”
“I think you should switch professions too,” Sakusa says, mouthing at Atsumu’s neck. “From public interest to private practice, and then you can show me how just how good you can be.” Sakusa then shuffles to grab a few condom packets and a bottle of lube, tapping at Atsumu’s hip so he can push a pillow underneath.
“I thought you said no more work talk?” Atsumu breaks into laughter when Sakusa throws a condom and it hits him on the side of his head. He pulls his own underwear off and sits up to tug Sakusa’s panties down his legs, his tongue and teeth following his fingers down Sakusa’s inner thigh. His mirth disappears into hot, heady arousal when he watches Sakusa open a condom packet and slide it over his fingers, circling his entrance and pushing in with two. Atsumu hisses at the stretch and does his best to relax.
“So hot,” Sakusa murmurs, ducking for a kiss.
Atsumu lays back and stretches like a lazy cat. “That’s what you said at the club, right? Only proving that I am.”
Sakusa chuckles and pushes another finger in to open him up, pumping with a precision that’s achingly methodical. Atsumu’s vision goes fuzzy around the edges and his legs shake a little when he feels Sakusa massaging his prostate.
“m’ ready, hurry up,” Atsumu pants, fetching the forgotten condom from somewhere near his ear. He rips open the corner with his mouth and tosses the wrapper onto the floor, rolling it onto Sakusa’s cock. His mouth nearly waters at the sight of it lining up against him.
Sakusa eases in at a glacial pace after drizzling some lube, eyes flickering across Atsumu’s face to watch for discomfort. It stings a little, but in a way where the slight pain blends into the pleasure of it. Atsumu reaches up to brush some stray curls behind Sakusa’s ear.
“Shit, you’re pretty,” Atsumu breathes, and feels the puff of laughter from Sakusa’s mouth on his lips before Sakusa leans in to kiss him. It’s all tongue, Sakusa forcing Atsumu’s mouth wide open until he can hear his jaw click. Sakusa leaning in pushes him in further and Atsumu’s moan splinters into a whine at the deep press of his cock.
Sakusa sucks gently at Atsumu’s tongue and bottom lip before moving back. “Okay?”
“Yeah, Omi-kun, ‘m good. Feels good. Fuck me, c’mon,” Atsumu says, clenching for good measure, his neglected cock jumping at the sound of Sakusa’s groan.
Sakusa pulls back slowly until the head of his cock catches at Atsumu’s rim. Atsumu’s spine arches along with the drag. Sakusa adjusts his palms on Atsumu’s hips, and with a small smirk, he picks up a punishing pace that brushes Atsumu’s prostate every time he bottoms out and has him scrabbling his hands on the bedsheets for something to hold onto.
Atsumu gives as good as he gets, arms up and braced against the headboard. He clenches tight each time Sakusa pulls back, so good it causes Sakusa to curve over him for a bruising kiss.
Atsumu climbs close to orgasm almost embarrassingly quickly; maybe Bokuto was right about how long it’s been since he’s done this. He starts to reach down to touch himself, but Sakusa beats him there, fisting his cock that’s flushed a tantalizing red and pumping with a twist on the upstroke that has Atsumu shuddering in his grip.
“Not gonna last,” he breathes into the space between them.
“S’fine,” Sakusa says, and his voice pitches low, close to the edge himself. “Come, Atsumu.”
Atsumu thinks he didn’t mean it to sound so commanding, but that tone does it for him anyway, vision whiting out with the force of his orgasm. Sakusa’s hips stutter against his own and he grunts almost soundlessly into Atsumu’s neck as he finishes.
Sakusa pulls out slowly, both of them groaning at the separation. He tosses the condom into the small trashcan and picks up a small towel from the bedside table, hovering questioningly over Atsumu. Atsumu’s grin sharpens to a razor’s edge as he spreads his legs and clenches while he allows Sakusa to clean up.
Sakusa swallows heavily, gaze roaming languidly along Atsumu’s body, and then he flicks him on the thigh with his thumb and pointer finger for teasing. “We’ll revisit this in the morning, it’s late. Come brush your teeth.” He pulls two pairs of sweatpants out of the dresser drawer, tossing one to Atsumu before pulling on his own pair.
He stops halfway to the bathroom and Atsumu is too busy admiring the way Sakusa’s sweatpants hug his hipbones to realize Sakusa has turned around and is fighting with himself to say something.
Atsumu tugs the borrowed sweatpants on and pads over to him.
“What’s up, Omi-Omi?”
Sakusa seems to shake himself out of it. “Uh – I assumed you wanted to stay – did you? Want to stay, that is? You don’t have to. I guess you can tell now I don’t really do this kind of thing.”
“I think you fucked the soul out of me,” Atsumu says, easy. “Plus, good dental habits and high thread count sheets? How do you like your eggs, Omi-kun?”
Sakusa shakes his head, exasperated. “Sunny side up. I like dipping toast into the yolk.”
“You can dip your toast in my yolk,” Atsumu says with an awful wiggle of his eyebrows, snorting with how ridiculous it sounds when it’s halfway out of his mouth.
Sakusa laughs and shakes the packaged toothbrush he’d pulled from bathroom in his hand. “Brush, floss, sleep. Eggs tomorrow.”
“Brush, sleep, morning sex, eggs.”
“Floss.”
“Ugh, fine, 9 in 10 dentists.”
Sakusa laughs again and it’s a nice sound. He looks even better doing it with his eyes and nose scrunched up, curls frizzy from the bedsheets. They brush their teeth side by side and crawl into bed.
Atsumu flops, undignified. “Big spoon or little spoon? Or do you starfish?”
“I sleep on my back, actually.”
Atsumu gasps into the pillow, rolling to face Sakusa in the dark. “That’s the position with the highest chance for sleep paralysis!”
“If you don’t sleep within the next ten minutes, you’re my newest sleep paralysis demon.”
“Are you saying you’d fuck a demon, Omi-kun?”
“I’m saying fuck you, demon,” Sakusa mutters, and smothers a laughing Atsumu with a pillow to make him surrender and sleep.
Sunday, 8:00am
There’s a blaring alarm coming from Sakusa’s phone on the ground that wakes them both up. Grumbling, Sakusa climbs out of bed and untangles the phone from his clothes to shut the alarm off. He slaps the bedside table until he finds a pair of circular wire rimmed glasses he puts on before properly looking at his phone.
Atsumu watches his expression go from blearily reading to fully awake and concerned. Atsumu shuffles across the bed on his stomach to stick his head over the phone to read the notification.
“ATTENTION: Starting at 8:00am, the city has issued a shutdown for one week. Cases of the novel swine flu in the southwest region of the city have been confirmed. Citizens are not to leave their houses at this time as health authorities continue to track the cases,” he reads.
It doesn’t click that he’s actually stuck here in Sakusa’s apartment until another notification pops up for Sakusa that says, “Work from home strategies are to be implemented.”
“Oh, shit, where’s my phone,” he says, and rolls off the bed to grab his shirt. Atsumu picks up his phone from the floor and taps at it, but the empty battery symbol flashes back at him. He swears.
“Hey, Omi-kun, could I borrow your phone charger? And, er, your apartment, for this week?” Sakusa blinks up at him before what he says processes and his eyes widen.
“Oh shit, we’re stuck in here.”
Atsumu laughs but it’s half amusement and half panic. “Yeah. Or I can go?”
“Do you want to? You might get fined for being outside right now.”
“Do you want me here? It’s kind of your house.”
Sakusa shrugs. “I don’t think we really have a choice, now. Probably safer to stay in. Let’s try not to kill each other in the meantime.”
“Tough bargain. I’m a lawyer.”
“Not a criminal justice one, right?”
“Oh, fuck you. Time to make that a speciality too.” Sakusa chuckles and scrubs at his face. They go to the bathroom to brush their teeth and freshen up, a little awkward now that the haze of alcohol has cleared.
“There’s cereal in the cupboard if you want. Coffee?” Sakusa pulls on a black t-shirt and heads straight for the coffee maker.
“Sure. Oh shit, you have the sugary cereal. Fuck yes. Also, Omi-kun, this is important, it’s gonna determine our compatibility in this week we have together. Cereal before milk or milk before cereal?”
Sakusa doesn’t turn around from the coffee pot. “Cereal before milk so it doesn't float, and I can see how much cereal I'm eating. I don’t really use that much milk, anyway.”
“Agreed, but counterpoint: what about pouring cereal and milk at the same time?”
Sakusa turns around. “Atsumu, what.”
Atsumu cheerfully pours himself some cereal into a bowl, humming some random song to avoid Sakusa's incredulous stare. He then sticks his hand into the bowl and pops some like candy into his mouth, and reaches to grab the carton of milk, tipping it towards his open mouth–
He starts choking on cereal crumbs through his laughter when Sakusa snatches the milk carton out of his hand and doesn’t give it back until Atsumu promises he’ll eat like a normal person.
There’s a comfortable quiet while Sakusa butters some toast until Atsumu’s phone starts ringing from where it’s plugged into the wall. Sakusa scoops it up from the desk in the living room and hands it over to Atsumu, who puts it on speakerphone.
“Yo, ‘Samu,” Atsumu says, around a mouthful of cereal.
“Oh, so now you pick up.”
“My phone died!”
“We thought you died. It’s lucky you weren’t murdered. Unlucky for me, I’ve always wondered what it was like to be an only child.”
“You mean, I’m lucky I wasn’t murdered by his dick –“
“SHUT –“
Atsumu grins and shoots at look at Sakusa, who raises his eyebrows and takes a sip of coffee.
“Anyway, you got the memo, right?” Osamu says, nonchalant. “Citywide shut down for a week. You’re stuck wherever you are, sucks to suck. What’s his name?”
“Sakusa Kiyoomi,” says Sakusa.
“Cool, I’m Osamu. Let me know if I need to take him back ‘cause he’s driving you crazy. I’m hoping you’ll keep him forever. ‘Tsumu, I hate to say it but I’m glad you’re not dead, if he’s not murdered you yet it’s a good sign so make a boyfriend out of him, bye.”
“Oi –“ Osamu hangs up before Atsumu can finish. Sakusa ambles over to look at Atsumu’s phone.
“My brother,” Atsumu explains, swiping through to find a picture of them making really ugly faces.
Sakusa ducks and captures the spoon Atsumu’s holding in his mouth. “Thanks for complimenting my dick,” he says flatly.
“Fuck you, that was the best bite,” Atsumu says, pointing the spoon at him. “The perfect combo of still-crunchy-cereal and milk.”
Sakusa shrugs, smile crooked and matching the way his glasses perch off-kilter on his nose. Atsumu’s mouth goes dry while Sakusa crunches on cereal unaware. “Still want eggs?”
“Nah,” Atsumu says, dropping the spoon into the bowl and splashing milk onto the table. Sakusa glares at him for the mess.
He hauls Sakusa in for a kiss that tastes like coffee and cinnamon sugar and says, “Feelin’ a little hungry for somethin’ else, actually.”
Monday, 8:30am
Atsumu gets up to see Sakusa in the bathroom, hair brushed and tidy, sliding a black tie around his neck as he faces the mirror. He’s in a dark blue dress shirt and black dress pants and on his feet are the dumbest pizza socks Atsumu has ever seen.
“Where ya goin’, Omi-kun?” Atsumu yawns and reaches for his toothbrush.
Sakusa looks at him like he’s the weird one for asking. “Uh, to the living room?”
Atsumu bursts into laughter, toothpaste foam dripping from his mouth into the sink. “Why’re ya dressed up, though? I thought you said you wouldn’t have conference calls yet?”
“It helps me get into the mindset for work,” Sakusa says, defensive. Atsumu rinses and reels Sakusa in by the tie to plant a kiss on his pink cheeks.
“It’s cute, Omi-Omi.” His voice rises in pitch. “Have a nice day at work, dear! I’ll be waiting for you here at home!”
“You just said yesterday you were going to work at the kitchen table.”
“It’s the novelty of the thing, Omi-kun, c’mon. Wait – what’s your job, anyway?”
“I’m an accountant,” Sakusa says, pushing his glasses up his nose, and it’s so cute Atsumu just has to kiss him. Sue him. He’s a lawyer.
It turns out Atsumu’s club attire is not appropriate for video call meetings with his law firm on Sakusa’s older laptop. He has to borrow from Sakusa’s wardrobe as well, having brought basically nothing with him; he’s allowed to take dress shirts and various ties on the basis that Atsumu does laundry for both of them this week. They also agree to swap with each other throughout the week so whenever they’re on video chat meetings they can look somewhat put together.
Atsumu, upon opening his email, groans in pain when he’s scheduled for multiple meetings today. He rants to Sakusa when he gets a questioning glance from where Sakusa’s seated at the desktop computer across the room and gets sympathetic noises and cups of tea as Atsumu gets through meeting after meeting with clientele.
They settle for sandwiches for lunch and at the end of the day, some frozen burritos for dinner. Planet Earth plays in the background.
“Omi-kun, foxes are so cool.”
“You’ve said that for every single animal that’s appeared in the episode so far, Atsumu.”
“Yeah, but Planet Earth is so good at making you root for every animal. Life really is a cycle. Like this burrito and me.”
“I’m not sure I agree with the latter.”
“You don’t have to agree with it, it’s a fact. David Attenborough said so.”
“Thank god for David Attenborough,” Sakusa deadpans, and Atsumu grins at him before taking another bite.
Tuesday, 2:30pm
Today, it’s Sakusa’s turn to go through a round of meetings while Atsumu reviews contracts and terms and conditions forms and sends them back and forth through email. He secretly watches Sakusa every now and then, feeling a little ridiculous at how fond he is already for the man currently swearing like a sailor at the spreadsheet he has open in front of him.
“I can’t believe he broke the spreadsheet. I told him he just had to duplicate the sheet and enter his values, but no; he enters his values in the first sheet and it fucks up the rest of the formulas. I’m going to murder him,” Sakusa seethes.
“Careful,” Atsumu calls. “You’re in the presence of a lawyer.”
“Guess I’ll just have to murder you too,” Sakusa says. Atsumu salutes, properly intimidated, and gets back to work.
Later, they’re at the stove top heating up tomato soup for dinner and Atsumu is demonstrating how to get the perfect grilled cheese sandwich.
“Okay, so the trick is that we toast the slices beforehand, and then butter them and put them butter side down on the pan. Then we can put that excuse for cheese that is American Kraft Singles on the bread and put the pieces together.” He snatches the toast still hot from the toaster and drops them onto a plate, blowing onto his scalded fingertips. Sakusa leans against the counter and watches with amusement as Atsumu walks him through the process. Atsumu serves up their sandwiches alongside their soup with dramatic flourish.
He preens when Sakusa bites into the sandwich and his eyes widen at the crunch and the melting cheese.
“Good, right? You’re fuckin’ welcome, Omi-Omi.” Sakusa chuckles and mimics applause. Atsumu turns away to start cleaning up and picks up the empty bread bag with horror.
“Uh oh. We’re out of bread already.”
“So we’ll bake,” Sakusa says. “It’s kind of a miracle we didn’t run out of anything yet, so you’re welcome, Atsumu. We’re gonna go for a grocery run after this is over and halve the cost.”
“Fair enough. Oh, you know what I’m cravin’ for? A soft pretzel.”
“We can do that too.”
“Marry me, Omi-kun. Make a little cottage housewife out of me and hike my skirts up to ravish me against a tree.”
“Not with that lackluster proposal.” Atsumu is pleased to note that Sakusa’s ears are a little pink.
They finish dinner and prepare the kitchen to bake. Atsumu blinks at the small kitchen scale Sakusa pulls out from a cupboard.
“Can’t we just use measuring cups?”
“It’s more accurate this way.” Atsumu shrugs and watches Sakusa stir and mix up dough for two loaves of bread and a batch of pretzels. When the time comes for the dough to rest, Atsumu backs Sakusa into the counter to kiss him when he can’t grab at him with his flour covered hands.
“Won’t you come kiss me, Omi-kun? I knead you, won’t you put a bun in this oven?” Sakusa gives an undignified snort in response.
“That’s not how that works at all, Atsumu.”
Atsumu gets flour on his face and in his hair for his trouble, and Sakusa grumbles about sanitary conditions while he washes his hands to get back to baking.
The loaves and pretzels turn out lovely mostly because Atsumu isn’t allowed to do anything. He smacks a kiss onto Sakusa’s cheek, mouth full of pretzel.
Wednesday, 11:51am
“I guess this is how you keep yourself toned as fuck,” Atsumu pants, after a set of chin ups with the bar that’s installed above the doorway to Sakusa’s room. Across the room, Sakusa is making his way through a final set of squats holding a dumbbell. Atsumu takes the time to admire Sakusa’s ass.
“They don’t have a gym in this apartment complex, and I didn’t want to get a membership, so this is what I’ve got,” Sakusa grunts, wiping sweat from his brow. “Turns out it’s useful in quarantine.”
Atsumu bounces a little bit on his toes to shake out the soreness that’s reverberating all over his body. “Can’t we just have sex to work up a sweat?”
Sakusa laughs, breathless, and unrolls yoga mats. “Show me your downward dog, baby,” he says, and Atsumu grins right back.
They end up just doing a few yoga poses to stretch out muscles that threaten to tighten up. Atsumu sprawls onto the mat, dead weight.
“You’ll have to carry me, Omi-kun, I can’t go on.”
Sakusa joins him on the ground. “What do you want for lunch?” Atsumu hums, and then smiles when the idea pops into his head.
“Onigiri.” Sakusa narrows his eyes at him. “Let’s have a contest and ‘Samu can vote on who makes better ones.”
“I feel like you’re at an advantage because you have a family onigiri shop.”
“It’s been a while since I made ‘em, promise. We’re on equal footing here.”
Atsumu whips out his phone to record their process and hosts a few polls on social media to make everyone guess which rice balls belong to who. They turn out similar; a little lumpy, a little inconsistent with sizing. He sneaks a few photos of Sakusa with rice at the corner of his mouth. Atsumu whoops in victory when Osamu chooses his thinking they’re Sakusa’s, and cackles when Osamu tries to take it back.
Atsumu catches Sakusa watching him with a smile when he’s arguing with Osamu about shaping technique. It makes his heart do a funny, warm thump. Something pangs in him, almost sad, to realize that they weren’t always like this, that they only met days ago, and only have a few days left before the shutdown lifts.
Atsumu shakes it off and grabs at one of Sakusa’s onigiri to try. It falls apart, unlike Atsumu’s, and Atsumu is gone, laughing as he falls off the kitchen chair after Sakusa throws the rice paddle at him for ruining them.
Thursday, 1:45pm
Atsumu is in the cramped closet that houses the washer and dryer in the apartment. He hums absentmindedly while he sorts lights and darks, happy to be done with work early.
He’s thinking about dinner and doesn’t realize Sakusa’s behind him until he throws the first load into the washer and turns to gather up the second.
“Jesus! Omi-kun, can ya let a guy know when ya need him?”
“What are you doing,” Sakusa says, eyes fixed on Atsumu’s torso.
“Laundry.”
“Completely naked?”
Atsumu scratches the side of his face, leaning back against the washing machine. “I figured I could be productive and wash the clothes I was wearin’ too. Two birds with one stone –“
The rest of his sentence is smothered by Sakusa’s mouth on his, all-consuming and insistent. Sakusa pushes into Atsumu with such urgency that he can feel the front edge of the washing machine dig into his lower back. Atsumu spears one hand through Sakusa’s curls and pulls him back gently, tempering the kiss.
“Hey, Omi-kun,” he breathes. “What’s going on?” Sakusa looks a little desperate, a little wild, and the spark he’s struck easily builds in Atsumu. But Atsumu’s never seen him so uncomposed so out of the blue.
“I just – hate my boss,” Sakusa replies, hands relaxing on Atsumu’s hips. His head drops to Atsumu’s shoulder and Atsumu’s throat tightens with inexplicable affection, and he runs his fingers over Sakusa’s undercut. “He’s infuriating, completely incompetent, I’m feel like I’m going to rip my hair out. I have a meeting with him in 20 minutes, I just – I needed this,” Sakusa explains. “I need you.”
Atsumu swallows, feeling unbalanced by the force of Sakusa’s desire laid out so plainly. He eases himself out of Sakusa’s grip and catches his wrist when Sakusa misinterprets this, his face shuttering into a blank mask to hide disappointment.
“You have me,” Atsumu says, and turns around to bend over the washing machine. He laughs lightly at the deep groan that rips out of Sakusa’s chest and looks at him over his shoulder, coy, pushing his ass into Sakusa’s hardening cock. “You have lube and condoms?”
Sakusa unbuckles his belt, unzips his fly, and eases his cock out of the flap in his boxer briefs to slide a few times between Atsumu’s cheeks before he pulls two condom packets and the familiar bottle of lube from his dress pant pocket. Like the first time, he rolls the first condom onto his fingers and takes his time opening Atsumu up.
“Faster, we gotta get to the good part before your meeting,” Atsumu says, pushing back and fucking himself onto Sakusa’s long fingers. Sakusa nips down Atsumu’s back before pulling back to toss the condom on his hand away, opening the next one to roll over his erection. He smooths some lube over it and leans to place the bottle on the washing machine, which immediately starts rattling along with the vibration of the machine.
Atsumu cracks up at the noise and his laughter dissolves into a sigh when Sakusa bites down hard where his neck meets his shoulder and sweeps the bottle off the machine to clatter to the floor.
“Gonna be quick, you can do me later,” Sakusa murmurs, and Atsumu says, “Yeah, that’s the whole point of this, c’mon –“
The breath in Atsumu’s lungs gets punched out of him with the first quick thrust. His hands grip white knuckled at the edges of the washing machine and he moans, wanton, with every smack of Sakusa’s hips against his and the way he tugs on Atsumu’s earlobe with his teeth. The head of his cock bobbing against his skin brushes the cool metal of the machine, heightening the sensation.
The heat between them builds and builds until the tension finally snaps. Sakusa muffles his groan into Atsumu’s shoulder, panting, then curls a lube slick hand around Atsumu’s cock to pump at an unforgiving pace.
The timer on the washing machine beeps at the same time Atsumu comes, and they break into exhausted laughter. Atsumu grabs a shirt from the pile and wipes down the washing machine and mocks throwing the stained shirt at Sakusa when Sakusa makes a grossed-out noise.
“Tell me what’s going on over dinner, okay?” Atsumu straightens Sakusa’s tie when he’s back to looking put together, spins him around by the shoulder, and smacks Sakusa’s ass while pushing him back out. “Go get ‘em, tiger!”
Atsumu almost drags Sakusa back in when Sakusa barks out another laugh as bright as the blush that spreads across his face.
Friday, 5:24pm
“So I’d like to top tonight,” Atsumu says over their Chinese takeout dinner, ordered to celebrate the end of the week. “And I was thinkin’, we could add some bondage? Just your hands and a blindfold. D’you think you’d be into that?”
Sakusa taps the tips of his chopsticks against his mouth, considering. “I don't have rope or a proper blindfold. We could use the ties?”
Atsumu nods. “Not that I’m opposed to how you relieved your stress yesterday, but I was thinkin’ that if we could play a bit with who has the control, it would help too.”
Sakusa’s eyebrows furrow. “I don’t really follow.”
“Ah, well, I figured if you couldn’t touch me or see me, and I could control when and how you come, you wouldn’t have time or the focus to, well, focus on anythin’ but me and what we’re doin’. Means you won’t think about your asshole boss, or how he fucks up your hard work, or anythin’ like that. I think it’d be a good stress reliever for you too.”
Sakusa tilts his head, then puts his chopsticks down.
Atsumu also pushes his empty plate away. “Y’wanna figure this out in bed?”
They clean up their dinnerware and Sakusa tugs Atsumu into the bathroom to brush their teeth and the taste of takeout from their mouths. They kiss, and Atsumu coaxes Sakusa out of his clothes and to lie back on the bed.
Atsumu crawls between Sakusa’s open legs with two ties dangling from his hands. The bottle of lube and condoms slide across the sheets from his movement. “You know the red-yellow-green system, yeah?” At Sakusa’s nod, he loops one tie around Sakusa’s wrists and knots them together but doesn’t tie his wrists to the headboard. He leaves them on Sakusa’s lap.
“Red for stop, yellow for slow down, green for go,” Sakusa says, lifting his arms up to look at the knot curiously and testing it. “This is fine. Green. Next one?”
Atsumu chuckles and taps Sakusa’s nose with his fingertip. “Eager, are we?” He sees Sakusa attempt to feign nonchalance, but it bleeds into something genuine.
“Yeah,” Sakusa says, voice already a little raspy around the edges, and that’s a good sign. Atsumu reminds himself to be patient, that the pleasure for them both will come in time.
“’M just gonna clarify now that I plan on touchin’ ya and topping, but is there anythin’ you don’t like? Anythin’ I’m not allowed to do?”
Sakusa shakes his head. “Not really. I’ll let you know if I want you to stop what you’re doing.” Satisfied, Atsumu ties the second tie over Sakusa’s eyes and admires the dark silk against his pale skin.
“How’re ya feeling? Color?”
“Green.”
“Cool. We’ll start slow and then get some more rules goin’, yeah?” Sakusa nods, and jolts when Atsumu smooths a palm up a strong thigh.
“Easy,” Atsumu murmurs. “Those weighted squats really pay off, Omi-Omi. Can you crush a watermelon with these thighs?”
Sakusa snorts. “Maybe? I’ve never tried. Is this your dirty talk?” Atsumu pinches said thigh for the cheek and ducks down to press a kiss there. He sucks a constellation of red marks along Sakusa’s inner thighs and Sakusa’s knees come up to hold Atsumu there, above his half-hard length, but Atsumu tuts and curls his hands around them to pull his legs back down.
“Thought we agreed I was in charge here,” Atsumu says, and Sakusa’s mouth quirks into a small grin when he bops Atsumu’s head gently using his tied hands.
“By all means, go ahead,” Sakusa replies. Atsumu knows he can’t see it, but the playful, light demeanor he has drops and he grips with insistence, with possession.
“Alright, arms up, and don’t bring ‘em down,” Atsumu says, pushing at Sakusa’s elbows so his hands rest above his head. “No noises unless it’s the safewords, and no movement. Else I’ll stop and leave you here.” He can see Sakusa’s eyelids fluttering underneath the blindfold.
“Be good, Omi-kun, and I’ll give you what you need. Just focus on me. Color?”
“Green.”
Atsumu decides moving from top to bottom is a good place to start. He presses a slow, sweet kiss to Sakusa’s mouth, hands framing his jawline, swallowing the relaxed sigh he makes before moving to leave wet, stinging hickeys down Sakusa’s neck and collarbone. He soothes each one with a lave of his tongue and takes the time to pause and nose at Sakusa’s neck, feeling the muscles jump there as Sakusa swallows.
He slides further down to close his lips around a hardening nipple and keeps himself from smiling at the way Sakusa sucks in a shallow breath when he sets his teeth to worry and suck at one, one hand rolling the other nipple between his thumb and pointer finger.
When Sakusa shifts slightly to curve his chest towards Atsumu’s mouth and freezes at the mistake, Atsumu relents and lifts off, smoothing his palms down Sakusa’s toned abdomen and following his hands with his lips as he shuffles down the bed. He then spends a good amount of time simply leaving kisses and hickeys on the soft skin of Sakusa’s thighs, giving attention to everything but Sakusa’s cock, which jumps when Atsumu accidentally brushes the side of his neck against it on his way back up.
Atsumu sits back to admire his handiwork. Sakusa’s head is thrown back against the pillows, curls frizzing along the pillowcase, his chest rising and falling heavily to match his strained panting. Light red marks trail down from his neck to his cock, jutting out from the dark hair at the apex of his thighs and flushed red to match the tie around Sakusa’s wrists. A drop of pre-cum slides leisurely down the head and Atsumu suddenly feels parched.
He leans down as close as he can get to hover and breathe over Sakusa’s cock, eyes flicking up to watch Sakusa’s throat convulse with the effort to not speak. He waits a few seconds, blowing cool air lightly across the head, before he can’t take it any longer himself and takes Sakusa into his mouth, his moan muffled by how good it is, how hot and hard it is.
Atsumu tries all the tricks he knows in the book. He suckles at the head, tongues at the slit to taste the salt, runs his lips up and down along the side of Sakusa’s cock. He admires Sakusa’s truly Herculean effort not to move or speak when he bears down, willing his throat to relax to take Sakusa in as deep as he can go. Atsumu’s cheeks hollow when he sucks and bobs his head up and down a few times.
“Yellow,” Sakusa croaks, voice wrecked. “Yellow. Don’t wanna come yet.”
Atsumu wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and gets up on his knees to reach for the condoms and the lube. Following Sakusa’s example, he tears one open for his fingers and squeezes a bit of lube onto it before shifting Sakusa’s legs apart with his knees, to circle the rim with his fingers.
He knows Sakusa has heard what he was up to but checks to be sure. “Color?”
“Green.”
Atsumu’s mouth pulls up into a smirk Sakusa can’t see, pressing slowly with one finger, and sets himself to paying Sakusa back for the mind blowing yet achingly slow pace he uses on Atsumu. By the time he’s at three fingers, Sakusa’s legs are visibly trembling and he’s biting down on his lip hard enough for the flesh to go white.
Atsumu draws back slowly and undresses, hissing softly when he eases the boxers over his own erection and is duly reminded that it’s been neglected all this time. Getting back on the bed, he opens and puts on a condom, then holds Sakusa’s thighs spread apart in his hands and clears his throat.
“You’ve been so good, baby. You can speak now n’ tell me what you want.”
Sakusa’s words come out tumbling, a stream flowing into a waterfall.
“Please. Please, Atsumu, I need you, I need you inside me, I can’t – I can’t take any more.”
Atsumu shushes him with a kiss and rubs the head of his cock against the rim, grinning when Sakusa whines. He presses in, gritting his teeth to remind himself to not plunge and lose himself to that tantalizing, perfect heat – to remind himself that this is about Sakusa, that Sakusa trusts him with this.
When he bottoms out, Sakusa is sucking air in like a bellows. Sweat drips from his collarbone to run down his chest and his cheeks underneath the blindfold are ruddy.
He’s beautiful. Atsumu loops one hand around Sakusa's cock, lifts one leg high up to crook over his shoulder, and snaps his hips hard enough and at a pace fast enough that Sakusa lets out a choked cry.
“Won’t you be loud for me, Omi-kun? I want you to tell me if it’s good, if you need me to go faster.”
Sakusa groans, voice hoarse, the blush spreading down his neck. “Harder, faster, just don’t stop, Atsumu, please –“
Atsumu’s hips stutter with oncoming orgasm. “Close,” he grits out. “Omi-kun, you’re gonna be the death of me.”
Sakusa has the coherency to laugh. “I haven’t come yet, so stay alive until then.”
With a particular twist of Atsumu’s hips, Sakusa comes with a wordless cry, back arching with the force of it. Atsumu follows right after, biting down hard on the skin at the fold of Sakusa’s knee.
Atsumu pulls out as gently as he can and hurries to remove the ties from Sakusa, discarding the condom and wiping down his stomach and thighs with the towel on the bedside table. Sakusa blinks to adjust his vision to the brightness of the room and tries to reach for Atsumu, but his arms flop lazily at his sides from being held upward for so long.
Atsumu pulls the covers over them. “What’d you think?”
“Blew my mind,” Sakusa says. “If I get horny the next time I wear those ties it’s your fault.”
Atsumu chuckles and throws one arm over Sakusa’s stomach. “You’re welcome, Omi-kun.”
Saturday, 8:35pm
They’re half an hour into scrolling through what to watch on Netflix, neither of them feeling particularly in the mood for a movie or a show with multiple episodes. Atsumu keeps flicking through the options until he lands on Chill with Bob Ross.
“Omi-kun, do you have any paints in here?”
Sakusa glances over at the television from where he’s preparing some hot cocoa. “I think I was gifted a paint set from a co-worker, let me check.” He disappears down the hallway to the linen closet and returns with a plastic package.
“I think I had oil paints on my secret Santa wishlist, but they ended up giving me a kid’s finger-painting set.” Atsumu laughs and takes the package, opening it and scattering paint tubes across the coffee table.
They spread out newspaper and lay out blank sheets of paper from the printer on top to follow along with Bob Ross. Atsumu attempts to paint along without mixing any colours. All ten fingers have their own colour assigned to them as he paints his way through a forest and a mountain top. Sakusa uses a paper plate as a palette and tries to mix colours to match Bob Ross’ oil paints.
“Oh shit, Omi-Omi, I think I should retire from lawyering and paint. Look at this masterpiece.” It’s honestly a mess. Sakusa laughs and makes to point at the tree that kind of looks like a dick, but accidentally flicks some paint and it lands on Atsumu’s cheek. They both freeze.
“Atsumu,” Sakusa says, knowing exactly what he’s thinking. “I’m sorry. Don’t –“
Atsumu is already smearing his kaleidoscope of colours onto Sakusa’s face and down his neck, staining his glasses and the open collar of his button up. Sakusa blinks in shock, mouth opening and closing wordlessly.
“These are washable, right?”
“Yeah.” With that, Sakusa abandons his painting and swipes his hand through the paint on his plate, launching himself at Atsumu. Atsumu shrieks but catches him anyway and they tussle across the living room floor, pushing and pulling at whatever they can reach to get paint on each other.
They end up with Sakusa in Atsumu’s lap, seated upright, fists up in the air in victory. They’re covered in paint – it’s in their hair, all over their shirts, some of it on the hardwood floor.
Atsumu rests his hands on Sakusa’s waist and knows he’ll be leaving more handprints on the crisp white shirt. “Shower?” He wiggles his eyebrows and lifts his hips ever so slightly, a hint of what’s to come.
Sakusa reaches for paper towels to wipe the paint off the floor. “Get the water running, I’ll clean this up.”
Atsumu is on his second shampoo lather when the shower curtain opens and Sakusa steps in, paint running down his face, to kiss Atsumu against the cold tile. Atsumu flinches when his back touches them and Sakusa murmurs an apology before he slots a thigh between Atsumu’s legs. They rut against each other languidly while they shampoo each other’s hair and lather body wash to get the rest of the paint off.
Hands soapy, Sakusa circles Atsumu’s erection and smirks when Atsumu’s hips jump toward him at the contact. The back of Atsumu’s head hits the tile when Sakusa gives a devastatingly good twist of his wrist and he reaches for Sakusa’s cock to return the favour, pumping slow and squeezing at the head just how Sakusa likes it.
They manage to time it such that they spill over each other’s hands at the same time, panting into the humid space between them.
Atsumu reaches for the body wash and the loofah. “Shower sex is the best. Slight danger of cracking my head open if I slip, but the easiest cleanup.”
“I bought this no slip bathmat for that very reason.”
“Shower sex?”
“No, not slipping, duh.”
“Well, it was a good investment if it can double for no slip shower sex. I approve wholeheartedly.”
Sakusa hums in agreement, content.
Sunday, 8:20am
They’re woken up with an alarm that’s similar to the one from last Sunday, blaring at what Atsumu determines as the ass crack of dawn. This time, both of their phones are going off, and they simultaneously groan and smack at the bedside table for their phones, Atsumu heaving his entire body weight onto Sakusa to reach it.
They lay there with Atsumu basically crushing Sakusa’s ribs to swipe at their phones.
“ATTENTION: Citywide shut down has ended, but citizens are advised to limit travel and movement until further notice. Work from home strategies will continue to be implemented,” Atsumu reads.
“Guess I can return you to Osamu after all,” Sakusa says lightly. Atsumu turns to look at him over his shoulder but his face is purposefully blank.
Atsumu figures it’s now or never. “I dunno if I wanna leave, Omi-kun. I haven’t had this much sex in a while.”
“Oh, just in it for the sex, are you?”
“Nah, the pretzels are also really good.” Sakusa snorts and pulls at Atsumu to look at him properly, eyes searching his face.
Atsumu brings one hand up to play with a curl. “Osamu also requested another thing.” At Sakusa’s raised eyebrow, he says, “I wanna make a boyfriend out of ya, Omi-kun. Whatcha’ think?”
He expects a sharp comeback fitting of Sakusa, but the way Sakusa looks down and gives a short, shy nod makes Atsumu’s heart pound.
They seal the deal with a kiss, and then some.