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Kageyama presses the phone to his ear, between his cheek and his shoulder, carrying the empty laundry basket. "There's no way," he says into the phone, "I'll believe that you left this weekend without considering that I'd end up doing your laundry."
Kunimi laughs from the other end. "What ever are you talking about?" he asks.
As much as Kageyama doesn't want to, he smiles. Kunimi's picky and doesn't like sharing sleeping space, but ever since they'd gone from roommates to roommates and this, boyfriend thing, or at least whatever you called it when they'd kiss each other awake or asleep and pick up breakfast for each other (Kageyama for Kunimi more often than otherwise), Kunimi hasn't denied Kageyama crawling into bed with him and wrapping his arms around his waist, nosing into his shirt.
He's missed Kunimi this weekend, but at least they're here now--or on the phone, at least, with Kageyama marching down to the building laundromat.
Kageyama says, "You're evil," and pushes the door open with the back of his hand, careful not to bump into any of the chairs or tables there.
He can practically hear Kunimi's pout on the other end. "That's mean," Kunimi says. "I can't do my laundry from here. If I was around, I would--"
"I don't believe that for a second." Kageyama chuckles. Usually they do laundry together, but that's mostly Kunimi carrying his stuff up and down and Kageyama doing the rest of the work.
Kageyama opens up the dryer and starts shoving Kunimi's clothes into the laundry basket. Kunimi says, "You assume too much of me," and Kageyama says, "More like not much at all."
"Okay, okay, touche," says Kunimi.
Kageyama pulls out most of Kunimi's boxer-briefs, his big t-shirts that he wears to sleep during the winter, the jeans that he always wears and the jeans that he doesn't wear unless he's trying to seduce Kageyama that day, because they'd shrunken in the wash about a year ago and make Kunimi's ass look good. Kageyama grins at them, and almost misses the flash of black that catches on the tail end of the jeans.
"I don't remember--" he starts, grabbing for it.
He stops.
"You don't remember?" says Kunimi's voice on the other end, but it feels much farther away, and not just because he's over the phone and not in town.
Because he's holding a pair of black underwear--lacy black underwear, that Kageyama has never seen before. They--They can't be Kunimi's, and the only people Kageyama can think of while holding these are tall, large chested women, like the ones who live on the floor above them. Kageyama stares, before hesitantly putting them into the laundry basket. Maybe they're just a stranger's and had accidentally left them in the dryer. Hopefully.
"Kageyama?" Kunimi says, and Kageyama's attention snaps back.
"Nothing," he rushes to say, but his cheeks feel warm--out of nervousness or embarrassment, he's not quite sure which. "I-I have to go, but I can't wait to see you tomorrow night."
"Oh," is the last thing Kageyama hears, before he hangs up.
*
Kageyama fidgets as he paces back and forth. Kunimi is due to come in in less than ten minutes, and Kageyama can’t really broach his boyfriend what are we person with, “So, are you cheating on me?” because Kunimi is a compulsive liar and that’s not the sort of question one would tell the truth to, anyway. Kageyama twists his fingers together, trying to think of a proper way to broach the subject.
The lingerie is on his bed, but under his pillow, because he probably shouldn’t bring it up with Kunimi straight away at first, either. Maybe they can get lunch or something, and Kageyama can pretend everything is fine. Maybe Kunimi had meant for him to find it. Maybe he was planning on breaking up with Kageyama when he came back.
Kageyama stops breathing for a second, and then punches on his chest to choke it out. He’s letting out strangled wheezes when the doorknob twists, twists again when it realizes it’s open, and then Kunimi is pushing himself in, carrying his suitcase in one hand.
He smiles when he sees Kageyama, though it quickly turns into a frown. “Kageyama, are you alright?” he asks, wheeling his bag in.
Kageyama manages to straighten up. He clears his throat. “Yeah, I-I’m fine,” he says.
He looks Kunimi up and down. The thing is, Kunimi is good-looking—he’d never say that to Kunimi’s face (mostly because Kunimi would never ask.) Kageyama can imagine how women would want to sleep with him all the time. Kageyama isn’t a woman, necessarily, but he understands the feeling. Maybe not all the time, but a significant amount of it.
He realizes he’s staring when Kunimi turns from where he’s dropped his bag on the ground and stares back. “What are you doing?” Kunimi asks.
Kageyama blinks.
Then he blurts, “Is she better than me?”
Better at volleyball: probably not. Better at sex: questionable. Kunimi isn’t very responsive when Kageyama is blowing him, or—or they’re doing other things. But Kunimi isn’t an extremely vocal person in general.
Kunimi stares at him some more. “Better than you at what?” he asks. And then, “And who is she?”
“She, the one, you know,” Kageyama gulps. “The one you’re sleeping with.”
Kunimi looks lost. “The only person I’m sleeping with is you,” he says, before, “and I was kind of looking forward to that today.” He smiles a little, walks across the room, takes Kageyama’s hands in his.
He’s about to kiss him. Kageyama knows. Kunimi is a really good kisser, and he knows it, because he leans in and Kageyama can’t squeeze in a word beforehand because Kunimi’s mouth is on his, and he’s prying gently at Kageyama’s lips. He kisses as languidly as he lives, as softly as he sleeps, licking and moving in rhythm and it’s really distracting when there are a pair of panties under Kageyama’s pillow and he’s already started this hole so he intends to finish it.
“Wait,” he says, and Kunimi captures him in a kiss again. “Wait,” Kageyama says, and takes a step back.
Kunimi frowns. “What’s wrong?”
“You’re making me forget—she,” says Kageyama. He holds his head in his hands. This is just a tactic, to get Kageyama to forget what he’d brought up. He refuses to give into it.
Kunimi snorts. “I really have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says. “Now can we get back to things that make sense, please? I believe I said something about sleeping with you today—”
“No, no, wait,” says Kageyama. He puts his hand between them. “You’re not going to distract me from talking about the girl you’re cheating on me with.”
Kunimi blinks.
“What.”
“The,” says Kageyama. The back of his neck is hot in both accusation, but also the prickling fear that he’s right, Kunimi did find someone better than me.
He goes to his bed and thrusts his pillow underneath. Out come the pair of black lace panties, and he dangles them in front of Kunimi’s face.
Kunimi turns red.
“See?” Kageyama accuses, though he can’t really look Kunimi in the face with the underwear between them. “You’re blushing, so you really were—”
“Those are mine,” Kunimi mumbles.
Kageyama stops, mind reeling. Between the stitches of the black lace he can see Kunimi staring off to the side, gaze downcast, pink with humiliation. Of course these are Kunimi’s, Kageyama had found them in his laundry—
“What do you mean?”
“They’re not some girl’s, they’re mine,” Kunimi reiterates.
Then he snatches them from Kageyama’s hands and storms over to his chest of drawers, tearing it open and putting it inside. He’s muttering something, that sounds kind of like, “god, so embarrassing,” and, “knew you’d never understand,” and, “shit, I’m so stupid,” and Kageyama’s brain is both running too fast and halting because—
What?
Kunimi wearing lace panties?
“I,” says Kageyama, finally. “Really?”
“Yes, really,” Kunimi snaps. His back is turned. His neck is bright red.
“Are they your size?”
Kunimi swivels around, the color high on his cheeks, glaring like he thinks Kageyama is mocking him. “Are they my—” he says, but his expression changes when he catches sight of Kageyama’s face. Kageyama is not sure what he looks like. He’s still thinking about Kunimi in lace, lace underwear, around his milky thighs, straining against his bright red cock—
“Are you kidding?” Kunimi says.
Kageyama shrugs. “If they’re not your size, then I’m wondering why they were in your laundry,” he says, though it sounds like another person is speaking. The rest of his brain is elsewhere, in a fantasy land that he hopes terribly will become a reality soon.
Kunimi turns around, exhales loudly through his nose, then turns back to Kageyama. “Yes,” he says, meeting Kageyama’s eyes. “They are my size.”
Then, a smirk. “Do you want me to show you?”
Kageyama doesn’t say anything. But Kunimi strips out of his sweatpants (he prefers them because they’re loose and don’t constrict his skin, but Kageyama doesn’t complain because sometimes he’s too lazy to wear underwear underneath) and then out of his boxer briefs, loose cock dangling between his thighs. He takes the lingerie back from where he’d shoved it in his drawer, and slides it on.
It runs up the pale sheen of his legs, dark against his shin and knee, riding between his plush thighs. He gets the loose band around his waist, black and ragged in thin strips, lace wrapping around the front of his cock.
Kageyama’s brain shuts off for what feels like a complete minute. The next thing he knows, he’s pushing Kunimi into the side of their bed, kissing his mouth using too much teeth, feeling at the hem of his shirt and hovering above his cock. Kunimi is snickering into his mouth but making no attempt to pull away, soothing Kageyama’s kiss wit his lips, dragging the aggression away. Kageyama reaches between them to run his hands against Kunimi’s hardening cock, straining through the lace panties, a stark contrast to his skin. His red dripping erection pulsing between accents the image, and Kageyama runs his head across the thumb, barely smearing the precome.
Kunimi whines into his mouth. “Kageyama,” he breathes, holding Kageyama’s face between his hands. Kageyama pants through his teeth and looks into Kunimi’s face with heavily lidded eyes. Kunimi’s pupils are blown, all black on black, and—Kageyama kisses him again, taking his hand off Kunimi’s front, rubbing the polyester of his shorts between his thighs.
Kunimi gasps and it’s probably the loudest sound he’s ever made during sex before. “Why is this,” Kageyama murmurs, dipping his head to press a kiss at Kunimi’s jaw. “Why is this new?”
“Why do you think?” Kunimi is rolling his eyes, Kageyama knows, even though he’s sucking light hickies onto Kunimi’s neck now. “Not everyone is into this sort of thing."
“Everyone should be,” Kageyama says earnestly, lifting his head up again.
Kunimi laughs and hits the center of Kageyama’s forehead with the flat of his palm. “Are you going to suck me off or what?” he asks.
Kageyama slides his hands beneath Kunimi’s shirt again, in response. Kunimi’s hips buck up but he encourages him, so Kageyama smooths over the warm skin, clutching the plane of Kunimi’s backside, pinching lightly at the handles. He sinks down to his feet, as Kunimi adjusts himself better against the bed, resting his back there.
Kageyama fingers through the lace. He hadn’t gotten quite a good look at it before, mostly because he’d imagined them on some girl, Kunimi fucking her through them. Now they’re on Kunimi and Kageyama is going to fuck him through them, and it’s a better picture. Kageyama runs the length of his index and middle finger along the front of the lace, drinking in the sound of Kunimi letting out a low whine from the back of his throat.
The lace threads through his fingers. Kageyama straightens up on his knees to get to the tip, draws Kunimi’s cockhead into his mouth. Upon the initial contact Kunimi lets out another guttural sound in his throat, hotter than anything Kageyama’s ever heard before. He flicks the lace against the length of his cock, watching as it snaps gently.
“Christ,” Kunimi says, from the bed.
Kageyama watches the dark movement as he sucks Kunimi off, the way it shifts with every precise angling, how Kageyama can run his hand across the waistband and barely feel the sheen of Kunimi’s smooth skin underneath. Kunimi’s thighs are tense and buckling, but not moving. Kageyama wraps the lace around and off again, and he can tell that Kunimi likes it, too; his dick twitches with every form of contact, and Kageyama’s is too.
He wraps his cock with the lace again, licking it through the frazzled patterns. Kunimi whimpers and says, “Shit,” as Kageyama noses at the tip through the black, wraps his mouth around what he can get of his length, sliding down to Kunimi’s balls. He gets his lips around them, too, licks one more stripe up before thumbing at the head again, and then Kunimi is coming all over his front, white ribbons on his shirt and the little patch of stomach from where his shirt is riding up.
Kageyama stands up, watching it all. Kunimi pants as he rides his orgasm down, cock twitching as it fits a little better into the underwear, though not perfectly. Kageyama is so painfully hard in his pants he’s not sure how he can see straight, but it must be something about wanting to watch Kunimi, first.
Kunimi lifts himself up and smirks when he sees the wet spot on Kageyama’s shorts. “Of course,” he says, fond. “You’re terrible at multitasking.”
“I had other things on my mind,” Kageyama says defensively.
“I know.” Kunimi’s grin is smug. “Liked me a bit too much in lace, didn’t you?”
“Not too much,” Kageyama says, but Kunimi lifts himself up to kiss Kageyama on the mouth.
It’s weird, because Kageyama is never too fond of kissing Kunimi after Kunimi blows him; but Kunimi doesn’t seem to mind his own taste on Kageyama’s lips. He licks himself off and it’s kind of hot, really, because he keeps going until Kageyama can’t taste him anymore, really only him, his tongue, the inside of his mouth more than anything. He’s warm and lethargic and breaks off from Kageyama’s lips with a small pop!
“Do you want me to return the favor?” Kunimi asks, watching as Kageyama blinks himself back into reality.
Kageyama looks at him, then glances down between them.
“Wearing your underwear or not?” he asks.
Kunimi laughs and drags him onto the bed.