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With a groan, Atsumu cracked open his bleary eyes and glanced at the clock on his bed stand. The neon green light came to a focus reading at 3:06 am. The imposing lights were a sure sign that he should currently be resting his fatigued muscles. His consciousness was waving in and out, and the trickle of logic coming in and the clarity of his surroundings became terribly unwelcoming the moment he cracked open his eyes.
The MSBY Black Jackals team is relatively generous with its members, and their private dormitory lies in a comfortable suburb in east Osaka. In the mornings, the interactions with the friendly neighbours and local shopkeepers are a slow lull, like the third tempo pace in volleyball. It is a mental preparation before diving into the bustling flow of the city center. His brother and himself would've killed to live in such a spacious room when they were younger. With a snort, he turned away from his clock. You could still hear reverberations from infrequent cars that fade into the background at this hour.
The absence of his brother and his childhood home was an absence of fighting for the rights to the top bunk, bickering about who gets the best sections of their dresser, and yelling matches to see who has the right to display their action figurines on their bookshelf. In times like these when you wake up alone, Atsumu suddenly thought that he wouldn't mind that cramped bunk, albeit too small for their grown selves. Being in their humble childhood room meant they were always joined at the hip, and his quiet studio apartment in the dead of night reminded him of their lives as adults. His brother's hidden stash of snacks was no longer an arm's reach away. Atsumu has come a long way in his career. That’s right; he's absolutely fortunate to occupy this space and deserves it. But tonight, the air seemed a little more tense than usual, and the silence expanded into the corners, weighing on him like a chilly fog. His ceiling stared down at him coldly, and the walls appeared foreign. There were no cars outside to be heard now and no sound of wind.
Was it always this quiet? It's not that he's being ungrateful. Atsumu shut his eyes and scrambled to recollect his memories of the summer Hyogo countryside, where the air was humid and nights were sultry, hoping this would invite sleep to return. The times when he would forgo his blankets to snuggle close to Shinsuke despite his feet and hands that grew sticky with the proximity. The chitterings of the crickets provided a comforting equilibrium that lulled them to rest. He squirmed and shivered, pulling his blanket into a tighter embrace. Perhaps his blanket was not thick enough to ward off the chilliness. Did he forget to close the windows?
The peak of the V.League volleyball season is set in motion as the days shorten into the colder months. The next day, Atsumu prepared an early start for strength training to stay motivated for his routine. Waking up before sunrise then preparing ingredients he needed to prepare for breakfast. He needs to do his chores in the afternoon, get more groceries, and prepare for team training in the evening. Tossing and turning, the awfully gray ceiling stared down at him, and maybe he could put up a few more pictures on the wall over there. Atsumu concentrated on a corner part of the ceiling. He was searching for that ugliest and most boring patch and waited for sleep to knock him out. He was awake and cold and considered forgoing his plan and getting up to turn on the heater. The frigid darkness seeped into the depths of his mind and dug into his state of solitude, resisting to let himself yield to slumber. It was a little foolish, he thought, letting this chill wrap around his body so tightly he feared his inner thoughts could not be contained and aimlessly released into the void. He sat up, and Atsumu glanced with disappointment at the little black squares of windows from the apartment across from him. Damn everyone and their early bird habits; you would think at least one person in the neighbourhood would be a night owl. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, and his thoughts of what his brother and Shinsuke were doing echoed into the silence. Probably asleep and was not thinking of him at all, nope.
You don't know how loud and far your thoughts wander until 3:42 am mocks you from the nightstand. Atsumu knows that he has an unbothered display of flashiness he shows off to the world during his games. Adding to his relentless charging, being headstrong and confident allows him to follow the tempo of city life and the public demands of his performance. Shinsuke always said an insatiable hunger within him would take him to greater heights. Atsumu didn’t know if he entirely agreed with Shinsuke's statement about seeking his greater heights solely in the city; it's as if it removed his important person from the equation . When Atsumu was busy, Shinsuke became reserved in his texts to give him space. That exact space stretched wider and broader in the dead of the night. It couldn't be helped, Atsumu pouted; after all, he is free during the rice harvesting season and returns to practice during Shinsuke's off-season with work.
Atsumu's hunger is mochi pounding with Shinsuke at the neighbourhood park on New Year's, quiet shrine visits near his old Inarizaki High before games to wish for good luck and the sound of windchimes rippling softly through the wind as he sips on chilled green tea at Yumie Kita's home on summer days. He yearns for the golden rice fields stretching across the horizon and the taste of Shinsuke's lips as Atsumu holds him while the setting sun illuminates their frames. Atsumu fell on his back and turned his head in his pillow, a childish attempt to bury his sentimentality. He was not supposed to be spiralling like this. Any longer, and his thoughts will- Wasn't the last time Shinsuke called like two weeks ago? Did he think about me the same amount I think about him? Atsumu is simply a country boy with a voracious appetite and a desire to be a good lover. To play in tiptop condition, wanting the best spikers to hit his sets, and being there for Shinsuke. Was that too much to ask for? Atsumu didn't think he was any less busy than Shinsuke, somehow it always seemed like he was the one chasing after Shinsuke. He should think about "us" more.
Atsumu actually hadn't been actively calling for the past two weeks either, usually dead exhausted after work. After leaving the highs of a volleyball match, his favourite thing to do in his spare time is boast to Osamu that he's the happier twin (of course, he loves and celebrates his brother) and tell him the fruits of victory. Their sibling rivalry consisted of updates on their successes. It's not Shinsuke's fault for not calling. To be fair, Shinsuke also needed to spare time for his family and friends. But did he miss me the way I miss him? If I hadn't called him, he could've done something too, y'know. He swallowed the tightness in his throat and curled up to find more warmth.
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Atsumu squeezed his eyes, reminding himself that he must wake up early tomorrow. He figured that lying down, letting his mind wander, and inviting doubt were not the best choices, so he sat up and considered folding some fresh laundry in the basket by the foot of his bed for the past four days. A little shudder coursed through his body when his blanket slipped off his shoulders. He had been meaning to get to his laundry for a while now. Clearly, his self-discipline when it came to housework had been slipping when he was not cohabiting with Shinsuke. If he couldn't do it properly during the day, he could at least finish the task at night. "I found a new way to fold our shirts so they stand upright," Shinsuke said with a smile the last time he stayed over. Atsumu gathered the courage to leave the remaining warmth and picked himself up, sauntering over with his blanket draped over his shoulders, and tackled his neglected duty.
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He was hit with the terrible itch to call Shinsuke when he flopped his face flat back into his pillow but knew better than to call the man who rises with the sun. They don't do late-night talks anymore; it's something reserved for during their student days. Even then, Shinsuke always chided Atsumu for sleeping in class the next day. Of course, Mr. Perfect could function despite joining Atsumu's late-night shenanigans. Ultimately, Atsumu knew that despite being well into their life as adults, the diligent nagging of his ex-captain would worm their way through. If he does call, he will get scolded for not looking after his sleep schedule. If Shinsuke didn't reach out to him, he wouldn't do it either, he thought with a huff. He was not going to risk it (his pride). He needed to fall back to sleep, and perhaps instead of counting sheep to sleep, he could count mini Shinsuke instead.
One mini Shinsuke… who materialized and smiled at him encouragingly. Two mini Shinsuke… the image somehow shifted into his full-grown self, who caressed Atsumu's cheeks gently. Three Shinsuke… who was trailing his tongue down Atsumu's abdomen- his eyes snapped open and felt the heat pool in his nether regions; I swear to God-
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So be it; Atsumu will let this sly, sensual, illusory Shinsuke have his way. There was no better method to fall asleep than to do an act of self-service, he thought as he lowered his hand and began to palm himself until he felt wetness through his briefs. Illusory Shinsuke slipped two fingers into the waistbands of Atsumu's briefs and painstakingly dragged them down; his cock sprung from its restraints. He felt Shinsuke's breath ghost his tip. Eyes half-lidded, with a protruding pink tongue, his lover trailed down his length until he was buried in his hair. "May I?" Shinsuke whispered against his member as he glanced up. His piercing amber eyes had seen all of Atsumu's insecurities and laid him naked and helpless. Shinsuke's cheeks flushed, his free hand played with Atsumu's slit as it leaked pre-cum. Atsumu twitched against himself, and he squeezed and let illusory Shinsuke take the rein.
Shinsuke devoured him in one deft movement. The warmth enclosed around his member as Shinsuke took him. One smaller hand was at the base, and the other held a purchase on Atsumu's thighs. His lover's head bobbed up slowly and down until Atsumu felt resistant at his tip. Atsumu's hand quickened his pumps. Shinsuke released him with a pop, saliva, a glistening trail to his lips, and Atsumu shivered as his cock twitched at the rush of cold air and lack of warmth. He wrapped his finger in Shinsuke's hair and pushed his head back down. He buckled his hips, and Atsumu thrust into the lewd hole of Shinsuke's mouth and felt himself hit against his lover's throat. Ah, ah, ah, the filthy sounds vibrated from the back of Shinsuke's throat. Shinsuke choked, and Atsumu watched the essence dribble down Shinsuke's chin. Atsumu's breathing hitched, and a gasp was caught in his throat. A spasm came from his member and the friction of his desperate grasp. He tightened his grip around himself. Shinsuke wouldn't let him come yet, not when he's been ungrateful.
Shinsuke released Atsumu's throbbing hardness, the delicate thread of spit and cum connecting them both. He licked his lips and repositioned himself on top of Atsumu, arranged the cockhead to his entrance and in one daft movement, bottomed out, rocking to find his sweet spot. Atsumu's body burned with desire. He always knew where to hit to make Shinsuke feel the best. These practiced actions symbolized their understanding and devotion toward each other. Every bit of their relationship has been built up from the care and time they have put in. His hunger and cravings don't deny their dedication; he knows that Shinsuke also understands that. There is a time for planting and a time for harvest. They plant a foothold in their respective dreams when they are apart. They had both made sacrifices to pursue their respective paths. Atsumu's eyes burn, ashamed of his shallow thoughts prior.
He rocked his hips up in the rhythm of Shinsuke's breathing, their sounds mingling and their breaths in unison. Atsumu knew he'd hit the prostate when Shinsuke clenched around him. The tightness of his walls clenched Atsumu's cock for dear life. "You're doing so well; you've been so patient...we'll finish it together," Shinsuke whispered as he leaned down to meet Atsumu's lips… with a squeeze and a strangled groan, Atsumu released himself into his palms. He panted and breathed to calm himself from his thoughts. Shit, post-nut clearly really made him see how fucking stupid he was behaving earlier. He slid off his bed to clean himself up and swore not to fall into the traps of late-night doubt.
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Pulling the covers to his chin, Atsumu let his tiredness take over like a wave. He's exasperated now that he made peace with himself. When the sun rises, he will give Shinsuke a call instead of staying stubborn. After all, Shinsuke has him by the reign. There was also no point in self-combusting with loneliness when all he should do was take a bite. When had Shinsuke ever withheld anything from him? He had been watching and providing since the days of pickled plums and calpis lemon water. Shinsuke is the personification of patience and dutifulness. His way of love is by sowing seeds and harvesting the ripe crops when ready. He doesn't neglect but watches over. Atsumu loves and loves by giving and devouring. He gives his best plays on the court and does not sacrifice by giving shortcuts. He celebrates and eats heartily the fruits of success. As sleep took over, Atsumu thought about the years they've built and practiced a routine that yields the best results for both...
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Ding!
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