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Shit, Atsumu thought to himself, the neighbours are gonna hate us already.
Any momentary embarrassment he may have felt about the creaking of the hastily assembled bed frame or the banging of the headboard against the wall is quickly forgotten when Kiyoomi plants his feet firmly on the bed and readjusts the angle of his hips.
“Omiiii,” Atsumu cries out, more as a moan than a name, really. “Love ya s’much,” he slurs, smiling blissfully.
After having spent all day moving boxes and hauling furniture into their new apartment, Atsumu’s legs are burning, but there’s no way any self-respecting power-bottom would give up that easily. Somehow, even after so many years together, the need to please only amplifies.
Kiyoomi tightens his grip just below the solid muscle of Atsumu’s ass, alleviating some of the burden from the setter’s god-like thighs. He slows his pace, rolling his hips and grinding up slowly into Atsumu, his dark eyes unwavering, drawing Atsumu’s gaze into their gravitational pull.
How did I get so lucky?
“I’m so fucking lucky,” Kiyoomi echoes Atsumu's thoughts, emphasizing the statement with another agonizingly slow thrust before quickening his pace once more. He pulls Atsumu down and bites softly at his ear. “You’re never getting away from me now,” he threatens, though Atsumu chooses to interpret this threat as a promise.
“Mmmnngh!” Atsumu’s filthy moans echo through their empty bedroom, the only boxes they've unpacked so far contained basic linens and bedding.
Kiyoomi captures the sound from Atsumu’s lips in a desperate, sloppy kiss. “You feel incredible, Atsu,” he says against his lips, “Use my cock, please, it’s all yours,” he pants desperately.
Atsumu’s mouth curves into an easy lopsided grin. “Don’t worry darlin', just relax,” he breathes into Kiyoomi’s mouth. “I’ll give ya a good show.”
Atsumu straightens up and leans back, gripping the sturdy legs behind him and placing his feet flat on either side of Kiyoomi’s waist. He spread his knees open to put himself on full display.
The surly man could deny it all he wanted, but Atsumu knew Kiyoomi was just as much of a pervert as he was, and few things aroused him more than being used as Atsumu’s glorified dildo. How could Atsumu possibly deny his precious Omi-kun a chance to please him?
Without a single shred of concern for anything but his own desires, Atsumu fucks himself in earnest, his warm hooded eyes not leaving Kiyoomi’s for a second as a familiar heat builds low in his belly. He alternates teasing his entrance by pulling off almost all the way before slamming himself back down, letting gravity assist in taking Kiyoomi as deeply as possible.
Kiyoomi looks like he’s holding on for dear life, biting his lip harshly, keeping his eyes locked on Atsumu’s, and clenching his muscles so as not to finish too early and ruin the fun for Atsumu.
“Atsu,” he grits out through clenched teeth. “Please.”
Atsumu keeps Kiyoomi deeply sheathed within himself as he circles his hips around tauntingly. “Please what, m’love?”
“Want you to cum on my cock,” Kiyoomi grunts.
“Hmm,” he ponders aloud. “Don’t think I heard ya say please.”
Just to be a brat, Atsumu raises himself up, once again teasing the very tip of Kiyoomi’s dick at his entrance, almost pulling off entirely.
Kiyoomi’s hands shoot out to grab Atsumu’s hips and still his movement.
“Please. I’m so close,” he says, strained.
Atsumu decides to indulge him, solely out of compassion of course, and certainly not because his legs are actively turning into jelly.
“Alright,” he says, sinking back down with another lewd moan from both of them. “Hang on just a little longer for me, will ya?”
He lets his head fall back and his eyes shut as he angles himself just right and uses Kiyoomi’s length exactly where it feels best. He keeps a steady rhythm despite the tremor in his quads becoming harder and harder to ignore. Soon enough he’s chased his pleasure right to the precipice.
“Ahh! Omiomiomiomi,” he cries wantonly.
At the first sensation of Atsumu’s release, Kiyoomi finally lets go of the tension he’s been holding, and helps to support Atsumu’s weight as they gently fuck each other through synchronous orgasms. Their mouths fall open to release loud, unabashed sounds of satisfaction.
Once Kiyoomi’s dick has released its last valiant spurt, Atsumu gives himself a moment before sliding off and flopping down next to Kiyoomi. The two stare up the unfamiliar ceiling as they catch their breath. As per usual, Kiyoomi is the one to return to his sweaty, sticky, corporeal form first.
“I’ll go run us a bath,” he says, patting Atsumu’s thigh lovingly before rolling over and off the bed.
Atsumu is overcome by a surge of affection as he watches his partner’s cute bum disappear through the bathroom door, an ever-so-subtle wobble in his normally sturdy gait.
He looks out the large window at the treetops of a nearby park swaying in the wind and the windowless brick wall of a neighbouring commercial building and is grateful they don’t particularly need to be concerned with closing the blinds. They really lucked out with this place.
Kiyoomi pokes his head out of the bathroom. “Do you need a hand?” He asks with a smirk.
Atsumu scoffs, moving into a seated position with his feet on the floor. “Give a guy a minute, Omi-Omi,” he moves to stand with a monumental effort, almost falling immediately back onto the bed. “See? ‘m just fine.”
Kiyoomi’s smirk grows into a veritable shit-eating grin. That bastard. “Yeah? Come on then,” Kiyoomi glances over his shoulder then looks back at Atsumu expectantly. “The tub’s almost full.”
Atsumu scans the room for anything he can use support himself with. Maybe if I can make it over to the dresser… A gush of semen dribbles down his leg making him wince right as he starts to take a step. He pitches forward, betrayed by his own limbs, and falls straight into Kiyoomi’s intercepting arms where he’s scooped up into a princess carry and deposited gently into the bathtub.
“I don’t know what you expected, love,” Kiyoomi kisses the top of his head as he settles into the tub behind him. “You shouldn’t have gone so hard for leg day yesterday.”
“Can’t slack off, I know ya only love me for my thighs,” Atsumu leans his weight back, “and I gotta look hot when I wear my lucky shorts tomorrow.”
Kiyoomi runs his hands up and down Atsumu’s sides in a comforting gesture. “Right,” he deadpans, “I can’t think of anything hotter than being the only college freshman in his 30’s limping between classes wearing bright red shorts in April.”
“I know ya can’t, but no need to worry, I’m already all yers,” Atsumu turns his head to plant a kiss on Kiyoomi’s upper arm. He closes his eyes and tries to relax but he can’t keep his hands from absentmindedly picking at the small bumps and ingrown hairs just below Kiyoomi’s knee.
“Something on your mind?” Kiyoomi asks patiently, gently encasing Atsumu’s hands and prying them away from his leg. “Or has my skin done something to offend you?”
Atsumu curls in on himself a little bit. “Sorry, darlin’, I guess I’m just a bit worried about jugglin’ too many balls at once,” he laughs humourlessly.
“Atsumu,” Kiyoomi grabs his face with both hands so they two are looking directly at each other. “If school is too much right now, you can always try again after retirement. Or find something else…” Kiyoomi breaks off to bury his face in Atsumu’s neck while squeezing him in a tight hug. “…I’m already so proud of you,” he murmurs, barely audible.
“What was that last part?” Atsumu’s face heats. “Didn’t quite catch that, Omi.”
“Let’s get cleaned up and have some dinner,” Kiyoomi deflects.
“Wait! Repeat what ya said!”
“There’s still a lot of unpacking to do,” he says, squirting a generous dollop of purple shampoo into his hands and massaging it into Atsumu’s scalp.
“Ugh, yer the worst,” Atsumu relents with a dopey grin on his face.
_ _ _
1 Month Later
Atsumu is squinting so hard at the microscopically labelled diagrams of his Anatomy & Physiology textbook that his facial muscles are starting to twitch. And I’d know exactly which facial muscles if I could read this fucking diagram, he thinks bitterly. His beloved contacts certainly weren’t made to be worn for so many hours at a time, and he’s about ready to rip the awful scratchy things out right this instant.
He heaves a sigh of defeat. It’s probably best that he leaves the library before any of the try-hard teenagers can get too creeped out by the old man with bloodshot eyes who can’t even read his own notes. His pride was already wounded enough when security had approached him last week after an anonymous tip about a “suspicious person talking to himself.” He vowed to take the memory of that encounter to his grave.
The first thing he does when he gets home is wash his hands and remove the offending lenses. Atsumu would still like to get some more work done tonight though, so he begins a search through some of the boxes in the closet that he hasn’t gotten around to unpacking yet. Most of the things are old keepsakes— things like photo albums, awards and trophies, a few choice items stolen from Samu, and… there they are! His emergency glasses. The frames have a tortoiseshell browline, lined with gold wire that makes up the lower rims and arms.
He heads into the bathroom and cleans them off before sliding them over his nose. It’s a little strange to see himself in glasses that he hasn’t worn since high school— like his past self stepped into a time machine or something. Idly, he questions if this style is so out of fashion that maybe it’s come back in style again? He snaps himself out of his reverie before he can have another crisis about getting old (his 30th birthday was a disaster) and sets up shop at the coffee table.
After a few hours, he hears the telltale beeping of the front door’s number lock, and looks over to the door as Kiyoomi enters with a few grocery bags.
“Omi!” He greets him enthusiastically. “Welcome home!”
“You’re back early today,” Kiyoomi says, looking down as he swaps his shoes for slippers and shuffles into the kitchen.
“Yeah, I needed a change of scenery. What’d ya get for dinner?”
Kiyoomi finally looks up at Atsumu and stops dead in his tracks. “Uh… I…” his mouth falls open. “Food,” he finishes awkwardly, holding up a bag for emphasis. Kiyoomi then starts frantically unpacking the groceries and makes a bee-line for the bathroom.
Atsumu raises his arms and puckers his lips like the attention-seeking child he is. “Kiss?”
“Someone sneezed near me. I need to shower,” Kiyoomi says, avoiding eye contact as he zooms out of the living room and into the bathroom.
Atsumu, mildly befuddled, but otherwise accustomed to Kiyoomi’s periodically strange behaviour decides that dinner is more important than studying for the time being. He moseys over to the kitchen to suss out Kiyoomi’s haul, only to find… tofu in the cupboard? Mushrooms in the fruit bowl? 2 packs of dried soba in the fridge?
What the fuck?
_ _ _
2 Weeks Later
There’s just barely enough time after class ends for Atsumu to run to the station and fling himself onto the train before the doors close behind him. Relieved to have made it, he slumps back against the seat and unlocks his phone to remind himself exactly who he’s about to meet with. It looks like he’ll have just long enough to scarf down a quick bite before he and Kiyoomi meet with the team’s PR manager to discuss joint sponsorship offers. He sends a silent prayer of gratitude to Kiyoomi’s shared calendar.
He arrives at the cafe with about 5 minutes to spare and sees Kiyoomi seated at an isolated corner table next to the large plants by the window. There is already an iced latte and a thick slice of banana bread waiting for Atsumu.
Kiyoomi tenses once he sees Atsumu coming toward him, his eyes widening frightfully.
Atsumu approaches Kiyoomi, perhaps a bit more cautiously than he normally would, and gives him a kiss on the top of his head. “Thank ya, darlin’, Don’t know what I’d do without ya!” He takes a big gulp of coffee and hums appreciatively.
Kiyoomi still hasn’t said anything and continues to stare at Atsumu silently.
“Everythin’ alright?” He says through a mouthful of banana bread.
That seems to be enough to temporarily snap Kiyoomi out of whatever stupor he’s in. “Don’t talk with your mouth full.”
Atsumu swallows. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop yappin’ then,” he concedes, devoting his full attention to the delicious treat in front of him.
Their PR manager walks through the front door as soon as he’s done a final pass of the napkin over his face. “Hana-san!” He calls out, waving her over.
“Sakusa-senshu, Miya-senshu,” she bows her head politely. “I hope you’ve been enjoying yourselves over the break. Please excuse me while I grab a drink.”
Atsumu looks over at Sakusa, who has his legs crossed awkwardly in what must be a very uncomfortably rigid posture.
“Omi-kun, loosen up, yer stiff as a board,” he stage whispers, resting what he hopes is a reassuring hand on Kiyoomi’s shoulder.
“Please don’t touch me,” Kiyoomi snaps. “Sorry,” he backpedals quickly, eyes flitting around nervously. “I’m a little on edge. I thought I saw a cockroach.”
Atsumu narrows his eyes in suspicion. Why won’t he look at me?
Before Atsumu has time to really start spiralling, Hana returns to her seat.
“Miya-senshu, the glasses are a good look on you, are those new?” Hana asks.
“Oh, these old things!” Atsumu exclaims, suddenly scrambling to find the case in his disastrously unorganized book bag. “I forgot I was even wearin’ ‘em, I came straight from class!”
“Ah, yes, how is your program going? You’re studying physiotherapy, right?”
Atsumu tucks his glasses safely into their case. Shit, that was embarrassing.
He chit-chats back and forth with Hana for a bit before moving on to business, Kiyoomi gradually loosening up and occasionally offering more than one word at a time.
By the end of the meeting, all their affairs are in order and Kiyoomi seems more or less back to normal. The prospect of some new and exciting brand deals takes up the majority of Atsumu’s brain space during the walk home, and Kiyoomi’s earlier behaviour is nearly forgotten.
_ _ _
4 Days Later
Kiyoomi picks up the call after the 3rd ring.
“Yes?”
“Can ya pick me up from school, Daddy?”
The call immediately disconnects. Atsumu swears under his breath and calls back 3 more times before Kiyoomi picks up again.
“What?”
“Can ya drive me home today? I just finished up at the library and I’m sooo tiiiiired,” Atsumu whines.
“Sure. I’ll be there soon,” Kiyoomi replies before hanging up once again.
Normally the half hour commute home is the perfect time for Atsumu to decompress after a day’s work, but right now he can't bear the thought of cramming himself into a train car with so many people. All he wants to do is cuddle up on the couch with Kiyoomi as soon as possible and turn off his brain while they marathon some trashy reality cooking show. Mmmm that'd be a nice way to spend the weekend.
He packs up his books and trudges down the stairs, making a stop at a vending machine for a pick-me-up, lest he fall asleep outside on a public bench (again).
Atsumu is almost done sipping his tea when he sees Kiyoomi’s fancy-ass Lexus pull into the parking lot. He brightens up immediately, running over to open the passenger door, excited that only a quick 15-minute drive is between him and his sweet, sweet cuddle time.
“Thanks fer grabbin’ me, Omi, ya wouldn’t believe the shit my group project partners pulled!” Atsumu starts complaining. “One guy didn’t even—”
He stops mid-rant when he looks over to see Kiyoomi staring daggers ahead, jaw tensed, and his knuckles turning white from how hard he’s gripping the steering wheel.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Kiyoomi grits out, checking his mirrors stiffly as he merges into traffic and not sparing a single glance for the (self-declared) hot piece of ass occupying his passenger seat.
Atsumu’s temper, already short from the day, flares.
“It’s not nothin’!” He raises his voice. “What’s goin’ on with ya lately? Ya wouldn’t look at me the other day at the café either! And… and what was up with the fuckin’ groceries ya put away all weird?! I found a bottle o' mirin under the sink, for fuck's sake!”
“Atsumu,” Kiyoomi says tensely. “Can we please discuss this at home?”
Atsumu looks at his partner in disbelief, trying to find some sort of answer in the man’s inscrutable expression. God damn his perfect poker face.
“Fine,” Atsumu says quietly, trying to hold back tears as he cranks the volume on the radio and stares out the window like he’s the main character of some angsty drama. His mind is swirling.
They ride the rest of the way in silence and arrive at their doorstep, where Kiyoomi unlocks the door and walks in first.
Atsumu holds on until the door closes behind him before the dam bursts and tears start flowing down his face. He takes off his damned glasses and shoves them in his pocket before they can get all foggy and wet.
“Omi, are ya sick of me?” He asks in a pathetically small voice. “Did I do somethin' wrong?”
Kiyoomi finally turns around and takes in Atsumu’s crying face with bewilderment, rushing over to hold him in his arms.
“Atsumu!” He calls out in distress, hugging him tightly. “Of course not, my love, You haven't done anything wrong.”
“Then why won’t ya tell me what’s been botherin’ ya?”
Kiyoomi lets out a long deep exhale. “I’m so sorry, Atsu. I owe you an explanation. I promise it’s nothing like what you’re thinking, though. Can we go sit on the couch?”
Atsumu nods his head in confusion, ditching his bag and jacket unceremoniously on the genkan floor to be dealt with later.
Kiyoomi pulls Atsumu onto his lap, nuzzling into the back of his neck. “I have a really embarrassing confession to make.”
Atsumu wriggles around so he’s facing Kiyoomi, who is still hiding his face, and runs a hand through his hair gently. “What is it, darlin’? Ya know ya can tell me anythin’”
“I think I want to try bottoming,” Kiyoomi says into Atsumu’s shoulder.
Atsumu.exe has stopped working, the hand in Kiyoomi’s hair stilling. “Wait, what? Where is this comin’ from?”
Kiyoomi murmurs sheepishly. “I wanted to try something new…?”
Of all the fuckin’ things…
“We’ve been together almost 10 years, Omi, ya’ve never once brought this up before. I mean, ya already know I’d never say no to ya, but forgive me for bein’ a lil lost here…”
“I’ve just been thinking about it lately is all.”
“And this translates to your weird-ass behaviour how…?” Atsumu asks, still feeling like he’s missing a very vital piece of context.
Kiyoomi’s ears turn pink in lieu of a response.
“Explain,” Atsumu pushes Kiyoomi back so he can see his face in all its flushed red glory.
Kiyoomi is still looking everywhere except at Atsumu when he replies in a low mumble. “I want you to fuck me with your glasses on.”
Suddenly it all clicks into place. All of Kiyoomi's avoidance correlating to whenever Atsumu happened to be wearing glasses.
“Lemme make sure I heard ya right, Omi-kun.” Atsumu obnoxiously moves his face in front of wherever Kiyoomi’s eyes try to dart away to. “Ya want me to top ya? While I wear my glasses? Right now?”
Kiyoomi somehow blushes even deeper. “No, not right now! I just made you cry! And you said you were tired! Ugh forget I said anything, this is humiliating,” he buries his face in his hands.
“No way am I forgettin’,”Atsumu leans forward to kiss each of Kiyoomi’s knuckles one at a time. “We have all weekend together now, so let’s just take it easy tonight and we'll talk about it tomorrow. How's that sound?”
Kiyoomi lowers his hands off his face and scans Atsumu’s face, as though looking for some sort of ridicule or judgment. There is absolutely none to be found though, because Atsumu will die before he does anything that could possibly jeopardize this magical opportunity. In fact, he still can’t quite be sure that he isn’t dreaming.
“That sounds good,” Kiyoomi replies with a cautious smile. “Can we watch another season of Worst Cooks in America?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely we can,” Atsumu agrees easily. “But first, I believe ya owe me some kisses.”
_ _ _
The Next Day
Atsumu appraises himself in the full-length mirror that he just re-positioned to view the end of the bed. Frankly, he feels a little ridiculous to have gotten all dressed up for a day at home, but he had a feeling he should lean into the professor schtick to play up whatever authority kink might’ve been awakened in Kiyoomi. He fusses a bit with the rolled up sleeves of his dress shirt, and adjusts the belt buckle over his soft brown chinos.
Sure, he may look like a Greek demigod come to earth, but he’s still not really sold on the whole glasses thing— he mostly worries they make him look older. Alas, Atsumu would wear literally anything for Kiyoomi, and if Kiyoomi wants him in something as simple as glasses, then he’ll fuck him with his glasses on every day of the week.
The bathroom door clicks open and Kiyoomi steps out with only a towel around his waist.
“Kiyoomi-kun,” Atsumu takes a seat on the edge of the bed. He leans back casually and makes a show of dragging his eyes up and down Kiyoomi’s barely clothed form. “Welcome to Bottoming 101. Drop the towel and have a seat,” he says with a smirk, patting his lap invitingly.
Kiyoomi immediately blushes down to his chest.
Interesting. Definitely the right call with the roleplay.
Kiyoomi walks over towards Atsumu and hesitantly removes his towel before straddling atop Atsumu and draping long arms around his neck.
“Already excited, huh?” Atsumu teases, tracing the head of Kiyoomi’s erection with a featherlight touch. “Let’s get ya nice and relaxed first, okay? Ya gonna be a good student fer me?”
Kiyoomi nods eagerly, readjusting himself to sit a little more comfortably.
Atsumu reaches for the bottle of lube next to him, pumping some into his hand before leisurely stroking Kiyoomi’s pretty pink cock. He captures Kiyoomi’s lips with his own, and kisses him with as much tenderness and reassurance as he can muster.
Once he feels Kiyoomi start melting into him, he moves his free hand to grab a generous handful of Kiyoomi’s ass, massaging the muscles and letting his fingers brush up against Kiyoomi’s hole. He grabs another pump of lube and swaps hands, kneading the other asscheek while continuing to treat Kiyoomi’s dick to more of the same languid motions.
Kiyoomi moans when Atsumu’s thumb circles a drop of pre-cum around the head of his cock. “Hurry up.”
Atsumu smiles against Kiyoomi’s mouth. He tightens his grip and strokes faster, massaging directly over Kiyoomi’s fluttering hole with his other hand. He continues relentlessly until he feels the telltale twitching and squirming from the man on his lap. He lets his finger ever-so-slightly press into Kiyoomi’s warmth.
“Is this what ya want?” Atsumu purrs into his ear.
“Nngh, yes, I want it,” Kiyoomi breathes, scrunching his eyes closed.
Atsumu stops. He moves both hands to rest lightly on Kiyoomi’s hips.
“Kiyoomi-kun, look at me,” Atsumu says firmly, drinking in the delicious look of desperation in Kiyoomi’s eyes. “Yer first lesson is not to rush. Now, get on yer knees and elbows facing the mirror for me please,” he pats Kiyoomi’s flank encouragingly.
Kiyoomi positions himself obediently, his pretty little hole on display just for Atsumu.
Fuck, why haven’t we done this sooner?
Atsumu can feel Kiyoomi’s gaze boring holes into him, but he doesn’t look back at him just yet. He rubs his thumb over Kiyoomi’s entrance, spreading him reverently and admiring the view.
“It’s pretty rare to cum just from rimmin’ so all ya gotta do is relax and enjoy yerself for this part,” Atsumu explains. “Think ya can do that fer me?”
He snaps his eyes up to view Kiyoomi and a shot of arousal courses through him when he sees the intense, fiery expression of the man beneath him. “Yes, I’ll be good for you.”
Atsumu is suddenly very aware of how tight his trousers are and hopes he isn’t about to jizz all over them.
He leans down, hooking his arms around Kiyoomi’s thighs to keep him in place, and starts softly dragging his tongue against the sensitive skin. He keeps his eyes on Kiyoomi’s reflection to drink in his reaction— and oh is it ever delicious. The man looks downright sinful, his brows slightly furrowed, soft panting escapes from his parted lips, and the inky depths of his eyes are locked onto Atsumu like he’s the last thing he’ll ever see.
While never completely off the table, rim jobs had become a rare delicacy in their relationship— largely due to Atsumu not wanting to pressure Kiyoomi, but with a few very memorable occasions where Kiyoomi’s desire outweighed all reservations. Atsumu never imagined a scenario where his beloved Mr. Use-Me-Like-Your-Dildo-But-Don’t-Ever-Top-Me would suddenly be knocking down the door and entering the wonderful world of ass play so enthusiastically.
Atsumu’s mind was swimming with the possibilities. Does it matter that he’s never eaten ass before? Absolutely not. He’s got over 10 years of experience pleasing his prickly particular partner, and if he can discover even more ways to do so, his life’s all the better for it.
Atsumu lets his eyes slip closed and buries his face between Kiyoomi’s cheeks, licking, suckling, and humming deep rumbly sounds of satisfaction as he breathes in the deep musky scent. The noises are obscene and his glasses are certainly askew, pressing into Kiyoomi’s skin, but he could stay here for hours, so he lets himself get a little lost in the haze.
He prods his tongue experimentally against Kiyoomi’s soft opening and basks in the unrestrained sounds falling out of Kiyoomi’s mouth.
When Atsumu takes it a bit further and starts thrusting his tongue as deeply as he can manage, Kiyoomi wails.
Atsumu pulls back a bit to catch his breath and check in. “Are ya—”
“Don’t stop,” Kiyoomi cuts him off, with the wild eyes of a man depraved. “Don’t you fucking stop,” he growls.
“Mmmmm,” Atsumu immediately hums proudly, settling back and continuing to fuck into him with his tongue.
This might be the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me, Atsumu thinks to himself as he sneaks a hand away to undo his belt and free his aching erection from the confines of his trousers. He doesn’t have the wherewithal for more than a few sloppy strokes before returning his hand to the more important task of pleasuring Kiyoomi.
He starts massaging at his perineum, which seems to be well-received if the trembling legs and whimpering sounds are anything to go by. Atsumu’s other arm seems to be the only thing holding Kiyoomi up at the moment.
Atsumu withdraws his tongue and, before Kiyoomi has a chance to miss it, slides a finger in just past the first knuckle. He gently stretches and pulls, pulsing his finger in deeper and deeper, his tongue still lapping around the puckered hole. He curves his finger slightly, rubbing it firmly along Kiyoomi’s walls until he finds the smooth little gland he’s looking for.
“Ahh!” Kiyoomi exclaims, clenching tightly around Atsumu’s finger. “Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck,” he pants before biting his lower lip tightly. His breathing has become shallow and erratic.
Atsumu stops his movements and nuzzles his cheek against Kiyoomi’s rump, giving him a few soft pecks wherever he can reach.
“Shhh, Kiyoomi-kun,” he soothes. “Lesson #2: Ya gotta relax. I’m not gonna move ’til yer less tense or ya might get hurt. Do ya wanna stop for today?”
Kiyoomi shakes his head, his eyes screwed shut in concentration.
“Alright, then take some deep breaths for me, sweetheart,” Atsumu croons.
Kiyoomi takes a few moments to gather himself. He slows his breaths, releases his lip, and flutters his eyes open again.
Atsumu meets his gaze lovingly. “Yer bein’ so good for me, Kiyoomi-kun, my best student,” he says with a wink.
Once Kiyoomi relaxes a bit more, Atsumu shifts himself up a bit so he can keep a better eye on the mirror. He drizzles some more lube over his hand and sets to work on loosening him up, rubbing over his prostate just enough to feel good without being too overwhelming.
It takes a while, but with a few more pauses to check in and breathe, and the addition of a couple more fingers, Atsumu is confident that Kiyoomi will be able to take him no problem.
Atsumu removes his fingers and leans back on his knees admiring the view of Kiyoomi’s fluttering hole, wet and shiny with lube and saliva. He’s practically drooling at the thought of sinking into Kiyoomi’s tight warmth. He lines himself up and rubs his tip against Kiyoomi’s entrance, slathering on even more lube- you can never have too much.
“Ya ready for me?”
“I’m ready,” Kiyoomi says resolutely. His eyes are already staring back at Atsumu, a bit glazed over with lust, but mostly lucid.
Staring in awe at the absolute vision in the mirror before him, Atsumu drapes himself over Kiyoomi’s back, gradually pressing himself in.
Holding Kiyoomi close, he smoothly rocks back and forth until he’s sheathed about halfway. Atsumu snakes his arms around to splay one hand across his chest, and hook the other firmly around his hips. In one swift motion he pulls them both upright to face the mirror with Kiyoomi’s back flush against the linen of Atsumu’s shirt.
Kiyoomi’s hands scrabble to find purchase on the thick thighs that are now underneath him before he seems to realize that Atsumu’s tight hold on him is already stopping him from sinking down fully. He relaxes back onto Atsumu’s chest, letting his weight be supported.
Atsumu hooks his chin over Kiyoomi’s shoulder and kisses his neck with a lustful smirk.
“I wanna see ya take the rest yerself,” he drawls.
Kiyoomi’s chest blooms red as he takes in the scene before him and lets his eyes pan down to where about half of Atsumu’s cock has disappeared inside of him. His hips shift experimentally, in minute movements up and down, forward and back, side to side.
Atsumu is restraining himself to appreciative grunts only, but fuck, he doesn’t think it’s ever been so hard to hold back before.
Gotta be patient, it’s not about me right now, he reminds himself.
Atsumu isn’t sure whether he’s ascended to heaven or if he’s being tortured with how long it takes before Kiyoomi finally relents to gravity with a debauched moan and allows himself to be filled completely, closing his eyes in surrender.
The hand he has on Kiyoomi’s chest rubs over his pecs appreciatively, thumbing gently around his nipples and trailing along the hardened lines of his abdominal muscles. Atsumu takes the now half-hard cock into his hand and works to bring it back to life. His grip around Kiyoomi’s hips tightens, keeping him stuffed full and limiting his movements.
“Does it feel nice havin’ me inside ya?” Atsumu drawls. “Ya seem like yer enjoyin’ yerself,” he notes.
“Shut up,” Kiyoomi says breathlessly. “Stop talking and fuck me. Use me.”
“Mmmmngh,” Atsumu’s practically purring. “Open yer eyes, darlin', I already am.” He waits for Kiyoomi’s eyes to open so he can see his reaction properly. The contrast between Kiyoomi’s stark nudity and Atsumu’s rumpled dress clothes is absolutely delectable. “I’m usin’ the prettiest cocksleeve in the world.”
The effect is instant. Kiyoomi’s red, weeping cock has returned to its full hardness and the man lets out the most obscene whimpering noise Atsumu has ever heard from him.
Holy fucking shit, he sounds like a damn porn star!
He eagerly soaks up all of Kiyoomi's reactions as he continues to play with him. The faster Atsumu strokes, the more Kiyoomi's hips squirm wildly, grinding his walls against Atsumu’s cock as much as he’s able to in their current position.
“Aaah,” Kiyoomi wails, “wait!”
Atsumu stills immediately, kissing Kiyoomi’s neck reassuringly. “What do ya need, Omi?”
Kiyoomi blinks rapidly and tries to slow his rapid breathing. “Need to cum,” he rasps.
“Of course, whatever ya like,” Atsumu’s hand resumes its movement.
“Not like that,” Kiyoomi says in a low husky voice, halting Atsumu's wrist.
Realization slowly dawns on Atsumu. He might get a nosebleed at this rate.
“Show me how ya want it.”
Atsumu loosens the snug hold he has on Kiyoomi’s body and instead settles his hands lightly over Kiyoomi’s waist. He watches Kiyoomi’s reflection expectantly. “Go on.”
Kiyoomi clumsily bobs up and down, seemingly unsure of what to do. He pouts in frustration, shaky legs impeding his rhythm. “Atsu,” he whines. “Can’t do it.”
“Ya know, Kiyoomi-kun, I’ve got one more lesson for ya but this one’s off the books, more of a philosophy, really,” Atsumu starts, continuing to watch Kiyoomi struggle. “The way I see it, ya gotta make a choice whenever ya bottom— ya either take what ya want, or ya take what yer given.”
Atsumu nibbles the side of Kiyoomi’s ear. “Seems like ya want the second one, sweetheart.”
Kiyoomi makes another pathetic sound that causes Atsumu to take pity on his beloved. He strengthens his hold around Kiyoomi’s middle and starts fucking into him at a steady, slow pace. He prays to whatever gods are listening that he doesn’t blow his load too soon, especially with the lewd sounds escaping Kiyoomi’s mouth.
After he’s given him a teaser, he pulls Kiyoomi off of him entirely in a Herculean feat of self-control. Atsumu tosses him back onto the bed and maneuvers himself over top, resting on an elbow and cradling Kiyoomi’s face with his other hand. “Ya ready to take what I give ya?”
“God damn it, just fuck me already,” Kiyoomi says, his eyes flicking pointedly between Atsumu’s face and his swollen cock.
“Such an eager student, I have. Yer a natural,” Atsumu teases. His hands settle behind Kiyoomi’s knees and push his flexible legs back to expose Kiyoomi even further. He slides in at an angle that’s sure to put pressure on Kiyoomi’s prostate and rolls his hips smoothly and relentlessly.
Atsumu is in complete and utter bliss. Kiyoomi is pliant underneath him with rosy cheeks and tearful eyes, making the most delicious noises and looking absolutely divine. His partner is a lot more vocal than he ever would’ve expected, so it doesn’t take Atsumu too long to find the positions that make Kiyoomi cry out the most.
Atsumu makes a bold effort to fulfill Kiyoomi’s earlier demand of cumming untouched, but he knows it’s not very likely to happen for his first time. He resumes lightly stroking Kiyoomi to maintain his erection, keeping time with his thrusts.
A few tears spill over from Kiyoomi’s eyes, trailing down his face, and Atsumu’s heart swells with pride for how well he’s doing.
“Think ya can cum for me now?” Atsumu moves his hand and his hips a little bit harder and a little bit faster.
“Fuck, I- please, yes, wanna cum,” Kiyoomi babbles rather incoherently. There’s a spot of drool dribbling out the side of his mouth.
Atsumu fucks into him fiercely until the last possible second, then pulls out and immediately grips their cocks together tightly and starts pumping rigorously.
Their moans of pleasure mix together as they finish in tandem, their release coating Kiyoomi’s chest in pearly white like a beautiful, albeit it rather X-rated, work of art.
They bask in the afterglow for only a short moment before Atsumu reaches for the pack of wet-wipes he had left out on the nightstand. He gives Kiyoomi a preliminary clean to buy them a little more time before they need to get up for a proper bath.
Surprisingly, once Kiyoomi is a little less cum-stained, he cuddles into Atsumu to greedily soak up as much physical contact as he possibly can. Atsumu responds by holding him tightly, petting a hand across his back and pressing a kiss atop the mess of curls that are tickling his face.
“Yer absolutely perfect, ya know that?” Atsumu gives him a loving squeeze. “Even if this never happens again, I can die the happiest man on earth.”
“Don’t be dramatic,” Kiyoomi mumbles, nuzzling impossibly closer. “Cum inside me next time.”
This man really is gonna kill me.
_ _ _
6 Months Later
Upon exploring this wonderfully exciting new side of Kiyoomi, one might think that Atsumu would take every possible opportunity to wear his glasses; however, he has instead opted for a different approach.
He may have bought a few new frames, but he is very careful to wear them only when absolutely necessary for his schoolwork, and never where Kiyoomi can see him. At least, not without intention.
See, at the end of the day, Atsumu is still very much a brat— a brat that is willing to exploit his partner’s weakness for sexy older professors and keep the novelty alive for as long as he possibly can.
After Kiyoomi’s first few bottoming lessons, he quickly learned that the mind-blowing intensity of a prostate orgasm came at a price. Needless to say, he was not keen on having a sore backside or suffering the humiliation of hobbling around like a baby giraffe.
Atsumu is more than happy to continue living his best power-bottom life, but sometimes it's nice to have a change of pace— especially now that he has options.
Atsumu is currently having another shit day after another shit group project meeting. Not a single person had shown up (typical) and he had been hard at work researching the whole damn thing himself. Maybe he’d feel better if he could go home and rail his gorgeous boyfriend.
He snaps a couple selfies in the library sporting a new pair of classy wire frames. He selects the best one and sends it to Kiyoomi with a simple message.
“Thinking of you <3”
Kiyoomi opens the message less a minute later and replies immediately.
“omw”
Atsumu smiles. Maybe glasses aren’t so annoying after all.