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Furry ginger cat ears, a twitching golden tail between his legs, and a belled collar around his neck.
“Well?” Sakusa flashes him a cruel grin, “Are you going to do it or not?”
Atsumu cusses under his breath.
(And that pretty much encapsulates all the events that you’re about to read.)
“Ya want me to what?”
“I bought items on Amazon.” Sakusa clicks on a button on the screen, which is displaying a receipt and a list of products. “The world’s become a very convenient place, don’t you agree?”
For context, it’s Christmas Eve, and they’re seated on the carpet of Sakusa’s living room, dressed in casual attire with matching Rudolf headbands they’ve received from a poor part-timer distributing Christmas flyers next to their gym. A tiny particle of Atsumu wonders why he’s spending Christmas Eve with Sakusa Kiyoomi of all people, while the larger whole is encouraging him that it’s preferable to spending the holiday season alone. It doesn’t help that Osamu and Suna have gotten together over autumn, solely because the Raijins suffered an early defeat this season and Suna had more leisure to mope around.
And while everything may just be in Atsumu’s head, he feels like Sakusa has been considerably more tolerable these days. Tolerable, as in… kind. Atypically so. He lets Atsumu use his towels; he fetches Atsumu’s water bottle during games; he calls him an idiot twice a day instead of a dozen times; he’s even invited Atsumu over for Christmas Eve when he complained about having to slouch in his apartment in solitude when everyone was outside, love in the air.
He almost thought he’d be able to like him.
Almost.
He’s going to pause that trail of thought.
“Cat ears,” he reads the text straight off the blaring screen, “Feline tail remote control anal beads, and nipple clamps.”
“Yeah.”
“And ya want me to wear these?”
“I mean,” Sakusa shrugs, “It’s Christmas Eve, and I don’t have a gift.”
“These are meant to be gifts?”
“You receive presents, and I get to have sex with a cosplaying Miya Atsumu. I’d call it a win-win situation.”
“More like a win-lose situation where yer winnin’ but I’m not.” Sakusa hums and reaches for the cardboard box beside the couch. Atsumu shoots him an exasperated look. “Don’t tell me that’s the- that’s the box, okay, ya already had it delivered. Fuckin’ fantastic.” Atsumu removes the reindeer headband and extends his hand towards the cat ear headband wrapped in plastic. The fur is fluffy, and the tips are pointy, dyed bright ginger. Sakusa rips the packaging of the other toys he’s ordered.
“I invited you for a reason.”
Atsumu blames his past self for being too naïve. “Of course. Shouldn’t have expected such generosity from ya.” To be fair, he’s done all sorts of ‘plays’ with Sakusa. They’ve easily surpassed the challenges of exhibitionism, and it was only a month ago where he was brought to the point where he had to use their safeword (though that was mostly his fault for being stubborn). Cat cosplaying, or whatever it is that Sakusa wishes him to do, isn’t a big deal. He just didn’t anticipate that he’d fuck with Sakusa on Christmas Eve, is all. Heaving a sigh, he tosses the cat-eared headband aside and rises. “I’ll go shower first, then.”
Sakusa blinks at him. “You’re really willing to do this?”
“Just in case you’ve forgotten, the premise of our bet was that the loser doesn’t really have a say in these decisions, Omi-kun.” With a dismissive wave, he steps into Sakusa’s shower and shuts the door behind him. A mixture of nervousness and excitement tangles itself into a ball of yarn in his chest.
It’s just sex.
He strips and tiptoes into the shower stall. He’s bathed at Sakusa’s before, so he’s familiar with the structure and interior and whatnot. Hot water drizzles over his shoulders, gradually warming his body. He sweeps his soaked locks over and glances at his distorted reflection in the metal bars. Anal beads… he clucks his tongue; he’s purchased something weird again. His palm lowers to his underside, to the moist region between his thighs. Can’t hurt to prepare, right? Definitely can’t hurt. In rather mechanical motions, he slides in a finger. The soapy water that rinses him acts as a lubricant, not to mention that he’s somewhat accustomed to having something in him now. He can’t exactly decide whether that’s a good thing or not.
There’s not much to feel. His toenails scrape the bathroom’s rough tiles as he scissors himself, mimicking Sakusa’s foreplay methods. It never feels quite the same as when Sakusa does it, which may sound obvious, but that’s not what he means. It’s just the sensation of entry and departure when he does it, his nerves too used to the stretch and stimulus. Whatever, I’m just preppin’ myself. He slaps the faucet and walks out of the stall, grabbing a dry towel from the cabinets. He pats himself here and there sloppily; he’d have to shower again, anyway.
It’s chilly in the living room. Sakusa scans his naked form in nonchalance. It’s probably a sight he’s seen too often by now to be interested. “Let’s move to the bedroom. The room heats up faster in there.” Atsumu follows Sakusa to his bedroom. The curtains are closed, and the sheets are neatly spread over the mattress and bedframe, draping to the floor. He’s replaced his summer blanket with a winter futon, thicker and weightier. Sakusa adjusts the lighting so that it’s dimmer, not as blinding. Atsumu appreciates the gesture; he doesn’t like bright rooms when he’s having sex.
“Put those on,” Sakusa throws him a couple of objects. The headband and –
“I recognize this thing,” Atsumu lifts the belled collar. The identical cherry red leather and golden bell, he remembers it all. “I hafta wear this again?”
“Well, I couldn’t have it rot in the storage room forever. And I can’t fool around with a stray, that doesn’t seem right.” Atsumu snorts at that and shakes his head, relenting. He fastens the collar around his neck and puts on the cat ears. He tries his best not to imagine how he must look; he’ll be embarrassed if he thinks too hard about it. He would’ve killed Sakusa if he weren’t Sakusa Kiyoomi.
Sakusa studies him intently from the opposite wing of the room, across from Atsumu. “This is pretty…” he nods in approval, “better than I expected.” Atsumu groans, hugging his knees. “No, really. The ears suit you,” he despises the fact that Sakusa is able to spout such rubbish without batting an eye. “As well as the collar. I already knew that, but I thought I would restate my observations.”
“Can we just get on with this?”
Sakusa chuckles, “If you’re so eager, then sure.” The man pulls off his top and climbs onto the bed with his dreadful bundle of toys and his usual bottle of lube. “Let’s see… a few demands on my part.”
Atsumu rolls his eyes. “Oh, they’re demands now, gotcha.”
“It’s not much. I just want to hear you speak honestly and politely for once – consciously.”
“Politely?” He does not like the ring of that term. “What, ya want me to address ya ‘master’ or somethin’? We’re gettin’ that kinky and hardcore today?”
“I’m not into that. No ‘stop’s, ‘no’s, ‘yeah’s, anything along the lines where you begin to say things you don’t even mean, where you demand me to do your work. You have the safeword if you actually need me to stop.” Sakusa’s smirk has a sinister edge to it. “I prefer watching you break down when you’re being honest with yourself.”
He has the worst taste. The absolute worst.
Atsumu squashes his pride and grumbles, “Fine.”
“Good.” Sakusa touches the bell dangling from his collar and proceeds to suck his collarbone. Atsumu inhales a shuddering breath and attempts to relax on the pillows as Sakusa nibbles insistently. This is how Sakusa calms him down because it’s the only opportunity he’ll receive to ever be calm for whatever is about to arrive. He licks the caved area beyond his collarbone when Atsumu hunches into himself, his upper abdomen shivering. His pulse rate starts to pick up when Sakusa’s touches glide up and down his waist to armpit, where he’s sensitive. “You smell like my soap,” comments Sakusa.
“I used yer soap, that’s not a shocker.”
Sakusa hums. “I suppose.” His lips venture farther down his breasts. The frigid winter temperature coupled with the after-cold of the shower has hardened his pecs, his areolas shrunken and brown, the tips protruding more than he initially stepped into the shower. Sakusa coats his thumb with saliva and draws a slow, perfect circle around his right nipple. Atsumu averts his gaze, his elbows digging into the pillows under him. “I promised that I’ll make you come with only your chest, so.” Sakusa shows him the clamps. Atsumu deadpans.
The clamps are the types for beginners (don’t ask him how he’s aware), the pins of the clamps covered in silicone. A chain connects the pair of clamps. Cocking his head, Sakusa queries, “Do you want them?”
It’s not a question, and they both know it. Atsumu suppresses the urge to kick Sakusa’s smug face and answers, “… I want ‘em.” Sakusa’s crooked smile reflects his victory. I wanna bury myself in the most deserted corner of Africa and die.
“These apparently don’t hurt that much, but I thought I’d be nice, as you always want me to be.” Sakusa wraps his fingers around his half-erect dick, precome glistening from his slit. “I’m not that harsh.”
Atsumu drowns another retort in his mind and groans as Sakusa pumps his member, the latter uncapping the lube and applying a generous amount over it. The slippery wetness is sufficient to arouse him, the noises reverberating throughout the silent room. Sakusa is scrutinizing him with his undivided attention, which only adds to the sweltering heat and tautness below. “Omi, hn,” the bell chimes when he twists his neck, his temple pressed against the bedpost. Sakusa doesn’t decrease his pace, the pumping steady and rhythmical, forcefully dragging out his need for release. Just when he teeters at the border of his peak, Sakusa lets go.
“That should be enough.” He pants and steals a glimpse at Sakusa, who rubs his nipples with gel. Atsumu jerks at the sudden iciness that assaults his stimulated pecs. “Ready?” Although hesitant, he nods, his heart thumping loudly.
“Hngh,” a yelp jumps out of his throat as the clamp squeezes over his left nipple, a rush of stinging, almost unbearable pain causing him to writhe. The clamp doesn’t even budge, fitted over his throbbing tip, out for Sakusa to see. Said man is hooking the linking chain of the clamps to his collar. Atsumu’s pupils dilate in disbelief.
“Oh, yeah. They’ll come undone if you throw your head back too far, so be careful. And don’t look away.” Sakusa immediately reaches for the other one. “Now for your right.”
A desperate ‘wait’ nearly escapes from him; a gritted ‘fuck’ echoes instead. Biological tears spring to his eyes, the pressure on his breasts unrivaled to anything Sakusa has ever done to him before. “Omi- do somethin’, I, mm,” Sakusa tugs the chain to the ceiling, and Atsumu moans.
“Seems like you’re doing alright.” Sakusa wipes away the brimming tears. “You’ll feel better soon.” With that promise, he shifts towards Atsumu’s chest. He has no alternative but to look at what Sakusa is about to do if he doesn’t want to accidentally unclip the clamps.
Sakusa scratches the reddish-brown, swollen nipple that sticks out between the pins squeezing it ruthlessly. “Ah,” Atsumu chokes out a labored breath. Sakusa simply goes on with the scratching, the nail flicking his pec. The lingering pleasure from the handjob minutes ago returns, morphing the ache in his tits to undeniable pleasure. He claws the sheets underneath him, his lewd moans muted by his compressed lips.
“Don’t hide, Miya. I want to see your chest.” Sakusa peers at him, his nail held over his nipple. “Answer?”
“Shit- y-yes,” shame creeps to his cheeks as he detaches himself from the pillows and straightens his back, sitting up, his legs folded back – almost as if he’s kneeling for Sakusa with his breasts spread open.
Sakusa licks the other untouched tip with his tongue, murmuring, “Good job.” The praise affects him more than he’d like to admit.
“Hm, hah, Omi- the, the lickin’, it’s,” Sakusa laps the nipple and grazes the other with his perfectly angled thumb. He’s reminded of Sakusa’s warning, to be frank, to say as it is, which isn’t something that requires much effort as he’s losing his sanity a little by little, fraction by fraction. “Feels good, fuh- ahh, ahh,” his legs draw in – even the friction resulting from his inner thighs rubbing against the sheets transforms into sparks, going straight to his erection.
“Can you come?”
Atsumu attempts to minimize the movements of his head, the chain hanging from his collar. “I- hnn! I, I don’t- know- ungh,” Sakusa scratches the puffy nipple southward with more power than his previous motions. Atsumu spits out a pitiful wail at the overwhelming wave that inundates his sensory cells concentrated at the tip.
“Just yes or no, Miya.”
He nods rapidly, not believing that he’d be able to take another one of those. “Yes, I, I can- I can come, Omi, I can come.” Sakusa plants a chaste kiss on his bottom lip and whispers,
“Would you prefer if I called you Atsumu?”
Atsumu halts. “Ya… ya would?”
Sakusa shrugs. “Atsumu it is, then.” The break is brief as Sakusa resumes his maneuvers. Atsumu’s mind blanks out as a string of moans and pleas tumble out one by one, his fingers gripping his ankles for support, completely under Sakusa’s mercy. “Tell me when you’re about to come.”
The build becomes more noticeable and then abruptly spikes when the clamp wavers with Sakusa’s constant lapping. “Com-ing, hahh, coming –“ White streaks spatter over his abs the following second, the release quick and swift. Sakusa stops as well and watches the entire scene unfold, with Atsumu’s head jutting backward, a broken scream filling the room as the clamps ripped off. The bell jingles in the background, inaudible as it’s muted by Atsumu.
When he’s recollecting himself from his orgasm, Sakusa encloses his mouth around the glazed, enlarged nipple. Atsumu begs, “Omi, I just- jus’ came, please, please somewhere else, not, not my- my tits, not my nipples, please,” he can’t ignore the stinging sense of overstimulation that is about to shove him into another climax.
Sakusa appears satisfied, granting his wish. “Somewhere else, then.”
He realizes his mistake when he spots the tail with the anal beads. Fuck, I forgot about those. “On your fours,” instructs Sakusa, and Atsumu bites the inside of his cheek. “We have a lot of time, but you don’t have much freedom in this circumstance, let me remind you.” He gulps and lifts himself, obeying Sakusa as he gets on his knees. It’s strange to see the silicone clamps aimlessly droop down from his neck.
The anal beads are identical in size, which he’s thankful for – it’s the least he can be thankful for, because there’s not much to be thankful about. They’re somewhere between a tennis ball and a golf ball, but he can’t really estimate. There are six of them in a straight row, an unbendable type, only the tail glued to the end flexible. It most likely doesn’t matter when they’re going to be inside him anyway.
“A cat’s not really a cat without a tail, is it?” Sakusa chortles, although Atsumu finds this situation anything but amusing. “Did you prepare yourself?”
“In the shower,” Atsumu grunts.
“That makes my job easier.” Lube drips between his butt cheeks. “Shouldn’t hurt that much, then.”
He exhales and squeezes the covers when the first bead slips in. He can feel his entrance stretch in a circular shape, closing again when the bead is completely inside. His face dusts pink when he pictures how Sakusa must be enjoying the full view of everything.
The pressure stacks when the second and third beads enter in a snap of Sakusa’s wrist. A sultry moan vibrates between his teeth, his head sinking towards the mattress. “Stay up, Atsumu.” He raises himself upon Sakusa’s orders, catching his breath.
“Mm-ahh,” it becomes more difficult when the fourth bead joins the other three, his belly feeling full. His arms quiver, struggling to keep him on his knees. He is incapable of shutting his mouth, a thin thread of drool descending to the pillows.
“Two more.”
He whines when the fifth squeezes in. “Omiii…” Sakusa stalls.
“One more, Atsumu,” he massages his ass in a reassuring manner. “Can you take it for me?”
A significantly saner, more rational part of him nudges the chambers of his heart, trying to convince him that he can’t do it, that he’s at his limit. However, a feral, uncontainable yearning burns within his ribcage, charring his lungs, rendering him thoughtless and careless, and is the one that ultimately comes out dominant, lulling Atsumu into nodding again. “Y-yes, can take it, can take it for ya, Omiomiomi…”
“Alright.” Sakusa pushes in the sixth with his knuckle, and Atsumu forces out a lengthy moan as the bead pries into him. He can see the golden, furry tail between his legs. “I like this view,” the other sits back on the bed and admires Atsumu, who is barely managing to remain on his fours, his abdomen falling towards the surface. “You’re kind of cute.”
“Just kinda?” He still has some wit in him.
“Very cute, then.”
“Better.”
“An insolent cat, I guess,” Sakusa leans in and grabs his tail, pulling at it. Atsumu’s elbows bend as he loses balance, his ass held high for Sakusa, but his upper half collapsed. “I really do prefer when you’re mewling rather than speaking the human language.” Mewling, the word repeats itself in Atsumu’s head, an insignia of humiliation ingrained for eternity, or however long this was going to last.
Regardless, he whimpers when Sakusa tugs out the beads, the deepest bead rubbing his prostate. “Ah,” in, “ah,” out, “hahh,” in, “ahh!” and out. The beads stroke his bundle of nerves persistently, the spheres applying a series of pressure over it as they swooped back and forth. Atsumu is hopeless; the only thing he can do is to ‘mewl’ as Sakusa wants him to, until he’s pleased with Atsumu’s reaction. His jaw drops when Sakusa pulls out the entire tail in a singular motion, a silent wail bouncing off the walls, his fists clenched and toes curled.
“You should see how your hole is gaping,” Sakusa says, clearly enthused, “it’s as if you can never get enough.”
His begs are muffled as he implores for mercy. Another fragmented scream pierces the atmosphere when the beads are thrust back in at once.
“Look, you came from just having it in you again.”
“N-no, Omi- hmph!” It’s true – semen oozes out from his cock, forming a damp puddle directly under. Sakusa doesn’t seem to care about the mess as he continues.
“What did I say about being honest, Atsumu?” The movements of the beads don’t cease as Sakusa waits for him to respond coherently. “I believe we’ve discussed this a handful of times.”
He turns his head so that he can talk, moisture blurring his field of vision. “Won’t, ahh- won’t say it, I promise, I promise Omi, I beg ya- I beg ya Omi –“
“Hm,” Sakusa has no intention of stopping or even slowing down. “I don’t know, you never seem to learn.” The ‘shlick,’ ‘shlick,’ ‘shlick’ of the beads squelching in his gel-coated hole combined with the bombardment of pleasure is sending him into a high he thinks he can never come down from. Dangerous – it feels dangerous, life-threatening.
“Learned, I- ngahh, I learned, forgive- forgive me Omi, sorry, ‘m sorry,” cries Atsumu, apologizing as if everything depended on it. His headband has slid off due to how much he’s shaken his head in a futile attempt to get Sakusa’s attention, communicating how much he meant it, how earnest he was being.
“Okay, but let’s come again, alright? Dry, this time. You can do it, can’t you Atsumu?” Sakusa caresses his calves, “Since you said you’ve learned your lesson.”
There’s nothing he can do, nothing other than to oblige. “Yesyesyes- I’ll come, I’ll come, I’ll come –“ he chants, his voice cracking. With another ‘smack’ of the beads running over his prostate, his whole body quakes, his stomach caving, and his ass twitching in the open. His dick looks like it’s about to burst but not a drip dribbles from the slit, coming dry on Sakusa’s command. He slumps to the bed, exhausted and worn out from releasing three consecutive times within the span of minutes.
“We’re not done yet, don’t fall asleep.” Sakusa turns him over and separates his legs. Atsumu hiccups and adjusts himself on the bed once more; he didn’t think that’d be the end, either. “Are you okay?” It’s Sakusa checking for his safeword, giving him a chance to opt out if necessary.
“I’m fine,” he croaks and spreads his legs for Sakusa into an M-shape. “All yers.”
That evidently has pulled a trigger in Sakusa because he prods Atsumu’s entrance with the beads again. “This tail vibrates, actually,” shit, is the most intelligent thought that pops into his mind. That’s pretty much how far gone he is. “I want to see you take this well, understood?”
Atsumu nods more firmly than before. He’s been overstimulated for a while, but it’s not as if he wants Sakusa to stop. His heart has been traversing back and forth between the realms of sanity and madness, ever since Sakusa complimented his tolerance. He needs more – he needs more.
Sakusa grasps the remote control and gently drives the beads back in, where he claimed that they belonged. Atsumu sighs and melts into the pile of pillows, his arms lying on the side. “I’ll start with the weakest setting and crank up the strength.” A ‘click’ resounds and the buzzing commences. Albeit being just a low bumble, Atsumu can feel the spheres vibrate against his abused walls, tickling the soft layer of muscle and nerves.
“Omi, Omi…” his range of vocabulary is limited, his sense of self submitting to pleasure. Sakusa approaches him and pinches his puffed nipple, which only draws out another wanton moan from Atsumu. “Too good, feels too- god…”
“I’m glad.” The mode shifts from ‘weak’ to ‘moderate.’ Atsumu is interrupted mid-sentence as his spine arched off the mattress, his fists balling and the distance between his legs shortening as he instinctively joined them together. Sakusa doesn’t permit him to do so, keeping them apart as the tail quavered along with the vibrations. “It’s like you’ve turned into a real cat,” Sakusa snorts, humored. Atsumu doesn’t have the leisure to snarl at him for it, enslaved to the buzzing anal beads as he shakes uncontrollably. “Think you can handle more?”
“More- ahn- more, Omi- I can, I can do it, fuuuuck…”
“As you wish, baby.”
‘Strong’ is on another level of its own, and Atsumu’s back stays arched, his undried locks being tousled against the futon and pillow covers. The moan that first departs from him doesn’t seem to end, starting out low but eventually growing in volume and pitch, as Sakusa pushed the beads farther in. The latter angles the beads with pinpoint accuracy so that they’re vibrating directly onto his prostate. Atsumu can’t even tell Sakusa that he’s about to come dry once more before the moment of release attacks him out of the blue. He freezes up, his eyes lolling back as the incomplete orgasm takes over, fresh tears streaming down to his chin.
“Fuck,” Sakusa curses, “fuck, Atsumu.”
He pants, gathering the scattered pieces of himself, his spotty and hazy vision clearing up. Coughing, he gazes at Sakusa, who is staring at him with incomparable, unparalleled intensity. Not enough, he acknowledges the unquelled desire that scorches him, childishly but desperately beseeching for more. He’s passed his limits ages ago, but this isn’t enough.
More, more, more –
(“I prefer watching you break down when you’re being honest with yourself.”)
There is not an inkling of humiliation left to be felt, nor shame, nor embarrassment, nor reluctance. The swirling emotion that has settled in his heart is becoming solid, but he doesn’t want to label it just yet, not now. His greedy hands fumble to his asscheeks, his trembling fingers stretching his puckered entrance apart for Sakusa. The latter bristles at the sight, but neither of them look away.
“I want ‘cha here,” his lidded gaze has Sakusa focused more than ever. He swallows. “I want ‘cha in me, Omi, ya can take me as ya please, I just, I just wanna be,” there is no filter, “I just wanna be yers.”
Sakusa doesn’t respond for a couple of seconds and then laughs. “God, Atsumu, you’re,” he looms over him, a beastly, starved grin plastered on his face. “You’re beautiful.” The condom is rolled on within a second, and Sakusa doesn’t squander another as he drills right into Atsumu, just where he needs Sakusa to be. Delight and glee consume him as he chokes out Sakusa’s name, the man gripping his waist as he went for powerful, rapid thrusts. Sakusa doesn’t miss, his aim precise and flawless, knowing how to drive Atsumu to the cliff of his consciousness just before he’d faint.
“Omi, fuck- fuck- fuck –“
The cusses don’t cease once he’s totally broken as Sakusa predicted. Sakusa leans over and kisses him; Atsumu’s tongue greets him first, eager for that comforting sweetness, the mellow taste of Sakusa that he’s so fond of, a taste he wouldn’t mind getting addicted to. Sakusa gropes his chest, his thrusts turning shallow but the incoming ripples of pleasure all the same, sufficient to gratify Atsumu’s demands. “I wish you could look at yourself right now,” Sakusa grunts, “so prettily laid out for me, spreading your own legs apart, calling my name,” he creases his brows when Atsumu tightens around him. “Perfectly broken.”
He dully processes the praise, too lost in his own senses, so lost that he doesn’t even realize the spurt of liquid that splatters over his belly. The dots rain over the crusted spots from before, coloring his abs white. Sakusa hauls him up and helps him so that he’s sitting on Sakusa, his legs wrapped loosely around his hips.
“Can you move for me, Atsumu?” Sakusa asks with a gravelly voice, “One last time.”
The ‘yes’ that he replies with is now a reflex, an automatic response. He garners up all his leftover stamina and begins to move, rising and slapping back down on Sakusa’s cock. “You’re doing great, baby, just a little more.” He preens at Sakusa’s words and does it again, whimpering and moaning. “A couple more times, until you can come for me.”
“Comin’, ungh-ahh- please- yes, hah, Omi -!!”
Sakusa’s jaw tautens as he reaches his climax, and Atsumu goes limp as he climbs to his own on beat. Translucent, dilute cum soaks his member from tip to root as he rests himself on Sakusa; he doesn’t have the energy to pull out on his own. Sakusa does the work for him, carefully detaching himself from Atsumu so that he wouldn’t stimulate the setter further. “Atsumu? How are you doing?”
“As ya can see,” he mumbles, “I haven’t even been this tired after a five-set game against the Adlers and Raijins back-to-back.”
“My bad.” Sakusa unfastens the collar with the clamps. “I’ll bring you a wet towel, alright?”
“Mm.” He snuggles into the warmth of the futon. Sakusa ruffles his hair.
“You really were beautiful today.” Atsumu stiffens as the man plants a kiss on his palm. “Don’t fall asleep just yet, you’re going to catch a cold in this weather.” He disappears into the bathroom, and the sound of the faucet can be heard from a distance.
Atsumu blearily studies the shadow that peeks out from the gap of the door, and thinks:
Fuck, I…
I really like him.
(Three more to go.)