Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It didn't make sense. It still doesn't. The voice reasoning that this is probably a dream, or some sort of episode falls quiet when Tobio sees him sitting cross legged on the bed.

Shoyo.

He glances up towards Tobio’s movement in the doorway. His eyes are round with an emotion Tobio understands in some deep indescribable way. Years. It's been so many years. They have spanned across countries, continents, and once in a while, just a thin net keeps them apart.

It doesn't make sense. Yet, he’s here, sitting, waiting.

The redhead shifts his gaze down towards the bed, his fingers nervously picking at the blanket.

The words Tobio heard earlier that night from a fellow setter, “come join us-” echo in his mind. He can nearly feel Atsumu's low voice against the shell of his ear.

The way he had pronounced ‘us’ confirmed everything. All the times Tobio had caught sight of Atsumu's hands on Shoyo, his back, his waist, tangled in his hair.

They were together. And for some unfathomable reason, Tobio was invited to join. His brain didn't even process that he could decline, because after so many years of regret, how the fuck could he even consider that option?

Tobio is startled by a hand along the flat of his back. Atsumu’s voice is velvety smooth when he murmurs, “you backing out?”

Shoyo’s head snaps up and Tobio can't tell if the spiker is looking at him or Atsumu. Tobio swallows against his dry throat. No. No, he doesn't want to back out. He let his fear keep him pulled back for so long. He can't - he can't let this chance slip by.

“No,” he whispers, earning him a light pat on the back. Atsumu hums, still slightly behind him.

“You okay with watching?”

Tobio’s throat goes fully dry. He's sure now, Shoyo is looking at him. Waiting to hear his answer.

“Yes.”

The palm along his spine applies pressure now, giving him nowhere to go but forwards. Each step links together until he is deposited at the corner foot of the bed. The whole time Shoyo watches. His eyes only leave when Atsumu climbs onto the surface of the bed between them.

“Babe,” Atsumu’s voice is so much softer than it was for Tobio.

The voice is for Shoyo, and Shoyo alone. Tobio forces his face down towards the bed, feeling unable to participate in this gentle moment between partners.

“Babe,” Atsumu coos again, “are you wanting to keep going?”

Tobio's heart somehow beats even faster. It feels loud in his chest, like a beast pounding against his ribs.

The bed dips as Shoyo pulls Atsumu forwards. Tobio's eyes glance up in time to catch the sight of Shoyo mumbling something into Atsumu’s ear. Their gazes connect for a single moment before Shoyo turns away.

Atsumu's arms raise to wrap around the spiker, whispering back in that delicate flowing voice.

With each second that passes Tobio’s gut twists with anxiety. Shoyo doesn't want him here. He should leave. This was honestly all probably some sick joke anyways. As if sensing his building desire to bolt, Atsumu turns to face him.

“Do you mind closing your eyes for a minute?”

Tobio’s gut says yes. Yes he very much would mind. But when he focuses on how Shoyo has his face buried and hidden in Atsumu’s shoulder, the tips of his ears pink, it suddenly gets a lot easier. “No,” he breathes out.

Atsumu is straight up smug when he tilts his head forwards and says, “then be a good boy, won’t ya?”

The words burn sour in Tobio’s mind. Why you? What is it about Atsumu that Shoyo wants?

What does he give you, Shoyo?

His eyes fall shut under Atsumu’s steady gaze. The adrenaline spike hits a moment later, his brain searching for something in the dark expanse of his eyelids. Everything inside of him is screaming to open his eyes. The demand increases drastically when the bed starts to shift in front of him.

The dips in the mattress are unpredictable and unorganized. Tobio can't tell who or what - he remains in his dark world listening to skin move against fabric.

He is nearly about to lose the battle and peak, just let in a little light, just get an idea of who is where. Before he musters the courage something brushes against his bent knee. He jumps in place, fully unprepared to be touched himself.

“Sorry Tobio,” Shoyo whispers in his soft voice. His voice, a sound that used to fill every single one of his days, until suddenly it was gone, half across the world.

It's the first thing Shoyo has said to him since he entered this bedroom. Their bedroom. Sorry. Sorry. Shoyo is sorry that he touched Tobio.

That notion that he really shouldn't be here takes over. Shoyo doesn't want him here. Doesn't want to touch him. This is all some sick joke on Atsumu’s part. Why else would he invite Tobio in…everyone knows his and Shoyo's history. Everyone always looked at them like they knew something would come of their court partnership. But nothing ever did.

It's all mind games. An attempt to rip Tobio open through his mounting life regrets. When it comes to Shoyo, Tobio only seems to mess up. Coming here was a mistake.

He opens his eyes, fully intending to only glance at the other men before he takes his leave.

He's not sure why he ends up staring and not moving an inch. Well…he does know why, it's because he's watching fingers lightly trace over Shoyo’s bare chest. Shoyo squirms under the touch but keeps any sounds locked in his throat by biting down on his lower lip.

Amber eyes flutter open to catch Tobio watching. Shoyo turns his head to the side, hiding his face away and whines, body arching up against the fingers.

Tobio heard whining in high school. The noise grated on his nerves. But this…this is totally different. This sound…this sound goes straight to his groin. His head swims with the echoing memory of the tone. He wants to hear it again. And again. Until, maybe, it morphs into a moan.

Tobio swallows, eyes unable to look away from how Shoyo is bowing into the feather light touches.

Shoyo huffs out a breath, his body jerking upwards when a single finger traces around his nipples. Shoyo's mouth opens, like he's about to say something - his eyes flash down the length of his body to meet Tobio’s. His mouth closes without saying a word, teeth pressing sharply into his bottom lip.

“That's it baby, let yourself feel it,” although Atsumu’s voice is low and gentle, it still startles Tobio. He had been so focused on Shoyo he half forgot the other man was even here. But…that's who has been touching Shoyo, making him whine and arch like that. Atsumu is the one who gets to touch Shoyo.

Even though it's a sick and twisted form of punishment that Atsumu has devised…Tobio will stay. He will stay as long as the other two let him. Now that he's seen a little…he wants everything. He wants to see Shoyo. Every version of Shoyo.

A disapproving tsk drags his focus away from noticing how Shoyo’s muscles twitch under the light touches. Tobio finds Atsumu looking right at him, a smirk firmly planted on his face.

“Naughty boy,” he muses, fingers still brushing up Shoyo’s body. The redhead tilts his head back as the fingers slide up over his collarbone to continue up his neck.

“He couldn't help watching,” Atsumu murmurs, his fingers hooking onto Shoyo’s chin to pull his face back down.

Tobio can't help watching, especially when Shoyo watches him back. His mouth feels so dry as his eyes stay latched onto Shoyo’s.

“Do you want him to close his eyes again?” Atsumu asks the man below him.

Shoyo’s gaze waivers, glancing first to Atsumu and then back to Tobio. He shakes his head slightly, using a hand to urge Atsumu to keep touching him.

Tobio feels a blush rise to his cheeks, turning his skin hot. Shoyo’s eyes stay on him until they finally flutter shut, his body reacting to the other man’s touch.

Deft…practices fingers trail down pale skin until they are skirting around Shoyo’s waistband. A quick pinch snaps the elastic against his skin, resulting in a high pitched whine as his body bucks up.

“Atsu-”.

The quiet utterance turns Tobio’s face even hotter. Shoyo calling another man’s name, the tone dripping with an unsaid ‘please’ - it's…it's infuriating. He sees a version of himself move forwards, pushing Atsumu aside, to finally be the one pleasing Shoyo. He doesn't. For the same reason he never did. He's a coward.

“Yes sweetheart?” Atsumu’s voice has a mocking edge. Shoyo doesn't bite back in the way that he would have in highschool. Instead he sighs contentedly, a knowing smile appearing on his face. A smile that surely can only be the result of being asked that same question many times before.

Atsumu doesn't budge, his focus solely on Shoyo. The smaller man squirms, his hands raising to urge Atsumu to continue.

“Mhmm,” Atsumu chastises, his smirk returning, “tell me what you want.”

Shoyo seems to shrink under the unyielding attention. He turns his head against his shoulder, mumbling something too quiet for either of them to hear.

Atsumu shifts his face down to Shoyo’s level, his fingers idly shifting along Shoyo’s chest.

“If you want something, you'll have to say it loud enough for us to hear.”

Us. Us. For us to hear.

Atsumu moves even closer, whispering something directly into Shoyo’s ear. The shorter man shifts against the bed as he hears the words.

“Please Atsu, I can't, you know what I want - please.”

“You can do it baby,” Atsumu says into Shoyo’s neck, fingers still stroking his chest, “you can say it.”

Shoyo takes a deep shuddering breath, his fingers clutching at Atsumu above him.

“Please Atsu-” he whispers.

“You can do it Sho,” Atsumu kisses his cheek, “Tobio wants to know.”

Tobio’s fingers clench at the loose fabric of the blanket. He doesn't understand why he has been brought into this - what does Atsumu want from this?

As if sensing his discomfort Atsumu raises himself to be upright again, turning his face towards Tobio.

“Tell him Tobio,” that easy smirk is back on Atsumu’s face. But there is something deeper in his eyes. It's so intense it's nearly frightening. Like the smirk is a tool to hide the actual feelings lying underneath.

“Tell him Tobio,” Atsumu says again, eyes blazing now, “tell him you want to hear him say it.”

Tobio feels his mouth open unprompted, the words already on his lips. He does want to know. He really, really wants to know. He tries to not let the seed of doubt take hold - the doubt that says that what Shoyo truly wants is for him to leave. That this was all so Atsumu could show Tobio what he missed out on.

“Shoyo,” he voice comes out deep and rough. The redhead gives a small gasp. When he turns his face to look down the bed Tobio can see how dark his eyes are. The light browns are almost completely swallowed by his pupils.

“Tell me what you want.”

Shoyo’s lips part, his fingers digging into the bedding. Time pulls taunt, the space between them electric with the tension of unsaid words.

“You,” Shoyo breathes out, his chest rising and falling, still under one of Atsumu's hands, “I want you.”

Chapter Text

'I want you.'

Tobio can't tear his eyes away. Especially not when Atsumu continues to brush his fingers over Shoyo’s sensitive stomach, causing the man to squirm and huff out short breaths.

'I want you.'

The words were half choked out, as Shoyo fought against his own throat. The spiker’s chin tilts back again as Atsumu's hand trails up into his hair, fingers spreading out to card through his locks.

“That's it baby, that's so good,” the words drip sweet as fingers continue to caress orange hair.

“Just a little more, tell him what you want.” The tone of Atsumu's voice leaves no room. It's final. If Shoyo wants anything, he’ll have to say it.

Tobio’s head feels light, like he is liable to float away. Is this real?

I want you.

How can this be real?

“Atsu-” Shoyo starts to say but the blonde cuts him off,

“Uh-uh, don't tell me,” Atsumu’s forefinger hooks under Shoyo’s chin, holding him still, “Tell Tobio.”

“I can't-” Shoyo’s voice is choked again, strained with the threat of tears.

“You can baby, I know you can,” Atsumu leans to kiss Shoyo’s cheeks. Shoyo’s arms grab tight around Atsumu’s neck. Tobio feels frozen as he watches Shoyo’s body start to shake. Shoyo…the strong, undefeatable Shoyo who risked it all to live in Brazil. Who never once let another team tear off his wings. Who never once stopped asking for the next ball.

“I can't,” the words crack around a sob.

Tobio never, ever, wants to see Shoyo say he can't. It defies the natural laws of the world. Shoyo can. He proved that time and time again. It's not a matter of whether he can or can't, it's just about when. Anything he sets his mind to, he will accomplish, it is just a matter of time.

He is reaching forwards before he fully decides to. His fingers grasp loosely around Shoyo’s ankle. The man jolts at first, before he relaxes, letting out another wet sob. Tobio has never been especially keen on physical touch. Shoyo was always the exception. And now is no different. All he wants is to hold him, let him cry, and tell him that it's going to be okay.

Will it be okay? Will Tobio ever get a chance like this again?

“Shoyo,” he whispers, grasping his ankle a little tighter. In turn Shoyo further buries himself into Atsumu’s shoulder, his arms straining to keep him locked around the setter’s neck.

Something beyond his understanding compels him. He whispers Shoyo’s name again, this time swiping his thumb over Shoyo’s ankle. Something so small, especially in comparison to how Atsumu touched him. But for Tobio and Shoyo, it's new, brand new. It's an affection the two have never shared - the gentle sweeping of a thumb where it holds on.

“Please Shoyo,” he still isn't fully used to the way the name feels round in his mouth, so used to the sharp syllables of Hinata.

The way Shoyo’s body attempts to curl in on itself…the way he's making himself small…Tobio’s own throat constricts.

Tobio does cry. He doesn't. This is possibly the most confusing night of his life. First to be invited here, and now somehow tears are falling down his cheeks.

“Shoyo,” he whispers, unable to disguise his shaking voice, “please tell me what you want.”

Just tell me. I'll do it.

Tobio doesn't even realize that Atsumu is staring at him. Intense eyes piercing him through. The moment is over before Tobio can even start to decipher what emotion may have laid behind that gaze.

Atsumu folds Shoyo into his arms, lifting him to sit upright against his chest. Shoyo keeps his face tucked away, his back shaking slightly. In the movement the spiker’s ankle slips out of Tobio’s grasp.

His palm feels starkly cold in its absence. He clenches his fingers into a loose fist before laying it flat against the bed. The tears have stopped, but threaten to overflow at the slightest push.

“He wants to know,” Atsumu whispers, petting Shoyo’s bright hair.

“You can start small baby, just tell him what we talked about,” Atsumu’s voice is so soft and sweet. Tobio feels his own mind start to be swayed by the melodic rhythm in Atsumu's tone.

Shoyo sniffs, his fingers tangled in Atsumu’s shirt, face still tucked against his chest. The spiker tugs on the shirt until Atsumu lowers his head further.

Tobio watches Atsumu listen to whatever it is that Shoyo is telling him. He blinks thoughtfully, his face giving nothing away.

When Atsumu pulls back he lightly grasps Shoyo's chin, keeping his face looking up slightly. Then Atsumu leans back in, his hand curling into the nape of Shoyo’s neck, bringing their faces together.

The kiss is slow. To be honest, Tobio always glanced away when he saw people kissing, whether it be in public or on television. Something in his gut couldn't quite stomach the sight. Now, he is frozen, watching as Shoyo sighs against Atsumu’s mouth as their lips slide together.

He can't quite stomach this in a completely different way. His face burns, eyes refusing to look anywhere else as Atsumu deftly pulls Shoyo up into his lap. Strong, God, so fucking strong thighs spread over Atsumu’s hips.

Atsumu had asked if Tobio was okay with watching. Tobio had said yes. So here he is, watching somebody else kiss and caress the man he never stopped thinking about.

A deeper sound gets caught in Shoyo’s throat when Atsumu grabs his lower back, hoisting him further over his lap. Tobio’s own body reacts to the sound, watching, shamefully, as Shoyo starts to shift his hips against Atsumu’s stomach.

Shoyo’s hands refuse to stay still, wandering, grabbing, clutching at anything they can reach. All the while, their mouths move against each other, the soft sounds of their breathing filling the room.

It takes everything in Tobio to stay still himself, his eyes darting between all the different places they are connected. When he glances back up to their faces he finds Atsumu's eyes open and on him.

Tobio’s jaw clenches at the eye contact. He's here to watch…so why does being caught fill him with shame… Atsumu’s eyebrow flicks up a moment before his hand threads into orange hair. Blood rushes between Tobio’s legs when Atsumu grabs tight and yanks Shoyo’s head back.

The spiker looks up at his setter with lowly lidded eyes, a deep groan falling from his mouth. Shoyo’s neck is bent to accommodate the hand holding his hair tightly. He doesn't seem to mind. He truly doesn't seem to mind, his lips parting slightly, a tongue running along the opening. Shoyo…he likes it.

“Say it baby,” Atsumu whispers loud enough for them both to hear. When Shoyo doesn't speak right away he tightens his grip in the spiker’s hair, causing Shoyo to gasp and arch his neck further.

“I want him to kiss me,” the words come out thin but determined.

“Ask him,” is all Atsumu says in response.

Tobio watches Shoyo swallow, his adam's apple dipping before it resettles. Shoyo can't turn his head, but his eyes glance towards Tobio.

‘Will you kiss me?” the words sound desperate. The words make Tobio desperate.

“Yes,” his voice works faster than his brain. But that's okay, the answer is yes. No matter what, if Shoyo really wants this, the answer is yes.

Tobio watches Shoyo sag against the grip Atsumu still has on his hair. Atsumu leans back in, hand still holding Shoyo firmly. He kisses his cheek, moving downwards to pepper kisses down the column of his stretched neck.

Tobio can hear pieces of what is being gently spoken into Shoyo’s skin

“So good,” - “such a good boy,” -”perfect”

It's obvious how much Shoyo loves it. He sucks in a breath with each loving praise, his body arching to get impossibly closer to Atsumu.

Tobio remained frozen to his spot, enraptured in shameful jealousy as he watched Atsumu slowly take Shoyo apart with words and light touches. The way that they interact dripping with practiced ease. Atsumu knows exactly how to handle Shoyo. Knows when to hold him still. When to praise him. When to push his limits.

Atsumu’s fingers loosen, his head angled now so that he can look at Tobio. The challenge on his smug face is unmistakable. The words Atsumu spoke when he had Tobio close his eyes resurfaces in his mind

Be a good boy, won’t ya?

Shoyo is panting, his head still tilted back, neck bared, despite Atsumu’s hand no longer holding him there. His fingers twitch where they are tangled in Atsumu’s shirt. He's waiting. Waiting for Tobio to make good on his “Yes”.

Moving seems impossible. To move would break past the invisible line that has always been drawn between them. It might as well be a wall. Tobio wants to move. God he fucking wants to move. He wants to devour and taste and kiss and enjoy everything Shoyo will let him have. But the wall…it keeps him in place.

Atsumu watches him. Shoyo breathes quickly, his eyes closed. Tobio wills himself to move.

“Please-”

that one, simple, whispered word -

It forces Tobio past the wall.

Chapter Text

His hand raises, reaching for what might as well be the sun. Shoyo has his eyes closed as he attempts to keep his breathing just short of hyperventilating.

His fingertips connect first, along the smooth skin of Shoyo's cheek. Lids flutter as Shoyo's bottom lip trembles after the initial touch. Tobio feels similarly, his jaw set hard to prevent the same. He watches his hand slide into Shoyo’s hair. So soft. So so soft. He's felt it before, but he's never let himself enjoy the touch. His hand slides through, his face brought ever forwards as he focuses on the way his spiker’s hair feels on the sensitive inner sides of his fingers.

He finds his lips a breath away from connecting with Shoyo's cheek. The heat radiating off him is palpable through the air.

Tobio’s eyes close, his lungs squeezing in anticipation. His hand never stops, continuously shifting through the orange hair. He sways forwards and his lips just barely brush against the upper edge of Shoyo's cheek, nearly at his ear.

Just a light touch against the swell of his bottom lip, it shouldn't feel as enormous as it does. It shouldn't feel like some great wall inside of Tobio is tearing itself down.

“Shoyo,” he hears himself whisper. With the motion of the word, his lips brush against the cheek edge of Shoyo’s ear. Something…God- something, something needs to happen. Tobio can't believe that it really is Shoyo here, kneeling on the bed, asking for Tobio, specifically for Tobio to kiss him.

Tobio wants to. God he wants to. He wants to kiss every inch of Shoyo and whisper everything into his ear. Every passing thought, or time he thought the boy or man was beautiful. Every painful ache of missing him, of nearly reaching out. Of how much he regrets every chance that passed him by.

“Tobio,” it's just a breath, barely a word at all. It lights Tobio alive with some deep understanding. They both want this. Shoyo wants this. Tobio presses a kiss to his cheek, letting his lips linger against the soft skin. He doesn't want to ever pull away. He wants to use the hand in Shoyo’s hair to hold the man in the kiss. He seriously is considering how long he could draw this out when he realizes that Shoyo is shifting in his grasp.

He's not pulling away. He's letting his head loll slightly to the side, baring his neck, showing Tobio the perfect reason to end the kiss. He lifts himself back, eyeing the beautiful jaw and neck in front of him. His mouth waters as he imagines.

Like a magnet he is drawn into Shoyo, no path for escape now that he's this close. His mouth finds the very corner edge of Shoyo's jaw, an ambiguous space that marks the transition between his head and neck.

Shoyo gasps. The sound feels like it's being fed directly into Tobio’s brain. More. He wants to hear more. He wants to hear Shoyo take in sharp breaths, one after the other, his lungs going erratic, hands clawing up Tobio’s back, half broken and unfinished words attempting to make their way out of his mouth. Tobio wants to hear it escalate from a single gasp to the chorus of sounds that will surely come of Shoyo right as he is about to-

“Didn't realize you would spend so long teasing him,” Atsumu's voice crawls up Tobio’s back. His spine feels sharp as adrenaline dumps into his system. He forgot. He forgot about the…partner. Shoyo’s partner. His body screams at him to pull back.

Shoyo whines, squirming in place for a moment before his hips jerk forwards abruptly. Tobio pulls his face back a few inches from the portion of neck he had been kissing. His eyes dart to the movement on Shoyo’s thigh. Atsumu's large hand lies there, fingers wrapped around the heady bulk of Shoyo’s leg. A thumb sweeps along the inside portion, every few swipes causing Shoyo to buck forwards.

It feels wrong. It feels so wrong to watch another man touch Shoyo - and so well too. Atsumu plays Shoyo’s body like it's a well practiced instrument.

“Atsu - please - you said you wouldnt-” Shoyo's voice isn't exactly convincing as his body shifts against the hand on his upper thigh.

“I'm not doing anything Sho, just comforting you,” Tobio doesn't need to be looking to know there is a smirk on Atsumu's face.

Shoyo's mouth falls open slightly, eyes just barely open. Tobio is lost in the sight of Shoyo when Atsumu snaps him out of it once again.

“Go on,” he prompts, “keep kissing him.”

Shoyo bares his neck again, his body still shifting and giving small jumps when Atsumu presses against a sensitive spot.

Tobio doesn't like this. He doesn't like the idea of not knowing if a sigh or moan is because of himself or Atsumu.

His own hand finds itself overtop of Atsumu's, stilling his movements.

“He told you not to,” Tobio says, his voice firm and even.

The room is utterly silent for a few seconds. Each moment that passes convinces Tobio that what he has just done has majorly passed a line. How could he think he had any right to tell Atsumu what to do with his own partner? Why would Tobio have any right at all?

Atsumu's boisterous laugh takes over the space next. Part of Tobio’s rising rage is the situation, but a decent portion of it is just a reflection of his confusion. Why. The. Hell. Is. He. Laughing.

“I told you,” Atsumu says, somewhat regaining his breath. Shoyo groans, and not in the fun way. Tobio’s hand tightens reflexively, grasping the strands of hair in his hand. Shoyo groans again, this time…in a completely different way.

Atsumu has finally gotten his laughter under control. Tobio regretfully lets go of Shoyo’s hair. He hadn't asked to do that. Just because Atsumu had done it doesn't at all mean Shoyo wants it from Tobio.

With his fits of laughter behind him, Atsumu's voice drops back down to that velvety timber. “I told you,” he taunts in Shoyo’s other ear. Tobio knows the words are for Shoyo. He can't help but hear them.

“I told you that he wouldn't share,” the words feel like they are bending around Shoyo to land right in Tobio’s own ear.

What?

“He won't share you,” Tobio feels a second hand join his in Shoyo’s hair. He indeed doesn't want to share. He's about to act out in a way that will probably get him kicked out of the room altogether when Atsumu grabs on tight, forcing Shoyo to bare his neck towards Tobio at what seems to be an terribly uncomfortable angle.

“Go on then,” Atsumu challenges, “have him.”

It's different. Doing something because Shoyo asked…doing something because Atsumu told him. It's different. It's…

“Do you want me to?” he's ignoring Atsumu. The question is for Shoyo. His lips brush against the shell of Shoyo’s ear because, apparently, Tobio cannot bear to be physically apart from him.

“Yes,” the sound is strained from how his neck is being bent.

Somehow, the risk seems worth it. Tobio shifts his hand, slipping the tips of fingers under where Atsumu is holding onto Shoyo’s locks of hair. Let go. Let go of him.

Atsumu relents and Shoyo’s head rebounds upon release, knocking gently into Tobio’s face. Tobio uses his hand to hold Shoyo close so he can mouth at the ridges of Shoyo’s ear.

Shoyo’s reaction is worth everything. A breathy moan falls from his lips and one of his hands jumps up to grasp at Tobio’s leg.

He feels dizzy with how Shoyo’s fingertips dig into his leg, just above the knee. He works his lips to the spot of skin just behind Shoyo’s ear and his spiker grabs on harder. He moves lower, cherishing every small reaction as he drags his lips and then his tongue down the side of Shoyo’s neck.

He swears he's drunk when he feels his mouth open on its own to start sucking on Shoyo’s pulse point. The man under him jolts, never pulling away, instead leaning into the sensation.

He doesn't grab, he doesn't, but he does tighten his hold on Shoyo’s head. The immediate groan is a reward that spurs on further confidence. His grip tightens more, holding Shoyo right where he wants him. Tobio continues downward, having to change his angle to continue along Shoyo's shoulder.

His hand at some point descended down to cradle Shoyo’s jaw, his thumb lying along the underside of his chin.

Tobio holds the man still, feeling the rush of breath in and out. His jaw opens, his teeth against the soft curve of Shoyo’s shoulder. He doesn't press, just holds his mouth there. He laves his tongue along the soft skin, lost in everything that is Shoyo.

“Yes,” Shoyo sighs, letting his face still be held in place, “yes Tobio, please, do it-”

He doesn't have to be told twice, especially when the first request was so, so sweet. Tobio bites down, letting his teeth press against Shoyo’s strong shoulder.

He can feel the skin resist his jaw, pressing back with just as much force. He presses harder. Shoyo squirms in his grasp, his breath coming in short bursts, his hand clamped down so tightly onto Tobio’s leg.

Fingers dig in. Teeth dig in. Shoyo hasn't stopped moving and Tobio fears it's too much. He is about to release the pressure when the man below him goes still, his muscles relaxing.

Incredible. Fucking incredible. He relaxed…despite the teeth pressing against the bottom of his neck. Tobio bites down a fraction harder, letting his tongue play with the skin he has trapped in his mouth.

Shoyo moans lowly. His head is nuzzling into Tobio’s hand which still holds him still by his jaw. His body slumps towards Tobio. The fingers on his upper knee still hold on, but without any of the intensity.

Tobio runs the tip of his tongue along his own teeth, tracing the point of contact between them. He wonders if Shoyo's beautiful tan skin with bruise in the shape of his teeth.

“Tobio-” Shoyo’s voice aches with want. Tobio is weak to the sound. He wants to give Shoyo exactly what he wants. He releases the shoulder from his jaw, licks and kisses over the indented skin.

“What do you want?” Tobio asks into Shoyo’s skin, kissing his way back up that gorgeous neck, until he is settled back by Shoyo's ear.

“You,” Shoyo breathes.

“Be precise love,” Atsumu's voice comes from the other side. It's less grating now, less infuriating. Not exactly enjoyable…but tolerable.

“Tell Tobio exactly what you want from him.”

A needy sound gets caught in Shoyo’s throat. Neither man moves to continue, the room shockingly still and quiet, save for Shoyo’s ragged breathing.

“I want,” Shoyo takes a steading breath, leaning a little more into Tobio, “I want all of you, I want to feel you inside of me.”

Shoyo starts to turn his head and Tobio releases his jaw, allowing the movement. Shoyo slots his face right in front of Tobio’s. Their foreheads and cheeks rest together, putting the mouths such a short distance apart. He can feel Shoyo's breath on his lips.

“Kiss me, kiss me everywhere, until I'm begging for it, for anything,” Shoyo’s voice is warm against Tobio’s lips. He waits, holding as still as he can, unwilling to break the spell that is allowing Shoyo to tell him exactly how to take him apart.

“I want you to have your way with me, I want you to take, whatever you want Tobio, take it, please-”

Goosebumps erupt up Tobio’s back and down his arms. Holy shit.

A hand finds its way onto the back of his neck, holding him close.

“Please,” Shoyo says again, his voice so desperate and so vulnerable at the same time.

“Yes, of course,” Tobio puts his own hand on the nape of Shoyo’s neck, holding him just as gently.

“Of course,” he repeats, closing the final few millimeters to finally kiss Hinata Shoyo.

Chapter Text

Shoyo can't stop the way his body breathes out at the contact. He means to kiss back, he wants very much to kiss back, but his brain is just slow, like syrup. The message eventually reaches his lips and they start to move, a deep moan making its way out of his mouth at the same time.

Tobio. Kissing him.

It's soft, a stark contrast to how Tobio had been holding him still just moments ago. Shoyo loves it. He loves whatever Tobio will give him. He focuses on how the lips feel against his own. Fingers curl against the nape of his neck.

He wants me, Shoyo thinks. The thought feels like it is burning him alive. He feels his body arch forwards, trying to get closer, trying to feel more of Tobio. The slow press, the intimate feelings, the shallow breathy noises. He's getting lost. He wants to be lost.

He nips at Tobio’s bottom lip, pulling it into his mouth, absolutely relishing the pitched whine that it pulls from the setter. The air is forced out of Shoyo's lungs as his back hits the bed. His eyes fly open and he is vaguely aware that the hair at the base of his head aches.

He gets a quick glance of Tobio’s cold blue eyes before the man is all the way up against him kissing him so much more forcefully. Tobio’s chest presses against Shoyo’s own, the fabric of his shirt scratching against Shoyo’s sensitive nipples. His body aches, both wanting more and trying to reduce the stimulation.

It truly feels like he loses the ability to think as Tobio’s tongue slides against his bottom lip. He can't think, God, he doesn't fucking need to think. Not when Tobio is on him like this. He can't think, but that doesn't stop him from fucking needing more.

His hands grab at Tobio, trying to pull him closer, trying to show him that, yes, Shoyo wants this too.

His hands are quickly grabbed and pressed down into the bed above his head. Tobio pulls back a fraction, his breath coming in heaves, eyes closed.

Shoyo’s body feels so…it's always been hard to explain. Atsumu has asked in the past, asked Shoyo to explain what it feels like to be held down, or tied up, or made to do all manner of things. It's hard to explain - partially because when Shoyo is in that place he isn't thinking hardly at all - partially because it truly just doesn't seem like there are adequate words.

It feels good. So fucking good. Like Shoyo is exactly where he needs to be. Like he is exactly who he needs to be. Like he was made for this.

Tobio’s face falls into Shoyo's shoulder, his exhales tickle Shoyo’s bare skin. He feels his skin pebble under the sensation. It takes everything in him to stay still under the man holding him down. It takes everything, in the best fucking way.

“Shoyo,” Tobio’s voice is hoarse. It harkens back to all the strenuous moments of their past, when they would be on the verge of collapsing, each telling themselves ‘just one more point’. The shared history, it suddenly feels overwhelming. Tobio chooses that moment to release Shoyo’s hands and sit back on his heels.

“If you touch me like that,” Tobio takes a deep breath, “I'm not sure I'll be able to keep it together.”

Shoyo’s body is caught, half in that place of submission, half submerged in memories of Tobio. It's confusing. It's…uncomfortable. His body isn't sure what to feel. He's…

Tobio is real. This is the Tobio that Shoyo spent all of highschool with. Every day, every practice, every match, classes, studying, holidays, sleepovers, and then -

No. No, he won't. He won't cry. No.

“Shoyo?” Tobio’s voice is different, wrong. That is not how he talks to Shoyo.

“Sho? Baby?” Now it's Atsumu.

It aches. The words caught in Shoyo’s brain make his chest ache. No. Stop. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter why. It's years past now. It doesn't fucking matter.

A warm finger wipes at the tears falling sideways down his cheeks. Some tears get by anyway and fall into his ear.

Why? Tobio, why? Why didn't…even when you were in Rio, for the Olympics…you still didn't…

The voice - the one that won't stop repeating the words inside Shoyo’s head - takes on a more cutting edge.

It's because…you never meant that to him. You were never special, you were never worth seeing. You're only allowed this now because it's convenient. You'd better enjoy it. He’ll probably never spend his time on you like this again.

You're convenient.

You're just convenient.

A troubled breath wracks through his lungs. He's losing it.

He turns his head to the side, away from the other two. They have been talking, quietly, imploring him to respond. He isn't actually hearing the words, just the tone. His breath comes quicker now, a formidable beast. He bites down on his bottom lip, forcing his lungs to stop completely. Stop. Just stop. He holds it as long as he can.

Two hands on his cheeks.

Shaking his shoulders.

Talking in louder voices now.

…

Atsumu isn't sure what the hell is happening. He's seen Shoyo drop before…it's not like this. This is a whole other beast. To be honest, he hadn't considered the emotional element of bringing in somebody like Tobio.

He pushed past Tobio with ease. The other setter seems paralyzed. He probably figured it's his fault somehow. Atsumu sighs internally, these two, always letting their fears get the better of them.

He brushes Shoyo’s hair out of his face, and keeps wiping away stray tears.

Maybe this was too much. After years of repressing his feelings, plus the teasing, and the submission, it's just too much to process all at once.

As if sensing that Atsumu is about to pull the plug on the whole thing, Shoyo speaks. It's just a whisper of his normally boisterous voice.

“I'm sorry.”

Atsumu opens his mouth, a reassurance that Shoyo doesn't need to apologize at his lips. Shoyo catches his eye, and something there stops Atsumu from speaking.

Shoyo closes his eyes again and takes a shuddering breath, tears still falling silently down his face.

“Sweetheart,” Atsumu whispers, “I think we should send Tobio home.”

Atsumu watches the muscles in Shoyo's jaw clench as he hears the words. It must feel like failure to have to end things like this, but it's so much more important to take care of Shoyo right now.

“I want -” Shoyo’s voice hitches and he swallows before starting again, “I want to know,” he turns over so that he's facing Atsumu.

Atsumu looks down at his spiker. His eyes are pink and puffy, his nose and cheeks flushed. His voice has the tell-tale marks of crying.

“What do you want to know honey?”

Shoyo's eyes dart to look past Atsumu, likely finding Tobio. Ah.

Atsumu shifts to the side, not quite removing himself from between the other two men, but giving a bit more space.

“I can go, it's really-”

“You never came,” Shoyo interrupts.

“I…” Tobio stops, the confusion evident in his voice.

Shoyo's eyes close, “You're right, you don't need to stay,” he swallows before he says, “it's nice that you came at all.”

Oh. So that's what this is about.

Atsumu turns to look at Tobio who has gone utterly pale in the face.

“Sh-” Tobio cuts himself off, his eyes quickly glancing to Atsumu and then back to Shoyo.

“It's okay,” Shoyo gives a weary smile, “we always knew what this was.”

The words hurt Atsumu to hear. He can't even imagine how they cut into Tobio.

Shoyo keeps a weary smile on his face while stray tears continue to fall. This pain. These two idiots have lived with this fucking pain for all these years. It's obvious, fucking painfully obvious to everyone but them. Christ. Well…Atsumu at least had a clue what he was getting himself into when he agreed to this…frankly encouraged it.

He loves Sho. God, how can you not? Sunshine incarnate on this mortal earth. He's fierce and powerful on the court. He's like dappled easy morning light in bed. An incredible array of colors when he puts his focus on you.

Atsumu loves Sho. But he's not in love with him. But Tobio is. Has been for so fucking long. Atsumu didn't know it in highschool, was too naive and self centered himself to pick up on the cues. But in hindsight it's obvious that the feelings have run deep.

And yet, these two fucking idiots still can't figure it out. If the room wasn't full of a painfully tense silence Atsumu would be burying his face into his hands. Idiots. Fucking idiots.

Well, he set out with the aim of getting them together. Surely he can outsmart two dumbasses…right?

Chapter Text

Tobio feels like he may as well be miles away. The other two men are in front of him on the bed, Atsumu is petting Shoyo’s hair and talking to him gently. Shoyo’s words stay trapped in Tobio’s head. It's all he can think as he watches Shoyo wipe at his eyes with the back of his hand.

‘You never came’

‘We always knew what this was’

‘Its nice you came at all'

The words feel like a fucking punch to the stomach. Tobio knows he fucked up. More times than he can actually count. He fucked up every single time he chose to avoid his feelings about Shoyo. He…he didn't realize Shoyo was hurting too.

Tobio never came. He was in the same city as Shoyo for weeks. They hadn't seen each other in so many months. He never used any breaks in his schedule to visit. He never could bring himself to see Shoyo. He wanted to. Fuck he wanted to. When in Rio he was always looking over his shoulder, scanning the crowds. The imagined presence of Shoyo followed him around everywhere he went. He wanted…he really wanted Shoyo to just be there one of the times he looked. He wanted to see him, wanted to see the smile light up his face when they made eye contact. Wanted to know Shoyo was watching him.

He didn't even know if Shoyo knew he was in Rio. Logically he did…there is no way he wasn't following the Olympics. But…he didn't reach out. Didn't ask for tickets, or to meet up, or…

Shoyo…you're the one who left.

It was supposed to be us against the world.

Tobio’s jaw clenches, fighting back the increasing pressure of tears.

Atsumu is still gently taking care of Shoyo, his voice soft and loving. It fucking aches.

Shoyo left, went clear around the world…and when he finally came back…he picked Atsumu.

Tobio gets it. He’ll never have that social ease that Atsumu does. Or the looks. Or any of it. Shoyo put up with Tobio’s shit for years, he knows exactly what Tobio is like and…it wasn't what he wanted. So…why is he saying these things now?

“Tobio?” Atsumu snaps him out of the flood of feelings and questions.

Tobio looks up into Atsumu’s face. There is something there…something completely unreadable. Tobio wishes he were better at that, at understanding people and the things they leave unsaid.

“You have to tell him,” Atsumu says.

His stomach twists as the words filter into his brain. Tell him? Surely…surely Atsumu doesn't mean…

Atsumu is now fully turned towards Tobio, the intensity of his eyes makes Tobio want to shy away.

“Tell him,” Atsumu implores, “be brave for once, tell him the truth.”

When Tobio glances down to where Shoyo is laying down, still wiping at his eyes, but now he's also watching Tobio.

Tobio knows what the expression of Shoyo's face means…probably because he knows all of Shoyo's different faces.

Fear. Shoyo is afraid. Not the type of fear from when he was constantly getting cornered in the bathroom at games. More like…the fear he felt when the third years left. The fear that comes with knowing your whole world is about to change.

The truth. Tell Shoyo the truth. Tobio’s throat chokes up at the thought of saying any of the words aloud. He can't. What made him think anything would be different? Coming here didn't stop him from being a coward. If anything it proves his cowardice even more. To have this small sliver of Shoyo when he belongs to another…to take this opportunity knowing it was just going to end with his heart broken.

God, what the fuck was he thinking? His teeth ache from how hard he is clenching his mouth shut. He is losing the battle of holding his tears in.

The truth. The truth of everything he has held in. It's not possible. He's not the kind of person who could say what needs to be said.

Shoyo’s face turns pained and he presses the heel of his palms into his eyes. He takes in a ragged breath, “Fuck Tobio, just say it. Just fucking say it.”

Tobio’s vision goes blurry and he loses sight of Shoyo. He turns his head down towards the bed and blinks the tears out of his eyes. They just keep coming. Fuck. Fuck.

His fingers are grasping at his pants. There is too much. There is too much inside of him. It feels like he is just barely keeping everything contained. His body wants to fly a part into a million pieces. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. The rock in his throat sits heavy, choking him. Fuck,

He can't breathe.

He grabs at his neck and then his chest, trying desperately to take a full breath. He can't. He watches more tears fall into the bed spread. He can't breathe.

Hands land on his cheeks. Tobio shuts his eyes. At this point, he might rather die than let Atsumu help him.

So when it's Shoyo’s voice that speaks from just a few inches away - Tobio nearly lets out a sob.

“Do you remember the visualization?”

Tobio huffs out a breath before his body tries to take a new one back in too fast. He hiccups, fingertips digging into his legs. Of course he remembers. How could he forget?

He manages to nod and Shoyo gently pries Tobio’s hands off of his legs so that his own can settle there instead. They just about perfected this in highschool.

Tobio never understood why, but partway through his second year he started to get panic attacks. Sometimes they were truly out of the blue, catching him in the middle of something mundane. Other times they were because of what he was realizing about his own feelings.

Shoyo taps on his knees. They always used the same pattern. A tap, about two beats of silence and then another tap. It feels so close to the rhythm of setting to yourself against the wall. Tobio lets his mind fall into the steady drum of Shoyo’s hands. He can nearly see the ball get set up, arcing into the wall, and then falling back down.

Tobio knows it's just a rhythm, but it always feels like Shoyo is tapping at just the right moment, right when Tobio would have made contact with the ball and set it back up again. He falls into the feeling. Comfortable and predictable. Another tap always coming at just the right time.

“Woah,” Atsumu's admission grabs Tobio’s focus. He opens his eyes, his brain unsettled that he wasn't actually setting against the wall. His breathing is even again, and his throat no longer feels constricted.

“That is really fucking cool, how did you two figure that out? Shoyo stays quiet in the face of Atsumu's question, his eyes cast down towards the bed.

“He found me,” Tobio says, his voice on the edge of shaking, “I couldn't stop hyperventilating. It felt like I was going to pass out,” Shoyo blinks but doesn't look up.

“He didn't…I thought he'd go get the nurse or coach or something, but instead he just sat down next to me,” Tobio remembers the utter embarrassment. He felt so out of control, so weak. He hated that Shoyo was seeing him like that.

“He started to tap on the floor, that rhythm, and…I don't know why but it helped, it always helps.”

And when Tobio finally calmed down, Shoyo just stood up and held out his hand. When Tobio looked up into his face, he saw the expression that Shoyo always had the second before he asked Tobio to set to him. Shoyo didn't…he didn't, he just kept seeing Tobio as Tobio. The realization nearly sent teenage Tobio spiraling all over again. He kept it together though, thinking about how good it was going to feel to really set to Shoyo.

And here is Shoyo now, older, somehow shyer. Still not judging…but not holding out a hand either.

“Thank you,” Tobio whispers.

“Of course,” Shoyo says back, not looking up.

It's not an of course. There is no obligation between the two of them. But God- Tobio closes his eyes, fighting back a second round of panic. God he wants there to be. He wants to be somebody so important to Shoyo. He wants to be needed, and relied on. He wants to be obligated and responsible to somebody other than himself.

Be brave. For once, for just a fucking single instance, be brave. Tell him. Tell him the truth.

Tobio’s mouth opens, so many different words fighting to make their way down his throat. Tell him. Fucking tell him. Say it. Say it you coward.

He wants to. He looks at Shoyo who can't even bear to look up. He wants to. He really fucking wants to.

He tentatively puts his own hand on Shoyo’s knee and gives it a single tap. He can see that Shoyo is watching his hand. Still not looking up.

How- how can Tobio even begin to express it all? Words never came easily to Tobio. He never was able to catch the right ones or arrange them in a way that made others understand. And, with Shoyo, he never quite had to. They didn't always talk, but there was so much that felt naturally understood between them.

Now is not one of those times. Maybe…maybe for all those years Tobio hid in the safety of not having to say it. He didn't have to say it and Shoyo still came back every time. Until he didn't.

“I missed you,” he can't bear to look at Shoyo’s down turned face. Instead he looks at his own hand on his…on Shoyo’s knee.

“I missed you when you left. I knew that the end of our third year meant things would be different. I wasn't-” he takes in a shuddering breath, “I wasn't ready.”

“I missed you,” he says again, more quietly.

There are a million things he could say, but for some reason he just keeps saying that.

A single drop lands on the back of his hand. His eyes shoot up before he can stop them. Shoyo is still looking down, but there are loose tears clinging to his eyelashes.

“I missed you,” Shoyo's voice is so quiet that Tobio almost isn't able to make out the words. But he does. Shoyo sniffs and blinks, dropping more tears down into his legs and Tobio’s hand.

“I missed you,” Shoyo says again, his head dropping down further so that Tobio can only see his orange hair.

Shoyo’s head snaps up, his eyes still full of tears. Tobio feels pinned under the intense gaze. He has been on the receiving end of Shoyo’s stare more times than he can count. Watching him serve from the box, watching him to see where the set will go, watching his block from the back row. Always watching. The feeling of amber eyes on him became comfortable.

This though, is anything but. Tobio’s stomach twists but he finds himself unable to look away from Shoyo’s clear eyes.

He doesn't mean to hold his breath, and he only realizes he has been when his lungs start to ache. He lets himself breathe in, still fully caught in the intensity of Shoyo.

Tell him. Tell him more. Make him understand that it went far beyond just missing. Make him understand.

“I missed you,” Tobio says again, stressing the word ‘missed’ in a way that he hopes communicates something deeper. Because he missed Shoyo so fucking much he almost couldn't stand it.

Shoyo's eyes do widen ever so slightly. His lips part and a moment later his gaze falls to Tobio’s mouth. That's the only warning the setter gets before he feels Shoyo lunge forwards and kiss him.

Hungry. That's the only word in Tobio’s head as they kiss. Hungry. Starved. Ravenous. They kiss like they are both terrified that this is it. The last chance. The only chance. Tobio holds the back of Shoyo’s head and his hip. He keeps the other man close while their mouths clash together.

Tobio groans when he feels Shoyo’s tongue rub against his own. It's so hot, so warm, so wet. He needs it. He needs it like nothing else. He holds Shoyo even closer, his hand gripping the back of the spiker's neck. Shoyo moans into Tobio’s mouth and sets his entire body ablaze. Again. He needs to hear that again.

He tightens his grip on Shoyo’s hip and pulls him forwards. On him, Tobio needs Shoyo on him. The orange haired man lets himself be moved and climbs onto Tobio’s lap, their mouths never disconnecting. It's addicting. Kissing has never fucking felt like this. It feels like he's losing his mind over this fucking kiss. Every movement fills Tobio.

“I missed you,” he says against Shoyo’s lips. His voice comes out raw and needy. Shoyo's hands thread into his hair, his chest pressing into Tobio’s own. When Shoyo rocks his hips forwards to adjust his position Tobio truly loses his mind.

That feeling…the one where if Shoyo continues…Tobio isn't going to be able to control himself.

“Sho-” he gasps out, as he feels Shoyo’s hand clench and grip his hair.

“Ahh-im- oh fuck” Tobio is melting. He's never felt like this before, like there was something bigger than himself happening inside of him. Shoyo, as always, is an unstoppable force. He kisses Tobio like a starved man, wasting no time, wasting not a single ounce. He kisses and bites and sucks and grabs onto Tobio.

It's electrifying - to feel wanted like this. To feel wanted by Shoyo like this.

Tobio swallows just a moment before his head is wretched back by Shoyo’s fist of hair. The spiker clamps onto Tobio’s neck and kisses him there. Tobio feels teeth and then he feels tongue. Shoyo licks over the arch of Tobio’s neck, moaning as he nears Tobio’s ear.

Tobio’s voice gives a high, needy whine when Shoyo nips at his ear. Is this fucking real?

He feels Shoyo's hot breath against his skin. Oh God. Oh good God. Tobio is truly going to lose it.

“Fuck me,” Shoyo whispers, the fistful of Tobio’s hair tightening, “please Tobio.”

Of course. Tobio’s eyes close, the hot body of his spiker in his lap, his head arched back forcibly. The echoing sound of Shoyo’s request in his ears.

Yes, of course.

Chapter Text

The pressure of Shoyo in his lap stays constant, but the bed dips around Tobio’s knees.

Shoyo pulls away from Tobio’s mouth, his face turning towards Atsumu who has settled down amongst the pile of legs. Atsumu has a hand on Shoyo’s jaw, holding him still while he whispers in the spiker's ear. Despite how quiet the room is, Tobio cannot hear their conversation.

The sudden halt to the intense kissing has left him panting. He watches Shoyo blink as he listens, his lips parted slightly, full and pink from how they had been kissing.

Tobio's hands still rest on Shoyo’s hip. He lets his fingers move ever so slightly, brushing along the soft skin of Shoyo’s sides. Tobio can feel how Shoyo wiggles in his grasp, his hips shifting in minute ways.

Long fingers overlap his own, halting the motion, “Just a minute Tobio,” Atsumu murmurs, his mouth still up against Shoyo’s ear. The two men talk for a moment longer. Tobio watches the way Shoyo seems captivated by whatever it is Atsumu is saying. His eyes are open but unfocused, his bottom lip rolling under his teeth.

Finally Shoyo closes his eyes and leans his head forwards to rest on Atsumu's shoulder. “Yeah,” Shoyo breathes out, nodding ever so slightly.

“Yeah?” Atsumu asks, rubbing Shoyo’s back.

“Mhmm,” Shoyo hums in affirmation.

Astumu sits back, kisses Shoyo on his forehead and gently puts his hands under Shoyo’s body to guide him off of Tobio’s lap. The release of downward pressure is unnerving. The weight has been comforting and grounding.

The desire to have a body back on his lap is granted when Atsumu pivots into the position. He's heavier. Shoyo is dense, heavier than he looks, especially since his stay in Brazil, but Atsumu is genuinely heavy. The weight is no longer comforting as Atsumu looks directly into Tobio.

“Here is how this is going to go,” Atsumu's gaze is steady, his voice firm but quiet.

Tobio tries to hold back the myriad of emotions that try to flit across his face. Is Atsumu trying to get a rise out of him? What did they talk about? What the hell is going on?

“See, Shoyo has a tendency to go too fast. He doesn't always stop when he should.”

Atsumu leans in closer, not quite putting his mouth against Tobio’s ear, but he is definitely inching into that territory.

“He's so eager to please,” Tobio can feel Atsumu’s breath against his cheek, “But you know that already, don't you?”

He did. He does. He could always feel the unspoken vibration that radiated off of his spiker. Shoyo desperately wanted to be good enough, to have someone know that he was good enough.

“He gets caught up in being good. He doesn't stop to listen to his own needs.”

That's why Atsumu was making Shoyo say it…say what he wanted. Tobio swallows, remembering how it felt to give Shoyo the space to say what he truly wanted.

Atsumu shifts his hips, his thighs easily holding him up so that he can press his pelvis into Tobio’s lower stomach. Fuck.

Atsumu is slightly above him now. The blonde setter catches Tobio’s chin in his fingers, encouraging him to look up.

“So, Tobio, part of the deal is that you follow my lead,” Atsumu presses his hard dick into Tobio’s stomach again, “can you be a good boy and listen?” He is using that velvety voice that makes Tobio feel weird and defenseless.

Is…is this what Shoyo wants? Tobio pulls against the fingers holding him still to look past Atsumu to the spiker. Shoyo’s eyes are wide, but not in fear. Is it hope? Desire?

“Is this what you want?” He asks.

Shoyo nods, his eyes clear.

“Tell me,” Tobio whispers.

He watches Shoyo swallow, “I want this, I want Atsumu to be in control…this time.”

Tobio can't even begin to unpack that implication. This time. God…is Shoyo gonna…let there be another?

Tobio lets his chin be fixed so that he is back to looking at Atsumu above him.

Atsumu's expression is soft, but there is definitely a hint of smugness to the tilt of his lips.

“So, what do you want, Kageyama Tobio?” Oh, there is definitely smugness in his voice. But there is almost something deeper. Something that gives Tobio that funny feeling in his brain.

“Have you ever had somebody tell you exactly what to do before?” Atsumu's head tilts to the side, still holding onto Tobio’s chin. No, he definitely hasn't ever had that, and if he did-chances are he wouldn't have listened.

Something inside him wants this though. Knowing that Atsumu takes care of Shoyo, knowing that Shoyo trusts him so much…and Shoyo had looked so blissed out when Atsumu was in control.

Atsumu’s fingers tighten a fraction, drawing Tobio’s attention back to the man in his lap. Oh, right, the questions - “No, I've never done that.”

Atsumu's lips quirk up in the corner. It makes the back of Tobio’s neck heat up. The prickle of sweat breaks out down his back. There is still the last question to answer. What does Tobio want?

Atsumu tips Tobio’s chin higher. It's uncomfortable. And…for some reason Tobio wants him to keep going.

“Yeah,” he breathes out. Atsumu raises an eyebrow and doesn't move. He's going to make Tobio say it too.

“I-” he finds himself getting lost in Atsumu’s intense eyes above him.

“Go on,” Atsumu drawls.

Tobio swallows and starts again, “I want you to be in control. I want that. And I want Shoyo to feel good. I want you to make sure he feels good.”

Atsumu's gaze softens and he releases Tobio’s chin. Tobio’s head falls back into a natural position, putting him at eye-height with Atsumu's neck. A hand grasps the back of his neck and he feels Atsumu's lips brush against his ear.

“I'm gonna need a safe word with you.”

A…Jesus what the hell is Atsumu going to make him do?

Atsumu must feel how he tenses up, because then he is soothing Tobio through gently petting the back of his neck, “Nothing like that, we just don't know how easily you might fall into it. Want you to have a way out.” .

Into…it?

Atsumu sits back, planting his weight onto Tobio’s thighs. The setter studies Tobio, looking deeply into his eyes. For some reason Tobio can't look away, despite how much he hates eye contact.

“The way you feel, is weird right?”

It is. Like he's slow like syrup. Like every thought has to wade through waist deep water.

Atsumu puts a hand on either side of Tobio’s waist, “It's okay Tobio, you can have this, just let yourself enjoy it,” Atsumu's voice is soft and melodic.

This…is this what Atsumu meant? Is this what he might fall into? It feels…good. A little scary, because Tobio isn't sure what is happening to him. It feels good though, like his brain has shut off and is just thinking about what is in front of him. And what is in front of him is Atsumu.

…

Tobio can't think. All he can do is feel. Fuck, so many different sensations are racing around his body. Shoyo is sitting on his stomach, his knees bent and pressed into Tobio’s sides. Shoyo is relentlessly kissing and marking Tobio’s neck. Tobio didn't expect to leave tonight with hickies but he can't for the life of him care.

In fact, he wants them, he wants to walk out of here with evidence of Shoyo on his body. His hands are restless as they comb through Shoyo’s hair, grabbing on tighter when he feels the sharp sting of a bite or hickey. His voice is also restless, hopping between mindless moans and chanting Sho’s name.

He can barely form even half a thought, especially with what Atsumu is doing beyond Shoyo. There are hands, and Tobio is pretty sure a tongue too. Something hot and wet appears on his inner thigh, and a second later it morphs into a sharp sting. His legs strain, his body instinctively trying to get away from the pain. Hands, God…really strong hands hold down his legs.

He continues to strain until the mouth and teeth release his leg. He gasps, his head falling back into the bed with a thump.

“Good job baby,” Shoyo murmurs into his neck, barely stopping his assault on Tobio’s throat. Tobio can't keep his eyes open. He lets himself fall into the dark space behind his eyelids. The hands stay firmly planted on his legs, holding him down so that a mark can be sucked and bitten onto his other leg.

He can't believe the sounds that he is hearing fall out of his own mouth. He's whining, and moaning, saying Shoyo’s name like it's a prayer.

He's so lost in the sensations that he doesn't notice right away when things shift. Shoyo stopped kissing him, instead panting into the crook of Tobio’s neck. Atsumu also stopped holding his legs down, a few fingers just brushing over the sensitive, bruising marks.

Tobio opens his eyes to a field of orange. Shoyo gives a louder gasp that morphs into a moan. The sound vibrates into Tobio’s skin. Shoyo gives a quiet cry and jolts forwards. It takes Tobio a moment to piece it together.

Atsumu is doing something to Shoyo.

Tobio lets his hands skate down along Shoyo's bare back. His fingers slide along the curve of his bottom. There are no longer pants there…fuck. Shoyo jolts forwards again and this time he bites down onto Tobio’s shoulder as he moans.

The hand that had been on Tobio’s thigh grabs his wrist. His hand is guided along the curve of Shoyo’s bottom until it reaches where Atsumu is inside of the redhead. Christ.

Shoyo releases the bite and nuzzles his face into Tobio’s neck, “Please,” he whispers.

Atsumu takes a hold of Tobio’s index finger and brushes it along where two of his fingers are entering and exiting Shoyo.

“Fuck,” Tobio gasps aloud. How - God - he feels so lucky. Shoyo continues to gasp and moan into his neck, the noises matching up exactly with Atsumu's movements.

“Shoyo, baby,” Atsumu’s voice feels like the only stable thing in the room. He pauses his movement, letting Shoyo catch his breath. The redhead nods after a few seconds.

“You're do’in so good, you feeling present?”

Shoyo nods again, still breathing deeply.

Atsumu leans over his back, putting his mouth much closer to Shoyo's ear, “Darling, do you want to stop? Let yourself think.”

Tobio follows along as best he can with fog having settled over his brain. The way Atsumu talks is so sweet. He doesn't ask the question with a single speck of resentment. Like…he just truly wants the truth.

Shoyo keeps breathing, his chest pressing into Tobio’s. Finally he shakes his head and says, “Don't wanna stop Atsu.”

“Show me how” Atsumu says gently.

Shoyo reaches his hand back and taps Atsumu's thigh.

“Good boy,” Atsumu purrs and goes right back to fucking Shoyo open. The smaller man, now sandwiched between them, yelps at the sudden movement.

Tobio can feel how Sho melts into it, his hand still resting on Shoyo’s ass. He moves on his own this time, inching closer to where Atsumu is at work.

He swears he hears Atsumu chuckle but when he looks up the man is looking back with a calculating gaze. Like he's sizing Tobio up. He must make some kind of decision because he says, “Go on, he wants you to.”

Tobio bites down on his bottom lip and lets his fingers brush against where Atsumu is fingers deep in their spiker. Tobio presses against the soft skin, feeling how it would give way to more. His face feels hot and flushed when Shoyo whimpers into his ear.

Tobio feels Atsumu start to pull out, Shoyo exhaling deeply at the feeling.

“I've had to hear about these,” Atsumu says, tapping against Tobio’s hesitant fingers, “hear him wonder what these long fingers would feel like.” Atsumu takes hold of Tobio and urges him onwards.

“Hear him wish I could go deeper,” Atsumu’s whispered words crack through the space like lightning. Shoyo tenses, his body curling up even more against Tobio.

He…holy fuck. Did Shoyo really?

“Don't you want to show him?”

Shoyo whimpers as Tobio starts to press against him. Tight skin gives way to his fingertips.

Chapter Text

Tobio has always taken care of his hands. It wasn't a question of if he wanted to, he had to. He isn't a spiker, and he hardly ever receives. The only hard hitting he does is serving. Other than that, every single move he makes comes down to the tips of his fingers.

Part of his skill set lies in the sensitivity of those fingertips. Their ability to sense the most minute shifts in pressure against the ball in that split second it takes to set. There isn't time to think, only to feel and react.

He didn't realize how overwhelming it would feel inside of Shoyo. It's hot all around. It's wet with lube. It's tight yet soft, Shoyo's sensitive skin sliding against the length of Tobio’s fingers. Tobio swears he can feel all of it. Every movement feels intense against his finger tips.

Tobio’s brain gets seesawed between the all encompassing sensation along his fingers and the gutteral sounds spilling from Shoyo’s mouth. Just a few minutes ago Shoyo’s voice had been pitched up high, now he is groaning at the bottom of his register. Sounds Tobio never ever imagined he would hear surround him.

Shoyo shudders, his breath catching in a new way. Tobio glances up past the orange hair to see Atsumu. The man is kneeling beside them, his fingers tracing lazy circles along Shoyo’s bare back. Each time Atsumu reaches the nape of Shoyo's neck the spiker jolts and then squeezes around Tobio’s fingers.

It is truly dizzying. Tobio can't quite keep his presence of mind. Everything feels like so much, especially when Shoyo starts mindlessly sucks and lapping at Tobio’s shoulder.

He glances back up to Atsumu sitting above the both of them. He is still tracing over Shoyo's back, eyes curiously watching Tobio.

Tobio can't comprehend how stable Atsumu looks. He seems so unaffected and calm, and meanwhile Tobio feels like he's lost his damn mind. Still maintaining eye contact, Atsumu drags his fingertips down to the base of Shoyo’s spine. The spiker bends, his hips and back spasming and clenching tighter than ever around Tobio’s fingers.

A deep groan falls from his own lips as he tips his head back and focuses on the feeling of Shoyo all around him, clenching again and again as Atsumu plays with him.

“That's it baby, look how good you're making him feel,” Atsumu’s words feel physically big. Tobio isn't sure who he is even talking to. Most likely Sho…yet…his own brain takes the words anyway. He can feel them fill up his skull, the sounds of the syllables repeating over and over.

Shoyo whines and grinds back against Tobio’s hand. “Please, please,” the spiker is breathless, his voice strained as he begs.

Shoyo suddenly slumps forwards, his body heaving in deep breaths, “that's it Hun, breathe,” the clenching has stopped but Shoyo’s body is shaking.

“Can you do more?”

It is quiet for a moment as Shoyo takes in a staggered breath. Then he nods against Tobio’s shoulder. A few seconds pass where neither Tobio or Atsumu moves.

“Yes,” Shoyo breathes out, his body going tense.

Atsumu hums gently and positions himself behind Shoyo. Tobio wonders what it looks like from that angle. His fingers deep inside of the smaller man. Shoyo’s legs spread, head down, body tense and shaking.

“Shoyo,” Atsumu says, his voice clear and firm. Shoyo nods that he is listening.

“What is your color darling?”

Tobio can hear Shoyo swallow before he says, “Green.”

There is a moment where Tobio feels Shoyo’s ass spread further apart and then there is a wet tongue.

Tobio gasps at the same moment as Shoyo yelps. The tongue slides over and around where Tobio’s fingers are spreading Shoyo open. Tobio is fully unprepared for how Atsumu's moan would feel against his already sensitive fingers. The blonde setter laps at the sensitive skin, causing Shoyo to buck and whine.

Then, the tongue is alongside Tobio’s fingers, entering their spiker too. Shoyo bites off the start of a wail and buries his face into Tobio’s shoulder.

And it's only now that Tobio realizes that he himself is here too. He's not watching this from afar. He's fucking here.

He uses his free hand to thread into Shoyo’s hair. He lifts the man’s head up, marveling at how pink his face is.

“I want to hear you.”

Shoyo closes his eyes and bites down on his bottom lips.

Tobio gives him a second and then says, “please let me hear you.”

Shoyo opens his eyes a fraction. His pupils are so blown out. His gaze seems unfocused when he scans Tobio’s face. Finally he nods and lays his head back down, no longer muffling his mouth against Tobio’s skin.

Tobio and Shoyo both feel Atsumu moan again. It's maddening. It's fucking insane. Shoyo indeed lets himself be heard, the sounds bleeding right into Tobio's ear. Between the sensation of being inside him, and Atsumu hot and wet tongue, and the moans along his fingers, and the needy sounds in his ears. God. He's truly going to lose his mind.

Atsumu somehow weasles his way between two of Tobio’s fingers. The pressure of Atsumu's chin against his knuckles, coupled with them both fighting for space inside of Shoyo…and God it seems like Shoyo is loving it. Loving being used by the both of them.

“Atsu-Atsu- please, please,” the plea stops both of the setters in their tracks. Atsumu pulls out and licks over the surface of Shoyo’s spread hole. The spiker jolts and continues to pant against Tobio.

Tobio feels a hand land on his thigh, a thumb sliding back and forth carefully.

Tobio moves to start pulling out and Atsumu stops him. “Just stay, he loves how it feels, don't you Shoyo?”

Shoyo doesn't answer, instead working on catching his breath in Tobio’s ear.

“Hmmm,” Atsumu brushes a finger over where Tobio and Shoyo are connected, smearing lube and spit over them.

“Tobio,” Atsumu says, his voice measured, “have you ever bottomed before?”

Uh…

Tobio blinks, willing his mind to get back together. Has he…Atsumu wants to know if he has bottomed?

Slowly his brain clicks back into place. He has…it wasn't…the best. But he has.

He swallows his pride, “Yeah, I have.”

The room is quiet all around him. Even Shoyo isn't panting as loudly.

“Is it not for you?” Atsumu’s tone carries no judgment. It's kind of infuriating.

Tobio closes his eyes.

It's not that he didn't like ‘it’. The whole thing was just…it was fine. Just fine. There was no connection, there was no work put into it. It didn't hurt per se but it didn't feel good either. It was just fine.

Honestly…Tobio had felt like a hole.

“It is fine,” he ends up saying. Atsumu continues to pet his inner thigh. Tobio is kind of glad he can't see the other setter’s expression.

The silence gets to him and the words, “I only tried it once,” fall from his lips. It's true…and somehow embarrassing.

A gentle hand takes hold of his wrist and begins to pull. His fingers slide out of Shoyo, causing the redhead to whimper in his ear. Against the air the wet feels cold. It's uncomfortable, just like this conversation.

“Sho, scoot up a bit, yeah?”

The spiker does and wraps his arms under Tobio’s head, holding him close.

“Go ahead and relax baby, let your hips down.” Shoyo sighs in relief as he lets his bottom down. His presence becomes heavier all along Tobio’s torso.

The memory of his first time bottoming lies fresh in his mind. The way Atsumu treats Shoyo…it's so different. There is such care and consideration, even when he's pushing Shoyo to his limit.

He doesn't mean to flinch when Atsumu man handles his legs up into the air. Atsumu settles himself right there below Tobio and sets his legs back down, bending them to lay over top of Atsumu’s thighs. Atsumu noticed the flinch, of course, and pets Tobio’s leg soothingly.

“What about topping? What is your experience with that?”

The gentle touch on his leg ever so slightly shifts to a caress along his inner thigh. The feeling sends shocks up his leg into his groin. God he's been so hard this whole time. Shoyo’s ass on him isn't helping with that. And neither is the teasing touch inching further up his thigh.

“Tobio?” Atsumu’s voice is taking on that tone again. The one that sounds like a constant smirk.

Right. Topping. It…even though his fingers had just been in Shoyo, it feels embarrassing to recount his experiences topping. They are much more numerous than his one time bottoming…and he does enjoy it significantly more than that one experience.

Finding words to express this feels impossible. And it's dumb. They are literally here to have sex, he should be able to say that yes, he likes topping. His jaw is starting to ache with how he has been clenching.

Shoyo shifts above him, tilting his head towards Tobio’s ear, “It's okay,” he whispers, “breathe.”

Tobio’s eyebrows pinch together at the words. It's not the first time, maybe not even the hundredth time Shoyo has said these words to him. He breathes. He lets the air fill him to the point where he is lifting Shoyo up slightly. He exhales, letting the weight of his spiker help push the air out.

“I like it, I have more experience with it.”

Atsumu cups Tobio’s thighs in his hands, squeezing slightly when he says “I think you're right Sho.”

Fingers sweep up and down Tobio’s legs, almost reaching where he wants to be touched most.

“He's so detail oriented in court,” Atsumu’s voice is low, and velvety. The edges of his words still retain that smirk.

“He must be such a dedicated lover,” Atsumu grabs onto his legs and pulls Tobio’s whole body, plus Shoyo, a little closer, pressing their bodies together fully.

“I bet he over performs, gets so focused on his partner's pleasure that he loses himself a little.” Atsumu tone definitely carriest a teasing edge. But it's in such an earnest way, like he believes what he is saying fully.

Atsumu grabs a hold of his legs again and pushes them up, the tops of his thighs push against Shoyo’s backside, his calves hang in the air. It feels…God it feels lewd and exposed. He bites down on his bottom lip, willing himself to stay quiet. Because as embarrassing as it feels to be bent like this…Tobio kind of loves it too.

“He wouldn't forget a single detail, would he, Shoyo?”

“He never did,” Shoyo’s voice added into the mix only makes Tobio burn hotter.

“He must go to such lengths to make sure his bottom is taken care of,” with his legs still in the air Atsumu has taken to teasing his fingers along the backside. Each time getting just the tiniest but closer to his shorts hem.

What is driving Tobio the most crazy, is that Atsumu isn't wrong.

The tips of Atsumu's fingers dip below the hem, just as he leans forwards, pressing Tobio’s legs against Shoyo who is tucked into Tobio’s lap.

“He loves it,” Atsumu whispers, pressing harder, letting his fingers go lower, “he loves being good, seeing how good he can make his bottom feel, he loves seeing them fall apart on his dick.”

Shoyo whines, his fingers digging into where they are latched onto Tobio.

“You've thought about it,” Atsumu says, his voice so low Tobio struggles to fully hear him. Atsumu presses his hips forwards. Tobio can feel legs press against his legs. Atsumu’s actual groin must be pressing into Shoyo.

Shoyo yelps as his head is pulled upwards. His hands and arms are still locked under Tobio’s body and there is only so far the spiker can be bent and stretched. He gasps, eyes looking upwards, trying to catch a glimpse of the man pulling him by his hair.

Atsumu presses against Shoyo again, keeping that firm hold on his hair.

“Even with me you've thought about it. About him, haven't you?”

The view…is incredible. Shoyo is straining, slightly above him, eyes now closed, his mouths hanging open as he pants through the pain.

Then the words hit him.

Atsumu pulls harder on his hair, forcing a pained breath from Shoyo's lungs. The setter’s voice is much colder when he says the last part again.

“Haven't you?”

The words send a chill down Tobio’s spine. It's…it's not quite mean or cruel…but it's close.

“Yes-” Shoyo pants out, eyes still closed, “Yes, I thought about him.”

Atsumu hums and loosens the hold. Shoyo falls forwards a bit before he is stopped again. He's right above Tobio.

Without pulling him back Atsumu tightens his grip and Shoyo winces.

“Open your eyes and tell him.” This version of Atsumu…is intense. It's hard to imagine disobeying him…it's easy to imagine that if you do there is a swift punishment that awaits you.

A noise gets caught in Shoyo’s throat before he obeys and opens his eyes. They are moist but not actively crying.

“I-I thought about you. I wanted it to be you taking care of me,” Shoyo looks right into his eyes even though his voice waivers.

Atsumu doesn't loosen his grip. Shoyo swallows and keeps the eye contact.

“Even when I was with him, I was thinking about you.”

Shoyo's face falls forwards and he immediately nuzzles into Tobio’s shoulder and neck. The spiker shivers as Atsumu coos soft praise, his fingers tracing up and down Shoyo's back.

“So, Tobio,” oh God-

“Are you interested in trying bottoming again?”

That…to be honest Tobio is. He always thought it would be different with Shoyo. The connection between them has always been so strong. Surely it would translate into an intimate act like that…

“I'm much more attentive than anyone you've had in the past.”

Oh…fuck.

He means…he meant himself.

“Isn't that right Shoyo?”

The spiker shivers, like the memory itself is overwhelming. Shoyo nods against Tobio.

Atsumu’s hands slide down under Tobio’s shorts hem.

“To be honest, I've been thinking about it too,” Atsumu murmurs as he grabs Tobio’s bottom, spreading him open the small amount that the shorts allow.

“And I'm willing to bet, so have you,” Atsumu squeezes, his fingertips digging into the soft flesh.

“I bet you wondered why Shoyo would pick me. Cocky, arrogant, self centered…well. At least we know our little spiker has a type.”

Shoyo whines.

“Aren't you curious?” The setter's hands slide back up to the underside by his knees. He presses down, forcing his legs back towards his torso. They block Shoyo in. The stretch aches. And then he feels something hard press against his backside.

“Don't you want to know what made Shoyo whimper and beg? What made him cry because it felt so good? What made him unable to walk away?”

Fuck, fuck fuck fuck. Somehow both Shoyo and Atsumu are overtop of him, and God he can really feel how Atsumu’s hips are lightly grinding against his ass. Fuck.

He can barely think with all the stimuli surrounding him. Can barely think with how his body aches. Can barely think as Atsumu grinds into him harder.

But…

Yes. He is curious. Has - been curious.

“What do you say Tobio? You gonna be my good boy?”

Chapter Text

Shoyo’s lips are so soft. Were they always this soft? If he had kissed Shoyo in highschool would they have felt like this?

Shoyo moans, tilting his head to further enter Tobio’s mouth. Because it's not just his lips, it's his tongue too. It feels like Shoyo is invading him. Meanwhile, Atsumu is behind him, fingers wet with lube, gently pressing and probing at Tobio.

He-he hardly ever touches himself there. So he's glad Atsumu is going slow. The persistent pressure where he's so sensitive is driving him crazy. Almost as crazy as how Shoyo is kissing him.

Everytime Tobio tries to pay attention to what Atsumu's fingers are doing his brain gets consumed by how Shoyo’s tongue feels against his own.

Shoyo’s fingers are constantly moving in Tobio's hair. The setter isn't surprised, he isn't sure he's ever seen his spiker remain fully still. He's thoroughly enjoying the feeling. The fingers card through his hair - likely leaving it all kinds of ridiculous - Tobio truly, truly doesn't care. He just wants Shoyo to keep touching him.

Those fingers grab on tight and Shoyo whines high into Tobio’s mouth. Tobio uses his hold on the spiker’s neck to pull him closer. Shoyo seems to be losing his mind, switching between gasping and urgently kissing Tobio. Tobio starts to wonder what Atsumu must be doing to Shoyo- just as Atsumu’s finger starts to slip inside of Tobio.

His hands grab onto Shoyo tighter. Their teeth clink as Shoyo moans into his mouth.

He…he wishes they could get even closer. He - fuck, Atsumu is just rubbing his finger along the very entrance. It's so much. Nobody- fuck nobody has ever touched Tobio like this. This slowly, this, this-

Shoyo detaches their mouth and rests his forehead against Tobio’s.

“Oh God - Oh God -” Shoyo whines.

Tobio is captivated by the man above him. Even though they are so close, Tobio chooses to keep his eyes open. He watches Shoyo’s eyelids pinch tight. God. This man. This fucking man.

A noise is forced out of his own mouth when Atsumu goes a little deeper and hooks he finger, pressing against something that forces his eyes to look upwards. He's…what-

“That's it,” Atsumu coos, “Did he ever touch you here?”

C-certainly not. Fuck. Atsumu keeps rubbing there, God it must be his prostate. It feels like he's being ripped into two directions. That feeling, the one tugging his eyes, nestled somewhere along his scalp, God it actually feels like it's in the center of his brain.

He gasps out, his head tipping back, the sensation tightening. Shoyo keeps holding him close, his lips now kissing along Tobio’s jaw.

Holy fuck. Atsumu is pressing relentlessly in a slow and methodical way. It doesn't even feel real. Tobio notices through the thick fog of Atsumu and Shoyo that his balls are creeping up. Oh god. Oh fucking God.

The urgency in his body increases, each press of Atsumu’s fingers pushing him forwards. The feeling is too much. Like he's losing control of his body. It's too much. It's too much.

Shoyo chokes out a sound that nearly sounds like a sob.

“Breathe, breathe through it.”

Wait…that's Shoyo’s voice speaking, and the sob sound is still happening.

It's him. That's him. The feeling just keeps building. He needs it to release. He really, really needs it to release.

Shoyo arches his back and removes one of his hands from Tobio’s hair. Everything is so full the setter can't track the motion at all until fingers wrap around his dick. There is a smart smack that cuts through the room. Tobio freezes, his brain reeling.

“He can do it,” Atsumu says, his voice firm, “hands to yourself, alright princess?”

Shoyo nods and brings his hand back up to Tobio’s hair. Tobio’s head is absolutely swimming. The stimulation never stopped. Even though the sound startled Tobio, the urgent sensation never dropped. Atsumu just kept pressing up against that spot that is driving him fucking crazy.

The feeling in his head and the pressure in his balls just keeps growing. He's going to die. His legs are shaking. He can't catch his breath. Fuck - fuck - it is all consuming. Pleasure - fuck it's barely even pleasure, its everything - the sensation is pushing away every other part of Tobio, forcing it the edges so the pure sensation can fill his whole body.

“Tobio,” Shoyo’s voice sounds far away, through layers and layers of fog.

“Tobio,” he says again, the sound gaining clarity in his mind.

“Let go,” the voice is right up against his ear, breath hot against his sensitive skin. The sound and the sensations makes his back bow. It feels like the words are forcing something to shift inside of him. The muscles in his hips and thighs go tight, clenching down on something that doesn't even exist. His eyes look upwards under his eyelids, and the two sensations connect in the center of his body.

There isn't any room for even a single thought. Tobio feels that his body is tight, but it might as well not even be his. Everything is tight.
Everything is full.
It's pleasure, a kind of pleasure anyway. Like everything is gone, except for the sensation.

And God. Atsumu doesn't stop. He doesn't stop even as Tobio’s body contorts and nearly bucks Shoyo off. That finger just keeps pushing, forcing everything onward. It's going to be too much. He isn't breathing. He isn't capable of anything. Just existing and letting his body be consumed.

His hand hits the bed, grasping at the sheets and then tapping urgently. He's gonna- for fucks sake, didn't he already?

“I-” he needs something. He needs something. More. Less. Anything.

Atsumu pushes in hard and stays pressed against that spot. His finger moves minutely, not willing to sacrifice the pressure.

Tobio gasps, finally able to take in air. His hand is tangled in the sheets. His other clutching Shoyo’s back.

“Good boy, breathe, then one more.”

His body is like a vice, none of the forced relaxation that usually comes with having finished. It's because Atsumu is still pressing up against him. Still stimulating that place that, honestly, Tobio never fucking knew could feel like this.

His lungs take in gulps, desperate for air. His mind pieces back enough to hear Atsumu’s words and feel the sticky mess on his stomach.

‘...then one more.’

Oh God.

Tobio wants it. He wants Atsumu to fuck every single thought clean out of his head. He's also scared at the idea of being forced to finish again so soon after. Can his body even do that? Will he just get trapped in that tight place?

“Tobio,” Atsumu’s voice is still firm, but not commanding.

Tobio keeps breathing and taps the bed a few times. He's listening.

“Color?”

The word sits heavy in his head. He and Atsumu talked about this and came up with a safe word.

“The colors, they set the pace and the tone, they help me know where you're at and where your limits are, without it all having to stop altogether.”

“If you feel nervous, let me know.”

“Yellow,” Tobio says, still catching his breath.

“Should I pull out?” Atsumu's voice is clear and so much more approachable.

“No, it's good, just,-” he breathes, “kinda thought I was gonna pass out.”

He hears Atsumu's gentle laugh, “relax then, I won't move till you give me green.”

The setter is true to his word and slowly Tobio’s body relaxes and comes back to him. When he finally opens his eyes, squinting against the ambient light of the room, he finds Shoyo above him. The spiker is staring, quite intensely. It's not a totally unfamiliar feeling, to have Shoyo’s eyes on him…but it has been a really long time. The intensity is still there. The focus.

Tobio’s cheeks flush under the attention. Shoyo just watched him completely fall apart. He's about to turn his head away, feeling unable to stand the intensity straight on-

“You did that so easily,” Shoyo whispers.

Umm, no, that really wasn't easy. Tobio meant it when he said he felt like he might pass out.

Atsumu shifts inside him slightly to lean forwards against Shoyo. He wraps his free hand around the spiker and presses his face into his bare back.

“Everyone is different babe, it's okay. You're perfect. It's okay that it took you longer to get comfortable using that.”

Shoyo’s eyelashes flutter as he hears the words. Small warm drops land on Tobio’s face.

“I'm going to pull out,” Atsumu says a moment before he does. Something inside of Tobio aches at the absence. He tries to ignore it, instead focusing on Shoyo. He brings his hands up to cup the quietly crying face as Atsumu braces Shoyo's chest to lean over and kiss the back of his neck.

“Baby,” Atsumu murmurs.

Tobio is still sort of reeling from that whole experience. His body tingling in weird ways with a strong undercurrent that wants more. He's also feeling shaken by how drastically Atsumu's voice can shift. His tone seems to shift everything, tilting it one way or another.

“Why was it so easy for him?” Shoyo asks, tears continuing to roll down his cheeks and fall onto Tobio.

Despite the fact that Shoyo is propped up, only his hips pressing into Tobio, it feels like something heavy is on the setter's chest. He hates seeing Shoyo cry. There is also a part of him that feels honored that the man is letting himself.

“You're so infuriating,” Shoyo bites out, his eyes firmly shut. A fist hits the bed right next to Tobio’s head. Wait…Shoyo is angry with him?

Shoyo sits back on his hips, pushing Atsumu back as well. His clenched fists press against Tobio’s chest.

“You always could just do things,” his fists now press against his eyes, “you never had to try-” he takes in a ragged breath, “you never had to fight-” his breathing turns into sobs. His head falls turns down towards his knees.

Tobio watches Atsumu tuck his face into Shoyo's neck, eyes closed, hands soothing up and down the spiker’s biceps.

“God I want to hit you,” breaks through the tears. A hand separates from Shoyo’s eyes and for a second, Tobio thinks he will.

He doesn't. Instead he grabs onto Atsumu's hand, clutching it to his body.

“Why could he do it?” Shoyo's voice cracks.

“Oh baby,” Atsumu fully wraps his arms around the spiker, “Sometimes it's just hard. Sometimes we think someone will find us good if we give them what they want.”

Oh. The realization sinks in. For the whole emotional turn Tobio had generally been lost. He knew Shoyo was upset, but his cloudy brain couldn't pinpoint the source. As his mind cleared up, and the others said more, it started to make sense.

Shoyo was upset that Tobio had been able to say he needed a break. Tobio finds himself blinking, the gears turning slowly in his head. Some of the things Atsumu had said came back to him.

So eager to please

He gets caught up in being good

He doesn't stop to listen to his own needs

Oh. Everything clicks together. Shoyo’s reaction forces Tobio to understand that something…maybe several somethings have happened to his spiker.

Atsumu squeezes the redhead tighter, “I'm sorry that so many people showed you that you had to give up yourself to be good.”

Shoyo groans, his head hanging down, body limp, possibly only held up by Atsumu's arms.

“I just want to be good.”

Tobio feels his heart break. Oh Shoyo. He thinks of all the times he treated the man like he wasn't good enough. He…Tobio could cope with his feelings. Couldn't cope with how Shoyo’s laugh made his stomach flip, or how he loved watching the sun make strands of his hair glow.

He…he's one of those people. One of the people who taught Shoyo that he had to become something else to be worthy. Tobio bites down on his tongue. His vision of Shoyo swims. He never deserved Shoyo, and somehow he made Shoyo feel like the lesser one.

His eyes fill completely and he closes them. Shoyo sniffles above him.

You are good. You are so good, Shoyo.

Tobio can't get the words out though.

He's not even sure he deserves to say them.

Chapter Text

He knows he's being ridiculous. He can feel his brain spin, each revolution bringing him further down.

It's ridiculous.

He's ridiculous.

It doesn't stop the tears from falling or the thoughts from continuing.

He can feel Atsumu's hands splayed along his chest, holding him close.

You asked for this.

You're wasting it.

You're ruining it.

Stop. Please stop.

Shoyo doesn't want to be doing this. The last thing he wants is to spiral out in front of these two. Well…maybe it's not the last thing. There are definitely worse things…as he knows…but it's still awful.

He should open his eyes. Maybe he can ground. Find something. Something to look at.

Atsumu is tired of this.

Tired of you.

You used up all your chances.

He wishes he could see his partner. He's also terrified that the inner voice is right, and that if he did look at Atsumu he would see disappointment, annoyance, dissatisfaction - anything. The poor setter more often ends up holding Shoyo than fucking him.

Bad partner.

With his eyes shut, in his own dark world, the voice really is convincing.

Maybe- maybe he can still save this. If Atsumu still wants him…

Shoyo shifts his hips back against the man behind him. Something warm fills his chest at the knowledge that Atsumu is still hard.

His stomach sours. Maybe he's just still hard because he wants to fuck Tobio.

This had all been at Shoyo’s request. All of it. But…what if Atsumu wants somebody who isn't so-

What if he's realizing that it's actually Tobio that he wants? What if he's realizing how difficult Shoyo truly is?

He fights to keep his body from hiccuping with the sobs that attempt to force their way out. No. No - he's not going to ruin this. He can save this. He can show Atsumu.

Shoyo grinds back, pushing his naked ass against Atsumu’s clothed front side.

He feels Atsumu tense.

Shoyo pushes back again.

Want me. Please still want me.

“Shoyo,” it's gentle. Too fucking gentle.

The sob building in his throat grows.

No. Want me. Really want me. Grab me, push me down, force me, make me take-

“Baby, hey, hey, it's okay, breathe, you're good. I don't need that from you.”

Shoyo’s brain is screaming now.

I want you to. I want you to-

I want you to not care that I'm crying or hurt. I want you to just want me, please. Please.

Atsumu’s hands are firm on his hips.

No

Shoyo's jaw clenches, the urge to wail rising up his throat. He's only just barely holding it in.

Nobody likes it when you cry. You ruin it when you cry. It ruins the mood. You ruin the mood. You make yourself unlovable.

Nobody in their right mind wants a sniffling cry baby.

The voices of the others join in. Their words overlapping with each other. It hurts.

Shoyo feels himself losing the fight against his own throat. He hiccups his next breath.

Why don't you want me?

His lungs heave a deep breath. The dam is going to break. Smooth hair pushes against his open mouth. It surprises the gasping sob that was about to fall from his lips.

The sensation of hair is followed by arms and then a broad chest. His body takes in a sharp inhale and his lungs shudder. His eyes open to a thick wall of black hair.

Tobio is sitting up…holding him. Long arms wrap around both himself and Atsumu behind him. Between the two of them…

“You are good.”

His body freezes. He feels like a trapped wild animal. He has so much inside of him that he is barely keeping down. He's drowning under the constant fall of tears. Tobio is getting soaked.

Why? Why would Tobio lie?

“Baby, please breathe,”

Shoyo didn't even realize he had been holding it. He takes a deep breath in. It nearly hurts.

Apparently, once he started to breathe he couldn't stop. Completely beyond his control, his lungs keep taking short huffing breaths. He wants to stop. He can't.

Atsumu’s hands are still braced along his chest. The blonde setter constricts his arms and squeezes Shoyo. The air is forced out of his lungs for a second. A moment later he has control of his lungs again. He tests out taking a normal sized breath. Atsumu lets the pressure go.

Shoyo is shaking. His vision is partially blocked by black hair. The remaining space shows Atsumu's room. His eyes land on the upper shelf top of the dresser.

Small things. Small worthless things. But Atsumu kept them. Sea glass from a trip to the beach. A palm sized rock with shiny mineral striations through it. An eraser that is shaped like a little fox. Stupid stuff. Stuff Shoyo just found and handed to Atsumu to show him. The item would disappear and Shoyo would quickly forget about it until the next time they hooked up and he saw the trinket on the dresser.

The sight always made his stomach twist. He would push any feelings away and fall into Atsumu and his bed.

Now though, he can't tear his eyes away, despite how they are swimming and overflowing with tears. His nose is leaking. He's a mess.

Why did Atsumu keep them? Honestly, some of the things are just trash. Shoyo’s throat burns.

Fingers slide into the backside of his hair.

It's Tobio, pulling Shoyo closer to him.

He lets his head fall forwards onto Tobio’s shoulder and closes his eyes. The spiker feels drained. With his face tucked into Tobio’s shoulder he can smell the setter’s quiet scent. It's mostly clean smelling, with a hint of something deeper underneath. It's not how Tobio smelled in highschool, but it's still comforting.

The fingers on the nape of his neck brush up and down, sliding through his short hair. His body loves it. His brain is screaming at him to stop. Don't let them touch you so nicely. The exhaustion from crying wins and he slumps around the man in front of him.

“Shoyo,” it's just a breath in his ear.

“You're so good Shoyo.”

His body barely moves as he cries into Tobio’s shoulder.

It's been a while since he lost it like this. His head throbs. His throat is parched. He sits with the utterly defeated feeling of having made a scene.

I was supposed to be better. I don't do this anymore.

Tobio’s soft fingers. Atsumu's strong arms. Trinkets on the shelf. Kind words.

Maybe you're wrong - Shoyo dares to think.

Maybe the voice is wrong. He's never known Tobio or Atsumu to do something they didn't want to do. Headstrong, stubborn, frankly frustrating - but in this moment - their obstinatance proves that they mean it.

His jaw flexes as a new wave of emotion comes over him. Hesitantly, he untangles his arms from the mess of human around him and wraps his arms around Tobio. His fingertips overlap on the setter's back.

The feeling of Tobio’s flat back under his palms. The soft smell of the man all around him. The memory of his voice saying something so kind just moments ago.

He's crying. He's also grasping at Tobio’s back, trying desperately to close any space between them.

The rumble of Astumu’s steady voice behind him, “That's it baby, just like that.”

Shoyo buries his face deeper. His hands grab on tighter.

Fingers cradle the back of his head.

“You were always enough. You were always good. Just for being you.”

Shoyo bites down on his tongue to hold in the wail that threatens to come out.

These words - from someone who knew him - they ache. They burn. It feels like they are attempting to squeeze his heart until it stops. Like some blocked off part of his mind, that was desperate for so many years to hear these words, is suddenly overwhelmed. The thing he has always wanted - to be good. To be wanted. To not have to change or be more or be extraordinary. To just be accepted.

He didn't know it would hurt like this.

He hears Tobio’s wet sniffle in his ear.

Why did Atsumu keep all of those little trinkets?

…

It's been a while since Shoyo’s brain did this. In the beginning this happened more.

It seemed to go hand in hand with Shoyo learning that it was okay to have it slow down or even stop. Each time rebounded and he broke down. Atsumu always held him. Always made sure he knew that he was safe.

It's been a while since it escalated like this level of not breathing and then hyperventilating. His spiker’s poor body must be so dehydrated and tired.

Shoyo is breathing regularly now. His body shudders every few inhales. It seems like Tobio stepping up really helped. Shoyo is buried in his old setter's shoulder.

There is a part of Atsumu that aches at seeing Shoyo find such comfort in somebody else. He kisses the nape of Shoyo’s neck. Ultimately he is glad. Shoyo never put down his love for Tobio. He deserves to have this. To have the person he truly wants be there for him.

It's okay. Atsumu settles on Shoyo’s free shoulder and gives him gentle pecks.

Pursue what you want, Shoyo. Forget the rest, just follow your heart.

Atsumu holds the spiker close. If this is truly the last time- he breathes in deeply. Shoyo won't ever truly be gone. They will always have a relationship. Even if it's vastly different, it will be good. Because it's Shoyo. He's what makes it good. Not the activities they do, or the things he performs. Just him.

Fuck.

You're not losing him, Atsumu.

Calm down.

It will be okay.

He takes another deep breath. The familiar smell of Shoyo calms him. He closes his eyes.

…

Somehow this feels even more intimate than anything they had done earlier. Shoyo is tucked against him, their chests as close as they can be. Tobio’s heart is hammering in his chest. He surprised himself when he sat up and pulled the spiker in a hug.

It felt right though. So right. Like he was finally letting himself be true. Shoyo is warm, like a little heater. The spiker is quieter now, there are just small sniffles that get muffled into Tobio’s body.

It feels so good to hold Shoyo. All those times Shoyo helped him through a panic attack or clung to his arm when he saw something that amazed him- Tobio always wished he could return the favor. He didn't and still doesn't know how to initiate touch, and Shoyo never broke down in front of him like this before.

He loves how Shoyo feels against his chest. Each breath pushing against his body for a moment. He loves how Shoyo’s hair feels against his cheek. He loves how it feels to have Shoyo in his arms. He loves- God he has loved Shoyo all along - but this is different. Getting to be here for him, be the one to hold him, listen to him cry, reassure him- it's different. It's so different.

Tobio wonders if this is how Shoyo felt when he would tap Tobio’s knees to ground him. Was he always so eager to help out because it felt good? Honestly…that's hard to fathom.

It's hard to ignore how true it feels for himself though. He genuinely feels good getting to be there for Shoyo. He could stay here forever if he needed to.

His heart feels content in a way he didn't even know could be possible. Apparently today is full of new realizations. Prostate orgasms are mind blowing. Caring for a loved one brings an inner peace that is unparalleled. He doesn't ever want Shoyo to leave his life.

His fingers involuntarily tighten, holding Shoyo’s head closer to his shoulder.

Please let me stay. Please want me back. Please.

A fourth horrible realization: Shoyo might not want this too.

The thought stabs into his chest. Tobio already wasted so much time. It could be too late. He glances up and around his view of the room. They have a life. Who is Tobio to show up and expect anything?

He closes his eyes.

Breathe. He imagines it's him and Shoyo setting back and forth. Their passes are steady and rhythmic. He relaxes into Shoyo and breathes in deeply.

Chapter Text

When Shoyo starts to stir, Tobio is pretty positive that he's coming back. The stillness of the spiker’s body during his cry was unsettling. Shoyo is never still. There is always a leg jiggling or fingers picking at something aimlessly.

So the slight shifting of Shoyo’s body is comforting. He's back.

Tobio…really doesn't know what needs to happen next. With himself, they always grounded him and then would just go about their day. This is different though, it's not highschool, or practice time, or anything like that.

It'll probably be time for Tobio to go soon.
He was only ever here for one reason anyways.

Atsumu's hands start moving in a firm, predictable pattern over Shoyo’s arms. It reminds Tobio of trying to wake somebody up. They are all so close he can clearly hear everything Atsumu says.

“Baby, can you talk?”

“Yeah,” Shoyo’s voice comes out like a soft croak.

“You did so good Sho, so good,” Atsumu’s hands keep moving along their path.

Shoyo doesn't respond to this, and just curls in a fraction closer to Tobio.

“Can you tell me where your brain is at?”

Shoyo swallows, “it doesn't feel like I'm mentally under but my body does feel weird, probably from the crying.”

Atsumu hums gently, “Do you remember what set it off?”

Shoyo sniffs and nods.

It is quiet in the room for a few seconds. It is good to hear Shoyo's voice. His real voice, even if it is soft and raw.

“I'm sorry-” Tobio and Atsumu cut him off at the same time, their words blurring together before they both halt.

Tobio’s face burns. What was he thinking? Of course it should be Atsumu who works with Shoyo through this.

Atsumu picks up after a beat of silence.

“Don't ever apologize for that Sho, your feelings are yours. You are entitled to them.”

Tobio feels Shoyo's hands clench tighter at his back.

“How about you, Tobio? How is your brain feeling?”

Tobio blinks. Uh….

It must take him too long to answer because Atsumu pulls back to look at him, “Can you talk?”

“Ye-yeah,” Tobio stutters out. Having Atsumu look at him, frankly study him…it's a lot.

Atsumu stays put, eyes on Tobio, hands still lightly rubbing up and down Shoyo’s biceps.

“It's fine,” Tobio gets out.

Atsumu tilts his head when Tobio doesn't elaborate, “Do you feel fuzzy? Or like it's hard to think?”

It's hard to think with you staring at me like that, Tobio thinks. He glances away and tries to check. Fuzzy? His body feels kind of fuzzy, like he's both more and less aware of each of his body parts. His brain though…feels clear. Certainly not like how it felt when Atsumu was working on him and Shoyo was on his neck and lips.

During that he swore he wasn't thinking at all. It felt more like he was just coping with all the sensation.

“I'm clear,” he says, his voice sounding far too loud. Tobio lets himself look back at Atsumu who is still studying him. It's unnerving.

“Pay attention to how you feel. If something starts to feel wrong let me know. That means you need something.”

“O-ok”

Atsumu closes the gap and slides back against Shoyo’s back, his head falling to his shoulder.

Tobio hears the sound of a kiss and Shoyo tenses.

“Are you mad?” the redhead whispers.

“I'm not mad, I'm so proud of you. There is a time you would have swallowed it all down and let it eat you up. I'm so proud of you for feeling it.” Atsumu kisses some part of Shoyo again, his hands still petting and reassuring Shoyo.

“Tobio?” It's said so softly that the setter takes a second to make sure he really heard that.

Oh God. Shoyo thinks he’s mad?

“No, no, not at all-” there are so many things that he wants to say. None of them feel…right. He doesn't feel like it's his place to say. He bites down on his bottom lip. God, is he really going to be a coward again? Now of all fucking times?

“You helped me so many times in highschool, and I never understood why. I felt like a burden. I felt weak. But-” he takes a deep breath, “Just now, it felt so good to hold you while you hurt. And I think maybe now I understand.”

“You were never weak, or a burden.” Shoyo says.

“And neither are you.”

Shoyo buries his face into Tobio’s shoulder and holds onto him tightly. The words are muffled but Tobio hears.

“Was I? Back then…?”

Tobio’s throat burns. Say it. He has to say it. It might be the only chance he gets to say it.

“No, Sho, you never were,” his voice cracks. Say it. Say it.

“I'm so sorry I never told you.” The choke of impending tears rises up in his throat.

“I never was able to tell you what you meant to me, or how good you were.” He uses the hand still in Shoyo’s hair to hold him closer.

“I never made sure you knew. You should have known-” his voice breaks and his lungs quake.

The bubble of cry has closed his throat. He can't get out any more words.

I need to tell him. I need to tell him that he was lovable and good all along. I need to tell him I'm sorry. That I regret everyday not having the guts to say it then. I'm sorry. I'm sorry Shoyo.

His throat burns. He needs to say it. He needs to. He needs Shoyo to hear it.

New hands land on his biceps and start to tap. It's Atsumu. Tobio bites down on his tongue and squeezes his eyes shut tight. Tears fall and land on the spiker below him.

The steady drum of hands on alternating sides of his body is enough to keep him grounded.

“I loved you,” he gasps out, forcing words past his closed throat, “I loved you and that terrified me.” His body feels crazy from trying to hold back all the emotion. He needs to say it. He needs to.

“You were everything and -” he is interrupted by a forced breath, “-it hurt. Loving you and knowing I'd never act on it hurt. So I hurt you instead.”

He pulls Shoyo so close he is probably crushing him, “I'm so sorry,” his voice is fully deteriorating now, “I'm so, so sorry.”

He's crying so much he can't keep his eyes open. He feels Shoyo shake in his arms.

It was so much more than just missing Shoyo all these years. It was always more.

Shoyo was always more.

Tobio isn't sure how much time passes. They cry together, holding each other. Mourning time that is long gone. Mourning chances missed. Mourning years lost.

Tobio’s body quiets into occasional sniffs and stray tears.

Shoyo pulls back, startling Tobio. It feels like so long since they have actually been face to face.

Shoyo’s eyes are rimmed red, his cheeks and nose flushed and pink. His smile is sad when he says, “I loved you too.”

Tobio is caught somewhere between a laugh and a cry. They are ridiculous. The two of them.

He cups Shoyo’s cheeks and just looks for a moment. The words that always terrified him bubble up. He's caught in Shoyo’s eyes. They are pink from crying and his eyelashes all clumped together. The words grow bigger. Once he says them there is no taking them back.

He needs to know. I need him to know.

Tobio takes a deep breath, his eyes still caught in Shoyo’s.

“I still love you.”

Shoyo’s eyes open wider and his gaze glances quickly between each of Tobio’s eyes. His bottom lip quivers a moment before he is lunging forwards and kissing Tobio. Hands cradle his head and cheek and Tobio lets himself melt into the feeling.

He breathes out through his nose, lips moving against Shoyo’s. He's raw - from the orgasm, from the crying, from the confession. The feeling of Shoyo’s hands on him and his lips sliding incessantly against Tobio’s mouth - it's so intense.

The urge to cry overcomes him again. His own fingers grip Shoyo harder, holding him as close as he can be without their teeth clashing.

I love you.

He gasps into Shoyo’s mouth, the well of tears threatening his eyes again. He can't get close enough. Their body's are already touching in so many places. He needs more.

“Closer,” he requests when Shoyo gives him a millimeter of space to breathe. Shoyo whines and nods, grabbing onto Tobio’s arm for leverage to try and scoot even closer. He is having a hard time moving his knees from this position.

“I got you,” to be honest, Tobio had forgotten about Atsumu. The blonde setter slots his hands under Shoyo’s arms and lifts him up and forwards. It puts Shoyo directly on top of Tobio’s lap. Tobio had also forgotten that they lost their clothes quite a while ago. Shoyo is right on top of him.

Shoyo quickly wraps his arms around Tobio’s neck and goes back to deeply kissing him. From this new position the spiker has better leverage and shifts his hips in time with the kiss.

Despite all the emotions swirling around his body, Tobio is getting hard. He threads his hands into Shoyo’s hair and lets himself be devoured. He lets Shoyo use him as something to grind against.

“Are you wanting to finish what we started?” Atsumu’s velvety voice is back in both of their ears. Shoyo doesn't stop kissing Tobio, not even when Atsumu's hands snake onto the spiker’s hips and help him move in a rhythm.

He does moan though. Right into Tobio’s mouth. It's addicting…and overwhelming, in the best way. He tentatively moves a hand from Shoyo’s hair to his hip, where Atsumu is.

Their fingers overlap. Atsumu doesn't pull away and he doesn't push Tobio away either. Tobio puts his second hand down onto their spiker’s hip too. Then he sets the pace. Atsumu quickly catches on, helping push and grind Shoyo against the dark haired setter.

Tobio has them work Shoyo at a slower pace than the man had on his own. Shoyo’s body goes pliant under them as he lets himself be moved. He keeps kissing Tobio, his hands firmly latched onto the setter's shoulders.

“Is this what you want, Shoyo?” The tone is teasing, but it feels like everyone knows that Atsumu actually means it. They rock Shoyo’s hips once more before Atsumu halts the movement

“Sho, do you want to stop?”

“Fuck no,” Shoyo attempts to push his own hips forwards but Atsumu holds firm.

“Slow down, let yourself think.”

Shoyo groans in annoyance. Apparently this is nothing new. Shoyo lets himself be held in place and tilts his head back away from Tobio’s lips.

Tobio watches him. Shoyo’s eyes are closed and he looks peaceful. There are a few seconds where the whole room is quiet.

Shoyo’s eyes open slowly, he looks directly at Tobio. It takes everything in him not to flinch away from the eye contact.

“I love you too,” Shoyo's voice is soft but decided. There isn't a hint of doubt.

“I want to continue, if everyone else does.”

Tobio feels Atsumu's fingers, which lie under his own, clench and dig down into Shoyo’s flesh. He then pulls out from under Tobio and laces his fingers so that they are on top.

Somehow, that small change feels so different. Tobio’s whole hand is against Shoyo’s bare hip. And someone else’s strong hands hold him there, pressing down with just enough pressure.

“What do you want, Tobio?”

He holds Shoyo still, just like Atsumu had, but he tests out moving his hips to press against the spiker. Shoyo jolts and then whimpers, his eyes relentlessly staring at Tobio.

Tobio's brain finally catches up with itself. He processes Shoyo’s confession, and his desire to continue, and finally the question he needs to answer.

He loves me

“I want whatever you'll let me have.” It's the truth. He's pretty sure he'd do almost anything if it meant Shoyo was happy and satisfied.

He pulls Shoyo against him as he grinds forwards, their hips colliding in a slow drag. Shoyo's hard, his erection pressing against Tobio’s groin. He shifts the spiker's angle and pulls them together again. Shoyo swallows a cry as they glide together. Shoyo's so warm. Especially there. It shouldn't surprise Tobio, but God it is amazing to feel.

“Kiss me,” the spiker requests as his eyes fall shut and his hips are moved by the two setters.

Tobio does, drinking in the sounds Shoyo makes as he keeps grinding them together.

He’s all sharp inhales and pleasured grunts. Everytime Shoyo starts to urge them on faster, Atsumu grabs him tight and stills him. Each time Shoyo’s whines become more desperate.

By the fifth time Shoyo is whispering “please, please, Atsumu please -”

The blonde setter isn't swayed and he just tells Shoyo to be good, to take what is given to him.

The redhead nods and goes back to kissing Tobio.

Tobio himself isn't sure how much more he can take of this. The pace is slow but each movement feels heavenly. Shoyo's hardness pressing and sliding against Tobio’s - it's driving him fucking crazy. And as Shoyo invades his mouth with tongue, he can't help but imagine what else that tongue can do.

Without realizing Tobio starts pulling Shoyo against him faster, bucking his own hips up harder. Atsumu's fingernails dig in. Tobio gasps in pain but doesn't pull away. He lets the leisurely pace resume, letting the hands overtop of his guide the speed.

Somehow Atsumu is teasing them both. Making them both hold back to earn more. It's maddening. And what's worse is the blonde truly seems to be enjoying himself.

One of Atsumu's hands pulls away to latch under Shoyo’s chin. The blonde setter pulls Shoyo’s head back, tilting his face upwards towards the ceiling. Tobio gets the view of a broad hand covering and wrapping around Shoyo’s throat.

It's…God what a fucking sight.

Shoyo's chest rises and falls quickly.

“What do you think princess? Have you been good enough?”

Shoyo breathes in sharply but doesn't respond. Atsumu uses his grips on the spiker to hold him still so he can press against his backside.

Shoyo lets a gentle moan fall from his lips but he doesn't dare try and press back for more.

Tobio watches Atsumu's hand flex on Shoyo’s throat, “Think he's been good enough?”

Shoyo nods as much as the hand on him allows.

Atsumu brings his lips right against Shoyo’s ear, “Think I should let him fuck you?”

Tobio can see how Shoyo’s body reacts. It flushes pink and sinks down, like it's too much effort to hold himself up.

“Please Atsu-” Shoyo’s voice is thinner than usual.

The hand tilts Shoyo’s head even more severely, putting him right against Atsumu's shoulder.

“I'm going to have to show him what you like,” Atsumu whispers, his eyes flashing up to meet Tobio’s.

“Yes,” Shoyo breathes out.

Atsumu smiles and licks up the side of Shoyo's neck until he reaches the spiker's ear.

“Tell him again.”

Shoyo’s mouth opens, but it takes a second for any sound to come out.

“I love you,” Shoyo is still looking up at the ceiling, or maybe even his eyes are closed. Tobio can't quite fathom why Atsumu would have Shoyo do that. God he may never fucking understand the msby setter. Why did he let Tobio in here at all?

The sound of Shoyo straining to breathe fully fills the room.

Atsumu's eyes pierce right into Tobio, but the question is for Shoyo, “Do you want to tell him what he’ll have to do, or shall I?”

Chapter Text

Tobio can feel that his face is burning. He is still watching Atsumu hold Shoyo by the throat, his thumb absently rubbing up and down.

“Hmm?” Atsumu pushes his hips forwards against Shoyo. The spiker is being held up in such a way that his legs are starting to shake, “Can you say it darling?”

“Atsu-” his voice is a plea. It twists something in Tobio’s stomach.

“If you can't say it, maybe I'll just have Tobio watch,” Atsumu presses hard against Shoyo, making it very clear what he means. The pressure pushes Shoyo’s body forward.

The hand on Shoyo’s hip moves over his skin, fingers brushing around where he is hard between his legs.

Shoyo’s hips move involuntarily at the slight contact. Shoyo whines pitifully, his hips jerking minutely as Atsumu refuses to touch him, fingers dancing around his pelvis.

“Please,” Shoyo breathes out through the grip on his neck.

“Please what baby?” the words drip from Atsumu's mouth in such a patronizing tone, like he's walking a child through asking politely for something.

Atsumu continues to tease him, seemingly delighted by how Shoyo’s body reacts to his touch.

Shoyo groans in frustration. Tobio can't even imagine how it feels to be him right now. Held up by his neck, light teasing touches, and Atsumu's mocking voice in his ear, making him say it out loud.

“He-” Shoyo’s voice halts when Atsumu’s hand brushes alongside his dick.

“Fuck,” he moans, taking a deep steadying breath, “He wants to fuck you-” he gasps, as Atsumu’s fingers wrap around him, “god-god-”.

“Keep going baby,” Atsumu says sweetly, like he's not touching.

“While you, - haaa, haaa, while you- fuck, while you fuck me,” Atsumu hand is loosely grasping Shoyo, moving slower than anyone in the right mind would want.

Tobio is watching Shoyo’s aching dick get teased, small clear beads forming at the tip, when the words finally sink in.

Atsumu wants to fuck Tobio…while Tobio fucks Shoyo.

Tobio feels himself clench at the thought. He just about passed out from Atsumu’s fingers…God, what is his dick going to feel like?

When Tobio finally looks up and away from Atsumu’s loose grasp on Shoyo, he's met with intense eyes. Atsumu is looking directly at him while Shoyo is forced to look down the length of his nose.

“You want this?” Tobio forces his eyes to stay on Shoyo’s face instead of the movement of Atsumu's hand.

Shoyo blinks slowly, his jaw flexing under Atsumu's grip. His beautiful brown eyes open and bore into Tobio, “yeah,” he bites down on his bottom lip.

The word does something to Tobio’s stomach. It burns. It sparks. Shoyo wants this. He wants….oh god he wants to…

“Do you?” Atsumu’s clear voice cuts through the fog. The backside of the setter’s fingers brush along Shoyo's length, making the shorter man tremble.

Tobio’s brain feels slow. It takes time for the words to process, his eyes fully distracted by Atsumu’s hand now.

Yes. He does.

His eyes trail up to Atsumu’s smug face. Somehow Tobio feels small. Atsumu knows it. His smile grows and he pulls harder on Shoyo’s throat. The spiker flexes upwards, trying to relieve the pressure on his neck.

God. Tobio really fucking does. He wants those hands on him, holding him right where Atsumu wants him. His eyes get trapped by the repetitive movement of Atsumu's fingers, trailing up and down - up and down - up and down -

“Good boys answer,” his voice sends Tobio’s eyes back up to his face.

“Yes,” he breathes out. Because it's the truth. Yes, he does want that. So much - an almost an unfathomable amount.

Atsumu is looking down on him through just the slits of his eyes. The blonde hums, his fingers idly tapping on Shoyo’s throat as he thinks.

Atsumu kisses Shoyo’s cheek, smiling as he nuzzles into the spikers ear, “you gotta be thirsty hun.”

Shoyo whines and shakes his head.

Atsumu kisses him again, leaving his lips against Shoyo's cheek. He speaks quietly, resting his forehead against the spiker, his grip on his neck loosening, “Don't you think Tobio needs water?”

Shoyo grumbles. He knows it's a trick. But it's a trick that will work. Tobio watches Shoyo take a deep breath and slowly open his eyes.

“Yes, okay.” Shoyo is obviously annoyed, it doesn't dampen Atsumu's smile at all.

“Good,” Atsumu whispers, “go ahead and sit down.”

Shoyo groans as he allows his legs to fold up, his weight settling back onto Tobio’s hips.

Atsumu gives him one last kiss before he hops off the bed. Shoyo turns to look up at him. Atsumu cups Shoyo’s cheeks and then threads his fingers through his hair, ending the motion in a ruffle. It makes Shoyo smile, his shoulders raising in embarrassment.

“Be right back love, do you need anything else?”

Shoyo shakes his head, still looking up at his setter.

Atsumu spends a moment looking back down at him, “okay,” he whispers.

He lingers a moment more, his thumb brushing over Shoyo's cheek. It's such a tender moment. It makes Tobio feel a little ill.

Atsumu makes his way out of the room, pulling the door behind him until it is nearly closed without latching.

The room is full of quiet. Atsumu, in many ways, had been the pillar. Everything had been under his watchful eye and steady voice. In the absence of his presence, every small shift of fabric sounds enormous.

Shoyo turns away from the door and back towards Tobio. It almost feels…illicit, being alone together. Shoyo's eyes are cast down, just parts of his iris visible under his eyelashes. The space is so empty. It's really just them.

Without thinking his hand reaches up and he brushes Shoyo’s cheek. He watches the spiker swallow, his eyes darting up to glance at Tobio.

It's you. How can Tobio make him understand?

“You don't have to,” Shoyo whispers.

Teeth pinch his bottom lip as Tobio assesses how he wants to respond. He's not fully sure what specifically Shoyo is referring to. The sex? Comforting him? What?

“I want to be here.”

Shoyo chews on his top lip, his eyes still pointed down.

Tobio shifts up into his elbows. His stomach twists as the words he wants to say tumble in his head. Be brave. Just say it.

“Can I hold you?”

Shoyo stiffens, his eyes widening slightly.

Tobio is almost certain he's going to get rejected. Which is fine, if Shoyo doesn't want to be held, then by all means don't -

“You'd want to?” His voice is thin and weary. It's awful.

“Yes,” Tobio says simply. Because…yes, he really does want to.

Tobio watches Shoyo continue to stare downwards, blinking, before ever so minutely, he nods.

Tobio is thankful for his abdominal muscles that allow him to sit up with ease. He wraps his arms around his spiker and pulls him closer until their chests touch.

Despite how warm Shoyo is, he shivers as Tobio gets them settled.

“Are you cold?”

“It's fine,” Shoyo whispers into his shoulder.

Stubborn. Tobio grabs a blanket that got pushed into one of the corners of the bed and gets it wrapped around the both of them.

Their naked bodies quickly warm the blanket cave and Shoyo’s body stops shaking. The spiker slowly but surely relaxes and slumps against Tobio.

Something so overwhelming rises up in Tobio’s chest. He never wants this moment to end.

“I love you,” it's so quiet, he's not even sure Shoyo will hear him.

He feels fingers tighten on his back and Shoyo fully tucks his face into Tobio’s shoulder.

“I love you too, Bakeyama”

Tobio can't help but smile and hold the red head closer to him. God.

I missed you so much.

Tobio closes his eyes against a sudden surge of tears.

I didn't even let myself fully feel how much I missed you. Because I couldn't. I couldn't feel it all and function at the same time.

Fuck.

The wave of fear that it's all going to slip away again hits. Tobio isn't sure he can close up that box again. Not like the first time.

His fingers find Shoyo’s thick hair. He cradles the head resting on his shoulder.

The dam truly is well and gone. Tobio can't go back to pretending like his heart doesn't already belong to someone.

They both let their bodies sag, using the weight of the other to hold everything still. Balance. It was always a balance with them. Whether it was racing to the club house, neck and neck, or finding just the right height for Shoyo to spike over Nekoma’s block.

They always seemed to be racing forwards, urged onwards, side by side, until it was all gone. Shoyo followed his truth and got on that plane. If Tobio could do it all over again…would he go to Brazil too?

He feels Shoyo’s soft breath against his collarbone. No. He wouldn't. In some way, Tobio knows that Shoyo needed that. Needed something that was his. And God did he come back stronger for it. It still aches though.

But maybe…no, Tobio can't let himself think like that. Just be thankful, be present. He buries his nose into Shoyo's soft hair. Enjoy this.

The door creaks, signalling that Atsumu has entered the room again. His footfalls are quiet and neither of the men on the bed move to look up. Tobio really doesn't want this moment to be over. He wishes it could be like this always, Shoyo in his arms, a shared warmth between them.

The bed dips and Tobio knows it's over. His fingers involuntarily clench, wanting just a few more seconds of this.

Don't tear him away from me, not yet.

To Tobio’s surprise Atsumu doesn't break them up, he simply sits quietly. It should be unnerving. It should feel like he's waiting for them to stop. But it doesn't. It feels…

Tobio doesn't know. He can't make sense of any of this. His arms constrict and he holds Shoyo closer to him. It feels like he can't get close enough. The limitations of their skin, their bodies, it's frustrating. Tobio wants more, something beyond what should be physically possible, he wishes he could have Shoyo so close the lines blur.

He's never felt like this before, like he wants something so deeply, something that is impossible. The desire grows in his stomach, moving up towards his chest. He wants Shoyo. He wants so much of Shoyo - as much as the red head will give him.

He notices that Shoyo is breathing more heavily against his neck. Is he feeling it too? The need? The need for more?

Shoyo’s hands start to move, fingertips brushing along Tobio’s bare back. It sends electric currents up his spine, the sensation almost unbearable. Somewhere between ticklish and pleasurable. His voice produces an involuntary noise, a pathetic whimper.

The sound doesn't deter Shoyo, his fingers trailing up and down, making Tobio feel as though he is electrified. It's now that Atsumu intervenes, his voice cutting through the intense moment.

“Water,” he murmurs.

Shoyo’s hands still but don't leave Tobio’s back.

“You both need it,” Atsumu adds.

Shoyo nods against Tobio’s shoulder and pulls himself away. The blanket stays around the both of them as Tobio finally opens his eyes. The room is dim, soft lighting catching onto Shoyo’s cheek bones and hair. He's beautiful.

Shoyo watches the spiker take the glass, tipping his head back to drink. His throat bobs with the moment and Tobio finds himself mesmerized. He can't help but remember what it felt like to have Shoyo's mouth on his, to have his tongue slide against his lips, inside his mouth…

The glass is righted and Shoyo takes a deep breath after his final swallow. He looks up at Atsumu who carefully takes the emptied cup, “Good boy,” he says gently, moving the glass to the side table.

Another is retrieved and passed to Tobio. Oh. This…it's just a glass of water, but it feels so…good. He forces his gaze to stay in the glass of water, unwilling to look at the blonde passing it to him. It's too much, the small kindness, it's too much. He lets the cool glass touch his lips, quickly followed by deeply refreshing water. It slides down his throat and Tobio swears he can feel how it makes his stomach feel cold.

“That's it,” Atsumu says softly. Tobio has to pull the glass away from his mouth. For a second he's sure he's going to choke and go into a coughing fit. He manages to swallow and passes the cup back to the waiting hand. The words keep ringing around in his head, the tone almost…affectionate

That's it, that's it, that's it…

Good boy. That's it, good boy…

Tobio’s eyes shut as he imagines how it would feel to hear those words. Atsumu told them to Shoyo…

Fingertips brush against his face, quickly followed by a gentle palm. Tobio’s eyes flutter open, fully expecting Shoyo to be the one touching him. But then it's Atsumu, his eyes as soft as his touch.

“Do you need anything?”

Tobio’s stomach twists. It's not a need. But it is a want. His jaw clenches, fighting to hold the words in.

Atsumu’s thumb brushes against his cheek, “Don't gotta do that, don't gotta be small.” Atsumu words ache. Because that's exactly it, Tobio is trying to ignore this part of himself, the part that clearly wants something. That wants…

He braves a look up at Atsumu's honey brown eyes. He means it, his face is painfully earnest.

“I want-” apparently Atsumu holds some dangerous control over Tobio because his mouth is already starting before his brain has even decided on what to say. He forces his voice to stop, collecting what little dignity he still has.

Atsumu just keeps holding him. It's insufferable. Atsumu is insufferable. He feels new, smaller hands creep onto his thigh.

“You can tell him,” Shoyo whispers.

Tobio swallows down the lump in his throat. It doesn't leave though. Might as well - he doesn't have much pride left anyways.

“The way you talk to Sho, and to me,” he starts, feeling like his mouth is far too dry considering the water he just drank.

“Mhmm,” Atsumu confirms.

“I like it,” he forces himself to say. The beat of silence that falls after is nearly excruciating.

“Oh,” Atsumu says softly. There isn't judgement in his voice, at least none that Tobio can detect. The blonde’s thumb goes back to stroking Tobio’s cheek, “Are you jealous that I called him a good boy and not you?” the soft voice saying these words makes Tobio’s stomach flip. It's not the first time Atsumu has used good boy when referring to him…but…

The hand stroking his cheek stops, and instead threads into his short black hair. The nape of Tobio’s neck prickles as he feels fingers brush along his scalp.

The breath is stolen from his lungs when that hand clenches, pulling on his hair. It hurts. But fuck does it also do something to Tobio. He feels his body relax, letting his head be held in place but those strong fingers.

“Are you jealous?” Atsumu asks again.

Tobio’s scalp stings. Atsumu tilts his head back, baring his throat to Shoyo. The fingers tighten, and the pain starts to intensify. Tobio loves it, as much as he's also in pain. He's known he's a bit of a masochist. You don't become a pro athlete and be shy of pain. But this, fuck, this, the pain along his scalp feels like it's filling while whole body with anticipation.

“Yes,” he moans, half delirious with how it all feels.

Atsumu hums, his fingers loosening. Tobio immediately misses the sensation, even though it was nearly too much. Suddenly Atsumu pulls his hand away completely, and Tobio nearly falls forwards without something holding him back.

“If that's what you want,” Atsumu says, his voice patronizing, “then you'll have to earn it.”

A finger under his chin keeps his head up. Atsumu’s smirk is all he can see. A pink tongue wets his lips. Tobio watches the movement. He feels like he's floating. He wants to see it again. He wants to see that tongue again.

The fingers grasp his chin harshly, forcing eye contact.

“Can you do that? Be so good for me? Earn the praise you want so badly?”

His mouth is too dry to do anything but nod.

“Then fuck my spiker till he cries.”

Chapter Text

Tobio’s stomach drops, right into his groin. It takes everything in him to not groan from the suggestion alone. Atsumu keeps the grip on his chin, not letting him escape the dominating eye contact.

“You're little spiker, your childhood best friend, fuck, all he talks about is wanting that. Wanting you to take what you want, wanting you to hold him down and take everything.”

Tobio’s chest flushes hot at the words. Is that true? He tries to glance over to Shoyo for confirmation but Atsumu tilts his head away.

“Focus darling,” he mocks gently. Only after a few seconds of eye contact does Atsumu continue, “Are you willing to give him what he wants? Because if not, I'm happy to have you watch-”

Panic compels the word out, “No-”

Atsumu grips his cheeks hard, pressing the flesh against his teeth and jaw.

“Then tell him,” Atsumu tilts his face so that he can finally see Shoyo properly. The spiker’s chest is rising and falling quickly, his face tinged a beautiful pink.

“God I want you,” Tobio says, watching Shoyo’s bottom lip get caught under his teeth. Tobio doesn't know how to do this, he doesn't know how to talk to Shoyo like this.

‘He likes it,” Atsumu says gently, his thumb reaching to slide over the curve of Tobio’s lips, “he likes to hear how people plan to use him. He's a perfect slut like that, can get off just from someone saying what he's good for.”

“You've thought about it too, haven't you? Thought about what you'd do to him, if there were no barriers?”

Tobio nods, he lets Shoyo see him nod.

“Let yourself daydream about all the depraved things you wanted from him? His mouth…his thighs…what else Tobio?

Tobio feels like he can't breathe. Because yes, he has fantasized, and day dreamed, and yes some of it was depraved.

“Tobio, darling, you're not being very good.”

Tobio whines, he's trying, he's really trying -

“It's okay baby, I know it's hard, here,” Atsumu doesn't let go of him, keeps that hand on his jaw and holds him in place, while he turns to Shoyo.

“Spread your legs princess, let us see.”

Shoyo does, he spreads his knees apart, sitting back on his heels, his hard dick pushed out into empty air in front of him. It's fucking lewd.

“Hands behind your back,” before Atsumu has even finished the command Shoyo is complying.

“That's a good boy,” Atsumu praises. The words intensify the odd pocket of jealousy that is residing inside of Tobio’s chest.

Atsumu turns back to Tobio, “Just watch him here,” Atsumu says, drawing Tobio’s attention to the hard, aching, pink erection between Shoyo’s legs.

“Watch how your words affect him,” Atsumu takes his fingers off of Tobio’s jaw, placing them back into his hair.

Oh. Ooooh. Actually, yeah, Tobio does want to see how his words affect Shoyo.

“Your mouth,” he starts, eyes trained on where Shoyo's length hangs in the air, “I used to watch it. When you talked, when you drank from the tap, when Coach would get us popsicles…” Tobio cuts himself off when Shoyo’s dick arches into the air, bobbing, just starting to drip as it settles back into position.

Fuck. Holy fuck.

“I imagined your lips, wrapping around - sucking - drooling - I'd have to look away, otherwise I would start to get hard. Sometimes I still did.”

Tobio glances up to see that Shoyo's eyes are closed, his mouth slightly ajar, shoulders and biceps straining to stay in place. He puts his gaze back down between Shoyo’s legs.

“I thought about how it would feel to part your lips, push them open, make room for myself in your mouth.”

Shoyo gasps, his hips twitching, cock again flexing up and down. The clear precum has pooled enough that it hangs down in a long thin strand. It swings with each twitch of his dick, not quite long or thin enough to break. Tobio’s mouth waters, as he imagines licking it up, holding her own lips right over the tip and drinking down all the precum Shoyo produces.

“He does adore using his mouth, don't you princess?” Shoyo whines at Atsumu's comment, his legs shaking from the effort of staying still.

“He loves to feel something fill his pretty mouth, pushing until he gags.”

“Atsu-” Shoyo pleas, his cock flexing upwards again and again, the strand of precum swinging wildly.

“What honey? It's true. I'm not sure there is anything you like more than when I cum down your throat.”

Shoyo cries out, the sound raw and broken.

“Except maybe both me and Tobio cumming inside of you-” Atsumu doesn't even finish the sentence. Shoyo’s head tips back, his mouth open in a silent cry, hips jerking in short motions. His dick keeps moving, pushing through empty air, getting absolutely no stimulation. His whole abdomen flexes forwards as he spills onto the bed. Finally his voice comes back, as he keeps draining onto the sheets. He gasps and groans, hips shaking, hands still firmly behind his back.

Tobio's eyes keep darting between the mess on the bed and Shoyo’s heaving chest. Did…did he really…?

Holy fucking hell.

Tobio finally drags his gaze away from the quivering thighs up to Shoyo’s face. His eyes are slowly lidded, face flushed pink, mouth still open, taking fast breaths to recover…from coming untouched.

Somehow, all of this makes Tobio feel like he loves the spiker even more. He wants to shower Shoyo in praise, test him again, see how little it would take to replicate such an amazing thing.

Shoyo’s body starts to sag, his torso swaying back and forth like he's having trouble staying balanced.

Tobio can't tear his eyes away. He's just so…in awe, honestly. He's never seen anything like that. Of course it would be Shoyo, didn't he always defy the norm?

“Isn't he incredible?” Atsumu asks, putting a hand on Shoyo's shoulder to steady him.

Incredible doesn't even begin to describe him. Nothing else comes to mind, other than the word ‘perfect’.

Shoyo is still in position, hands clasped behind his back, his knees digging into the bedding. With the dark spots on the sheets in front of him, he is truly a sight.

Atsumu tips the redheads head up and studies his face. Shoyo’s eyelids flutter as he looks back, body completely still otherwise.

“Came just from thinking about it, huh?” Atsumu murmurs, “just from thinking about both of us, leaving you a mess.”

Shoyo swallows, the sight goes straight to Tobio’s groin. Fuck.

“From both of us using you,” Atsumu says quietly, “because that's what you want, isn't it baby?”

Shoyo's mouth opens slightly, his pink tongue visible against his bottom lip.

“Oh?” Atsumu coos, “Is there something you want?”

Shoyo keeps looking up at the blonde setter, unnaturally still. Tobio knows the amount of energy that exists inside of that body. Incredible stamina, muscles ready to fly at a moment's notice, it's surreal to see everything so still and relaxed. It reminds Tobio of how Shoyo looks while he's sleeping.

“Tell me,” Atsumu says more firmly.

Shoyo blinks slowly. Something starts to shift, Shoyo's posture straightens and his eyes clear, almost like he's dragging himself out of a fog.

“That's it,” Atsumu praises, “tell me what you want.”

“I want you to show him,” Shoyo says breathlessly.

Atsumu hums pleasantly, seemingly pleased by this direction.

“Well, you've certainly earned it, but has he?” Atsumu asks, tilting his head towards where Tobio is sitting.

Shoyo's face looks desperate as he nods yes. He wants it. Whatever he is asking for, he really wants it.

Atsumu leans in and kisses Shoyo’s cheek, “tell him what that means.”

Shoyo swallows, his jaw clenching for a moment as he processes the words.

“It means,” he takes a breath, “I want him to show you how I like it.”

It almost feels like Shoyo's fingers are brushing up his spine again. Tobio suppresses the shiver that threatens to run through him. How will Atsumu ‘show’ him?

Atsumu huffs out a short laugh, pressing his lips down against the column of Shoyo’s neck. “I don't think poor Tobio understands,” he kisses back up towards Shoyo’s ear, “tell him exactly what you want.”

Shoyo bites down on his bottom lip, stifling a moan as Atsumu pays attention to the shell of his ear.

For the first time Shoyo's arms twitch, like he's close to breaking the position.

“Atsu-” his voice begs for something unsaid.

“Too much princess?” Atsumu responds, pulling back a fraction to study the spiker’s face.

Shoyo winces, like he's taking stock of an injury upon landing wrong, but ultimately shakes his head ‘no’.

“Think you can handle it?” Atsumu asks, his lips going back to Shoyo’s neck. The spiker shivers, manages to keep his hands in place and whispers back, “Yeah, I can do it.”

Tobio watches Atsumu smile as he continues to kiss, moving Shoyo's head up so that he can mouth at the front of his neck.

Tobio watches Atsumu’s teeth flash out, pressing into Shoyo’s sensitive skin. The man keens, presenting more of his neck while his muscles strain to stay still.

“Tell him,” Atsumu reminds, tilting Shoyo’s head so that he can start mouthing on the other side. The sensation seems to drain Shoyo of the ability to think, because he just quietly moans until Atsumu pulls back.

“You said you could do it,” he reminds.

…

Shoyo’s breath hitches as he closes his eyes. He's trying to ignore the sensations, get even a smidge of his mental faculty back. He is always so weak to Atsumu's mouth.

It didn't take many sessions of hooking up for the blonde to realize the power his tongue weilds. Shoyo loves it. It's a euphoric sensation, that mouth teaseing all the sensitive spots until his mind goes blank. That exact same bliss is what makes tasks like this so hard. He can't think, let alone talk, yet Atsumu continues, purely because Shoyo said he could take it.

Shoyo digs his nails into his hand, still firmly behind his back. The pain doesn't overwhelm the pleasure sensations, but it does give Shoyo something to grasp onto.

He breathes, using every ounce of his ability to ignore how Atsumu is nipping at his lower neck. He wants to just give in, let Atsumu have his way, fall into the feelings and nothingness of subspace.

He's not alone though. It's not just the two of them. And he told Atsu that he would be good. Just have to get the words out. Just have to think long enough to say it, and then maybe, Atsumu will take pity on him.

Despite this line of thinking, and how desperately Shoyo wants a break from the overwhelming stimulation, he also hopes Atsumu never stops and pushes him right past his breaking point.

His throat chokes on a pleasured gasp, fuck, Atsumu bites down hard on the softer flesh of his chest. It's enough. It's grounding enough to pull his brain out of its stupor.

It feels like Atsumu's request for Shoyo to clarify was ages ago. Atsu doesn't forget though, “He's gonna show you,” even to himself he sounds fucked up. Keep it together, just a little more.

He struggles to find the next words, the words that will satisfy Atsu and make Tobio understand.

“He's gonna use you, to teach you,” is what he finally manages to say. Atsumu's hand is keeping his head tilted back, so he can't see how Tobio reacts.

Atsumu’s hand adjusts to hold him right under his jaw bone. Those strong fingers dig into his neck, not cutting off air, but showing the possibility. Shoyo whimpers, his resolve falling almost instantly.

The feeling of Atsumu's lips against this ear is overwhelming.

“I think he wants to,” the blonde whispers, keeping a firm hold on his throat, “he's so blushed.”

His head is so full, he barely hears the words, but he does hear the tone. Atsumu is pleased. His body runs warm. Shoyo did a good job. Atsumu is pleased.

Shoyo knows that the other two are talking now. Atsumu still has his hand clamped around Shoyo’s throat, his fingers giving just enough pressure. Shoyo tries to listen, whatever it is, is probably important. But that hand…it just keeps holding him in place, squeezing a tad harder occasionally.

He can't quite find a way to think because of how deep that hand has him. After a bit he lets himself stop.

If Atsumu needs me, he will bring me back.

Shoyo lets himself focus on the pressure of Atsumu’s fingers. He feels his brain get softer as he stops fighting it. He lets his eyes slip open, just a bit to see Atsumu.

The blonde is looking at him with familiar and kind eyes. Watching Atsumu's mouth move helps Shoyo catch more words.

Shoyo isn't sure what it is about his throat but It is a surefire way to get him under. Something about the pressure…

Then Shoyo’s hands are being moved from their place. He resists, no, he needs to stay, he needs to be good. Atsumu’s voice in his ear coaches him through it. Shoyo lets himself be moved. His back finds the bed, his thighs aching from having been released from their kneeling position.

Once he's settled laying down with nobody touching him he feels the shift. It's always so sudden, but it never hurts less. A pit of fear sparks in his chest. Immediately tears spring into his eyes. There aren't words to go with the thoughts, but the feelings are clear. Unwanted…alone…

“Shhh, shhh, babydoll, we are right here,” a hand brushes his cheek, cupping his face gently, “We got you, breathe.”

He takes in a shaking breath, trying to let the gentle touch soothe his worry.

Atsumu won't leave. He wants me.

Shoyo feels the knot in his chest lighten. He wants me. He opens his eyes to see that it's actually Tobio caressing his cheek, but it had been Atsumu's voice consoling him. New tears threaten his eyes.

They both want me.

Shoyo's arms reach up, grasping at Tobio, trying to pull him closer. Tobio obliges, getting in-between Shoyo’s legs and leaning over him, so that their faces are matched.

“Hey,” Tobio breathes out, his fingers still holding Shoyo's face.

Shoyo turns his face, pressing it into Tobio’s palm. There is a desperation growing in his body. It's demanding. And it's embarrassing.

Shoyo keeps his eyes closed, trying to focus on the places they are touching, trying to ignore the voice in his head that won't stop begging for what it wants.

‘Love me,’ it says, ‘please, please love me.’

“Can I kiss you?”

Something between a laugh and a choked sob makes it way out of Shoyo’s mouth, because how fucking ridiculous. Tobio can do anything he wants. Shoyo nods, face still buried into Tobio’s hand.

Lips press to his presented cheek, slowly working their way towards his lips. It's almost automatic how his face turns to receive the kisses. He feels the way his chest lightens under the attention, like a flower opening under sunlight.

His mouth moves, slowly at first, but then more urgently. He's kissing Tobio. Tobio’s hands are on him, roaming his chest and neck. He doesn't grip hard or squeeze like Atsumu does, it's more of a reverent touch.

His body jerks, his chest pressing up into Tobio as his nipple is rolled between the setter’s finger and thumb. Apparently Tobio is catching on to how sensitive Shoyo's body is. They keep kissing, Shoyo making more and more noises as Tobio plays with his chest.

It gets to the point where Shoyo forgets to kiss back, his mouth open but his mind consumed with how Tobio feels. The pressure in his chest is building as the setter keeps rubbing over his hardened nipples.

“Kiss him darling, look at how he needs you.” Atsumu's voice against his ear is like a shock of cold water. It does get Shoyo to start kissing again. Right up until Atsumu starts to mouth at his ear and neck. All three of those sensations together, the mouth kiss, his nipple, Atsumu on his neck…Shoyo feels like a doll who’s strings have been cut. He's unable to control the way his body writhes and jerks under the two men.

He's absently aware of how his fingers are digging into something. None of the sensations stop. His feet find purchase on the bed and his hips buck - a part of him trying to find a way out, a way to lessen it all.

That feeling is building, the one that means he's pretty sure he's gonna lose his mind. He could tap out, he has in the past, when the overwhelming sensations were too much. He doesn't want to stop though. He really doesn't. He wants it to overwhelm him, render him useless for anything but being used.

A hand, God only knows who’s, slides under the arch in his back. At first it just grasps him lightly, but then the fingers start to trace light delicate patterns along his spine.

His brain keeps flirting between each sensation, Tobio’s tongue against his lips, Atsumu’s teeth on his neck, his nipple, which is being teased and flicked, and the hand under him, making his body arch impossibly higher. He wants to cry. God, maybe he is already crying. Who fucking knows. He can hear the sounds leaving his lips, desperate whines and whimpers. He sounds pathetic. He must look pathetic. Knowing that makes his skin feel like it's burning up, makes each of their touches feel electric.

He often gets this feeling with Atsumu, like his desperation directly links to Atsumu’s desire to devour. The more Shoyo lets his feral side show, the more he gets. It's a vicious and delicious cycle.

Sometimes, it really is enough to just let himself take it. Especially when he can feel how Atsumu loves it.

He's completely trapped in the sensations, his brain rushing from one point of interest to another. It really feels like he's melting, yet his body keeps arching and tightening.

He lets both men have their way. Just take it. Take it like a good boy. He's so fucked out he doesn't realize until it's almost too late.

“Atsu -” he tries to make the man understand, despite how his brain is barely functioning. Neither of them stop. He chokes on a sob as the body sensations continue to intensify. He needs to breathe, otherwise it'll happen again. He tries to take a deeper gulp, his attention pulled in what feels like a thousand directions.

Atsumu’s teeth down near his nipple sends the air right back out. He, Shoyo needs, he needs - his hand is on Tobio’s back - the last line of communication -

It feels like several seconds pass before the message actually reaches his hand and urgently taps Tobio’s back. He keeps trying to get himself to breathe but it's all so overwhelming, the sensations don't stop, if anything they are heightened by his lack of oxygen.

Wait. It's not stopping. Panic seizes him. Tobio didn't stop. Atsumu doesn't know. They'll just keep going…even though he tapped out.

“Ah-” he groans out, the panic is doing weird things to his head. He wants to move, he wants to push them all off of him. He wants to scream.

He feels tears on his cheeks. His eyes sting. All the while the sensations continue, still intense, but now in a way that hurts.

Please stop, please. He just wanted to tap out so that he wouldn't cum again, but now-he manages to get his hand to tap Tobio’s back, harder this time.

The relief - he takes in as big of a breath as he can around the sobs fighting for room in his throat. Tobio pulls back, pulling Atsumu by the arm.

They stopped. He stopped. Shoyo can feel the edge of the panic, it's right there, about to send him spiralling. Send him into memories and feelings that are long gone.

He opens his eyes to gauge the others. How fine does Shoyo need to make himself seem?

Atsumu is there with kind brown eyes. “Let yourself feel it baby, we got you.”

Despite how well Shoyo knows Atsumu, and despite this response being typical for the setter, it still surprises him. A few more tears leak from his eyes, the permission to be himself, a new, awful kind of overwhelming. The words soothe the panic.

And that's when Shoyo realizes what the panic has actually been about.

Lying. Hiding himself. Having to pretend like everything was okay. Having to -

He lets Atsumu look at him, and he looks right back. The tears have stopped. He's caught his breath.

“You have me,” he says, his head still spinning a little. Atsumu nods, his gaze unwavering.

Shoyo nods and closes his eyes.

He has me. The fear slowly melts out of his body. The twist in his stomach unwinds. Yeah, he has me.

“I think Sho tried to stop sooner,” Tobio says quietly.

Shoyo swallows, pushing down the urge to deny the claim. He nods, feeling shame burn down his chest. The tears threaten to resurface.

“How long?” Atsumu says tensely.

For some reason, Shoyo’s body tells him that he failed. Atsumu is disappointed. Atsumu is upset. No, he's…well he is upset, but not with Shoyo…right?

The conflicting feelings and thoughts swirl and fight, neither able to dominate and settle.

“I don't know,” Shoyo says. He really doesn't, it could have been minutes, or seconds.

“About a minute,” Tobio says.

Just a minute. All of this, over a minute.

“Shoyo,” Atsumu says quietly.

Shoyo is biting down so hard on his cheek he might soon taste blood. Just a minute. One minute. God, he's done so much fucking longer than a minute and still managed to come out smiling.

But it's different with Atsumu. Shoyo can't keep those walls up with Atsu. In fact, Atsumu has worked damn hard to tear them down, and show Shoyo that he can be himself. It's hard to go back. To try and bottle himself back up.

Neither of the men touch him. That hurts in a whole different way.

“It's fine,” Shoyo says. He wishes he could make them look away. Stop looking at him. Stop paying so much attention.

“Baby,” Atsumu murmurs. Apparently even Atsumu doesn't know what to say. That's a first.

“I just didn't want to finish,” Shoyo says, firmly keeping his eyes shut, “I was close, and I could feel that I was getting lightheaded, so…” he trails off, knowing that Atsumu will understand.

It only happened twice, but it was scary each time. Apparently, Shoyo has a tendency to hyperventilate and also hold his breath, that, in combination with everything else…he only passed out for a couple of seconds. When he came to, Atsumu was shaking him, tears streaming down his face.

“You did so good darling, you did perfectly, you did everything you were meant to do,” Atsumu says.

The praise doesn't settle over him like a blanket. It usually feels so good. But now it's just…empty.

“Shoyo,” Tobio’s voice claws at the back of his brain.

“Shoyo,” he says again, pausing until Shoyo opens his eyes.

Shoyo can't unclamp his jaw, but he does keep rare eye contact with Tobio.

“You told me to stop, and I didnt.”

Shoyo can't look away, as much as he wants to. Tobio moves forwards, slowly lowering himself to lay down on Shoyo’s level. They still look at each other, but it does feel better, being even with each other.

“I didn't stop right away,” Tobio’s voice is soft, “that must have been so scary.”

Shoyo’s bottom lip trembles. His eyes stay trained on Tobio.

“You tried, you did exactly what you were supposed to do, it's not your fault, it's mine.”

Shoyo’s mouth opens to object.

“Don't,” Tobio whispers, “I didn't mean to hurt you, but it's still my fault.”

Shoyo swallows against the lump in his throat.

“I'm sorry,” Tobio starts to reach forward but pulls back. Shoyo wants the touch. He wants the connection and reassurance.

His fingers twitch, wanting to reach forwards and help Tobio bridge the gap.

“I'm sorry, you deserve people who stop right away, I'm so sorry I didn't notice until after, it- it felt so consuming, I, I haven't, it's never been like that, I didn't realize that-” Tobio makes himself stop, “I'm sorry, Sho I'm so sorry.”

Ataumu’s words hadn't touched the pain inside of Shoyo…because he wasn't the one Shoyo needed to hear it all from.

Shoyo reaches forwards, his fingers cupping Tobio’s cheek. He looks so sad. So incredibly sad.

“I know,” Shoyo says back. And he does. He knows Tobio wouldn't hurt him like that. Hurt him in other ways…sure, but not like this.

“It really was good, so good, I just didn't want to finish again, not yet anyway.”

Tobio doesn't seem convinced. His eyes stay alert, his gaze flirting back and forth between Shoyo’s eyes.

Shoyo bites his lip for a moment, trying to find the words. He decides, that it probably is just best to go with the truth.

“I've passed out, twice, from the orgasm, and not breathing,” he watches Tobio’s eyes widen, “I woke up right away those times, but earlier it was feeling so good that I couldn't catch my breath, so…”

“You didn't want to pass out,” Tobio finishes.

“Yeah, I thought that might freak you out.”

Tobio huffs out a half laugh. Well, it's something.

“Were you scared?”

It's not a questions Shoyo wants to answer. He'd love for Tobio to live in a world where he didn't have to know that Shoyo was scared. Even if it was only for a minute.

“Yes,” he admits, “but it wasn't fear of you, it was fear that I'd have to pretend like everything was fine.”

Shoyo watches Tobio’s face change into something different. He can't quite place it.

“It's okay,” Shoyo tries to reassure, his fingers brushing back into Tobio’s hair, “I didn't have to hide anything.”

“Would you have? If I didn't realize my mistake?”

Shoyo…doesn't know. He's not sure which urge within himself would have won. He's pretty sure Atsumu would have noticed that something was wrong. He thinks about how hard it would have been to keep going, like nothing had happened. And most likely, as soon as he looked at Atsumu he would have cracked.

“Probably,” he says, chancing a glance to his setter who is still sitting up nearby.

Atsumu's face is also unreadable. Why are they both being so weird? He looks back towards Tobio. His eyes are shining but there are no actual tears. Seriously, it's not that big a deal.

Well, it's not that big of a deal…because of how they reacted. It would have been a lot worse if it had gone differently. Fine.

He closes his eyes, “I'm okay, promise. You don't have to be so gentle with me.”

The corner of Tobio’s mouth quirks up, “When have I ever treated you like you're fragile?”

That's true, Tobio never babied him, not like that. The validation that Tobio doesn't think he needs to be coddled sparks something in his chest.

“If that's true, then touch me already.”

Tobio blinks, as if assessing if Shoyo means it. He must find what he needs because he wraps his arms around Shoyo’s hip, his palm flat against his back and pulls the spiker close.

“Better?”

“Mhmm” Shoyo vocalizes, enjoying how good it feels to be against Tobio like this.

It's so cozy and warm. The fingers along his back trace loose circles.

Shoyo reaches a hand up, grasping in Atsumu’s direction. The setter lets Shoyo take his hand and guide him to lay behind Shoyo.

The spiker sighs, two warm, safe bodies boxing him in. Each of the setters has a hand around him. Two lungs breathe out warm air that tickles his skin. It's perfect. Somebody’s fingers crawl up into his hair and start lightly scratching his scalp. God, now it's really perfect.

His brain gets so quiet he thinks he might actually drift off. It has been a very active night. All the crying…and cumming untouched…and nearly passing out…and confessing their love…Jesus. Maybe they should save something for next time.

Next time…the idea makes his chest bloom warm. Yeah, next time. His nods off, tucked perfectly between his two setters.

Chapter Text

Shoyo’s light brown eyelashes flutter but he seems to remain asleep. Tobio watches intently, scanning the spiker’s face for signs that he is waking. He was so tired last night, he must be in a deep, deep sleep.

Tobio wonders if Shoyo is dreaming…and if so, what is he dreaming? Tobio’s eyes flick down to watch how Atsumu’s fingers flex where his hand is braced against Shoyo’s chest. The blonde setter quietly breathes out as he holds Shoyo in place, thrusting his hips ever so slowly against the spiker.

Morning light illuminates the room in a whole new way. If Tobio looked around he would probably see a lot more than he could in the dim of nighttime. He doesn't though, because how could he?

Shoyo is right there in front of him, face relaxed in sleep. Shoyo's body shifts forwards as Atsumu grinds against him again, a very quiet grunt passing the setter's lips.

The both of them had woken up a bit ago, each very content to stay cuddled against their Shoyo. After a while Atsumu seemed to get restless, constantly fidgeting and moving, jostling Shoyo in the process. Once the movement got rhythmic Tobio caught onto what was happening.

He's using Shoyo’s body. Tobio can't tear his eyes away, watching for the moment when Shoyo wakes, opens his eyes and realizes what is happening.

Despite his plan to see the moment Shoyo wakes, his eyes keep quickly darting down to where the T-shirt stops covering. It's a bit too large for the spiker, when he stands it falls to his mid-thigh. With the way they fell asleep, one leg hitches up over Tobio’s legs, he is getting such a tantalizing view of Shoyo’s upper thighs. Soft, pale skin, probably so sensitive, definitely strong…

Fuck - he imagines what it would feel like to have Shoyo's legs on either side of Tobio’s head, squeezing involuntarily in pleasure. The same strength and force that lets him fly, holding Tobio close to him.

His mouth waters, his eyes sliding up and down Shoyo's leg, wishing that the shirt was riding up even high, showing even more. His hand, still resting on Shoyo’s side from how they were sleeping, twitches, imagining how it would feel to push the cloth up.

How it would feel to touch his warm skin, body so relaxed with sleep…going higher, and higher, until…

“You can,” Atsumu whispers under his breath, pushing up into Shoyo with that slow thrust.

Tobio looks back up, studying first Shoyo's face and then the part of Atsumu that he can see. The spiker is definitely still asleep, his breathing is slow. Atsumu looks smug. Infuriatingly smug. Like he can read Tobio’s thoughts and fantasies.

Tobio doesn't dare move. Atsumu and Shoyo might have some sort of arrangement, but Shoyo and Tobio have never talked about…this, about touching him when he wasn't even conscious.

Atsumu sighs, grinding up against Shoyo one last time, really dragging it out, maintaining eye contact while he does it.

Jesus Christ. What must that feel like? To have someone who trusts you enough to use their body while they sleep?

The hand braced against Shoyo’s chest slides down the length of his body, brushing ever so gently along the fabric. The fingers play for a moment with the hem of the shirt that Tobio had just been fantasizing about. Then they pass the threshold, grazing over Shoyo’s pale thighs. They trace lazy circles, sliding closer and closer to the skin along his inner leg.

Shoyo twitches, the light touch must be ticklish. Atsumu stops, waiting patiently for Shoyo’s breathing to regulate again.

Tobio’s heart pounds in his chest, eyes flicking between the hand and Shoyo's relaxed face. Atsumu starts trailing his fingers along the curve of Shoyo’s thigh, up towards - fuck - up towards where the shirt just covers his bottom.

His fingers catches on the hem, pulling it upwards just a few centimeters, just to the point where Tobio can start to see where it starts to transition - Atsumu drops the edge of the shirt, his fingers hovering over Shoyo’s skin.

Tobio’s mouth feels dry as he watches Atsumu, waiting for the chance to keep watching him touch Shoyo.

God, he's dying just for the opportunity to watch someone touch his spiker.

Atsumu's hand surprises him, fingers sliding over Tobio’s own hand, before carefully taking him and moving Tobio’s hand down to Shoyo's thigh.

A moment of held breath, and then his fingertips are being dragged over Shoyo’s bare skin. Surely…Atsumu wouldn't…do this if it wasn't okay, right?

Atsumu brings his fingertips to the upper edge of the shirt. Tobio’s heart is pounding in his ears, watching another man move his fingers to touch Sho.

Tobio’s fingers twitch, he doesn't dare move on his own though. It feels intense to try and hold back when he's so close. He can't even believe how Shoyo felt when he was staying still on his knees, keeping his hands tucked behind his back, even when he finished…

If Shoyo can be that good, Tobio can manage this. Atsumu leads his hand along the edge of the hem, just his fingertips brushing the soft skin. Shoyo’s leg jerks slightly and he sighs. Atsumu doesn't stop this time, and instead finally lets Tobio's start to brush the shirt up higher.

Shoyo’s breathing quickens, other parts of his body starting to shift minutely. He's waking up - if Atsumu doesn't stop…

Atsumu doesn't stop, he doesn't stop at all, he keeps trailing Tobio's hand higher, pushing back the fabric until Tobio’s fingers are running along the curve of Shoyo’s bottom.

Shoyo grunts softly, his head tilting down into the bed, back arching slightly. God, he's fucking beautiful. Tobio could spend hours just exploring every inch of Shoyo. Finding all the places that make him whine, moan…cry.

Shoyo must fall back to sleep because his body goes still. Atsumu drags Tobio up and over the crest of Shoyo’s bottom. Tobio wants to grab, wants to feel the flesh under his palms. God - he thinks about what it would feel like to spank Shoyo, to watch his ass bloom pink in the exact print of Tobio’s hand.

Atsumu hums quietly, as if he can read Tobio’s depraved thoughts. Atsumu puts his palm over Tobio’s hands, flattening it out over Shoyo’s skin. All Tobio would have to do is squeeze…

He barely, just fucking barely holds back. Shoyo is sleeping, he really shouldn't…Atsumu just keeps holding his hand there. Tobio is just starting to puzzle out this behavior when Atsumu spreads his fingers in-between Tobio’s and grabs Shoyo’s ass. The spiker stays still, seemingly undisturbed by the more direct touch.

Perhaps Atsumu feels Shoyo up in his sleep all the time. How much could Atsumu do before Shoyo actually woke up? The thought makes it hard to breathe.

“He won't know,” Atsumu whispers.

Tobio’s jaw clenches, watching how Atsumu's fingers still dig into Shoyo’s bottom. No…it's one thing to touch him, but…for some reason that feels like it's crossing a line…at least until Shoyo tells him it's okay. He can't be another person who takes advantage of the spiker. He can't be another person who doesn't prioritize him.

Atsumu senses his discomfort and releases his hand. “Still a Goody Two-shoes, huh?”

The taunt makes Tobio’s face flush.

“That's okay,” Atsumu says under his breath, tracing his own fingers up and over the curve of Shoyo’s ass, “He likes you that way. He likes that you're proper like that. You do things the right way. Don't you?”

Atsumu's fingers disappear behind Shoyo, still brushing along his ass. Oh god. Is Atsumu going to…touch Shoyo there?

“Tobio,” Atsumu chastises, “I asked you a question. Do you always do things the right way?”

Tobio glances up from where he had been watching Atsumu's wrist, imagining those long fingers dragging along Shoyo’s crack, brushing against where he is so sensitive.

When his eyes connect with Atsumu’s, he melts a little. Oh. Atsumu is working him up. Tobio’s never felt seduced before, but fuck, it's like Atsumu is roasting him alive. Too slowly to feely realize the danger he is in.

“I try to,” he responds.

Atsumu holds the eye contact a moment longer before he goes back to focusing on Shoyo.

“The thing about good boys,” he says under his breath, “is that they are always holding back a beast.”

Atsumu's hand grabs Shoyo more roughly, his fingertips sinking into the relaxed muscle, “It has been a delight finding Shoyo’s beast. Learning all the things he wants done to him. Finding and giving him all the things so he can feel complete.”

Tobio swallows, not particularly liking where this seems to be going.

“What would you want, if you let the beast have control? What would you take?”

A shiver goes up Tobio’s spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake. It's too close to home, especially with Shoyo’s defenseless body unconscious in front of him.

What would Tobio take? If he stopped holding back the wall of want? Tobio would never…of course…he'd never…he watches Atsumu’s fingers graze up and down Shoyo's legs.

Tobio notices that Shoyo’s skin also has goosebumps everywhere Atsumu is touching.

“Would you want to take him just like this?”

A part of Tobio wants to scream no, no he would never, but something else stirs in his stomach. The idea of climbing onto Shoyo, holding him down by his neck, so that he can't get up when he wakes up.

The burn of shame pushes against the desire. That's the beast, Tobio realizes. There is something there, something that wants things…things Tobio would never do, but he still wants them.

“I know you won't, I wouldn't have let you in here if I thought you would.”

Tobio swallows and glances up at Atsumu's face. Is that true? Atsumu trusts Tobio…it should have been obvious. Like he said, Atsumu wouldn't have let him in here if he didn't. Still, the realization is new. Atsumu trusts Tobio, enough to let him be with Shoyo when he's this vulnerable.

“You won't, but that doesn't mean you can't think about it. Think about how good he would be under you. How he might fight at first, when he wakes up, but once he knows it's you he would relax.”

The words make Tobio’s brain feel hazy. Would he? Would Shoyo let him? Would Shoyo relax when he learned who it was?

Tobio watches Ataumu’s fingers, back and forth, back and forth…

“How would it feel to know that you don't have to ask? You can take, and he’ll be more than willing to give it to you.”

Tobio’s chest is tight, his heart pounding just below his ribs.

Back and forth, back and forth-

“Isn't that right Shoyo?”

The setter’s fingers keep going back and forth. “You'd let him, if he really wanted it, wouldn't you Shoyo?”

Why- why is Atsumu talking to him?

Tobio breaks the trance and glances up to Shoyo’s sleeping face, but he's not sleeping, his eyes are cracked open and he's looking right back at Tobio. Fuck…how long has he been awake?

Shoyo’s eyes open wider after having been caught. He nods, something vulnerable shining in his round eyes.

“You'd let him take what he needed, wouldn't you?” Atsumu keeps touching the spiker, making Shoyo shiver in the process,”You'd love it, you'd love feeling how badly he needed you.”

Shoyo’s eyes glance to the side, towards Atsumu, but he doesn't turn his head. Tobio notices that Shoyo is breathing heavier now.

“I'd love it,” Shoyo admits.

“I know babydoll,” Atsumu says, tapping the red head’s ass lightly, “Shoyo, darling, we are gonna need ya on your knees.”

Chapter Text

It's hard to get his body to move after spending so long keeping still. Despite being between the two men, he wiggles up and over onto his knees. Listening to Atsumu already has Shoyo somewhat under.

A solid hand pets his side as he settles onto his knees and forearms, his forehead resting against the mattress. It feels good, being positioned like this, knowing that he's just right there for the both of them.

After all the turmoil of yesterday, Shoyo is ready to be used. He wants to let go, let the boys have their way with him, and trust that Atsumu will keep everything safe. He wants to check out mentally, and just become something that feels.

Ataumu’s hand on his side gently pets back and forth.

“Actually Sho, can you get on your back?”

His jaw clenches for a moment, the idea of facing them all feeling like too much. He takes a deep breath. Atsumu has him. It will be okay.

He flips over, keeping his eyes closed while Atsumu gently adjusts his legs. Lips brush his ear, “Do you want to stop?”

Shoyo turns his face towards Atsumu, kissing his cheek and then his lips.

“No, please keep going,” he whispers against Atsumu’s mouth.

Atsumu hums and kisses him back. A hand slides under Shoyo's neck to hold him close. They kiss and Shoyo loses himself in the feeling. Atsumu’s hand under his neck grips harder, and just as the kiss is escalating the setter pulls away.

“Do you need anything sweetheart?”

Shoyo’s heart swells under the gentle tone and pet name. He shakes his head. Atsumu slides his handout from under his neck and caresses Shoyo’s cheek.

“Show me,” Atsumu requests gently. Shoyo pats his shoulder, avoiding the setter's gaze.

“Can you say it for me baby?”

Shoyo swallows, willing his voice to work. It's just a word. His tongue wets his lips. Just one of the many he has as options. Just one.

“Wait,” he says, as surely as he can manage.

Atsumu kisses his cheek, his lips cracked in a smile, “So good baby, so good, God I love hearing you say that.”

Shoyo bites down on his lip, closes his eyes, and turns away, the praise both wonderful and overwhelming. Atsumu keeps kissing him, all the while smiling. He goes down Shoyo’s neck, to the collar of his shirt.

Shoyo can't help but smile under the constant stream of kisses. When he finally opens his eyes, he sees Tobio, sitting there, a weary look on his face while he watches. Shoyo reaches a hand out and gestures for Tobio to come closer.

Maybe it's selfish, but in this moment, Shoyo doesn't care, he wants both of them.

Tobio hesitantly scoots closer but doesn't move to kiss Shoyo. Oh, right, yesterday… Shoyo waves him closer.

You told me you didn't think I was fragile. Prove it.

Tobio brings his knees to Shoyo's bicep. Atsumu pauses kissing Shoyo’s lower neck, quickly glancing between the two of them.

He has that devilish smile when he sits back on his heels. Shoyo’s heart races. That look - Shoyo's about to get lost in whatever happens next.

Atsumu puts a hand on Tobio’s back.

Tobio’s shoulders raise up a fraction at the contact. Atsumu notices, because of course he does. He's Atsumu. Once he’s focused, he’s unstoppable.

“Tobio,” Atsumu drawls, “surely you're not shy now? Not when you had just been fantasizing about having your way with my spiker.”

Shoyo watches in delight as Tobio’s face goes pink. So he was thinking about it. About what he would take. God, Shoyo wishes that Atsumu would have let him keep pretending to sleep, slowly coaxing out Tobio's deepest desires.

Atsumu’s hand travels from Tobio’s back, up and over his shoulder, to his chin. He tilts the dark haired man’s face toward his own.

“If you do this, you have to do as I say.”

Tobio’s jaw clenches.

“I know you can do this,” Atsumu's voice is low and soft, “you can do as I say, fuck my spiker till he cries in pleasure. Yeah?”

Shoyo watches Tobio’s eyes go softer, a bit hazy. It's easy to go pliant under Atsumu. Especially when he talks like that. It's something about the voice mixed with his confidence. Atsumu already knows you can, knows you will. So why fight it?

“Yeah,” Tobio says back, his eyes fixed on Atsumu. The blonde strokes Tobio’s chin with his fingers.

“Ya gonna make him feel so good?”

Tobio nods, all of his focus still on Atsumu.

The blonde leans forwards, moving like he's gonna kiss Tobio, but he doesn't. He stops an inch away, obviously relishing how Tobio’s breath hitches at the proximity.

“You gonna let me make you feel good?” Atsumu's eyes watch Tobio react. The raven haired man’s eyes close. His throat bobs as he swallows. His teeth push into his bottom lip.

“Gonna let yourself be full? Gonna let yourself have both?”

Tobio’s eyes open a fraction. Fuck. He's so far gone. Shoyo’s own body can't help but react to watching Atsumu tease this out of Tobio.

“Yes,” Tobio says quietly, a plea tugged at the solitary word.

“Is that what you want, pretty boy? To have him while I have you?”

Tobio’s body breathes in before he says “yes,” more desperate this time.

“You gonna be my good boy, and listen, and do as I say?”

Tobio’s eyes glance towards Shoyo and he hesitates.

“Oh, yes, we can check with Shoyo,” Atsumu’s grip on Tobio’s face tightens, his mouth still just an inch away from Tobio’s.

“Darling,” Atsumu drawls, “Do you want me to tell Tobio what to do to you?”

Just the words flood Shoyo with that feeling. He feels his brain start to melt away. Oh god. Yes. Please. Have him use me. Tell him exactly how I want to be used.

“Yes,” Shoyo manages to say, his eyes darting between his Dom and the man who is going to fuck him.

“Do you trust me to know the edges?” Atsumu's voice is genuine now.

Shoyo’s chest feels warm. Like something is alive under the skin and ribs.

“Yes,” he says, knowing that it's true. He trusts Atsumu to know the edges.

“You can have us stop anytime.”

“I know,” Shoyo says.

Atsumu closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath, “tell me darling.”

“I can stop anytime.”

Atsumu’s shoulders relax a fraction and he opens his eyes again.

Shoyo doesn't know what it feels like to be in Atsumu’s position, to have the control and consequently a profound responsibility. The feeling in Shoyo’s chest grows even warmer. He does trust Atsumu. So much. So unbelievably much. The man has never done anything but show that he has Shoyo’s best interests at heart. Even the times…it went too far, Atsumu was always there. He never left Shoyo to face it alone.

Shoyo doesn't know how to convey the overwhelming trust under his ribs. He doesn't know, in this moment, how to best reassure the man who has always caught him.

Shoyo reaches up and lightly grasps Atsumu's arm. The blonde turns, his grasp on Tobio loosening at the same time.

“Tell me,” Shoyo requests.

Atsumu's lips fall apart before they break into a soft smile.

“I can stop anytime,” Atsumu says.

Shoyo squeezes his arm. The first time Atsumu dropped - Shoyo hadn't even realized that something like that could happen. It looked different than when Shoyo drops. It wasn't physical in the same way. It felt like Atsumu mentally curled inwards, his warmth and confidence blown out like a candle. The energy that always thrummed through the room was gone, leaving an emptiness in its wake.

It was awful.

Atsumu smiles down at him, “Thank you,” he says gently.

Shoyo chews on his upper lip while Atsumu caresses his face, their arms still linked together “did you go and pull yourself out of there just to remind me of that?” Atsumu asks.

Shoyo’s cheeks flush, apparently so. Atsumu’s fingers pet rhymically against his cheek. “You are so good,” Atsumu murmurs, saying each word carefully. His fingers trace through Shoyo’s hair, “I've got you now,” he says, letting his fingers run along Shoyo's lips, “you can let go, I've got you.”

Atsumu's thumb presses on his bottom lip. Just that slight gesture pushes on Shoyo’s brain, submerging him into submission. He lets himself go, looking up at his setter, who in turns looks down on him with something so similar to amazement in his eyes.

Shoyo lets his mouth relax open, inviting Atsumu’s thumb to enter. Atsumu brushes against his front teeth, loitering at the entrance. Shoyo's shoulders push downward. He wants more. He wants Atsumu to use his mouth.

“That's it baby, let go, just like that.”

Shoyo breaths out, his body relaxing under Atsumu. The natural barrier of staying conscious and aware melting away. Atsumu continues to play with his bottom lip, his eyes following the movement, “So perfect,” he whispers.

Shoyo’s eyes try to flutter shut but he forces himself to keep them open. He wants to see.

“He’s ready for you Tobio,” Atsumu pulls his hand away but let's Shoyo keep clinging to his arm. “He's so sweet like this,” Atsumu says and Shoyo feels like he's melting into the bed.

Please, please, Atsumu please.

“Are you ready to listen?” Atsumu asks, keeping his eyes locked with Shoyo’s. It's an intense kind of intimacy, to hold each other like this.

“Yes,” Tobio says breathlessly. Shoyo can't bring himself to glance over, but just from the sound alone it seems Tobio is not unaffected by Atsumu.

Shoyo is losing himself in the haze. It feels so good. His fingers loosen and fall away from Atsumu's arm. It's to the point where there are not really words in Shoyo’s head. Just feelings. Just sensations. Just him.

…

“He's just so good like this.”

Both of the setters are focused on the spiker laying between them. Shoyo’s chest rises and falls steadily, his face so relaxed and pink.

Something burns in Tobio's stomach. It feels like need. Watching Shoyo lay there, so blissed out under their attention. It feels like Tobio’s body is responding to what Shoyo is giving. Shoyo is giving permission, showing his consent, giving them his relaxed and willing body. Tobio wants…to take, to use, to connect.

“Do you feel it?” Atsumu asks, not breaking eye contact with Shoyo, “Do you feel how badly he wants it?”

Atsumu takes in a deep breath, “When he's like this, it's hard not to, it feels like something about him forces you to meet his needs.”

“Fuck,” Atsumu breathes out, “There is a part of me that wants to kick you out and have him to myself.”

Tobio swallows, and makes himself look at Atsumu. His gaze is so focused on the spiker. Hunger so clear in his eyes.

Atsumu's head tilts back, “But he wants this, wants you,” he lets that hang in the air for a moment.

“Get between his legs,” the firmness in his voice surprises Tobio. He jolts, and finds that his body is all too eager to comply.

Shoyo raises up his knees, spreading them apart to make room for Tobio. Just the T-shirt covering his torso, this position…Tobio finds himself between a pair of thick thighs. God these legs.

Did they really used to be scrawny, barely able to fill the practice shorts? Fuck, now look at them. Tobio cups one thigh in each hand, marveling at how they dont even come close to wrapping around half.

His hands are snatched away and twisted behind his back. Hard enough to ache but not actually injure. Tobio realizes that Atsumu has placed himself directly behind Tobio. His wrists are held together by one of Atsumu's hands, the other hand pulls on his hair until he tilts his head back.

Tobio could get out. He could get out of this if he wanted to. It's a sinking realization that he doesn't want to.

“Did I say you could touch his perfect thighs?” Atsumu’s voice taunts in his ear, twisting his wrists a bit more at the same time.

“No,” Tobio gasps out, his scalp stinging from Atsumu's grip.

Atsumu grips his hair even harder, “Don't touch him without permission.” The sensation brings tears to Tobio’s eyes. His head and hands are released at the same time, resulting in his jolting forwards.

He finds Shoyo’s eyes on him. Watching. Watching Tobio be dominated. Watching Tobio be put in his place. For you, I'm doing this for you, Tobio tells himself.

It's not true though. Not fully. Yes he's here for Shoyo. But this…feeling, it's not just Shoyo. It's also Atsumu.

Chapter Text

Tobio’s hair is softer than you'd think. It doesn't match the personality that he puts forth into the world. But, like this, it suits him. Like this he's soft, and pliable. Moldable. Good.

Atsumu loosens his grip, such satisfaction flowing through his body when Tobio stays put. God. Atsumu could spend days taking this boy apart. His eyes unfocus for a second and he glances down to Tobio’s wrists, still wrapped in his grip. Fuck. He's not struggling at all.

He's a powerhouse. Fucking unstoppable on the court and in his career. And he's just…letting himself be held here. Letting himself…giving himself over to Atsumu.

Atsumu fully releases Tobio hair and slides his hand around Tobio’s throat, until he's holding the man’s jaw. He can feel the setter’s pulse under his fingertips.

Atsumu’s fingers itch with the desire to squeeze, to tilt Tobio’s head back until he's fully resting against Atsumu.

Shoyo shifts and catches Atsumu’s attention. His eyes focus on the red head. Shoyo’s eyes a lowly lidded, that beautiful, perfect hazy look in his eyes. Energy swirls in Atsumu’s stomach. God.

He loves Shoyo. He loves being this for Shoyo. He honestly can't even describe how incredible it feels to be this for Shoyo.

“Look at him,” the words leave his mouth, right into Tobio’s ear, “Fuck, look at him.”

Shoyo's eyes close and his head tilts to the side. His cheeks bloom pink. Atsumu knows that it can sometimes feel like too much. But he can't help telling Shoyo how perfect he is. He needs Shoyo to know. He needs Shoyo to understand.

“Let us see you,” Atsumu says softly.

Shoyo's jaw clenches before he turns back towards the setters. His cheeks are still warm with embarrassment.

Fuck, he's so perfect. He's so fucking perfect. Atsumu catches Shoyo's eye and gestures with his head, “Let us see you, darling.”

Shoyo understands. He swallows and grasps the edge of the T-shirt. It feels like everything is moving in half speed as Shoyo pulls the garment up and over his stomach. He arches his back to free the cloth from between him and the bed.

Atsumu wets his lips as Shoyo’s chest comes into view, the borrowed shirt rising higher until it collects around the spiker’s collarbone. Shoyo keeps his hands there, tentatively grasping the hem while he looks between the two setters.

Atsumu smirks, almost positive that Tobio looks just as fucked out as Atsumu feels.

“Touch yourself for us princess, touch your chest.”

Tobio goes limp, his spine seemingly losing all ability to stay firm. Atsumu keeps holding onto Tobio’s wrists as they both watch Shoyo's tentative hands lower to graze along his nipples.

Tobio groans deep in his throat. Atsumu can feel it through his fingers. He grips tighter, letting Tobio feel the strength in his hand without cutting off his air.

“Just like that, make them nice and hard,” Shoyo squirms but keeps touching himself. His eyes are closed, likely overwhelmed by the idea of both of them just watching.

“I love feeling his nipples get hard in my mouth,” Atsumu breathes into Tobio’s ear, “love feeling his back arch up into my face for more.”

Tobio groans, a pathetic, needy sound. Perfect. Just perfect. Atsumu keeps a steady hold on Tobio’s wrists, keeping them locked behind his back. He tilts his head until his lips are against the setter’s neck.

“Sometimes if the gym is too cold they get hard under his shirt,” he lets his lips move against Tobio’s throat, “did that ever happen in highschool?”

Tobio swallows under Atsumu's hand. God, what a perfect fucking feeling. Atsumu keeps his eyes on Shoyo who keeps gently playing with the hardened nubs.

The spiker’s chest flexes up into his own hands. Atsumu squeezes a fraction around the setter's throat, “Did you ever stare?”

“Yes.”

Atsumu melts. Tobio used the version of ‘yes’ reserved for responding to those superior to you. Fuck. The word catches Shoyo’s attention too, his eyelashes flutter open. God, he's so fucked out. His pupils blown wide, sweet rosy cheeks, his body thrumming with need and want.

Atsumu’s teeth itch to bite down on the soft skin under his lips. He has both of them. He's drunk on the feeling of having both men under his influence.

“Do you want him to show you how he likes it?”

Tobio’s breath comes out in a huff, like all the air was forced suddenly out of his lungs.

Atsumu pulls his lips up to Tobio’s ear, absolutely relishing the way the setter leans into the touch.

“Tell him,” Atsumu's breathes out, hopefully quiet enough for Shoyo to remain unaware, “Tell him to pinch himself.”

Tobio breathes in sharply.

“Tell him,” Atsumu says more firmly.

“Sho,” Tobio says breathlessly. The spiker looks up, eyes so hazy and beautiful.

“Pinch them for me.”

Shoyo’s shoulder push down into the mattress as he adjusts his fingers to a grasping position.

The spiker takes in a shaking inhale, “both?” he asks. Tobio doesn't know how utterly sensitive Shoyo’s nipples are. How doing both at the same time is a surefire way to drop right into subspace. The pain, the overwhelm of it all, doing as he is told…

“Both,” Tobio confirms.

A moment later Shoyo is groaning, the tips of his nipples bright pink between his pinched fingers. He holds that tension, pulling them upwards ever so slightly, his breath a quick staccato. It's beautiful.

“Harder,” Atsumu whispers into Tobio’s ear.

“Harder,” Tobio echos louder.

Shoyo whines, turning his face away towards the bed, as he pulls harder upwards, the little numb of flesh poking out between his finger and thumb shifting to a deeper red color.

His arms and his hands shake. Atsumu knows it's so much effort, an almost unbearable amount of effort to hold them like this. To keep them pinched so tightly while also pulling up. Shoyo's face scrunches up, caught between pain and bliss. A bliss caused by the on purpose pain.

“Tell him how good he looks,” Atsumu mouths at Tobio’s ear, able to feel how Tobio’s arms tense as he processes the words.

Tobio takes in a breath, all too willing to comply. Atsumu uses the opportunity to slide his fingertips down from Tobio's throat. He lets the pads of his fingers trace around one of Tobio's nipples.

Atsumu watches Shoyo’s eyes follow the movement. He watches Shoyo tongue press against his bottom lip. He feels how Tobio reacts, flinching at first and then leaning into the touch.

That's it, good boy. “Tell him,” Atsumu says, his lips brushing against the shell of Tobio’s ear as he lightly grasps the quickly hardening nipple.

“You're perfect,” it comes out like a gasp as Tobio uses all the air left in his lungs. Atsumu rolls the perked nipple between his fingers.

“You've always been perfect,” Shoyo absolutely melts into the bed, his neck stretching out, his eyes barely open but definitely focused on Tobio. Shoyo's hands start to go slack, letting his poor nipples relax a bit.

“Oh, look at how desperate he is for you to touch him.”

Such a pathetic whimper sound comes out of Tobio. It's fucking perfect. Atsumu pinches a little harder.

“You can see how desperate he is?” Atsumu asks.

Tobio nods slowly. Oh, he's under. Even if not deeply, he's under. It's an intense satisfaction in Atsumu's stomach as he gears up for what he says next.

“Beg.”

Tobio’s chest caves in a little as all the air rushes out of his lungs. Atsumu knows this won't come easily - it's not the setter's natural inclination to bend like this. He knows the dark haired man can do it. Because it's Shoyo he’d be begging to touch, he'll do it.

“Beg for me to let you.”

He gives Tobio a moment to process, idly playing with his nipples, not tugging or being rough, just playing.

Tobio’s voice starts as a rough whisper, “I want to touch him.”

Atsumu hums, his fingers continuing.

“I want to make him feel good. So good,”

“Say it,” Atsumu whispers in his ear.

Tobio takes in a shaking breath, his wrists twisting slightly in Atsumu's hold.

“Please,” he pauses, taking another breath, “please let me.”

Atsumu is tempted to tease him, to ask for more - instead he remains silent, curious to see what the strong, stoic setter will do for the privilege of touching Shoyo.

Tobio's next breath is ragged, his body sagging back.

“Please Atsumu-”

Fuck. Tobio really sounds like he's about to break. Should Atsumu push? See what is behind that barrier?

“Please what?”

The pain and frustration of the moment is radiating out of Tobio. Break. Just push past that wall, let it all go, let yourself be needy. Let me hear what you need.

“Atsu, please let me touch him, I'll be so good- please-” the last word is whispered.

“Where?” Atsumu breathes out against Tobio’s neck. He feels goosebumps where his lips trace over skin.

Tobio hesitates, his jaw working up and down without speaking. Atsumu doesn't dare breathe.

“Anywhere you tell me.”

Atsumu’s body overrides his brain, he kisses along Tobio’s throat and releases his wrist, “Good boy, oh, my good boy.”

Tobio’s arms flex once his hands are free but he doesn't move them from behind his back. That alone drives Atsumu on further. He kisses up to Tobio’s ear, cherishing the way Tobio gasps out.

“My good boy,” Atsumu whispers into Tobio’s skin. The setter whines and whispers, “Please, Atsu-”

Ah yes, what Tobio was actually begging for.

“His throat, touch his throat while he plays with himself.”

Tobio hesitates, his body tight like a livewire.

“Touch him,” Atsumu encourages, pressing gently on Tobio’s back.

The setter finally moves on his own and reverently puts his fingers around Shoyo’s throat. It's a glorious sight. Atsumu has only ever seen it from his own point of view, but here he can see someone else’s strong arms reach down to hold Shoyo by the throat.

Fuck. Shoyo arches his back, further presenting his neck to the both of them.

Tobio’s fingers loosely spread around the curve of the spiker’s neck. Atsumu places his hands on Tobio’s hips, putting his face right alongside Tobio’s.

“He likes a bit of pressure on the sides,” Atsumu raises his hands up, lightly wrapping them around Tobio’s neck, “like this,” he squeezes. He goes lighter than Shoyo actually likes, unsure of how Tobio would respond to that level of intensity. It took a lot of research and titrated practice to get to the intensity they use today. He wouldn't let Tobio do that to Shoyo…not yet.

Atsumu pays attention to how Tobio goes slack in his hands under the pressure. Atsumu releases the tension and puts his hands back onto Tobio’s hips.

“Try it,” Atuamu prompts, watching intently over Tobio’s shoulder. The dark haired setter’s arms flex as his fingers tighten around little Shoyo’s throat.

The spiker moans and his eyes close as his fingers continue to tug on his own nipples. Fuck he's doing beautifully, Shoyo is very much still able to breathe but the pressure is pushing him deep. Atsumu takes the opportunity to slide his hands over Tobio’s ass, his brain electric as he watches Shoyo moan and writhe.

He keeps his face right next to Tobio’s as he lets one hand go further underneath, tracing along Tobio’s inner thigh.

“You're going to have to open him up,” Atsumu murmurs, his fingers closer to that exact spot on Tobio.

“I'm going to show you what to do,” Atsumu teases along Tobio’s crack, absolutely thriving as he feels the other setter’s body shake against his.

“I know you'll be good and listen.”

Tobio nods.

“I'll show you first, let you feel what to do.”

Atsumu dips his fingers in against Tobio’s entrance.

“Will you be able to focus? If I work you open at the same time?”

Tobio pauses before he nods again.

Atsumu smiles, knowing just how to ruffle Tobio’s competitive edge.

“Because, if you can't make him feel good enough,” he tilts his mouth to be right against Tobio’s ear, “Then I'll have to do him myself.”

Chapter Text

Shoyo tries. He really tries to keep his eyes focused, or frankly, keep them from closing entirely.

Even when his vision blurs, he is still so tuned in, just in a completely different way. Where his vision lapses, everything else heightens.

In this moment, it's how Tobio sounds. His body warm above Shoyo, panting whines and breaths raining down onto Shoyo. Shoyo, who can't even keep his eyes open.

He drinks in every breathy sound. Shoyo is overwhelmed. It's never been like this before. There's never been another - never been anyone but Atsumu.

Lightning zaps race down his spine as Tobio lurches forwards, a pitiful, desperate ‘please’ falling from his lips.

Shoyo can't give Tobio what he wants. Which Shoyo is pretty sure is Atsumu 's cock, instead of his teasing fingers.

Shoyo knows what it feels like though - to be so deep your pride is so long lost. To chase pleasure over anything else.

It's…God, Shoyo truly can't even think of an adjective that actually describes it. To describe how it feels to watch your Dom, methodically break down somebody like Tobio.

To watch his highschool setter be reduced to whimpered pleas.

“Please,” Tobio asks again, more sure this time.

“What? Is this not enough for you?” Atsumu somehow has mastered the balance of cruelty and pity. It's a dynamic that constantly keeps Shoyo spinning. Relishing praise, just to fall to knees a moment later to earn it.

At first it really did feel like he was doing it to earn more. To be deserving. There was fear behind the action. Fear of failure. Fear of falling short. Of not being good enough. Of not being lovable enough. Of being unwan-

“Stop,” the word hangs in the air, several men’s breath the remaining noise.

Tobio shakes slightly above Shoyo.

“Shoyo?”

Oh,

Shoyo blinks, noticing finally that there are tears. The drops are pushed down the side of his face.

Tobio pants, his body seemingly unsteady.

Shoyo used to feel like he had to earn Atsumu 's attention. It used to feel that way.

It stopped feeling like that. Well, it mostly stopped. And in its wake something new started to grow. The desire to do it. For Shoyo. The desire to be good, and feel good, for himself.

He started to let himself trust himself.

He reaches up and brushes Tobio 's sweaty bangs.

It was always going to be you, he thinks. He wishes he could find the words to make Tobio understand.

I want you. Whatever it is that makes you up, I want it.

The memory of whispered “pleases” plays in Shoyo’s mind. His own, overlaid with Tobio’s desperate words, and Atsumu 's calm, even voice, so sincere.

“When did he start crying?” That calm even voice is here now.

“Just a moment before I said stop,” Tobio replies.

Shoyo knows he's good. Knows he tries his best. Knows that the people who are important to him know that, also believe that.

He knows that the times people let him down, or looked down on him, was more a reflection of them, than it ever was him.

Tobio didn't leave because he didn't want Shoyo. Tobio left because something was hurting inside of him. It wasn't that Shoyo hadn't been good enough. It was something Tobio needed to heal.

Shoyo feels his lips turn up into a smile. He opens his eyes to the two men above him.

Shoyo thinks about how Atsumu helped him grow. How he poured love and patience into Shoyo, never expecting anything but friendship back.

Atsumu 's concerned eyes stay on him.

Shoyo 's hand reaches up to cup Atsumu 's face, currently alongside Tobio’s.

Atsumu has always loved Shoyo, just for being himself. He always wanted Shoyo to be honest, to speak his truth. He didn't want a diluted or palatable Shoyo. He just wanted…me.

More tears flow down Shoyo 's cheeks, tracking uncomfortably close to his ears.

“Thank you,” the sound chokes out of him.

It etches worry deeper into Atsumu 's face.

Shoyo huffs out half of a laugh. Atsumu is worried. Shoyo tries to shake his head. Atsumu doesn't need to be worried. Shoyo isn't upset.

Words beyond thank you seem far too complicated. Too far away.

“Thank you, Atsu,”

Shoyo thinks he sees the beginning of tears in his setter's eyes. Oh, Shoyo didn't mean to make him cry.

“Sho, what is happening?” Atsumu quickly wipes at his eyes, his other hand still preoccupied with Tobio.

Ridiculous. Ridiculous to be doing this in the middle of sex. Although, to be honest, how was it going to happen any other way?

You brought me here, to a place where I could finally do this, have this. A place where I can keep Tobio.

These words float across his mind. The construction of their sound too daunting. So they stayed trapped in Sho’s mind, as his thumb sweeps lovingly against Atsumu 's cheek.

What he does manage to say is, “You're doing good.”

Atsumu freezes for a moment. Shoyo almost never reassures him like this unless a scene is over.

A few stray tears do fall from Atsumu 's cheeks.

Shoyo thinks he might be seeing a side of Atsumu that is new. Not new, but new to Shoyo.

Would Atsumu ever want to…?

“You're so good,” Atsumu says in response, bringing Shoyo back to the moment.

Shoyo smiles. Words that once would have stung to hear, now just feel true.

Shoyo wishes he had the brain in power to actually say everything that is so true to his mind right now. He wishes he could tell Tobio to never again waste time not saying what he wants. He wishes he could tell Atsumu that he is good too, just for being himself. And that if he ever did let go of control, he still would be good.

He wishes he could capture this moment. This certainly in his mind that he is good. That even if people disagree, that even if people treat him like less, he chooses to know the truth.

I am good. I am good, just for being me.

He knows, when the sub high fades, and his brain comes back online, it will all shift back to normal. He'll still have the knowledge he gains at this moment. But it won't feel this true. It won't feel like an indisputable fact.

Even when he messes up. Even when he fails. He is good. He is good enough. He will always have himself. Always.

He glanced at Tobio. I will fight to keep you. I will fight to keep you by my side. I choose to have you.

But the only person he is ever guaranteed to have, is himself.

Which kind of makes the fact that he chooses to love someone unpredictable, really fucking scary. Brave, but oh so scary.

It's worth it. Whatever happens. Whatever pain the future holds, it's worth it.

Shoyo settles back into his spot under both men.

He prays to God that neither of them demand that he gives the other up. I want both of you. I'm going to fight to keep both of you.

“You better get a move on Atsu, otherwise I'm going to have to do it for you.”

He watches Tobio’s eyes nearly bug out of his head while Atsumu simply closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“You scared me there,” Atsumu admits.

“All good things, I'm green,” Shoyo says.

Atsumu adjusts behind Tobio, “you know, your flashbacks and ‘spiritual enlightenment’s could look a bit more different. It's stressful to not know which it is.”

Shoyo hums while he smirks, “yeah I'll work on that.”

Atsumu’s eyes flash to him, “watch it darling,” he drawls.

“Wait, are we seriously continuing?” Tobio tries to pivot to look behind himself at Atsumu.

The blonde puts a hand on his shoulder, blocking him from turning.

“Yes, Sho confirmed that it wasn't a flashback and that he's green.”

When Tobio is quiet for a moment Atsumu adds, “You're welcome to watch if you are no longer…able.”

Tobio looks ready to growl, his eyebrows narrowing. And just like that, the two setters will have to battle it out again. Shoyo knows how it will end. With Atsumu fucking Tobio, who barely has the presence of mind to control his movements and fuck Shoyo. So Atsumu will set the pace for the both of them.

And what a glorious pace that will be.

Chapter Text

It's like whiplash. First Shoyo was crying, then thanking Atsumu, and now he's wiggling his ass right against Tobio’s groin.

Atsumu’s drawls in his ear. His low velvety voice shoots down Tobio’s back, leaving goosebumps behind.

“Look at how he wants you.”

I can't, Tobio thinks. He can't. If he does look, he's gonna melt. He's barely hanging on. He thinks about how it felt before Shoyo started to cry. Tobio had been…begging.

His face feels warm as he remembers. He had been barely able to get the words out. The word, ‘Please.’

He swallows, head tipping back as Atsumu’s lips find his neck. Fuck, this man is going to be the death of him. All the while Shoyo pushes his ass against Tobio, leaving absolutely no room for thinking.

Atsumu trusted Shoyo. Trusted his ‘green’.

Can Tobio trust Atsumu's assessment?

His gut says yes. He has only seen Atsumu handle Shoyo with the utmost respect and care, even if some of it is degrading.

He yearns to feel it again. Whatever it was that made him beg. Made him beg mindlessly. Made him beg for Atsumu to do more, for Atsumu to let Tobio touch Shoyo, for anything. For everything.

“Breathe,” Atsumu murmurs in his ear. Tobio inhales on instinct. It's a tad disturbing how his body just listened.

“What is your color?” Atsumu asks.

Shoyo goes still.

Tobio swallows. In the absence of Shoyo’s squirming Tobio can manage to patch together enough energy to think. A little.

“Green,” he sighs, the excitement of the words bubbling under his skin.

“Tell me what you want,” Atsumu's tone doesn't leave much room. It's a demand.

Tobio feels the two parts of himself tug in either direction. The part that wants control and the part that wants to let go. Tobio is not sure he can tip the scales towards letting go.

Warm skin brushes against one his hands which is firmly planted against the bed. Shoyo nuzzles his face into the hand until it curls open to cup his face. Shoyo looks so…content. Like he's exactly where he belongs.

The desire in Tobio grows. Shoyo starts to absently kiss against the palm of Tobio’s hand. Tobio wants it. He wants to be there with Shoyo. He wants to let go.

“Help me get there,” Tobio says, petting his fingers along Shoyo’s face and then through his hair.

“There?” Atsumu asks. He knows. Tobio knows Atsumu knows what he means.

“Help me let go,” Tobio clarifies.

“You want to be good like him?” Atsumu asks.

Tobio finds himself nodding.

“You only can come when I give you permission,” Atsumu brushes his lips against the shell of Tobio’s ear, “that's how you can be my good boy.”

Tobio:

-Atsumu's mouth - his hands - his tongue - fu-fuck - his dick - it doesn't stop. Atsumu is always touching him somewhere. His skin burning hot against Tobio.

Sturdy hands adjust his hips, spreading his thighs apart ever so slightly. Tobio swallows against the anticipation. One hand slides over his hip bone towards where he is aching.

Light fingers grasp around his base, applying just enough pressure to tilt him upwards.

“Go get in your place,”

Shoyo:

The back of his neck tingles as he processes the words. He glanced up at Atsumu who gestures to the spot underneath Tobio.

The warmth and tingles spreads down his spine, intensifying as it reaches his lower back. Atsumu always somehow knows exactly what Shoyo wants. Even when Shoyo doesn't know what he wants. In this deep to the dynamic, It somehow feels like there is a dialogue between them, even with not a single word spoken aloud.

Like some part of Shoyo is silently telling Atsumu what Shoyo needs, even when his own brain can't figure it out.

On his hands and knees he shifts closer to Tobio. The man looks wrecked. The sharpness of his usual expression fully faded away.

What a beautiful sight.

Shoyo lowers his head and pushes his shoulder into the bed. From there he wraps his arms partially around Tobio and brings his mouth to the upper crease of Tobio’s thighs.

Atsumu is gonna fuck them both. Like this. Shoyo just getting the barest taste. And Tobio just getting friction along his underside. It's perfect. Teasing them both while Atsumu gets to fuck something warm and wet.

Shoyo startles as something brushes against his cheek. He tries to glance far enough back to see without moving.

He sighs out as he realizes. Atsumu had been holding Tobio’s dick back so Shoyo could get positioned. Now Tobio is laying across Shoyo’s face. It's warm. Hard. Just pressing down on his cheek. God….is Tobio going to leak? Drop precum right onto Shoyo’s face.

Just the thought alone. It feels like his body is on fire. Fuck.

Even if he holds it in, there is only so many times a man can come…probably.

He licks along Tobio’s legs to distract himself. He feels the men above him adjust slightly.

His breath has nowhere to go. Each exhale heats up the air and Shoyo feels his skin prickle with the warmth. He fights the urge to pull back and get fresh air. He needs to stay put, it's where Atsumu told him to be, and he's not too warm yet. He can handle it.

Fingers brush into his hair, drawing his attention.

“Ready sweetheart?”

Shoyo nods, eyes staying closed. The gentle fingers pull away. The anticipation has been brewing inside of Shoyo. Every moment spent with his face tucked under Tobio like this, - each fucking one feels like an eternity.

It's hard not to mouth at what is just already right there.

Tobio had tensed when Shoyo first crawled under him, slotting his face right up against the setter’s balls. Every once in a while Tobio twitches, reminding both men where exactly Shoyo is, and what exactly is about to happen.

It's hard to wait. It's especially hard to wait with the knowledge that all Shoyo is going to get is the chance to lick and suck at the tip of Atsumu's dick.

Just the part that peeks out when he fucks Tobio’s thighs from behind. It's so little. It's not enough.

Shoyo feels the whine building in his throat. Why won't anybody just fuck him already? Hasn't he been good? Don't they want him?

He forces the thoughts back. He is good. Atsumu thinks he's good. Knows he's good. This is what Atsumu wants. This is to help guide Tobio down too.

It's for Tobio. The mental shift dispels all of the anxiety. This activity is for Tobio. To get him ready. To tease him into submission.

Shoyo lets his mouth wander for a moment, brushing his lips against the skin all along his cheek.

Tobio moans, his legs shaking slightly.

It's tempting. It's so fucking tempting. Just the thought of putting one of Tobio balls in his mouth has Shoyo clenching around nothing. He feels his lower half wiggle automatically, trying to find something, fucking anything, to go inside of him.

Just as he's about to let his tongue pass his lips he hears Atsumu's warning

“Shoyo,” that single word, just a hair’s width from patronizing.

Shoyo puts his mouth back where it belongs, at the seam of Tobio’s closed thighs. Just below where Tobio actually wants to be touched.

He waits. He sits patiently and waits.

…

Tobio:

Atsumu is hard. Fucking hard. Just brushing up against him as he adjusts Tobio’s hips. It's almost enough to draw his attention away from how his own dick lays across Shoyo's cheek. It's enough to come from. Honestly. And something about forcibly holding back makes his body heat up even faster. Atsumu’s lips, kissing and sucking on the back of his neck doesn't help either.

Knowing that he can't finish…turns him on. Shoyo's mouth brushes against his balls. Tobio’s eyes shut involuntarily. He's gonna come. His arms and fingers flex-the urge to push Shoyo away. Because if Shoyo keeps going - he swallows back the moan that pushed at his throat.

Atsumu chooses this moment to bite down onto Tobio’s back. Tobio arches, both compelled and repelled by the pain. He wants to get close just as much as his body longs to escape the pain.

He locks his throat, not wanting to give away how much it is affecting him.

If Atsumu realizes he's this close…what will he do? Stop? Make him calm down? Pull Shoyo away? The very thing that Tobio is tempted to do. Because - God it's fucking hard to think - Shoyo's tongue. He can't hold back the moan any longer. His back arches as Shoyo’s mouth shifts higher, up to the base of his-

“Shoyo,”

The lips mouthing at Tobio freeze, and then retreat back to the crease of Tobio’s uppermost thigh.

He swallows, letting his breathing return to normal.

…

Atsumu:

He's so hard he's not sure if he's going to be able to handle the friction. There is lube, of course, he can't go rubbing their rival team's setter raw.

Still, Atsumu has been hard for fucking ages. He's pretty sure he could finish from the lightest touch. He can't, he has to draw this out, use this orgasm as an opportunity to get both men ready.

Atsumu nuzzles his cheek into the hollow of Tobio’s neck. The dark haired setter has been on his knees for a minute while Atsumu collects his resolve to not orgasm immediately.

Atsumu kisses the skin absently, paying attention to how Tobio responds. Sometimes when he’s in this state it doesn't even feel like he is choosing what to do next. The next action just happens. All of his focus goes toward the man, now men, he is in control of.

He's attuned. To every sound, every shift, every breath. He barely feels himself kiss and then bite the neck under his mouth. He fucking feels how Tobio reacts though. Everything Tobio does is seared into Atsumu’s brain. The blonde bites down a little harder.

Tobio flinches involuntarily. That's okay, his body is allowed to react. It's a reflex, triggered by enduring pain in the bedroom. The body will jump. What Tobio does next will show Atsumu what to do next.

It doesn't feel like making choices. It feels like following the sub. Like hearing their desires and wishes through urges and moving towards what they need. It feels like following, and assessing, and flowing-

Tobio tenses, pulling forwards slightly, away from the pain. How far will he pull? Will his brain take or fight the pain?

A gasp is ripped out of Tobio’s throat, followed by an undeserved moan.

Naughty little spiker.

Atsumu releases his jaw and simply says Shoyo’s name. He knows Shoyo will understand the warning and intent.

Tobio doesn't continue to moan, instead just panting quietly.

It's a crossroads. Atsumu feels his brain sober up a little. Checks. Do checks before moving on.

His hands run up and down Tobio's waist. The sobering moments are always a little weird. He knows though, once he has his answers, he will fall right back into that beautiful space. The space where he follows his sub right off a cliff.

He reaches down to pet Shoyo's hair, loving how it feels between his fingers.

“Color, love?”

Shoyo adjusts himself just enough to clearly say “Green,” before reassuming his position.

Atsamu swallows, “Color, Tobio?”

The setter exhales, “Green,”. Atsumu hums thoughtfully, letting the answers sink into his brain, dispelling the anxieties and fears. He mindlessly kisses at the crook of Tobio’s neck.

“Yours?”

The question stops him, his mouth pressed against Tobio’s skin. He really, really hadn't been expecting Tobio to throw the question back at him. He smiles, giving another set of kisses up along Tobio’s throat up towards his ear.

“Green,” he says quietly, just for Tobio to hear. “Are you ready to submit to me?”

Tobio nods as he takes a deep breath.

“Good boy,”

…

God, now that he's started, it's hard to imagine stopping. At least not until he finishes. All over Shoyo’s pretty lips, and in-between Tobio’s tight legs.

Atsumu knows there is more he wants to do, more he needs to save energy for. A certain dark setter who he promised to fuck. But God he can't fathom all that right now. Not when Tobio is clenching his thighs together, lightly thrusting his hips to move with Atsumu. Not when Shoyo's hot tongue relentlessly works over the top of Atsumu's dick.

His fingers dig into Tobio’s hips, pulling him back onto Atsumu's cock. He cuts back the growl that tries to push its way up his throat. Fuck- Atsumu feels the orgasm start to build in his abdomen. He lets himself pull Tobio back against him, their bodies pressed tight. He immediately feels Shoyo’s wet tongue and lips against his cock head.

Shoyo has made him finish like this before. Just from paying attention to the sensitive tip. God. Atsumu can't quite help the shaky breath he releases as he keeps Tobio held close to him.

…

Atsumu’s forearm drags up to brace against Tobio’s stomach and chest. The blonde setter’s breathing has been escalating in Tobio’s ear. The change is subtle, but definitely there.

Atsumu’s other arm raises higher, his hand coming to rest along Tobio’s jaw and upper neck. Keeping him held in place. All the while, Shoyo’s mouth keeps moving.

“How does it feel?” Atsumu’s voice is hushed in his ear. It still carries a strong edge, but there is just the hint of a waver.

Atsumu’s affected. Finally. Tobio feels himself smile at the realization.

“It feels like you're gonna cum,” Tobio says, keeping his voice as even as possible.

Atsumu clicks his tongue and strengthens his grip on Tobio’s jaw and throat.

“Aren't ya cocky?” There is a touch of exasperation in the blonde’s voice.

Atsumu flexes and brings Tobio’s head backwards, forcing him to bend his spine to keep the position. Tobio is surprised at how the small motions sends thrill and need through his body.

Atsumu applies just a touch more pressure on his throat. Not enough to do anything but heighten the sensation. Thoughts and desires flood through Tobio’s mind.

Break me - make me - take what you want - make me beg -

“Shoyo,” Atsumu says louder, breaking into Tobio’s inner thoughts.

“Can you show dear Tobio what he's been missing?”

Tobio blinks down at Shoyo as he maneuvers out from under him. It's hard not to groan as Shoyo’s face slides against the underside of his dick. The red head looks absolutely fucked out of his mind, eyes hazy as he looks up at Tobio. His mouth remains slightly ajar as he sits back on his heels, leveling his face with Tobio’s aching erection.

Atsumu's words start to sink in. Shoyo is going to use his mouth on Tobio.

“Doesn't he look perfect?” Atsumu asks, resting his chin on Tobio’s shoulder.

Fuck. He really does.

Chapter Text

“Yes,” Tobio responds. Shoyo looks fucking perfect. Blissed out, his tongue wetting his pink lips.

“You're going to watch him,” Atsumu breathes by his ear, “you're not going to move.”

Tobio swallows, anticipation running wild in stomach, “and you're not going to come.”

Tobio’s breath rushes out of him. Fuck. Right…He can't finish without Atsumu’s permission. Not if he wants…

“Okay,” Tobio hates how unsteady his voice already is. Shoyo’s beautiful brown eyes are on him.

“Go on baby, you've been wanting this haven't you?”

Shoyo’s eyes close and he nods.

“You're going to have to tell us if you get close,” Atsumu’s mouth hasn't left Tobio’s shoulder and neck. His arms are still braced across Tobio’s body and jaw.

“Can you do that, darling?” Atsumu holds him tighter and kisses up to the nape of his neck. It sends goosebumps down Tobio’s body. Tobio watches Shoyo tongue at his bottom lip.

“I can,” he whispers. He's not at all sure he can. But fuck does he want to try.

Tobio watches Shoyo glance to his left, to where Atsumu is.

“Do your worst Shoyo,” Atsumu smirks and goes back to kissing Tobio’s neck.

Shoyo smiles and brings his lips down to meet Tobio. It evokes an immediate gasp inwards. Fuck - after only getting brushing, accidental touches - its so fucking much. To see Shoyo, his Shoyo, pursing his lips to kiss the very tip.

Tobio pushes his head back, against Atsumu.

“Keep your eyes on him,” the hand on his jaw holds firm.

It feels like he can't. Watching, really watching Shoyo, so fucking blissed out, just take his fucking time, kissing all over the head of Tobio. Shoyo’s eyes flutter open as he lets his tongue out to lick directly across.

Tobio hears himself - the noises he's making - are fucking obscene. It sounds like he's on the verge of tears, the gasping, hiccuping breaths gives everything away.

“Tell him,” Atsumu murmurs from where he has been watching on Tobio’s shoulder.

Tobio whines, high and needy.

“Tell him how good it feels,” it feels impossible. There is no way he can make words work. Not when - “fuck, Sho!” Tobio’s hips flex without his permission, seeking more of that hot and wet mouth.

It really feels like a dream, Shoyo below him, the tip of his cock in his spiker’s mouth. Able to feel everything the red-heads tongue is doing inside. Moving along the sides, and then directly over the tip. It's so fucking sensitive.

“I'm gonna-” Tobio chokes out and Atsumu uses his arm braced along Tobio’s stomach to yank him back. His cock pops out of Shoyo’s mouth. Shoyo’s lips are shiny with spit.

“Not yet,” Atsumu mocks gently.

It really does feel like he could cry. Like there is just too much feeling built up inside of him. It has to come out somehow.

Tobio works on getting his breathing back under control and focuses on pushing the edge of his orgasm away. Once he is breathing just through his nose Atsumu loosens his hold and lets him move back forwards.

Shoyo doesn't waste a moment, he is back on Tobio, sucking on just the tip. Shoyo’s tongue flicks over and around inside his mouth. Tobio gives a short cry and tilts his head back against Atsumu’s shoulder. The hand that had been holding his jaw comes up to grip his hair, forcing his gaze back down.

“Watch,” Atsumu says more sternly. Tobio forces his eyes open.

Tobio bites down on his bottom lip, and watches. Shoyo bobs his head, never taking more than the tip. It feels so fucking good. Tobio can't even imagine- well apparently his hips can, they jerk awkwardly in Atsumu’s hold. God - what would it fucking feel like to press all the way inside? To fuck into Shoyo’s warm, wet mouth. To watch his eyes tear up, never once looking away?

Tobio’s hair stings as he fights the urge to move forwards. He can imagine his fingers threading into that orange hair. Imagine how it would feel to dictate his spikers movements. To make him go deeper, harder, faster -

His body twitches, wanting, needing more, needing control, needing to be able to move things forwards.

Shoyo pops off, moaning lightly as he looks at the spit covered cock head. He purses his lips and goes back to kissing.

Fuck. Fuck. Tobio’s legs shake. Please. Fucking please. His lungs fill and empty quickly. When Shoyo just keeps giving little kisses Tobio whimpers. He feels Atsumu hold onto him tighter.

He’s stuck here. Stuck while he's forced to endure whatever the other two men give him. If he goes outside of the bounds, if he cums, if he moves, if he tears his eyes away from Shoyo’s beautiful lips, it could all be over.

He really, really doesn't want it to be over.

Shoyo starts licking again, making a show of letting the tip of his tongue play with the slit.

It really does feel like he might cry.

Shoyo does manage to wiggle the tip of his tongue into the slit. It's so, fucking, sensitive. He wants his fingers in Shoyo’s hair so badly. So fucking badly.

Shoyo glances up from his work and drags the lightest edge of his teeth over the rim of the head, continuing up until he reaches the very tip.

“Please,” Tobio whispers, his whole abdomen tensing and shaking.

Shoyo keeps the eye contact and licks over the slit.

At this point Tobio doesn't even know what he wants. More. Just more.

“It's so good,” his voice cracks with the effort.

“It's so good,” he says again, this time closer to a whimper.

Shoyo takes Tobio back into his mouth and moans.

Tobio’s body reacts before he can stop it, his hips jerk forwards only to be forced back by Atsumu’s arm.

He bites back the sound his body wants to make.

“Please don't stop,” it's building. He knows he isn't allowed to. But fuck, it feels so good. How Shoyo uses his tongue inside of his mouth.

Shouo closes his eyes and starts sucking in earnest. The pressure is unreal. His body shakes involuntarily.

“Clo-close” he yelps out as the feeling starts to overtake him. Atsumu once again pulls him away and Tobio does wail.

Everything is sensation. It's all too much. He can't even think. He pulls against the fist holding his hair and tries to turn towards Atsumu. The setter relaxes his grip and Tobio presses his face against the man.

Tobio is breathing harshly. He can feel Shoyo’s breath on his spit-covered cock. His hips give little jerks towards the sensation.

“Tell me when you're close,” Atsumu reminds him gently. Tobio nods, thankful he's no longer being made to watch. It's so much. Everything is so much.

“Just kiss and lick the tip sweetie,”

Tobio whimpers and curls further into Atsumu. He can't take it. He can't do it. He must have started shaking his head because Atsumu is stroking his hair, saying, “Yes you can, I've got you,”.

Shoyo resumes, starting again with such light touches and kisses.

Tobio presses his face into Atsumu's, “I can't,” he gasps out.

“Shhhh, shhh,” Atsumu reassures, “just tell me when you're close, that's your only job”

Atsumu braces both arms and hands against Tobio’s body, holding him tightly in place. It's good, because Tobio is definitely reaching a place where he can't control himself.

Shoyo scrapes his teeth along the oversensitive skin and Tobio jerks forwards. Atsumu holds him right in place. The pressure holding him back - it's freeing. He stops trying to hold still and lets himself go. The strong man behind him keeps him from moving.

Something about the pressure holding him back, holding him still, heightens everything else. He's close, he's really fucking close.

“Close-” he forces himself to say, knowing full well that Atsumu is about to rip him back and away from Shoyo’s mouth.

“Let me see it,” Atsumu says back, sending Tobio’s thoughts into a scatter. Shoyo is still licking at his tip, teasing the slit, licking up and down the sides.

Tobio can't hold on. He can't force the orgasm back any longer. It's going to happen. Words choke in his throat, the overwhelming sensations drowning out everything.

“Let me watch you cum on his face,”

Shoyo moans and doesn't stop.

Tobio's hands hang uselessly by his sides. His legs shake and jerk. He cracks his eyes open to the sight of Shoyo worshiping the tip of his cock.

“Cum on him,” Atsumu says, clear as day, releasing the orgasm ban.

Shoyo’s eyes flit open, his mouth never stopping. The urgency fills Tobio’s abdomen, climbing up his chest into his throat.

He's gonna cum on Shoyo’s face. As if Shoyo can sense the shift he sits back, just an inch from Tobio’s dick, and closes his eyes, mouth open, tongue presented.

It's too fucking much. “Ah, Ah, Ah,” Tobio vocalizes as his dick jerks by itself in midair, seeking the stimulation it needs to finish.

Atsumu lowers his right hand and grasps Tobio around the shaft. The sudden sensation there has the setter reeling. He chokes out noises he's never fucking heard himself make before and fucks into Atsumu’s hand.

It's too much- he keeps his eyes trained on Shoyo’s open and presented mouth. It takes everything in him to keep his eyes open. He's not breathing, the air locked in his chest, broken, choked off sounds leaving his mouth, as the first shot of white lands on Shoyo’s lips.

Atsumu grips Tobio’s shaft tighter and directs the next one right onto Shoyo’s tongue. The first one is already dripping down, past his lips and onto his chin.

Atsumu starts pumping his fist up and down Tobio’s cock. It makes his body jerk and twist, both seeking more and trying to escape the sensation. His frantic movements cause his cock to bob and he lands another stripe along Shoyo’s cheek.

Atsumu doesn't stop, “ple-I- can- T - ahh, ahh, ahh, wai-” a few drops fall from his overstimulated cock and land onto Shoyo’s hands below.

“This is what you wanted isn't it?” Atsumu purrs in his ear, “You wanted to finish?”

Tobio can't even fathom responding, as Atsumu’s hand continues to grip him and move. Its dry, its almost fucking painful.

“You're gonna cum again,” Atsumu says. It just doesn't make sense. Tobio’s head thrashes from side to side. He can't. He just can't, not just after the first. He can't.

Atsumu shoves a leg between Tobio's, spreading them slightly. Atsumu releases the arm that had been around his waist the entire time and reaches below Tobio to grasp his balls.

Tobio feels like a puppet dangling from strings. Without Atsumu holding him in place, he feels adrift.

“Focus on stopping it here, let yourself orgasm, but flex here” Atsumu instructs, pinching up under his dick.

Atsumu keeps his hand there, applying pressure to the spot. Then Shoyo’s mouth is on him again, sucking a softening dick into his mouth.

There are tears in his eyes now. It's too much. He's gonna break. He's gonna - he shakes his head, fully perplexed by how he's getting hard again. No, no, no, he can't. Atsumu slows down his hand, “you can safe-word out at any time,” there is a beat where everyone slows down. The words sink in.

“You can tell me to stop. We'll both stop.”

That's…that's not what Tobio wants.

He jerks his hips into Atsumu’s grip, “do’n wanta’ Tobio says, his brain fully fuzzy, “I'll be good,”

“Yes you will darling,” Atsumu says back and kisses his cheek.

Something warm blooms in Tobio’s chest. His body keeps moving into Atsumu's hand.

“You've already been so good,” Atsumu kisses his cheek again, “you're my good boy Tobio,” Tobio breathes out harshly in response.

“Let me take care of you,” Atsumu says, so earnestly that it pushes into Tobio’s fuzzy brain.

“I'll safeword,” Tobio says, trying to show that he understands.

“Good boy,” Atsumu purrs, his hand picking up speed again, “my good boy.”

Somehow, some-fucking-how, an orgasm is building again. It doesn't feel full and encompassing like the last one. This one feels sharp. Forced. Tobio absently realizes that he's pretty sure this is called overstimulation. And apparently, he's into it.

They have him. Atsumu has him. He lets his body sink back into the man behind him and he lets Atsumu and Shoyo do what they want with his body. Atsumu’s hand still idly touches and applies pressure to that spot below his dick.

His body starts to twitch and jerk uncontrollably. Atsumu and Shoyo just continue. It reaches a point where it's almost peaceful. He's just for them to play with. He doesn't need to control anything other than safe wording out.

His eyes open to the sight of Shoyo, cum nearly dried to his face, sucking on the tip of Tobio’s dick like he truly loves doing it.

And that's what sends him over the edge. His body goes stiff, all muscles taunt. Atsumu abruptly applies more pressure to that spot under his dick.

“Just ride it as long as you can baby,” Atsumu coaches in his ear. Tobio doesn't understand the words, until his orgasm doesn't end. It doesn't end like normal anyways. It rolls, like waves. Like an endless pull back and forth. A volley that doesn't ever hit the ground. He lets the forces push and pull him back and forth. It's blissful. So blissful.

“That's it baby,”

Tobio feels the energy leave his body and he slumps back, each of his muscles drained. His head is spinning, residual sensations spiking through him. What the ever loving fuck was that?

“Did he do it?” Atsumu asks.

“He did,” Shoyo says brightly.

Did? What? From where he is slumped, he glances up at Atsumu now above him. What the fuck just happened?

Fingers card through his hair. It's so foggy. Tobio has never felt so sated.

“I accidentally went a little far,” Atsumu says, continuing to pet Tobio.

“Well, your one weakness is a brat,” Shoyo says back.

Atsumu sighs, “he really came dry?”

“What, do you wanna check my mouth or something?” Shoyo quips back.

“No, we both know you swallow.”

Shoyo scoffs. There is plastic rustling, Shoyo quietly says thank you, and then his warm body is all up along the backside of Tobio, who apparently started to lay down at some point. Arms wrap around him. Fingers continue to pet his head.

Tobio, truly, has never felt more content.

Chapter Text

Tobio awakes with his face firmly planted against skin. He struggles out of the drowsy state and tries to make sense of his surroundings. He panics for a singular second when he realizes that he is against a bare chest.

Atsumu. The edging….fuck… the overstim. He breathes out. That had been intense.

He breathes in deeply, surprised to find that the gentle smell of the man in front of him is somehow comforting. The presence behind him must be Shoyo. Both Sho and Atsumu are warm. Especially Sho.

He figures it was the overheating and sweat that woke him up. Now though, what keeps him up is hunger. But…he doesn't even really belong here, how does he go about getting food? Plus, despite the heat, he is really reluctant to move from between the two of them.

Tobio kind of can't believe he fell asleep in their arms. He’s…he's never really done that. Well, he certainly hasn't done most of what they have done…but the cuddling seems significant somehow. Tobio let's very few people in. Somehow, Atsumu really got in.

Tobio cringes at that line of thinking. Atsumu was literally in afterall. He presses his cheek against the chest in front of him. Tobio really doesn't want this to end.

He tries to run through everything. There are large swaths where he barely remembers. He remembers the big idea, some sensations, but so much of it is lost or confused. It bothers him. What if…his stomach drops. Fuck. What if it wasn't good? What if…the quickness of the tears takes Tobio by surprise. He was just fine, and now he's holding back a sob.

He bites down on his lip. This is ridiculous. He cannot let the others wake up to him sobbing. Yet…his body decides for him. Tears leak from his eyes as he strains to keep everything else still. He doesn't breathe, or move, or let himself make any noise.

Eventually though, he has to breathe. He can't take it slowly, it rips through him and with it more tears. He makes a noise. It's pathetic.

It must wake somebody because Tobio is pulled close and peppered with soft kisses.

“Breathe,” Shoyo's voice whispers in his ear. Tobio’s body curls in on itself. He wishes he could escape. He wishes he could run. He wishes he were alone to endure this.

Shoyo's hand pushes at Atsumu’s arm, “Atsu, wake up,”

“Mmm,” Atsumu vocalizes, as he awakes.

No, no, no, this is even worse. Tobio can't stop the tears but he desperately holds onto the need to stay quiet. Just be quiet.

“Hey,” Atsumu says gently, his hands moving to cup the back of Tobio’s shaking head, “hey, I need you to breathe with me, you can keep crying, but we need that brain to have oxygen.”

Tobio barely hears. It's all too much. Why are they here? Just leave him alone. They don't want him. Why are they here?

Fingers lightly drum on the back of his head, and Atsumu takes an exaggerated breath, holds it a moment and releases it loudly.

Atsumu does it enough times in a row that Tobio’s body starts to follow suit. With the rhythmic tapping and regular breathing, his crying slows. Some of his breaths are still punctuated with hiccups, but he's able to breathe.

“We wanted that,” Shoyo says into his shoulder. The words break something in Tobio.

It's not true. What he's saying cannot be true. How could they want that? Tobio didn't do anything. It feels like he's frozen. The tears leak but no sounds come out of him. Inside of him feels…dead, rotten, wrong.

Atsumu’s broad hand cups the back of his head and pulls him close to his chest.

No, no, no…

Tobio shakes his head, they need to let him go. He can't stay here, he can't stay feeling like this.

“It gets easier,” Atsumu’s voice reverberated through his chest into Tobio’s face.

“It gets easier to accept it all. That people want you.”

Atsumu’s fingers brush through his hair lightly. He still feels frozen.

“It's okay to feel it,” Atsumu says quietly, “We aren't going anywhere, we will be here for you.”

Tobio feels Shoyo’s smaller hands hold tightly into him. Why? Why do they want him? Why would they do all of that - and now this for him? Why bother? Why would they want that? Want him?

He thinks about how he came on Shoyo’s face…in his mouth. It had felt so good and right in the moment, but now - his body forces him to sob. He treated Shoyo so badly.

It sounds like a wounded and scared animal is hiding in Tobio’s throat.

Atsumu keeps petting his head. Shoyo keeps holding onto him tightly.

…

It's so hard to hear. Shoyo has never been on this side of things before. It was always him breaking down. It was always him being forced to endure the patience and love that is Atsumu’s aftercare.

Tobio’s body shakes as he cries. It sounds like a part of him is dying. He's seen Tobio cry so many times - it's never been like this. Like Tobio was breaking on the inside.

Shoyo has no clue if it will help or hurt, but it feels impossible to do nothing. He starts gently, tapping on either side of Tobio’s body. It's not perfect since they are laying down, but it's something. It's something Shoyo can do.

There is so much Shoyo wishes he could express. I wanted it. I wanted all of that. He presses his forehead into Tobio’s back and thinks it as hard as he can. ‘I want you. I want you. Please understand how much I want you.’

He’ll tell Tobio for real, when the man is ready to hear it.

…

It's not surprising that Tobio dropped upon waking up by himself. What is surprising is how much it affects Atsumu.

When Shoyo drops, it makes sense that his brain latches on, focusing solely on making sure that his teammate is okay.

To Atsumu, Tobio should effectively be nobody. He's the man his teammate and bedroom partner loves, and has loved since highschool. So why is his heart aching over his inability to make it better?

Without thinking he brings his lips to Tobio’s forehead. It's not really a kiss…but it is. He wants to hold the man’s head close to him and force Tobio’s brain to understand that it's okay. That he did nothing wrong. That everything was wanted and if there was something that Tobio didn't like, that is okay. He'll never have to do it again.

Atsumu breathes in deeply, still trying to model it for Tobio’s body. But at this point it's also for himself. He feels the doubt in the back of his mind. The fear. The shame.

You weren't a good Dom. You didn't assess right. You didn't provide the right aftercare. You let him down. You let them both down. You hurt him.

Atsumu forces another steady breath. He can't let himself fall into the doubts. Not now. Later. When he's alone. Later.

The thoughts are unrelenting. His next breath shudders. No. Later. Not now. Focus. Focus on Tobio.

Dread starts to squirm in his stomach. Dread that all he did was harm the man in his arms. Atsumu is running out of time.

He uses his hand in Tobio’s hair to have him look up. Atsumu is starting to feel like an animal in a cage. He knows it's his responsibility to care for those who were vulnerable. He knows it's what is right. But he's running out of time where he has access to his real brian.

“Tobio,” he says quietly, intently watching the pinched face in front of him. Tobio is in so much pain.

“I'm sorry to ask this of you, but can you please try to tell me what your brain is saying?”

Tobio’s breath shudders. He keeps his eyes firmly shut. He gives the tiniest shake of his head.

‘Bad Dom, bad Dom, bad bad bad Dom’ chants in the background of Atsumu’s mind. He tries to push it as far away as he can, his own throat tightening with the desire to cry.

“Can you nod when I'm close to what you're thinking?” His voice hitches, giving away his fragile state, “please,” he adds as he waits for Tobio to respond.

The rival setter nods.

“I made you do something you didn't want to do,” the words fly out of Atsumu. He holds his breath as he waits. While the fear waits for confirmation of Atsumu’s deep insecurity.

Tobio shakes his head. Atsumu breathes out carefully. Okay…okay…

Atsumu kisses Tobio’s forehead again, “thank you, the answers help,” he whispers into the skin.

“Does a part of you hurt physically?”

Tobio shakes his head.

Thank goodness. Atsumu kisses him again. The dread in his stomach starts to ease up.

Those are always the first ones he asks, because if one is a yes, it totally changes how the aftercare of a drop needs to go.

“Thank you,” he says, his thumb gently rubbing Tobio’s cheek and jaw.

“You're doing so good,” he whispers.

Tobio physically recoils and turns his face away. It's true, Tobio is doing so well. Atsumu isn't sure what kind of war is panning out inside of the setter, but from the outside he can tell it's a beast.

Atsumu takes a moment to run through the remaining possibilities. Sometimes people drop physically, the chemicals in their body and mind suddenly shift and it brings the system crashing down. Sometimes, like with Shoyo, there is always a mental component. The voice in the sub’s head. It can say some of the cruelest and most pointedly devistating things.

Knowing what he does about Tobio, what is that voice making him hear? What mental torment is making Tobio cry like this?

“You didn't hurt him,” Atsumu says, watching Tobio’s reaction carefully. The man curls in on himself, his whole body shaking. Atsumu’s heart aches, oh baby, “You didn't hurt him,” Atsumu says again, taking the other setter fully in his arms and holding him.

“I was keeping an eye on him the whole time. It was your job to let go, and you did so beautifully hun,” Atsumu really holds Tobio to him, enveloping the man as he cries, “You made him feel so good, you gave him everything he wanted.”

Tobio whines from where he is buried into Atsumu. “You were so perfect, fuck Ive never seen Shoyo that blissed out before.”

Tobio grips his arm hard. “I didn't do anything,” he chokes out.

Oh baby- Atsumu coaxes Tobio out from against his chest, and gently holds his cheek.

“You did,” he says quietly, wiping some of the tears off of Tobio’s face, “you really did.”

“Letting go like that isn't easy, and it's not nothing. You’d never say that about Shoyo.”

Tobio keeps his eyes shut but his bottom lip trembles.

Atsumu watches his face. The tears, the quiet hiccuping breaths, the way he shakes with the effort of holding it all inside.

Atsumu’s stomach twists in a new way. He's going to lose Shoyo. He's going to lose Shoyo to Tobio. Maybe not all at once. But it will happen. It bites more than Atsumu thought it would.

“Tobio,” he says gently, “you have to let go.”

Finally Tobio’s eyes open, they are bloodshot and full of more unshed tears.

“Let go of the fear that you're not what he wants.”

Tobio’s eyebrows furrow. The reaction makes Atsumu smile, all the while his heart aches.

“Shoyo is pretty sure of himself, always has been, yeah?”

Tobio’s jaw sets.

“Trust him,” Atsumu holds Tobio’s face in place and keeps the eye contact, “Trust that he wants you.”

Atsumu can feel the muscles in Tobio’s jaw clench tight.

“Let go,” Atsumu whispers.

Atsumu watches Tobio’s eyes refill with new tears until he looks away. Atsumu can feel the shift in Tobio’s body and energy. Atsumu lets go of Tobio’s face, giving one last sweep of his thumb over Tobio’s cheek.

“Shoyo, can you come around front?” Atsumu pushed down the ache in his chest. “I'm gonna let’ya have some time, I'll get food.”

Shoyo nimbly climbs over Tobio’s body and assumes Atsumu’s spot. Atsumu sits back and watches Shoyo wrap his arms around Tobio and hold him close.

“I'll just be down the hall, love” Atsumu says as Shoyo gets settled.

“Thank you Atsu,” Shoyo says glancing over his shoulder to look directly at him, “thank you.”

“Of course,” Atsumu holds back the urge to pet Shoyo’s head or kiss his cheek. He climbs off the bed, to the sound of Shoyo whispering quietly to Tobio.

It feels wrong, but he makes himself leave the room. Once his back is against the closed door he lets the tears fall. A hand pressed to his mouth to ensure that he is quiet.

Shoyo was never his. But fuck he didn't think it would hurt this much.

…

Atsumu is startled when two arms wrap around his waist. He had been absentmindedly pushing things around in a pan for a few minutes. He can't quite get the ache in his chest to dispel.

“Hey,” Shoyo says gently. They stand there, Shoyo resting his head against Atsumu’s back, “When are we going to take care of you?”

Atsumu closes his eyes, “I don't think I need anything, I’m really-”

“Atsu,” Shoyo interrupts. The somber tone of his voice does make Atsumu shut up.

“You dommed for several sessions in a row, and I could tell his drop got to you.”

Atsumu turns off the stove and rotates in Shoyo’s grasp to wrap his arms around the spiker. He should have known he wasn't going to get away with no aftercare. He tips his head to rest on top of Shoyo’s.

“How is he doing?”

“He's okay, still kind of out of it, but the time together helped. He's showering now.”

Atsumu hums and kisses the top of Shoyo’s head.

“What got to you about his drop?”

Atsumu breathes out in frustration. He doesn't really want to talk about it. Which means he needs to.

“Will you help me finish the food while we talk?” Shoyo nods and steps back. He looks up into Atsumu’s eyes with unnerving clarity. Like he already knows exactly what got to Atsumu about the drop.

“Here,” Atsumu says, turning away from the intensity, “this needs ta’ be chopped” Shoyo saddles in beside him, keeping their shoulders in contact as they each work. It makes it a little hard to keep cooking, but Atsumu is also thankful for the contact.

“It was the usual doubts,” Atsumu keeps his eyes in the reheating pan, “That I didn't take good enough care, or I went too far- you know, the usual.”

“I'm glad he was able to answer your questions,” Shoyo says.

“Yeah,” Atsumu nods.

“Atsu,” Shoyo says, leaning slightly into where their shoulders are connected, “What is still hurting you?”

His throat tightens. You. Losing you. Losing you but still having to see you everyday at work. Until we retire and then, you'll just be gone.

“M’probly just tired.” It's not even a good lie.

Shoyo puts down the knife and looks up at him. Atsumu can't help but look back.

“Please don't shut me out,” Shoyo says it so earnestly it hurts.

How can he say it? How can he explain how his heart has been slowly breaking for the past hour? How can he explain how sad he is?

“Have you and Tobio really talked yet?”

Shoyo’s head tilts a little as he thinks, “about…?”

Atsumu’s throat is tight, he glances back at the pan and moves the food around on the heat, “about the future and-” he swallows past the lump in his throat, “-and all that.”

Shoyo is quiet. Atsumu just keeps stirring.

Shoyo takes his hand, puts the spoon down and turns him to face the spiker.

Shoyo’s mouth opens and closes without a word, like he's searching for the right ones.

“You're not-” he shakes his head and starts again, “I'm not gonna drop you, you know that right?”

The lump in Atsumu’s throat grows. Shoyo says that now, but in a few months once he's had some real time with Tobio…

“I-” Shoyo’s voice cracks, “I don't know how to explain it, but it feels like I need you too, if that's- if that's something you want.”

Atsumu truly isn't sure how to respond- to be frank he's not fully sure what Shoyo is asking.

Shoyo puts his free hand into his hair, “I mean, I know it's unconventional, and like, not really accepted. We wouldn't have to tell people if you- God I mean, that's if you even want - I just, I can't really deal with losing you, or him, and I - god is sounds so fucking selfish, but I want you, and I understand if thats not, I don't know, like okay with you, but, I really don't want to lose you. Fuck,” Shoyo drops Atsumu’s hand and buries his face into his own. “I don't fucking know,” he says into his hands. Shouo’s shoulder hunch up, the tell tale sign that he's crying, “please don't make me choose between you.”

“Oh baby,” relief floods through Atsumu as he folds the spiker into his arms. “No, I wouldn't, not unless he hurts you.”

Shoyo chuckles through the tears, his voice muffled by Atsumu’s body, “he better not.”

“He’d better not,” Atsumu echos, glancing over to see that the food is absolutely burnt.

Cooking was ambitious anyway. He turns off the stove and pushes the pan off the burner. He goes back to holding Shoyo who quietly cries in his arms. No, I won't make you choose, Atsumu thinks. Because deep down, he really just wants Shoyo to feel loved. And Tobio really does love him. And…maybe Atsumu will love Tobio.

Shoyo's back shakes under Atsumu’s hands. Sho pulls far enough out of the hug for Atsumu to hear him laughing, “Jesus, we really burned that huh?”

Shoyo glances over to the pan and laughs harder, “Christ,” he faceplants into Atsumu’s chest, still laughing.

“I wouldn't even feed that to Bokuto. Are you sure your brother is a chef?”

Atsumu laughs aloud and holds Shoyo closer. Takeout it is then. Take out for 3.

Chapter Text

They find Tobio in the bedroom, scrolling on his phone. He glances up to meet their eyes before quickly looking back down to his phone. Shoyo climbs onto the bed, placing the crinkling bag of delivered takeout in front of the setter.

He then climbs around the back of Tobio to hold him from behind, peppering kisses along his naked shoulder.

It still stings a little - but not as much. Shoyo has never once lied to him. Atsumu settles on the bed, and lays out the plates. When Shoyo showers after eating Atsumu’ll strip the bed, reset it and then shower himself.

He starts to open the various containers, hoping at least one of them entices Tobio to eat. It all smells amazing. He hadn't realized how hungry he was. Apparently they are already well into the afternoon.

He can't help how his mouth waters as he starts portioning some out for himself. Sometimes he doesn't realize he's hungry, or tired, or overstimulated. It's something that's hard about the headspace domming puts him in. It's easy to let his own needs, especially the bodily ones, fall to the wayside.

There was once - he had his hand contorted to be able to reach Shoyo and keep going, and he didn't even realize till after that he had seriously over extended a muscle in his forearm. He didn't at all feel the pain until Shoyo was curled up against him nearly asleep.

Sometimes it's that you physically don't feel it. Sometimes it's that you mentally don't pay attention to it. Sometimes it's both.

He glances up at Shoyo, still kissing Tobio’s shoulder. His spiker must be hungry. It's a fact. He scans the containers of food and pushes one towards Tobio, “this is the one Sho picked.”

Tobio nods and starts mechanically putting it onto a plate. Atsumu bites his inner cheek as he watches. Once the food is ready Shoyo adjusts so that he can physically eat while still being practically glued to his setter.

The spikers moans at the first mouthful and Atsumu smiles.

“Oh Tobio, you've got to try this,” and just like that, Shoyo has gotten Tobio to eat. Atsumu lets himself start next. Fuck, post sex food is always so fucking good.

They eat quietly, except for Shoyo's comments as he tries everything.

Atsumu can't help but watch Shoyo eat. Luckily the spiker is pretty used to it and just continues on as normal. Sweat has dried his longer hair into funny positions on his head. He wonders if Shoyo will cut his hair soon.

He reaches out and runs his fingers through the orange hair trying to settle it. “Oh, is it bad?” Shoyo asks, his own hand coming up to feel it.

“It's perfect,” Atsumu says, still trying to squash a lock that refuses to lie down properly.”

Tobio turns and scans the situation, “it's pretty bad,” he deadpans.

After a beat Shoyo is laughing and nuzzling his face into Tobio’s neck, “I missed you.”

Tobio stiffens for a moment, before quietly saying, “I missed you too.”

Hmmm, maybe these two need a little more time. “I'm gonna hop in the shower. When I'm done I was gonna change the sheets so don't worry about getting food on ‘em”

He leans in to kiss Shoyo’s cheek. He leaves his lips there for a moment, his fingers curling into the long hair at the nape of his neck, before leaning back to climb off the bed completely.

Shower, reset bed, then…well…Atsumu is sure they will figure it out.

…

He's got a few electrolyte drinks under his arm, along with a new set of bed linens. He manages to turn the door handle without everything coming out of his grasp.

And fuck. He just stands in the doorway for a second taking in the scene. Shoyo, kneeling, legs spread on either side of Tobio’s hips, hovering over top of Tobio. Atsumu quickly glances around and locates the food, neatly put to the side, and not on the bed. He goes back to watching Shoyo and Tobio kiss. Their movements are slow, each angling their heads together to connect deeper. Tobio has his hands on the bed, but every few seconds they twitch like he wants to be touching Sho.

Atsumu knows how easy it is to get lost on Shoyo's lips. Shoyo moans and shifts his body forwards, further crowding into Tobio.

Menaces. Both of them. Atsumu shifts the bedding under his free arm and tosses the bottles onto the bed. Shoyo glances at them and groans. Not the sexy fun groan either.

“You know the drill,” Atsumu says, watching Shoyo sit back into Tobio’s thighs, “if you're gonna go round-to-round like this you gotta hydrate.” He steps to the edge of the bed and gives Shoyo a peck on the lips, “And just think of how good it's going to feel to get fucked on a clean bed.”

The words add intensity to Shoyo’s gaze. Atsumu smiles, loving the reaction.

Atsumu glances down to Tobio, letting his gaze linger momentarily on where the man is hard in his shorts. He looks back to Shoyo.

“Shoyo, drink up, then shower.”

Shoyo starts to whine, and Atsumu silences him with his own kiss and says, “You can be quick.”

Shoyo knows there isn't a way around this. Especially hydrating. He picks up the bottle, tilting both it and his mouth upwards. He drinks, not taking time to breathe, just swallowing again and again…and again. Fuck…Atsumu watches his adam’s apple bob. He never should have taught Sho how to shotgun.

The spiker brings the empty bottle away from his mouth with a gasp and hands it to Atsumu. A nearly smug smile on his face.

“Thank you love,” Atsumu forces his voice to stay gentle, even though he sees the very edges of a part of Shoyo he loves.

“Just a shower then?” Shoyo asks coyly.

“Just get nice and clean for us to ruin you again.”

Shoyo remains unshaken by the comment and hums gently before he says,

“We’ll see.” Shoyo hops off of Tobio’s thighs and heads out of the room.

Holy fuck. Once Atsumu hears the bathroom door close he exhales. He's so fucked.

Tobio sits up, “do you need help with-”

Atsumu holds up a hand, “I-hold on, I need a sec.” If Shoyo maintains this after his shower…they really are all fucked.

Atsumu passes the next bottle over to Tobio and picks up the last for himself. If it does go that way, he really will need the hydration.

Tobio helps him strip and reset the bedding.

With all of the tasks out of the way, he and Tobio are left to wait. So much for a quick shower.

Atsumu sits down and starts stretching. Might as well, he works on his arms and shoulders first, all the while feeling the anxious presence of Tobio behind him.

“What hard no’s do you have?” Really he should have asked this sooner. All the times Shoyo and him talked about inviting Tobio in, somehow they didn't expect it to result in back-to-back sessions, each one more intense than the last.

It's time they hash some of this out, especially if everything they do from now on is working on building trust in a long term Sub/Dom relationship. That thought makes Atsumu’s stomach flip. Somehow, he would up in a poly relationship…with Tobio fucking Kagyama of all people.

Exactly as fucking tall as him…definitely as fucking strong as him. His rival…let Atsumu…hold him back like an animal…because he was trying to thrust into Shoyo’s pretty mouth.

That man, this fucking man, let Atsumu strip him down to his core. The understanding makes Atsumu’s mouth feel dry.

Tobio’s hesitant voice brings Atsumu back to reality. To the question he had just asked.

“Um, I cant- I don't want to hurt him, physically.”

Atsumu lays back onto the bed, arms bent to place his hands under his head. He closes his eyes, “You can say ‘can’t’ you know,” Atsumu asserts, “if ya can’t you can’t. If you can and don’t wanna, that's also fine. You can say what it is, no need for sugarcoating here.”

“Alright,” Tobio says dryly, “I can't hurt him.”

“What about deny him?”

It's a fair question, no physical hurt is one thing, causing just enough emotional distress to heighten the sensations…that’s another. And Atsumu knows how deeply Shoyo loves it. How he loves to be told no, to be made to wait, to earn the final orgasm.

Pretty early on Shoyo figured out how to finish dry. Purely for the ability to let Atsumu force him to orgasm more times. He learned how to trick his body so he could be better used. Fuck Atsumu is so lucky. He loves his spiker. He loves his opposite hitter. He loves how much of a fucking perfect slut Shoyo can be.

They used Shoyo’s physical ability to truly push him limits. To put him so deep, keeping him in that blissful subbed out state for hours. He can get to places where the orgasms don't stop and he writhes against Atsumu’s fingers endlessly. Like his body was made to feel intense pleasure.

It's fucking incredible, it gives Atsumu such an intense dom high. He can only describe it as feeling like he's truly there. Never more present and attuned than in that headspace. It's euphoric.

Atsumu needs to know if Tobio is green for that kind of emotional distress, like providing edging or overstim, to eventually get the other person into that deep deep place. Will Tobio be able to hear Shoyo beg and keep denying him? Will he be able to hear the choked whines and desperate pleas? And say, ‘No, baby, no you can't.’

Just thinking about it is making Atsumu's chest flushed. The question hangs between the two men.

“I'm not sure I could handle him crying,” Tobio admits.

Atsumu gets it. It's a hard one to swallow when tears have previously always meant pain. It's hard to understand that one’s body could just be so overwhelmed that it releases. That all the feeling and emotion that gets packed into the corners and crevices so that the person can go about their day, the release of intense subbing just forces it all out, until you're crying because you feel relieved.

Crying just signifies intense feelings. In this case, good but intense.

“What if he's crying but colors green? Your answer doesn't have to change, I'm just curious if that shifts anything for you.”

Atsumu keeps his eyes closed as he lays back. Honestly all he wants to do is touch where he's half-hard in his pants. Just thinking about doing those things to Sho-

“I think if I trusted his green, I would want to continue.”

Atsumu nods.

“There aren't any specific acts or positions that are ‘no's,” Tobio says when Atsumu doesn't press further.

“What about using your mouth?”

“I'd…like to,” Tobio says quietly.

Atsumu smirks, “Does it matter whose it is?”

“No,” Tobio says breathlessly.

Tobio admitting that is starting to push Atsumu further into the dom headspace.

Atsumu honestly had been expecting Tobio to say he only wanted to use his mouth on Sho.

“Anything for you?” Tobio asks.

Atsumu doesn't think Tobio will have many, possibly not any chances to dictate how things play out, but it's really good of him to still ask.”

“No blood, no marks on me,” Atsumu says, mentally scanning his own preferences - it's been a while since he’s had to discuss it with someone new - “I don't want to be restrained, gags included.” Atsumu might as well give the actual ones if this is to be a regular thing.

That about sums it up, most other things Atsumu can enjoy or is willing to try.

There is one last thing…

“Hey, Tobio?”

“Hmm?”

“Just this one time, and I truly mean, this one time, can you try to hold off on being a bit…bratty? I actually love that aspect of our dynamic that we still have to explore, but I think Shoyo is gonna come in here hot and bratty and I can really only handle him right now. If you both went that way…” I'd be fucked…Atsumu mentally tucks that concept away for later. Two brats, tugging him back and forth until they break, or he breaks.

“Just this once,” Atsumu reiterates, trying to make it clear that he actually really likes that part of Tobio.

“Huh, you really think he will?” Tobio asks

Atsumu’s eyebrow quirks up. Did Tobio not pick up on any of that? Huh…

“I'm pretty sure,” Atsumu says, sitting up onto his forearms. If he knows Sho, the spiker is gonna come back in here, undress in front of Atsumu, make a show of his ass as he gets clothes that will immediately be taken back off. And then he's gonna climb onto this bed and…

Well, from there is anyone’s guess.

“Why can you only handle one brat?” the inflection in Tobio’s voice makes it clear he knows what he's doing.

Atsumu swears he can feel his blood pressure rise. He's not fully sure where this feeling comes from, but the frustration he feels upon hearing Tobio’s mocking tone, transforms so beautifully into the desire to take this man apart sexually, brick by brick.

Atsumu sits up and puts himself in Tobio’s lap. The man had been sitting upright, so now Atsumu is too. He relishes the look of surprise on Tobio’s face until his chin and jaw are held tightly in Atsumu’s hand.

“Don't,” he warns, looking directly into Tobio's eyes. The rival setter blinks.

“Dont, if you want the chance to fuck him tonight.” Atsumu can't withhold forever, it's not like that anymore. But he can shut this down for tonight, if that's what it takes for Tobio to learn how to listen.

Tobio swallows and keeps eye contact.

He slots his face next to Tobio’s ear, “and if you want to use your mouth on him.”

Atsumu lets Tobio’s wheels spin.

“Okay,” Tobio whispers, “I'll reign it in.”

“Thank you,” Atuamu says, genuinely relieved. He leans back, sitting with some space between them now.

“Imagine if Shoyo came in now?” Atsumu says with a pointed glance down to where Tobio is half hard still in his shorts. He raises a hand up to play with the hair at the nape of Tobio’s neck. He knows it must be so sensitive. Tobio suppresses the shiver that tries to run through him.

“What would he think?” Atsumu wonders aloud, “Would he find it hot?” Atsumu shifts his weight to sit even higher up on Tobio's legs, “Would he be jealous?”

The sharp intake of breath tells Atsumu just how much the idea is affecting Tobio.

Atsumu angles his hips to tuck them back and then rolls them up. He's not actually lined up with Tobio, so the gesture feels empty. Like it's missing that connection, the drive to chase the orgasm together. To press themselves into the other.

“Do you want to find out?” Atsumu holds himself back, needing the confirmation that he's reading the room correctly before he continues.

“Yes,” Tobio breathes.

Chapter Text

Atsumu pushes down on Tobio’s shoulders until his back hit the bed. He thumps down, jostling Atsumu in the process. Atsumu leans over to hover atop of him.

He looks for a moment, watching Tobio. The man seems a little unsure, but not scared. Atsumu lowers his mouth until he's just a breath away. His lips tingle with the anticipation of what is next.

“Would he be jealous of how much attention I'm giving you?”

He feels Tobio breathe out.

“How would he feel, seeing me on top of you like this?” he pauses, feeling how close he truly is to kissing Tobio, “seeing how you let me…”

Tobio's face is blushed. Atsumu leans in a little closer, just the edges of their lips grazing each other, “what if he watched?”

A short, quiet whine catches in Tobio’s throat. His breathing has grown a bit heavier.

“Can I kiss you?”

Tobio nods and starts to arch his head up to reach.

“Ah-ah,” Atusmu pulls away an inch, “Use your words sweetheart.”

After a moment Tobio says “Yes, kiss me,” he tries to lean up into it again but Atsumu places a hand on his upper chest to hold him down.

“I'm kissing you,” Atsumu reminds him, “be good and just lay there for me.”

He feels Tobio relax under him, limbs going slack to rest against the bed. His head stays in place but Tobio lets out a deep sigh and closes his eyes.

“Just think,” Atsumu gently presses their lips together, “He could walk in at any moment,”

Tobio whines but doesn't move. Oh - is he going to stay that still? Atsumu had just been trying to get Tobio to stop lifting his head up, he hadn't been telling the man to stop moving completely…

He kisses Tobio’s lips with a tiny bit more pressure, pulling back up to see if the setter moves. He doesn't. Atsumu closes his eyes in an attempt to calm down. It feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest.

He kisses the corner of Tobio’s mouth and works his way, peppering kisses down towards his throat. Tobio whines sharply but doesn't move.

Fuuuuuuck. Atsumu forces himself to keep going slowly, when all he truly wants is to lick into Tobio’s mouth and find out if he's going to stay still there as well.

…

At first it was hard to stay still. Tobio felt like he was having to focus on each part of his body to actually control it. After a few minutes of Atsumu using his tongue to explore Tobio’s mouth, his body naturally relaxed into it.

He lets his voice go though, moaning and whining as Atsumu explores him. His wet tongue runs along Tobio’s teeth and over his own tongue.

“You're just letting me drool all over you,” Atsumu whispers before kissing wetly over Tobio’s open lips. An ungodly sound comes out of Tobio’s throat.

“That's it baby, you want more?”

Tobio’s body nods before he can tell it not to. Atsumu doesn't seem to mind, going right back to kissing Tobio.

“Fuck,” Atsumu moans, “Kiss me back Tobio, let me feel you,” the words take a moment to fully register, and then Tobio’s body slowly wakes up from his deep relaxation. Tobio becomes more aware of how hard he is between his legs. And he's also becoming aware of how when Atsumu moves a certain way Tobio can feel how hard he is.

Tobio’s mouth starts to participate back, he runs his tongue up the length of Atsumu. It feels so wet, the sounds of their mouths moving together all Tobio can hear. When Atsumu moans, sucking around Tobio’s tongue…Tobio can't help but imagine - blonde hair between Tobio’s legs, tongue playing with - Tobio’s hips jump at the vision, Atsumu’s lips wrapped around Tobio.

Tobio thrusts up, seeking any sensation against where he is hard.

Atsumu tsks and uses a hand to firmly hold Tobio’s hip to the bed. It drives Tobio fucking wild. He reaches his neck up to try and get closer to Atsumu’s mouth. The man indulges him but keeps his hip pushed down. Despite the pressure Tobio bucks against the hold, wanting to feel his cock brush against Atsumu's body again.

“Needy,” Atsumu murmurs in between breaths, “isn't he?”

Tobio, so lost in all of the sensations, barely hears him and just moans in response.

“Fuck, let me in there,” Shoyo’s voice cuts through it all. How long has he been here?

“I'm not done,” Atsumu says, licking along Tobio’s open lips.

Tobio opens his eyes and locates Shoyo, hair wet and dark, droplets still clinging to his chest, like he did not properly towel off. Tobio instinctively moves towards Shoyo, a hand on his throat stops him short. The hand doesn't apply unnecessary pressure, but it does command Tobio’s attention. He looks up at Atsumu.

“I'm not done with you,” his tone leaves no wiggle room, “stay still.”

Tobio’s eyes widen and he glances to Sho and back to Atsumu. The air goes hot, as everybody waits for someone to push back. There is a part of Tobio that now understands why Atuamu told him to hold back the defiance. It - it almost feels like a tightrope that they are all walking.

His eyes shift over to Shoyo who is staring at Atsumu, one knee on the bed, one leg still on the ground. Atsumu's thumb idly pets Tobio’s throat while still keeping his whole hand around it.

Shoyo smirks, glances down briefly and finishes climbing into the bed to sit beside Tobio.

Shoyo’s fingers card through his dark hair, “Well don't let me stop you then,” his fingernails scrape down Tobio’s scalp, making his spine bend against Atsumu’s body. The blonde setter still has a hand holding his hip down, so they all just watch him struggle without actually moving.

“I was just starting to enjoy the show,” his nails dig into Tobio’s skin under his hair. Tobio winces, again held down to the bed while his body reacts.

Atsumu is uncharacteristically quiet, just keeping a firm hold on Tobio’s hip and throat. It's dizzying, this new tension. Like Atsumu is a wild animal that Shoyo is choosing to provoke.

Shoyo pulls on Tobio’s hair, forcing his forehead down towards the bed, his chin jutting up instead.

“Ah,” he gasps, his fingers clutching at the bedsheets.

“He’s moving quite a bit for someone who was told to be still,” Shoyo observes, leaning forwards to press on Tobio’s other hip. Tobio’s brain keeps bouncing between all the different sensations, his neck-covered with a hand, his hair pulled tight, forcing his head back, and the hands pushing his hips to the bed.

“Please,” Tobio aimlessly asks. His hips keep uselessly pressing against the force holding him down.

“Look’it, he needs you,” Shoyo’s patronizing tone is doing things to Tobio’s head. The hand around his throat is doing things to his head.

Shoyo releases his hair and brushes his fingertips along the edge of Tobio’s face until they reach his mouth.

A calloused thumb brushes along his bottom lip. Tobio whimpers at the touch.

“Fuck,” Shoyo whispers as Tobio attempts to bring the digit into his mouth.

Atsumu clears his throat, “Do you want to actually do something instead of just teasing him?”

“I'm do’in more than you-” Shoyo starts

A moan is ripped out of Tobio's lungs as Atsumu finally uses his own hips to press into Tobio. Atsumi keeps going, rhymically pressing against Tobio through their clothes. Tobio cries out, Shoyo’s thumb still pressing down on his tongue.

It's overwhelming. Both of them focused on Tobio. It's overwhelming. Tobio keeps making noise as Atsumu dry humps him into the bed.

“It's okay if you're jealous sweetheart,” Atsumu's voice is smooth as velvet. Atsumu sits up and pulls his hand back from Tobio’s throat to pat Tobio’s chest. The motion is exactly like when you try to convince a cat to jump up onto the bed with you.

Tone dripping like honey, “Come on baby, I have a treat for you,” Atsumu pats Tobio’s chest again.

“You sure you're not just passing him along to me because you can't handle it?” Shoyo swings his leg over top of Tobio’s chest, oriented so that Tobio gets to see his face, and sits his weight down on his knees.

“Hmmm,” Atsumi says thoughtfully and he wraps his bicep around Shoyo’s neck. It puts their faces side by side. Shoyo’s face goes pink, but it's clear he can still breathe.

Atsumu flexes, constricting the space Shoyo does have. The red head curses quietly, his eyelids fluttering, “Just tell me what you need me to do to him.”

…

It's the first moment of relief since Shoyo walked into the room. He had immediately dropped the towel, hand lowering to idly play with himself as Atsumu made out with Tobio.

Now he's got Shoyo sitting naked on Tobio’s chest.

There had been moments where all he could do was breathe through the energy flowing through him. It’s an energy that is visceral. It demands attention. Atsumu found himself panting as he let Shoyo spout off his mouth.

There truly is nothing like bratty Shoyo.

Atusmu keeps his arm around Shoyo’s neck, all the while grinding his hips into Tobio’s hardness. He uses his other hand to drag feather light touches along both of his sub’s sensitive sides. Shoyo hummed and shivered a little into the touch while Tobio bucked like he was being pinched.

Tobio’s stunted movements jostled both of them. He may have two men sitting on him, but Tobio is fucking strong. If he's desperate enough, he’ll move no matter who is holding him back.

Atsumu thinks about tying that man up in rope And watching him struggle against the bindings. Nowhere to go baby, you can't escape it, just sit still and take it…

He's breathing heavily into Shoyo’s ear, both of them rocking with Tobio’s aborted thrusts.

“He wants to use his mouth,” Atsumu shares with Shoyo. The spiker takes a deep breath in.

Atsumu loosens his grasp around the man’s neck, “Lean over, I'm gonna eat you out while he sucks your dick.”

“God,” Shoyo breathes out.

He bends over, putting his hands down onto the bed on either side of Tobio. Atsumu smiles, pleased with how Shoyo seems to be falling into line. He puts his hands on the spiker’s hips and urges him forwards. Shoyo complies, shifting his knees higher up so that he can actually use Tobio’s mouth.

Atsumu pulls Shoyo’s ass apart so that he gets a good view. Fuck.

Like, fuuuuck. The sight of Shoyo like this, on his knees, legs spread, his asshole on display, his cock and balls hanging down… Atsumu uses his other hand to smooth his hand over the curve of Shoyo’s ass and down his thigh. Atsumu keeps going down until he lands on Tobio’s pelvis instead. He traces his fingers over where Tobio has been straining in his shorts.

Tobio’s moan is muffled. Fuck, Atsumu glances between Shoyo’s legs to see that hes letting Tobio suck on the tip.

Atsumu glances up at the ceiling and takes a deep breath.

“Atsu~” Shoyo chimes, lowering his chest to raise his ass, wiggling it just for Atsumu.

“Yes, baby?” It takes everything in Atsumu to keep his voice calm. Because truly all he wants to do is hold Shoyo down by his waist and fucking rail him. Make him eat every bratty fucking word he’s said.

Instead he traces a finger over Shoyo’s balls, tailing down to the base of his cock.

He watches Shoyo lean even further into how he is presenting for Atsumu, “you're always making me beg,” Shoyo says, “when I know, for a fact, that you love eating me out.”

Atsumu feels his lips quirk into a smile, it's true, he does love it. He could run Shoyo for hours, and never get tired of it. In fact, he's pretty sure he has.

He uses both hands to hold Shoyo’s ass apart. He settles his body, lining up his groin with Tobio’s and gets comfortable. He kisses Shoyo’s left cheek, gripping the right one harder in his hand.

The spiker doesn't react, instead taking the time to moan Tobio’s name.

Tobio’s fucking name.

Atsumu bites down on the part of Shoyo’s ass under his mouth.

Shoyo’s body jolts but he doesnt comment on it, instead saying, “fuck, yes, just like that,” it's obvious he's still talking to Tobio.

Atsumu releases the bite and presses his forehead against Shoyo. Fuck. He knows that Shoyo is doing this to get a rise out of him. It's working. He stokes Shoyo’s backside, his insides warring with what his next step will be. He wants to use his mouth on Shoyo. He really does. But he doesn't want to give Shoyo what he wants…not like this.

Shoyo’s gasps and the wet sounds of Tobio’s mouth is too fucking much. “Fuck, baby, fuck, so good-” Shoyo's body is starting to shake.

“Ya - just gonna - let him - do all the work?” Shoyo gasps out in-between breaths.

Atsumu bites down on his tongue. He leans back, putting some space in between them. He watches Tobio lifting his head to take as much as he can into his mouth. Shoyo is keeping mostly still, likely in the hopes that Atsumu will eat him out.

Shoyo glances over his shoulder, and makes eye contact, “Fuck babe, do you need to beg for it before you let yourself have it?”

Atsumu doesn't choose to move. He pulls Shoyo’s legs further apart, stretching him out nicely. Shoyo startles, almost falling forwards with the change in balance. Atsumu grabs his waist, pushing Shoyo even lower, spreading his legs even more. He presses his chest against Shoyo’s back, covering him completely.

“Atsu, I thought-”

“Shut up,” Atsumu pushes Shoyo head down, tilting his face to the side to keep an eye on him, “You’ve been runnin’ your mouth,” he takes a breath, “You're going to stay just like this,” for extra measure he pulls on Shoyo’s hair while keeping him caged under his own body.

Shoyo keens, face wincing in discomfort.

“You're going to let us use our mouths,” he breathes in, “until you cum, dry.”

“Atsu-” Shoyo whines.

Atsumu applies pressure down on his head, pushing him into the bed, “Shut. Up.” He's barely holding it together, the waiver in his voice betraying him.

“Unless you're coloring, I don't want to hear a word out of your mouth.”

He stares at Shoyo’s face. He can't look away. He wouldn't look away for anything. Shoyo blinks, his mouth opens and closes without a word. The spikers jaw sets in defiance. He's not saying anything, but he's not exactly submitting either.

His hand moves to Shoyo’s throat and he pushes down on the side. The amount of force he is using is at the upper edge of what they do together. The muscles in Shoyo’s neck feel tight as he gasps.

“Don't act like you don't love it,” Atsumu says, continuing to watch Shoyo stay pinned to the bed.

“You've been practically begging for me to hold you down.”

Shoyo is taking in short labored breaths.

“You like it, don't you?”

Shoyo closes his mouth and struggles against the bed. Oh no you fucking don’t.

“Don't stop Tobio, you can still reach him, yeah?”

Shoyo's eyes flash open and he groans. Atta boy Tobio.

Shoyo’s eyebrows pinch together as he lays there pinned down. His mouth opens and he starts breathing quickly.

Atsumu licks his lips. Shoyo is still fighting it. He eases up on the pressure, shifting back to instead put his hands back around Shoyo’s waist.

“And just think, I had been about to work you open for Tobio to fuck you,” it's true, the plan has been to eat Shoyo out until he was begging for fingers. And then get Tobio nice and ready and subby. But now…

“Instead, now you get to cum twice, just like this, thinking about how Tobio could be inside of you by now.”

“Bu-” Shoyo cuts himself off.

“But? But what darling?” Atsumu knows it's bordering on cruel. He's gearing up to actually check in with Shoyo before he finally gets to feast on his ass.

Shoyo doesn't respond. He doesn't respond because one orgasm has already turned into two. And he doesn't want it to turn into three. He wants Tobio to fuck him. He wants to watch Atsumu fuck Tobio.

Atsumu tightens his grip on Shoyo's waist. He loves how big his hands feel around the smaller man.

“You just want to be treated like the slut you are, isn't that right love?”

Shoyo whines but doesn't respond.

Atsumu licks his lips, anticipating finally getting to press his face up between Shoyo's cheeks.

He yanks back on Shoyo’s waist, pulling him backwards until he's practically sitting in Atsumu’s lap, still on his knees. It takes him a moment to balance after being manhandled.

“This is how you want to be treated, isn't it?” Atsumu asks into his ear, holding him tightly by the waist, “Like a pretty little toy? Like a hungry slut that needs to be held down and used? Is that it?”

Shoyo bites down onto his bottom lip.

“Tell me your color, tell me if you want this.”

Shoyo huffs out a breath, leaning his head back against Atsumu.

“If you want me to use you like you deserve, all you have to say is one little word.”

Atsumu waits, his mouth watering. He wants to feel Shoyo clench around his tongue as he comes dry.

“Green,” Shoyo whispers.

“Louder, he needs to hear it too. He needs to know what a desperate slut he’s in love with.”

Shoyo is nearly vibrating now, “Green,” he says louder.

“As you wish my darling,” Atsumu pushes Shoyo back over, forcing his face into the bed, “Stay,” he finally sits back down, spreads Shoyo open and brings his face in between those beautiful fucking muscular cheeks. He licks up from the balls over his twitching hole. Fuck, Atsumu breathes in deeply, and dives in.

Chapter Text

His knees ache. And his hips. He barely notices, only able to feel two mouths on him. His upper half is collapsed against the bed, arms up above him, helping him muffle himself. Each time he accidentally moaned out a half-formed word Atsumu sat back and hit his ass. Hard. The pain has pushed him so deep that all he can think to do is keep his own arm against his mouth in the hopes that it blocks anything that might sound like a word.

He strains to keep his back arched so that his hips are angled correctly. Whenever he starts to slip further down towards the bed Atsumu bites him.

Shoyo has no clue how long it has been. He's already orgasmed once. Dry, like Atsumu told him too. Working up the second is taking longer. The bed is wet under Shoyo’s mouth. He opens his eyes and looks ahead, continuously moaning into his arm. What if he can't finish a second time? What will happen? What if he takes so long that they get bored?

Tobio takes him deeper, his mouth making such fucking messy noises. Shoyo pants and groans. He's been stuck here for what feels like forever. He's fucking drowning in pleasure but he can't seem to get it to be sharp enough to orgasm. He’s too fucking blissed out to come.

A part of him doesn't give a single fuck. Let them keep going. Let them keep going until Shoyo’s body truly collapses. Let him suffer the consequences. Let Atsumu smack his ass raw.

The other part of him…knows he's taking too long. Knows he's failing to deliver what Atsumu told him to do. The pleasure turns sharp, but in all the wrong ways. The other two just keep going, as Shoyo cries, gasping and moaning. He needs, he needs, he -

“Stop,” his own arm obstructs the sound. He hadn't moved it before trying to talk. He feels Atsumu lean back and panic grips Shoyo tight. He’s about to get hit. He pulls his mouth away from his arm.

“Yellow! Yellow,” he says, bracing himself for impact. His body stays tense, even when the hit doesn't come. He's breathing too fast.

“Take your time,” is all Atsumy says. It's his gentle voice. More tears overwhelm Shoyo's eyes. In relief this time. Shoyo nods, and relaxes a bit. His hips really do hurt.

“Can-” he stops, he's not allowed to talk.

But you colored, another voice in his head says. He did… “Can I sit?” he asks.

“Mhmm,” Atsumu gently holds his hips and guides him back until he is sitting on Tobio’s legs. Oh, Tobio. It's the first looks he's really gotten at the man since he was pushed down face first. Tobio’s mouth is covered in spit, and he's flushed pink.

Shoyo sighs and tries to stretch out his legs. It hurts. They feel locked into place. He whines as he has to use his hands to finally get them to move and straighten out. Fuck. He sags back, leaning against Atsumu’s chest, as he rubs at the muscles in his upper leg.

Atsumu puts his arms on either side of Shoyo, not quite holding him, but bracing him in.

Shoyo’s brain is still cloudy. It's hard to fully even understand how he got here. He plays back what he can remember. Oh…

“I wasn't gonna be able to-” Shoyo fights through his heaving chest to talk, “not a second time.”

“That's okay,” Atsumu reassures, “was it hurting too much?”

Shoyo shakes his head. Now that the panic is gone he seems to be mostly still under. Everything feels slow inside of him, but fast on the outside. Like Atsumu is living at a faster frame rate.

“Was too blissed out,” Shoyo admits, sagging further into Atsumu.

“Oh,” Atsumu says a little breathlessly, “you got there already?”

Shoyo nods. Settled against Atsumu with his legs straightened out, desire seeps back into Shoyo’s body. He can feel how hard Atsumu is behind him. He can't stop looking at Tobio's messy face.

“Will you please get me ready?” He doesn't mean for his voice to come out all needy and sweet. It does anyway. He looks up to Atsumu. The setter looks back at him, his appraising eyes running over all of Shoyo's face.

“If that's what you want,” Atsumu says carefully.

Shoyo turns back to Tobio, feeling like he can barely keep his eyes open.

“I do, I still want what we discussed,” he wets his lips, “just please don't ask me to come, I'm not sure I can.”

Atsumu curls a hand up to pet Shoyo’s cheek, “You did so good,” Atsumu whispers.

Shoyo nods, eyes closed.

“I'm going to give you whatever you want my love,” Atsumu’s fingers go into Shoyo’s hair. If Shoyo could purr, he would.

“Just want to be used,” Shoyo says.

“You will be,” Atsumu assures.

Shoyo feels his whole body relax. All of the brat and defiance gone from him.

“Tell me how,” Shoyo says, letting his brain fully fall back into subspace. It feels like it's truly where he belongs.

…

Shoyo lays on his back, his legs hooked around Tobio’s arms. It's nice, not having to hold his own legs back. Tobio kisses him. Like really kisses him. Shoyo kisses back as much as he can in his state. It's mostly just him moaning into Tobio’s mouth.

Atsumu is using his mouth on Shoyo, driving him back into that overwhelmed and blissful place. The setter also has a finger circling around where his mouth is working, teasing Shoyo, keeping him wondering when Atsumu will finally push inside.

Shoyo clings to Tobio, accidentally digging his fingers in when he's overwhelmed by the sensations.

“How’s he doing Tobio?” Atsumu asks.

“Mmmm,” Tobio tries to pull away but Shoyo arches to stay kissing. Tobio gently pushes him back down, “so fucking good,” he says.

Shoyo feels his whole body go hot under the praise. He turns his face away, finding the attention to be overwhelming.

Tobio's lips find his neck and he gasps, hands threading into Tobio’s hair to hold him there. Tobio licks up the column of his neck as Atsumu just barely starts to enter Shoyo with his finger.

“Ngggh-” Shoyo’s body bows as Atsumu goes deeper. He’s been holding back from talking, not because Atsumu asked him to, but because he's chasing that feeling of being good. Of listening. Of doing as he's told. Atsumu angles his finger, something so practiced and easy for them now. It does not detract from how good it feels when Atsumu presses against his prostate.

Atsumu’s tongue enters along with his finger. The act sets all of the sensitive nerve endings at his entrance ablaze. He wants to beg. Tobio keeps lovingly sucking on Shoyo's neck.

Atsumu pulls his tongue out and kisses all around where his finger slowly fucks rhymically into Shoyo. Tobio shifts above Shoyo, his legs adjusting on either side.

Atsumu pulls away completely, never slowing or stopping his finger inside of Shoyo.

Shoyo vaguely tracks Atsumu’s movements as he leans over Tobio. The rival setter is pulled back by his hair until he is hovering over Shoyo, holding himself up by his fingertips. Tobio gasps at the pain of being wretched up like that. Shoyo turns his head to watch, his mind blissfully coasting on Atsumu’s relentless attention to his prostate.

Atsumu’s eyes are on him, even when he's speaking into Tobio’s ear. It's an intense gaze that makes Shoyo squirm and clench around the single finger inside of him.

Shoyo watches Tobio breathlessly nod in response, his eyes also locked onto Shoyo. Both of them just looking down at him, as he squirms and pants. He wants to turn away from all of the attention. But even if he turned he would still know.

Tobio is dropped and he uses his forearms to catch the descent until he is back on top of Shoyo. Tobio immediately nuzzles into Shoyo's neck, pushing his face to the side so that Tobio can go back to licking and kissing his sensitive throat.

Shoyo sighs and breathes out, letting himself enjoy being used by the both of them.

Tobio tenses, his body flexing forwards into Shoyo as he groans low and deep. Shoyo blinks, his neck still under Tobio’s mouth.

Tobio moans again, the sound pitching high and needy at the end. Right into Shoyo’s ear. It - it doesn't really make sense. Shoyo’s body has been riding a constant wave of pleasure from the prostate massage. And even from before, he’s too blissed out to orgasm. His job is just to enjoy it and sink as deep as feels safe. But…he's not sure why Tobio is moaning like that.

“Lower your hips all the way,” Atsumu’s steady voice sends energy down the back of Shoyo’s neck. His eyebrows pinch together as he tries to figure out how to let his hips down. They are already on the bed. Then Tobio lowers himself, until their hips are perfectly matched together. Ooooh.

Tobio jolts a little, whining into Shoyo's ear as their dicks press together. “That's it baby,” Atsumu praises and Tobio presses his body even harder to Shoyo's

“Show him how bad you need it,” Atsumu says.

Tobio is also panting now, his hips writhing endlessly. Just consistently grinding into Shoyo.

It's under the full weight of Tobio’s writhing body that Shoyo realizes, Atsumu is fingering Tobio too. The knowledge, and subsequent writhing that has Tobio humping against him makes Shoyo’s body burn red hot.

Every press of their aching cocks makes him want to wail. Closer. More. Please.

He keeps almost starting to say something, the sounds to form words getting stuck in his throat. His pelvis is starting to go tight.

Oh fuck, Shoyo thinks as he realizes he’s actually building up to another orgasm. It's too much. His hips start to jerk, body twisting under Tobio’s weight. It's so full, and so long in the making - the feelings building up inside of him are overwhelming. Almost scary. But he's done this enough times with Atsumu that he knows better than to be afraid. It's the scary ones that end up truly breaking you open to pleasure.

“ ‘M-close” he gasps as his body keeps trying to buck up Tobio.

Atsumu sucks on his teeth as Tobio continues to whimper into Shoyo’s neck.

“What is it sweetheart? Is it how he's hump’in ya? Is that what finally got to you?”

The comment pushes him even closer. He's seconds away to being lost in the current of chasing the orgasm to its finish.

He grabs onto Tobio’s back, his blunt fingernails digging into his skin.

“What if I told you no?” Atsumu asks, his voice cold.

Shoyo’s eyes open, he's nearly lost to the sensations, unable to actually hold it all back. It feels like he's being ripped in two different directions as he clenches everything in his pelvis to hold it off.

Atsumu’s finger pulls out and Shoyo’s eyes fill with tears. The overwhelming swell of the potential orgasm slowly fades into a needy hum. Shoyo stares at the wall as Tobio continues writhing against him, whimpering and moaning for more. Shoyo's breath hitches in his chest as he comes to terms with what Atsumu just withheld from him. It was going to be such a fucking good orgasm.

“Let's save that orgasm for when he’s inside of you,” Atsumu says, petting Shoyo’s thigh like he does actually understand how cruel that was. Shoyo nods as a few tears leak from his eyes. He feels so empty. He wiggles his ass as much as he can and clenches on nothing, hoping that it will help entice Atsumu to be inside of him again.

“Oh baby, is there something you need?”

Don't do this, not now, please. Shoyo whines, trying to conjure his ability to speak.

He hears and then feels Atsumu spit on his entrance. You know - you know what I need, please.

“Tell me baby,” Atsumu spreads the spit around his hole. Dazed, Shoyo just lays there, as Atsumu plays with his wet ass.

Tobio tenses above him, an urgent noise catching in his throat.

“Fuck, Tobio is already up to three,” Atsumu comments.

Shoyo’s face burns hot with the knowledge that this whole time Atsumu was fucking Tobio open…but not him. The jealousy gets his voice working.

“Please-” Shoyo begs as Atsumu presses ever so slightly against his clenching entrance, “do me too-”

Atsumu keeps playing with his spit covered hole for a few tense seconds, “No princess.”

Shoyo turns as far away as he can with Tobio on top of him, still jerking and humping backwards in time with whatever Atusmu must be doing.

Why? The question draws out in his own mind as Tobio grinds down onto him.

As if Atsumu knew it would be too hard to swallow he keeps talking, “I figured you'd want to feel yourself stretch out on his cock.”

Fuck. Fuuuuck. Yes. Yes, Shoyo does want that. The weight of Tobio on Shoyo’s chest is relieved. The rival setter is pulled up by his hair once more.

“Wanna feel every inch of him?” It's unclear if the question is for Tobio of Shoyo. Its Tobio who manages to respond.

“Yes,” Shoyo watches Atsumu smirk and kiss Tobio’s ear and then his cheek.

“Yes?” Atusmu emphasizes the question in a way that shows he's not satisfied with the answer.

Shoyo finds Tobio looking down at him. He looks fucked out of his mind, legs trembling and his stomach muscles twitching with effort.

“Please Atsumu,” Tobio corrects.

Atsumu hums and moves on down to Tobio’s neck, nipping and kissing lightly.

Tobio jolts and takes a deep breath. Shoyo glances down between Tobio’s legs. Fuck he's so hard, and hes dripping onto Shoyo. Past his aching cock he can see a small part of Atsumu’s hand. He's still fucking up into Tobio, supposidly with three fingers. The hand twists and flexes, spreading the fingers wider rather than just penetrating.

Tobio keens, his thighs shaking even more.

“I wanna-” Tobio’s thought is broken by a high pitched moan, “I wanna wait too.”

Atsumu keeps scissoring him open, as he leans back to get a better look at Tobio.

“What if I say no? Say you have to finish now before you can?”

Tobio’s eyes flutter shut and he swallows. His hips wiggle in response to the fingers inside of him.

Tobio bites on his top lip for a moment. He turns to face Atsumu as best he can, and says quietly, “I’d listen.”

Atsumu grabs Tobio’s chin and kisses him. Shoyo watches, feeling so empty and needy. He knows soon he’ll have what he wants. But fuck it's so hard to wait. And Atsumu knows that, knows how hard the waiting is. That's why he does it.

Shoyo watches Atsumu detach their mouths, each breathing heavily for a moment, just looking at each other.

Atsumu puts his free hand on Shoyo’s thigh, still bent and crushed up against Tobio.

“Turn over baby,” he pats the aching muscle, “I'll give you what you need.”

Chapter Text

Tobio sits back and lets Shoyo flip over, his pert ass fully on display. Tobio looks at how the entrance glistens with Atsumu spit. Fuck. He licks his lips as Atsumu pushes down on his back to bend him over.

“Just let him hear you,” Atsumu says, still three fingers deep in Tobio.

Tobio nods and puts his mouth up against Shoyo’s ear, his whole torso pressing down into the man below him. Shoyo sighs under the pressure.

Atsumu’s free hand teases up and down Tobio’s exposed back. It makes his body jerk uncontrollably, his muscles instinctively clenching around Atsumu's fingers.

“Nngh,” the sensation is a lot. It feels like Atsumu’s fingertips, just dragging lightly over his skin, is actually shocking his muscles.

He hears Shoyo whimper under him. Something about being so fully out of control already makes holding anything else back impossible.

He snuggles into the back of Shoyo’s head, nuzzling his lips against the shell of this spiker's ear, “I love you.”

Shoyo tries to crane his neck around but Tobio’s body is keeping him fully pinned down. Tobio kisses the part of Sho he can reach, trying to soothe him. “It’s okay, it's okay,” he keeps kissing Shoyo’s cheek.

The spiker whimpers quietly, burying his face back into the bed. God. He really does love Shoyo.

He kisses the nape of Shoyo’s neck, letting his lips linger against the soft skin and coarser hair. The man squirms beneath him. Something starts to flicker and burn in Tobio’s chest as Shoyo shifts his ass against his aching erection.

Something deep and primal rises up in him. His fingers itch with energy as Shoyo squirms underneath him. He bites down on his bottom lip to keep his hands from…grabbing…pushing…

He thinks about how it felt to have his fingers around Shoyo’s throat. How Sho had looked and how he relaxed under Tobio’s grip. How it had felt to run his thumb over Shoyo’s windpipe…how gorgeous Shoyo had looked with his flushed chest and face.

A hand lands on his shoulder, bringing Tobio’s focus back to Atsumu behind him…Atsumu inside of him.

“You do’in alright there Tobio?” Atsumu shifts inside of him, forcing a moan out of Tobio’s mouth. Shoyo shakes under him.

Atsumu’s hand drifts up to Tobio's neck, like the setter could fucking read Tobio’s mind. The tips of his fingers tease along his throat.

“Do you remember how hard I had you press?” Atsumu asks, applying a little pressure himself.

It's nowhere near enough pressure to actually constrict his breathing, but it's enough to clearly imagine more.

“Yes,” he croaks out, mouth still planted against the nape of Shoyo’s neck.

“Hold him there, but don't squeeze.”

Tobio’s brain feels like it's overheating as he adjusts his weight to better balance. Atsumu doesn't let up on the pressure holding his fingers deep inside of Tobio. When Tobio moves, the hand moves with him.

He slides one hand under Shoyo’s chest, and cups his hand loosely around Shoyo’s throat. He does the same with his other hand. It's…fucking exhilarating. He feels where his entire body pushes down into Shoyo, as well as where his hands brace his fragile neck from the underside. It's such a fucking power trip to have his spiker pinned this way.

“That's it, good boy,” Atsumu praises, starting to fuck his fingers in and out of Tobio. Hearing the praise is like a release. He groans into Shoyo’s neck, aware of how badly his hands want to squeeze.

“It's hard not to, isn't it?” Atsumu’s voice is so deep and smooth, like he’s using his voice alone to bring Tobio deeper.

“It just feels so fucking good,” Atsumu still has one hand around Tobio’s neck.

Tobio nods, his voice fully preoccupied with moaning from Atsumu’s relentless fingers on his prostate.

“You want to feel his breath catch,”

Tobio gasps out, fuck. He really does. Atsumu’s voice…what he's saying…the position…feeling everytime Shoyo swallows. Tobio forces his fingers to stay loose, despite how they yearn to feel more.

“He loves feeling someone else control his breathing.”

Tobio whines, pushing his face down against Shoyo’s head, pushing the spiker further down into the bed, further down into his hands.

“Ah-” Atsumu verbally corrects him while pulling him back a few inches by his throat.

“Not yet darling,” Atsumu says sweetly. Tobio is reeling, his body sensations all heightened by the momentary lack of ability to breathe. Just that quick motion, the force against his windpipe, was….

“No matter what, you don't get to squeeze.”

Tobio is panting, staring down at orange hair. Staring at where he can see his own hands around Shoyo’s throat.

“If you do, there will be consequences.”

Despite having a free airway, Tobio can't seem to catch a deep enough breath.

Atsumu leans over him, pulling him back by the neck to meet him.

“You're going to hold back. You're going to let it all build. The desire for control, the desire to fuck him, the desire to let go completely into him. You're going to hold it all back while you let me use you.”

Tobio’s eyes fall closed, his hands still around Shoyo’s neck, twitching, but never tightening.

“Can you do that for me?”

“Y-Yes,” the formal affirmative croaks out of him. Atsumu hums and pets his throat.

“If you feel like at any point you can't, color for me, I'll let you calm down before I continue.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Before he continues. Tobio imagines it, him panting, trying to control himself, just for Atsumu to keep going as soon as he's ready.

“Yes,” Tobio says again, feeling how his throat moves against Atsumu's hand.

“Shoyo darling,” Atsumu says louder, “Are you gonna be able to wait a bit longer.”

Shoyo’s back heaves for a moment before he nods into the sheets.

“Color for me,” Atsumu says.

Shoyo’s hand emerges into a thumbs up before collapsing back into the bed.

“Good enough for you Tobio?”

“Yes-” Tobio barely finishes saying it before Atsumu is pulling all three fingers out of him. His hips flex involuntarily, seeking something to fill him back up.

“Don't worry, I've got you,” Atsumu reassures.

Something soft and hot presses against Tobio’s backside. Fuck. Fuck.

“Last chance Tobio,” Atsumu says quietly, “you sure you don't want a condom? No shame in it.”

Tobio’s body burns hot, his hands start to flex in embarrassment before he realizes and stops himself. He apologetically pets Shoyo’s neck with his thumbs.

“It's fine,” he says, the shame burning through his head.

Atsumu pulls his cock away from Tobio’s ass and fuck does Tobio miss it.

“Hey,” Atsumu’s voice is gentler now, “condom is the default, I won't go raw unless you actually want it.”

Tobio’s bottom lip throbs with how hard he is biting down. It feels like he's at war with himself. He doesn't want the condom, but the embarrassment is pulling him out of the moment.

“Breathe,” Atsumu coaches, “We are all here because we want to be, the second one of us doesn't want it, we pivot, or stop. No shame in saying ‘no’. None.” he lets the words sink in before continuing, “There is also no shame in wanting what you want.”

Tobio tries to breathe, tries to let Atsumu’s words fight back the shame. Atsumu leans over him, still firmly holding him by the throat.

“You can let yourself want.”

Tobio finds himself nodding, the gently but earnestly spoken words soothing his anxieties. He can want. He can say what he wants.

“I don't want the condom,” he says. Tobio wishes he could see Atsumu, see if it's really okay.

“Neither do I,” the blonde says as he kisses Tobio’s neck. Tobio whines, fingers still tense but loose around Shoyo’s throat.

“Color?” Atsumu whispers into his ear.

“Green,” Tobio whispers back, the intimacy of the moment turning his body hot.

“Good boy,” Atsumu says against his ear, “Now lean over and let me finally fuck you.” There is a rasp in Atsumu’s voice that betrays how the waiting has gotten to him as well.

Tobio lowers himself fully back down onto Shoyo. Atsumu’s hand slips away from his neck to tail over his sensitive back and then over the curve of his ass.

Tobio hears the click of a lube bottle and then the breathly groan of Atsumu behind him. Fuck. Tobio eyes close as he buries his face into Shoyo’s hair and waits.

…

Fucking hell. Atsumu holds in all the curses he wants to say as he looks down at Tobio’s wet, clenching hole. Fuck it's going to feel so good. It's been a long time since he fucked someone other than Shoyo.

Sure, at the beginning of his and Shoyo’s arrangement it was left open, but pretty quickly Atsumu realized he didn't need to fuck around when he already had the perfect fucking sub in his bed most nights.

But this…having Shoyo and someone new…Atsumu never really considered it as a possibility until he noticed how Tobio looked at his outside hitter. How Tobio’s ears went pink when he watched Atsumu curl a hand around Shoyo’s waist during time-outs. It made something twist in Atsumu's stomach. Something thick and hot. Something he only ever got glimpses of when he would see women try to pick Shoyo up in bars. Shoyo always graciously declined, bowing multiple times in apology before catching Atsumu’s eye and coming back to his side.

It was never official. It never needed to be. Neither of them dated. Each of them loved what they did in bed. Each of them loved working together. To date would complicate it all. Especially as coworkers.

Atsumu’s in deep now. He knows it. As he grasps himself in a lubed up hand and spreads to all over his dick, never looking away from where Tobio is bent over and presenting himself.

All those months ago when he first realized that Tobio Kagyama had feelings for his former spiker, Atsumu tested out his theory during a session. He had Shoyo on his lap, facing away from him. Atsumu’s hands were braced across his chest, holding the spiker in place, making him sit full of Atsumu's cock.

It was the night after a game against Tobio’s team. The Jackals had lost. The session started as a way to blow off steam. But the longer it went on, the more Atsumu could tell that something beyond just sore feelings were affecting his spiker.

Atsumu had been pressing down on Shoyo’s hips to keep grinding deeper into the man. Shoyo whined quietly, his body just barely fighting off the truly relaxed state that comes with being under. Shoyo had been fighting it all night. Atsumu didn't take it personally, sometimes brains were just too busy to truly let go. But, that night, Atsumu had an idea about what could be causing the mental block.

He was just frustrated enough with the loss to be willing to try it.

“Hinata,” the name sounded wrong in his mouth. They've been on a first name basis since fucking high school for Christ's sake. But…he knows Kagyama still used Shoyo’s family name.

Shoyo tensed up, ass going nearly vice tight around Atsumu. The reaction didn't deter him.

“He still calls you Hinata,” Atsumu said, keeping a firm grip on Shoyo’s hips.

“Wha-what’re you-” Shoyo sounded so perfectly breathless.

“He watches you,” Atsumu continued on, pressing kisses into Shoyo’s neck.

“He couldn't take his eyes off you.”

“He-heh, Atsu,” Shoyo sounded so confused. Needy and confused.

“He was basically fucking you with his eyes.”

Shoyo squirmed on his lap, clenching tight.

“You two didn't ever…mess around?”

Shoyo shook his head. He was breathing heavier than he had all night, even though he had already cum twice.

“But you thought about it…” Atsumu didn't leave it as a question. He was telling Shoyo that he knew Shoyo had feelings back.

“Atsu-” Shoyo whined, squirming to try and turn around and look at him “why’re you-?”

Atsumu used a hand to hold Shoyo’s head in place so he could talk directly into his ear. Their position happened to already be perfect.

“Hold still.”

Shoyo did, although his body still vibrated with energy.

“Close your eyes.”

“Pretend I'm him.”

…

God it has been such a fucking good session in the end. Shoyo wrung himself dry fucking himself onto Atsumu's dick, all the while chanting Kageyama’s name. At the time it was fucking hot to know that he had Shoyo.

Even when Shoyo was letting himself fall into a fantasy, it was Atsumu’s dick he fucked himself on.

Atsumu lines himself up to Tobio’s clenching ass. That night, he never imagined it would come to this. He doesn't regret it at all. Something about all of this feels so right.

Tobio’s back muscles clench when he feels Atsumu’s dick press against him. Atsumu glances up to see that the hands around Shoyo’s throat are still loose. He looks back down to where he's just barely pressed against Tobio.

He uses one hand to hold his dick and places the other on Tobio’s lower back.

Atsumu wonders how long he could hold himself here, teasing, before Tobio started to beg. Could Atsumu’s own desire outlast Tobio’s pride?

He gets his answer so much sooner than he expected, “Please, please, I can’t-” Tobio takes a shaking inhale, “I need it.”

Tobio Kageyama just admitted that he needs Atsumu’s dick. It makes it all worth it.

“Convince me,” Atsumu just has to see how far Tobio is willing to go.

The rival setter groans, and flexes his hips back even more, “Please, please, you know I need it.”

Atsumu slides his free hand down over Tobio’s ass. The urge to hit it makes his fingers twitch. Tobio keeps babbling, “I need it, I need it, I won't-” Tobio struggles to breathe. God fucking dammit he looks so fucking good like this, “I won’t-” Tobio tips his head down, like it really is too difficult to talk, “I won't come, I won't,”

Ohhhh. Oh baby. Atsumu pets his ass, pressing a little harder against where Tobio is waiting to be filled.

Atsumu wonders how long Tobio would keep going. He wonders how long he could stretch this out before it starts to be cruel and unethical.

“Yeah? You gonna hold everything back for me?” Atsumu brings his hand down to the back of Tobio’s thighs and grabs the muscle there, “Gonna hold it all in until I let you have your turn?”

“I will, I will, I can do it, please,”

The word ‘pathetic’ slides through Atsumu’s mind. He loves it. Seeing Tobio babble and beg mindlessly makes Atsumu want to fuck that boy into the bed. He wants to reward Tobio just as much as he wants to punish him.

Atsumu’s hips jerk forwards a little and Tobio fucking whimpers. God he needs it.

“Please,” Tobio breathes out, his hands still loosely caged around Shoyo’s throat. Well, Atsumu shouldn't make Shoyo wait much longer…

“You better not fucking come,” Atsumu hooks his hand around Tobio’s hip bone, pulling the setter back against him.

“I wont, I wont,” Tobio breathes out.

Atsumu closes his eyes for a moment, nearly overwhelmed by the rush of power. Jesus.

“I hear ya” he reassures, “stay still for me baby,” he can't help the pet names, not when Tobio is putting his safety, wellbeing and pride into Atsumu’s hands. And maybe…he’s actually feeling kind of fond of Tobio.

Atsumu pulls Tobio closer to him as he leans forwards, finally, finally pushing into Tobio. It's slow going, in the best fucking way. It's clear that Tobio has not really bottomed. Even Shoyo will take it easier than this without even being opened.

Atsumu breathes out, groaning as he pushes to get even the head inside.

“God you're fucking tight,” Atsumu grips Tobio’s hip tighter. God, maybe Tobio will have bruises tomorrow, “Gotta relax baby, let me in.”

Tobio’s shoulders are hunched up and Atsumu wonders if he's too much. He eases up on Tobio’s hip and starts to pull back out, if you can even call it ‘pulling out’.

“No, no,” Tobio whines, pushing his ass back towards Atsumu, “I can do it.”

“ ‘Ya sure baby?”

Tobio nods frantically, “please, please, I'll do it, I can do it, just-”

Atsumu’s head tips curiously, “just what darlin’?”

Tobio’s shoulders hunch again. Atsumu pets his side, trying to soothe whatever is getting stuck.

“Can you-” Tobio’s voice stops, he starts again carefully, “Will you talk me through it?”

Atsumu feels himself melt and he leans over to kiss down Tobio’s spine, “Of course, yes, thank ya for askin’ baby”

Tobio seems to deflate, laying down more fully onto Shoyo. That's it darling.

He rights himself and guides his dick back to Tobio’s entrance. “Okay baby, let your hips relax, let your knees and my hand do the work of holding yourself up.”

Tobio’s body sags and Atsumu has to actually put effort towards holding him up by his hip.

“So good, just like that,” he doesn't expect how viscerally Tobio responds to the praise.

Tobio sobs wryly into the back of Shoyo’s head. Fuck. Atsumu wonders how long Tobio has been waiting to hear words like that.

“Focus on your lower back, I want you to think about how it felt when I fingered you to orgasm yesterday.”

Tobio’s back heaves up and down.

“Focus on how good it felt. How good it felt to let me in,” Atsumu applies a little more pressure and watches the tip of his dick start to slide into Tobio, “Fuck, just like that, can you feel me? Feel how ‘yer lettin’ me in?”

He can hear how his speech is devolving but he can't bring himself to care. Once in a while Shoyo makes fun of him for how much his accent comes out when he's focused and domming. He just doest care as he watches the rim of his head push against Tobio and then slip inside.

“So pretty,” fuck Tobio feels so fucking good, “breathe, yer’ doing so good.”

Atsumu didn't push farther once the head was in, giving Tobio space to adjust. Despite the three fingers that had all but been living in his ass, he's tight.

He gently pets Tobio's hip. Something swells up in Atsumu’s chest. No. Nope. Absolutely not. That's just the Dom talking. Atsumu shakes his head, trying to dispel the feeling.

“Keep going,” Tobio says weakly. Atsumu focuses first on the back of Tobio’s head and then leans to see that the hands around Shoyo’s neck are still loose. Fuck.

“Alright baby, I've got you.”

Chapter Text

Atsumu is gripping his hip bone so hard it fucking hurts. It's also grounding Tobio enough to keep him focused on Atsumu's words.

Each thing Atsumu says washes over him in a whole new way. The part of his chest that ached in jealousy when Atsumu was calling Shoyo a good boy is finally quiet. Each wash of gentle and kind words chips away at something fragile in Tobio.

It's all he can do to try and keep his hips up as Atsumu keeps pushing in tortuously slow. Tobio wishes his hands were tangled into the sheets so that he could grab onto them to ride this out. He can't though. Not with Shoyo's throat in his grasp.

He needs to clench, to force these parts of himself closed. He gasps wetly into Shoyo's neck. He can't. He can't physically shut it down. He can't clench. He can't protect himself. There is something breaking inside of him. And Atsumu is relentless.

Without the ability to physically shut himself off Tobio is caught in the barrage of kindness. No…that's not quite right.

Atsumu is kind, but is also more than that.

“Almost there, you're doing so good baby,” Atsumu voice is so….fuck. Tobio presses his face into Shoyo’s hair. It's…

“You can do it,” Atsumu’s voice keeps chipping away at that last line of defense inside of Tobio. It's… it's…

Atsumu’s hips press into Tobio’s backside and Tobio finally lets himself feel how full he feels. It takes everything in his to keep his hands relaxed around Shoyo’s throat. It's so much, it's so overwhelming. His fingers twitch as Atsumu grinds forwards even more, pulling on Tobio’s hip at the same time. He can't, fuck…he can't. He needs something to hold onto as he is overwhelmed from the inside-out.

Atsumu keeps rocking forwards in tiny amounts, fucking Tobio while keeping him full, “You're so fucking perfect.”

He feels his hands start to get a mind of their own. No, it's…that’s not true…so far from true…

“Y-yellow,” he’s about to lose it and hurt Shoyo. Tobio pulls his hands away and lets his fingers form fists. Atsumu stills immediately but doesn't pull out.

A hand brushes soothingly along his hip.

“I'm so proud of you.”

The last defense inside of Tobio crumbles.

Acceptance. The thing Atsumu has been showing Tobio was acceptance. Tobio feels his body become so tense that he's close to shaking.

His brain swims with all the things Atsumu has been saying to him.

You can do it

You're doing so good

I've got you

You're so fucking perfect

I'm so proud of you.

They aren't lies. As far as Tobio can tell, Atsumu doesn't lie. So…he means it. He really means it. All of it. Even though Tobio is…Tobio.

A life of only being praised for what he can accomplish, for what he forces his body to do. He thinks of his grandfather and grief grips his heart for a moment. He hasn't felt accepted like this in a long time.

“Tobio-” … “Tobio,” his name is being called. He turns to look over his shoulder at Atsumu. He can barely see the man from the corner of his eye.

“I'm gonna have Sho flip over, okay?”

Tobio blinks, his gaze landing on the wall next to the bed. He feels Shoyo twist under him and then hands and arms are pulling him into a crushing hug.

“Yes,” Shoyo says into his shoulder, “Yes, you are good enough.”

Tobio knows he's acting weird. But…he's also aware of the fact that normal Tobio wouldn't be able to accept any of this. Somehow, Atsumu stripped down all of his walls, physical and mental…and then he showed him the acceptance that a part of Tobio truly needed.

“I'm okay,” he says into Shoyo’s shoulder. And somehow, it's true.

…

It takes a few minutes for everyone to settle. Tobio says again and again that he's okay. With the passing of time Tobio can tell that his internal defenses are still there, but whatever Atsumu did to him…now there is a crack. There is a small crack through which Tobio can let himself feel accepted. It’s honestly more than he ever expected to have. Especially from Atsumu of all people.

He is released from the duty of holding Shoyo’s neck. That seems to have served its purpose. As Shoyo clings to him, Tobio wonders how Atsumu knows what to do. How did he know that having to hold his hands open like that would break through Tobio’s barriers?

“I love you,” he says to Shoyo.

“I love you,” Shoyo says back, giving Tobio an extra squeeze.

Atsumu stayed fully pressed into his ass the whole time, letting Tobio have extra time to stretch out on his girth. For a while now Atsumu has been petting and carding his fingers through the hair on the back of Tobio's head.

“I'm ready,” Tobio says, and it's true.

“Yeah?” Atsumu doesn't stop petting his head.

Tobio nods, “Yeah.”

“Sho? You tired of waiting?” Atsumu asks.

Tobio hears Shoyo breathe out the word ‘fuck’ before he properly answers.

“Yes, please, no more waiting,” his voice isn't whiny or needy. It's done. Shoyo is past that. His voice indicates that he needs to be fucked. And if no one provides, he will go and do it himself.

Tobio is oh so happy to oblige.

…

Shoyo had barely been able to handle the waiting. Underneath Tobio, knowing what was happening while he wasn't touched except for a loose and unsatisfying pair of hands around his throat…

To endure being told to wait, he let himself fall deep within his own body. He lets himself relax, his body pressing down into the bed with each of Tobio’s movements.

He listened to the praise that fell from Atsumu’s lips. He felt Tobio react. He felt his body be pushed again and again into the bed. It was kind of peaceful. He felt every time Tobio’s fingers would momentarily tighten. A sick pleasure would flow through Shoyo as he wanted more but was denied.

Even in his half-aware state, he knew something was building. He wondered if Atsumu realized how far he was pushing someone so new to subbing.

Then Tobio colored and took his hands off of Shoyo.

Shoyo knows how overwhelming it is - when the praise actually gets to you.

To hold Tobio in that moment felt like it was touching a raw part of Shoyo as well. He's thankful Atsumu had him roll over. He's thankful that Atsumu gave them time. He’s just so thankful.

He's especially thankful that he's finally getting fucked. Well, it's not set in stone yet, but it's a pretty sure thing.

He looks up at Tobio above him, and then Atsumu just to the side. Fuck. He's so lucky. A moan is dragged out of him as Tobio fucks his hand up and down Shoyo's dick.

“Yeah, just like that, don't give him too much pressure,” Atsumu is resting his chin on Tobio's shoulder and is just watching. Both of them are just watching Shoyo leak precum onto Tobio's fingers.

Shoyo tries to turn away from how they both watch him. He knows Atsumu will have something to say…maybe he likes that Atsumu will have something to say.

“Loosen your grip until he faces forwards again.”

It already was barely enough pressure to feel satisfying. Shoyo drags his face back to front, attempting to glare at them both.

Atsumu just smirks knowingly. Shoyo closes his eyes but stays facing forwards. It's not long before Shoyo gets into a rhythm with Tobio, lifting his hips just as Tobio pulls his hand down. God, maybe someday Shoyo can fuck Tobio.

In his and Atsu's relationship it's not always Shoyo that bottoms…just mostly Shoyo. He likes topping, especially after Atsumu has already fucked him a few times.

Shoyo bucks his pelvis up into Tobio's hand. Fuck. If Tobio just gripped a little harder…

“That's enough,” Atsumu says and Tobio's hands leave.

For Christ's sake, Shoyo deflates against the bed. He glances down to see how hard he is. This isn't the longest he's been made to wait, not by a long shot. But this whole thing with Tobio has felt more urgent. He further spreads his legs and adjusts how they are tucked against Tobio's chest.

Shoyo bites his bottom lip and keeps his gaze down between his legs. Please, come'on, please…

“You ready?” Tobio asks.

Shoyo looks up to the face hanging above him. His Tobio.

“Yes.”

…

Tobio's heart is clear about to beat out of his chest. He can't stop looking at Shoyo's face, passing between frustrated and pleasured. It's…it's really doing something to Tobio. He uses a slightly firmer grip where he's touching Shoyo and the red-head's face blooms into relief. He switches to a barely there grip and Shoyo bites down on his lip, his eyebrows pulling together. Fuck. Maybe there is something to this denial business.

He tests it again, watching Shoyo react to every little touch, or lack thereof.

“That's enough,” Atsumu says into his ear.

It's hard but he drags his hand away from Shoyo.

“Legs up princess,” Atsumu says, running his hand over Shoyo’s resting thigh.

…

Shoyo is thankful he had been given the break. He can fucking jump all day, but keeping his legs flexed and bent for that long…it's a whole other beast. He pulls his legs up and braces them against Tobio’s chest.

Atsumu guides Tobio to lean further over Shoyo, boxing him in. He's pinned between Tobio and the bed, his whole body contorted and waiting.

Tobio is looking down, one hand holding himself so that he can- Tobio glances up and meets Shoyo’s eyes.

“Fuck,” Tobio whispers under his breath. He looks back down and Shoyo feels him. Shoyo’s eyes close and he feels his whole body go hot. It's right there. So fucking close. He already feels pleas on the tip of his tongue.

“Easy,” Atsumu says, “remember, that he hasn't been worked up at all.”

“I know,” Tobio says breathlessly, “I won't hurt him.”

“Mmm,” Atsumu hums, putting his mouth against Tobio’s neck. Shoyo can't quite turn his eyes away, his stomach flipping as Atsumu kisses up towards Tobio’s ear.

Time feels thick as Shoyo watches Atsumu’s lips suck on Tobio’s neck. Shoyo knows exactly what those lips feel like.

He remembers how absolutely electric it felt the first time. Shoyo watches Atsumu’s mouth, captivated, longing, half lost in imagining it was his neck.

…

Atsumu pays attention to all his teammates. It's kind of his thing. He knows he has control issues…well maybe not issues…but he has a thing for control. It's what makes him such a good setter.

Shoyo has been on the team for about 6 months. It only took two weeks to get into a solid rhythm. It took him like two fucking months to truly match Bokuto…partially because Bokuto is consistent in how fucking hard he hits but his height, number of steps to jump, and position always seems to vary based on his mood. Once Atsumu figured out the pattern he finally got to see Bokuto truly excel. Props to Akashi for matching that beast in high school.

But Shoyo was easy. Like he was made for it. Atsumu supposed that working on two man teams in Brazil hammered out his quirks until he could adapt to anything.

Other than Osamu, he's not sure he's ever matched up on the court so quickly. And God, Atsumu has never seen a teammate be so beloved by everyone. Shoyo’s like…the sun.

Some days Atsumu couldn't believe he got to be the setter on a team like this. A team where every member was a powerhouse of energy that only he could truly unlock. He tried not to let it go to his head too much.

Especially on days like today. Publicity days. Osamu already gave him a lengthy talk on the phone about not seeming like an egomaniac during the interview. Doesn't help that Atsumu had a man tied to his bed, taking it over and over for half the night. Atsumu forces the memory back as energy floods his body.

Interview. Be chill. Be chill for the interview.

The team is killing some time before it all starts. Nearly everyone is buzzing with too much anxious energy. Atsumu's eye catches on Shoyo who has tucked himself into a corner. Something is off with him. It's not a game day, so Atsumu doesn't need to actually dwell on it. Shoyo always shines in interviews, even on his off days.

Yet, Atsumu's feet start to bring him over to where the redhead sits on his phone. He tries to casually lean against the wall, half expecting Shoyo to look up and give his usual dazzling smile. He doesn't, he keeps his head down, thumb continuously scrolling through content.

Atsumu doesn't take it personally. Mostly.
Atsumu rubs his chin and jaw, scanning the room before he glances back down at Shoyo. This time he notices the bruises. He had noticed earlier that Shoyo was wearing a higher collar jacket, one that stopped an inch or so from his jaw. He hadnt thought much of it…but now. Atsumu smirks. A desperate attempt to hide some ill timed hickeys, huh?

He leans far enough over to nudge Shoyo’s shoulder and get his attention, “Need some concealer?”

He expects sheepish, embarrassed, even exasperated maybe. When Shoyo’s head snaps up and there's fear in his eyes, Atsumu’s stomach drops. His eyes shoot back to the barely visible marks under Shoyo’s collar and he realizes that something is actually wrong.

He pulls on Shoyo’s collar until he can fully see what are definitely not hickeys. He...they…wh-

Shoyo pulls away and starts to get up. Atsumu can't get himself to move as he watches Shoyo walk away. No…no…

Shoyo rounds a corner and once he's out of sight Atsumu finally moves. Atsumu’s mind races as he follows. He's nearly seeing red by the time he catches up to his spiker. He lays a hand on Shoyo’s shoulder to try and get him to slow down. Shoyo flinches in a way that fucking hurts.

He does stop though, keeping his back to Atsumu.

“Shoyo,” Atsumu breathes out, trying to force meaning into the word. Trying to tell Shoyo that he knows and he's not gonna drop it.

“Do you have concealer?” Is all Shoyo says.

Atsumu’s brain fumbles to switch gears, “I…yeah, a bit, it might not match you though, but Sho you’ve got-”

Shoyo interrupts him, “Can I use it?”

Rage seethes in Atsumu's stomach. He forces himself to take a deep breath, “Yeah, sure, it's in my bag…” he trails off, he can't leave Shoyo to go get it.

Shoyo’s shoulders sag and he looks down, “It's not as bad as it looks.”

It takes everything in Atsumu to keep his mouth shut.

“He just…” Shoyo’s head tips up to look at the ceiling, “he didn't realize I'd bruise so easy.”

That is such a fucking load of shit.

“You don't,” Atsumu bites out.

Shoyo finally turns to Atsumu, confusion overwhelming his face.

Atsumu looks down to Shoyo’s legs and points, “you don't bruise, not like that, you fucking took Bokuto’s serve to the thigh yesterday and you don't have a bruise.”

“I-” Shoyo looks like he's going to dispute it, defiance in his eyes.

Atsumu just raises an eyebrow, “show me then, show me the bruise.”

Shoyo swallows, his eyes starting to shine with moisture. Both men know there is no mark under Shoyo’s shorts. Atsumu’s mouth goes dry. Maybe there are marks. Maybe there are non-volleyball marks.

“Why are you doing this?” Shoyo asks. He sounds so small. Defeated.

“I-” Atsumu’s voice gets caught as he looks at his spiker. He clenches his jaw, swallows and tries again, “Why is someone hurting you?”

“I'll do the interview. I'll be fine.”

Atsumu can feel Shoyo shrinking smaller and smaller before his eyes.

“Is it someone we know?”

Shoyo is looking down now, he shakes his head, “It was just a mistake.”

Rage that someone hurt Shoyo still boils in his stomach, but there is also something softer growing in Atsumu's chest. Something that reminds him a bit too much like the aftercare of a scene.

He pulls Shoyo into his arms and rests his cheek against the top of Shoyo’s head. The spiker is stiff for a few seconds before he relaxes and lets himself be held.

He keeps his arms tight around Shoyo, “No one should do that to the point of bruising.”

Shoyo shakes in his arms.

Atsumu bites on his tongue, needing a bit of pain to stay grounded.

“Shoyo,” he says softly, once he feels in control of himself, “did you want this person to choke you?”

Shoyo pushes his face and body harder into Atsumu's. Atsumu feels something wet and cold against his shoulder. He uses one hand to pet along Shoyo’s back in circles.

He rubs circles on Shoyo's back as the man silently cries. Atsumu hears their coach call in the other room for everyone to gather for the interview. Atsumu had honestly forgotten…he glances around and spots a door and guides himself and Shoyo through it. It's just a storage closet, but it will probably buy them enough time to avoid the interview.

He gets Shoyo resituated in his arms. Fuck. He feels nearly on the edge of tears himself. Fuck, fuck, fuck. If Atsumu hadn't noticed…would Shoyo have just made himself do the interview?

What he does know is that he’ll hold Shoyo for as long as he needs. He knows it in his heart. He won't let go first. He won't.

…

It's suffocating. But not in the way it had been last night. It had gone too far. It always kind of goes too far. Shoyo bites down on his lip hard as he holds back what would be full body sobs. Atsumu's shirt is a mess. Shoyo is a mess. Why is he like this? Why does he keep going back?

Why can't Shoyo stop himself? He chokes on the cry that is forcing its way up his throat. He can't, he can't, he's breathing too fast now. He can't quite catch his breath with his face blocked like this. He's, he's -

Shoyo is pulled down until he's on his knees, Atsumu still holding onto him but now Shoyo’s face is free.

“Sorry, sorry,” Atsumu says quietly, still rubbing his back. Shoyo breathes as deeply as he can amongst the crying. He, he, he -

“That's it, breathe, you got this, just breathe, don't gotta do nothing but breathe.”

Shoyo’s head feels light, like he's gonna pass out. He holds onto Atsumu and puts his cheek on his setter's shoulder.

“I'm sorry,” he chokes out.

“None of that,” Atsumu whispers, “just breathe, just breathe for me.”

Shoyo does. He breathes. He absently notices how his body is shaking and twitching. Something is wrong. Something is really wrong. His hands hold onto Atsumu harder. Something has been wrong for a long time.

“Please don't see him again,” Atsumu whispers like he’s in pain.

Shoyo sobs and presses his face into Atsumu’s shoulder. He doesn't know how to stop. Shoyo doesn't know how to stop self-destructing. He doesn't know why he always picks people like this. Sometimes it doesn't feel like a choice at all. Just like…it just happens. He gets hit. He gets choked. He gets used. And he asks for it.

God, why does he ask for it?

“Please,” Atsumu whispers, his hand coming up to lightly pass over the back of Shoyo’s neck until the hand is in his hair. Just the brief touch over his bruised neck - it's fucking awful.

Shoyo doesn't want to hurt like this anymore. He really doesn't. He just wants…the wracking sobs overtake him and Atsumu just holds him closer.

He just wants to be good enough.

…

His brain feels so hazy when the crying finally subsides. He can't remember the last time he cried that hard. His throat feels raw and he can't breathe through his nose. Atsumu still holds him close.

It feels wrong. How much Shoyo likes Atsumu holding him, it feels wrong. He likes it too much. It feels too safe.

He pushes himself away from Atsumu and sits fully on the ground. He looks down at the floor between them. He can feel the setter’s eyes in him.

Neither of them break the silence. Shoyo wonders if he could get away with just standing up and leaving. Surely there is a limit to how much energy Atsumu would put into this. He's already done so much. Too much.

He knows deep down Atsumu isn't going to let it go. Not that easily. He’ll have to be convinced.

“I asked for it, he just went a little too hard.”

Atsumu doesn't say anything.

Shoyo knows he should just stay quiet. The more he says, the worse it'll be, but he can't quite stop himself.

“I asked for it, I knew what I was doing. It's nothing new.”

Shoyo bites his cheek in the face of Atsumu's silence. Shoyo doesn't dare to look up and see what his expression is.

“I like it, I know it's weird, but…I like stuff like that. Being hit, being choked…”

“It's not weird,” Atsumu says.

Shoyo blinks at the floor.

“It's not,” Atsumu says, “but, it has to be safe.”

Shoyo keeps his eyes down, struggling to fathom the implications behind Atsumu’s words. Is he like Shoyo?

“Can I see your throat?”

Shoyo’s back prickles uncomfortably at the thought. Nobody should see. Nobody should see what Shoyo lets people do to him.

It feels unfair to say no after everything Atsumu just did. Shoyo nods and uses a hand to pull the zipper down on his jacket. He shrugs it partially off so that Atsumu can see. He knows it looks bad.

Atsumu sucks in a quiet breath.

“Has it been hard to breathe?”

Shoyo desperately wants to pull his jacket back up and zip it.

“It's just sore.”

“Sho,” Atsumu places his hand onto Shoyo’s knee.

“I think it's worth having it checked.” Atsumu's voice waivers in a way that makes Shoyo feel ill.

Shoyo shakes his head. No. Absolutely not.

“Did…” Atsumu takes a shaking breath, “did he fully cut off your air?”

Shoyo stares at the ground.

“Shoyo,” he sounds pained now. Like…like he's going to cry, “That's not okay.”

Shoyo's fingernails dig into his palm, “I told him to.”

“It's still not okay,” Atsumu’s voice fully cracks. He's crying. Shoyo made him cry.

Shoyo grabs onto his knees and leans forwards, nails digging into skin, “I'm not- I'm not trying to…” what? He's not trying to be like this? Trying to be a mess? Trying to be a burden?

Hands…his setter's hands gently hold his head and then Shoyo feels the pressure of Atsumu’s head pressing against his own.

Atsumu’s fingers slide down to Shoyo’s cheeks, petting him gently, “it's okay, you're okay.”

It's not. It's really not. What Shoyo lets happen to himself should not impact anyone else. It's not Atsumu’s problem. It's really not. It's Shoyo’s fault. It's Shoyo’s mess to clean up. Or not.

“It's not supposed to be like that,” Atsumu says.

Shoyo's jaw clenches and Atsumu just keeps gently petting him.

“It's supposed to be safe, and full of trust. It can still be intense…but it shouldn't put your body in danger like this.”

Shoyo watches tears land on the floor below him. He knows Atsumu is right. In theory. It's just never actually managed to be that. He figured…maybe he was just broken. Or that things weren't really like that. Or…that maybe he just didn't deserve it like that.

He thinks of all the times he agreed to something beforehand. Of all the times people reassured him that they wouldn't cross lines. Of all the times they set the stage so that Shoyo had to either fail or cross his own boundary.

Of all the times he got too deep inside of needing to be good. Of all the times he betrayed himself to prove he was good. Of all the times it didn't even matter if he was good. Of all the times it hurt. All the times he felt genuine fear. Of all the times he had to live with the consequences. How can Atsumu be right if there are so many times like that?

“No,” Shoyo groans.

“Yes,” Atsumu says back, his voice raw.

“If-” his voice catches. If Atsumu is right, then why did no one ever make sure it was safe for Shoyo? What did he do? Why do people hurt him?

You don't deserve it.

His chest squeezes tight.

They treat you exactly how you deserve.

Shoyo gets the urge to claw his way outside of himself. He can't. He can't be like this anymore.

His body is filled with the urge to run. To get away. At the same time his head swims. Something is wrong. Really wrong. Something has been so wrong.

No, it was right, you deserved it

Somewhere, deep within himself he can hear that he's hyperventilating.

But what if he didn't deserve it? What if things could be different?

One of his hands comes up to his throat, even light pressure aches. He resists the urge to claw at his skin. To rip himself apart for being like this.

“I'm so scared.”

Atsumu curls his hand around the back of Shoyo’s head, fingers slowly moving through his hair. Atsumu tilts his head until his mouth is at the top of Shoyo’s forehead.

“I've got you, you're safe with me.”

And maybe, for the first time since high school, Shoyo actually kind of believes it.

…

They sit like that for a long time. The interview is probably well done and over. Their team is probably gone. Atsumu is sure both of their phones have blown up with calls and texts. It doesn't matter.

It really, truly doesn't matter. What matters is what is happening right in front of him.

He pets Shoyo’s hair. He keeps his mouth against his forehead. He tries to keep himself from crying as much as his body wants to. How did he not notice? There must have been other times that there were signs. How did he not notice?

He knows he's not responsible for Shoyo. But…he really, really does care for Shoyo.

“You're good,” he whispers, some part of him deeply wanting to kiss the forehead in front of him. He wants to pull Shoyo on top of him, wrap his arms around him, and listen to him breathe until he falls asleep.

He wants to make Shoyo feel so safe and loved that he lets himself nuzzle into the cuddle. He wants Shoyo to understand exactly what he deserves. It…it's overwhelming.

Atsumu knows how incredibly blissful aftercare can be. He's been on both sides, although, never with someone who he already cared so deeply for. The idea is...intense.

Atsumu tries not to let himself think about how it would feel to genuinely get to share aftercare with Shoyo. It feels wrong to think about, he's literally holding the crying man after he's been choked. But…the thought won't leave. It feels like a need.

He wants to show Shoyo what it is supposed to be like. He wants to be there from the pre-negotiations to the end where Shoyo whimpers peacefully in subspace until he falls asleep in Atsumu's arms. Atsumu wants to be there for the debrief after. He wants to be there for the crashes. He wants to be there for it all.

He wants to show Shoyo the truth. The truth that he does deserve safety and kindness. That he deserves to be treated like he is precious, even while he's being tied up and edged.

Oh. Atsumu is so fucked.

Chapter Text

After that day, things start to shift between Atsumu and Shoyo. It's so small at first that Atsumu thinks he might be making it up.

Quick glances, lingering touches after they connect and make a kill during a match, and now, packed into a bar booth, Shoyo leaning against him, laughing, his beautiful, twinkling laugh.

Atsumu felt his face go warm a drink ago. Both he and Osamu go flush with just a bit of alcohol. Neither of them are drinkers. Yet, Atsumu still finds himself on his third, maybe fourth drink. He feels no desire to stop, enjoying the warm and fluid way it is affecting his body. Or maybe that warmth is from all the places he and Shoyo are touching.

He places his hand on Shoyo’s back, letting his hand soak up the vibrations of the spiker’s laughter. He watches Shoyo cover his mouth, still giggling, until he gives some retort back and sends the whole table into laughter. He's so good. So good.

Shoyo’s ears are pink, his back is warm. Atsumu hasn't stopped wanting to see Shoyo. Really see Shoyo. In that intense and vulnerable way that almost defies words. He would never expect it. Never. Doesn't mean he hasn't been thinking about it. He tries not to dwell too much on it. Despite what he may desire, he is more than happy to be there for Shoyo like this.

He hasn't seen any other clues that the man is being hurt, and in the end he did promise to stop seeing the person who choked him. Just the thought sends rage coursing through Atsumu. He pushes it down, taking a swig of his drink, his fingers lightly drumming on Shoyo's back.

The spiker glances up at him. His cheeks are flushed, but Atsumu knows he hasn't been drinking. Atsumu finds himself smiling as they look at each other. Atsumu lets the moment go on, leaning on his hand with his elbow braced against the table. He lays his hand flat on Shoyo’s back. Shoyo doesn't look away either.

Atsumu’s hand climbs up Shoyo’s back until he's lightly tugging on the scrappy longer locks of hair by the nape of his neck. Shoyo shivers a little as Atsumu's fingers brush along his neck. It's…fuck Atsumu should have stopped drinking because all he can think about is playing with the back of his spiker’s neck until he is absolutely squirming.

He's building up the courage to look away when Shoyo’s hand curls around his thigh. Atsumu is embarrassed to admit that he feels his face get even warmer. He glances down. He should have, well, sober Atsumu should have expected how the sight of Shoyo’s hand on his upper thigh would have sent a rush through him. A little drunk Atsumu is caught fully off guard by how the visual confirmation that Shoyo is touching him like this, makes him start to get hard in his pants.

He looks back up to Shoyo’s face to find that he is looking down too. The spiker's eyes flash up to glance at Atsumu through his lashes before he turns and keeps talking to the table of their coworkers. His hand remains on Atsumu's leg. His fingers slowly start to move, teasing touches that are driving Atsumu wild.

That is the confirmation Atsumu needs that Shoyo is very much doing this on purpose. While Shoyo is distracted by Bokuto, Atsumu picks up the redhead's drink and takes a sip. Just water. No alcohol. His heart beats heavy in his chest. Shoyo wants something too.

…

Atsumu isn't proud to admit how heavily the teasing affected him. He's a Dom at heart. He has subbed before, but it really was only early in his journey while he was still figuring it out. He's a control freak. He doesn't let things affect him unless he chooses to let himself be affected. And he certainly doesn't jump coworkers after they spend 20 minutes teasing his inner thigh. He certainly doesn't get partially hard from the teasing.

Anyways, despite all the certainties he's got Shoyo pressed up against a wall in a far corner of the bar. He's not even fully sure how they got here. Something about a game of pool and…well, Atsumu’s resolve is hanging by a thread. He's got Shoyo by the hips, keeping him in place.

“Shoyo,” he says, trying his best to sound even somewhat stern.

Shoyo raises his eyebrows, a fucking knowing smirk on his face, “Yes Atsumu?”

To be honest…Atsumu never really got the whole brat thing. He's had subs in the past who liked to be put into their place, and Atsumu gladly would. But it was always calculated, purposeful…not this. This feels like if Shoyo pushes him any further he's going to do something they might regret. He can't. He really can't be something else Shoyo regrets.

“Please,” he says, half delirious with exasperation. He doesn't even know what to ask for after the please.

Shoyo tilts his head coyly, “Did I do something?”

Atsumu blinks. The words, the tone, it betrays Shoyo’s anxiety, despite the false bravado over it. That crack in the facade is enough to ground him a little. He leans forwards, tipping his head to press against the wall.

“You're a monster,” he says, loosening his grip on Shoyo’s hips. He breathes, letting the urgency fall away. He steps back a bit and looks directly at Shoyo.

“I'm afraid, darlin’, if there is something you want, you're gonna hav’ta be straight with me.”

He sees the frustration wash over Shoyo’s face. He leans in close enough to whisper, “I'm not like the others, I'm not gonna take what's not mine.”

Shoyo breathes out. Atsumu leans back out, and gently caresses his cheek.

“You don't have to try and provoke me,” he watches Shoyo’s downcast eyes, “I'm not,” he takes a steading breath, “I'm not gonna assume what you want, yeah?”

Shoyo gives a slight nod. Atsumu keeps brushing his cheek. Shoyo won't look at him.

Atsumu bites his inner cheek. He knows this is fragile. That Shoyo isn't used to having his boundaries respected.

“Should we leave it for tonight? Or is there something you want?”

He watches Shoyo’s jaw clench. Atsumu runs his thumb over the tense muscle, “Either answer works for me.”

“Why would you want…this?” Shoyo still hasn't looked up.

Atsumu hums, letting his fingers drift down the length of Shoyo’s neck to land on his shoulder, “Can't necessarily explain why, but I do. I want anything you're interested in trying.”

Atsumu lets his hand lightly grasp Shoyo’s chin and guides his face to tilt up. Finally Shoyo meets his eyes.

“What happened to all the confidence ‘eh? Seems like you wanted something when you were feeling me up.”

He watches the flush rise to Shoyo’s cheeks. And it is beautiful. It definitely doesn't trigger the desire to see every single way Shoyo can react. To words. To touch…

“What had you hoped I would do?” Other than pinning him to a wall…not Atsumu’s finest moment.

He keeps a gentle hold on Shoyo's chin. Shoyo's eyes glance back and forth, his bottom lip tucked under his teeth.

He leans in a little closer, “what had you been hoping for?”

Shoyo looks straight at him, with an unspoken question in his eyes. Atsumu looks back, hoping his plain and honest gaze gives an answer.

“Nothing will happen, unless you want it to.”

Shoyo’s eyes go glassy with the start of tears. Atsumu releases his chin and curls his hand into Shoyo’s hair and pulls him forwards and away from the wall. He envelops the man in his arms, resting his head on top of Shoyo’s.

“At your pace, and that includes never,” Atsumu says, “and of course I'll always keep settin’ to ya.”

Shoyo laughs, and hits Atsumu’s arm gently, “you better.”

Shoyo pulls back enough to look up at him.

Atsumu smiles, “I promise.”

…

Nothing happened that night. Or for the next two weeks.

Atsumu kept an eye on his spiker, but didn't push him up against a wall again. As soon as Shoyo says the words ‘push me against the wall’ Atsumu will gladly take another go at that.

Shoyo seemed happy, seemed his usual self. Not that Atsumu had noticed that he was being…anyway, there are no unexplained marks. He truly hopes Shoyo kept his promise.

He just wants Shoyo to be…safe. More than safe. But safe is a good start.

A hand pulls on the back of his shirt, dragging Atsumu away from staring at the back of his open locker. He turns to find Shoyo looking sheepish. The locker room is nearly empty, Atsumu and Kiyoomi are notorious for taking the longest. They both have actual skincare routines unlike the rest of those meat heads.

It seems even Kiyoomi has left. How long was Atsumu staring into his locker?

Atsumu longs to touch Shoyo, curl a hand into his hair, brush his fingers over his cheek, wrap his arms around him to pull him close. He resists, despite how his hands itch. It's possible this is where Shoyo tells him that he's actually not interested. Which he has every right to do…Atsumu tells himself. Because for some reason ever since noticing his bruises, and then the night at the bar, Atsumu truly cannot keep his mind off of his spiker.

“Hey Shoyo,” he says, trying his very best to come off as casual and calm.

Based on Shoyo’s body language it's clear it's the sensitive topic they have been avoiding for two weeks. That night in the bar.

He watches Shoyo fight in his mind for the words. He figures he should throw the man a lifeline.

“Do you want to talk about…” then Atsumu finds himself at a loss for words. Usually when you find people to fuck around with its understood what's at play…here as friends and coworkers…he scrambles for something to finish the sentence, “trying something together.”

He catches his top lip in his teeth. ‘Trying something?’ Jeeesus.

Shoyo nods, his hand scratching at the back of his neck, “Yeah, I have been thinking about it.”

Atsumu's heart picks up and he's not sure if it's excitement or anxiety.

“I'm just,” Shoyo looks away and tilts his head, “I'm anxious I'm thinking of something and it's totally not what you're thinking of, and that would be…embarrassing.”

Ah. Yeah, Atsumu is kind of in that place too. The subtle fear that he's picking up on cues that don't exist. This is messier than just planning a scene where the person is there to be dommed.

“I hear you,” Atsumu says carefully, “I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable with what I've been thinking about, is it like that?”

Shoyo nods and looks up at him. Atsumu is almost certain they are on the same wavelength, based on the tension of that night in the bar alone. But one of them has to say it to be sure.

He looks into Shoyo’s eyes. Atsumu can be brave for Shoyo.

“That night I pushed you against the wall after you teased my leg. That's what I've been thinking about.”

He watches Shoyo’s eyes widen, his pupils expanding slightly, “Really?”

It's Atsumu’s turn to nod, “what about you?”

“Same,” Atsumu watches Shoyo’s eyes quickly glance around Atsumu’s body and fuck does it do something for him.

Atsumu feels the opportunity more than he cognitively recognizes it. It is like his brain has a whole section dedicated to getting his subs to be at ease and open up, even before anything has started.

Atsumu leans back against a set of closed lockers, “Yeah? That do something for ya?”

Shoyo looks away but his cheeks color lightly. Atsumu takes the plunge, “did you like teasing me or getting manhandled more?”

Shoyo bites his bottom lip before he says, “I liked how the teasing got you to manhandle me.”

Oh. Something clicks in Atsumu’s brain, and the picture of the cycle that Shoyo had gotten into makes a little more sense.

“Is that something you want to keep exploring with me?”

The question hangs in the air until Shoyo nods. Atsumu lets himself exhale. Okay. They seem to be on the same page.

“There is a lot we will have to talk about before anything intense happens.”

“Okay,” Shoyo agrees, before tilting his head and saying, “What about non intense things?”

Atsumu swallows, “Like?”

“Hmmm,” Shoyo seems to have gained some confidence and he steps forwards, “Like you taking me to your place and kissing me - maybe my neck too.”

Atsumu holds out an arm and encourages Shoyo to enter his personal space, “I can do that,” he says, letting his voice stay low and quiet. Shoyo takes the invitation and lets Atsumu's arm snake around his middle until they are standing with barely any room between them.

Atsumu’s hand brushes up and down the small of Shoyo’s back. Shoyo rests his hands on Atsumu’s chest and honest to God, licks his lips.

Atsumu, in this moment, realizes…that he's ruined. No one is ever quite going to be like Shoyo. Nor should they.

“Is that what you want?” Atsumu forces himself to say. He really didn't realize how different Shoyo was going to feel. He's not a nobody. He's someone Atsumu cares deeply about. He's someone who Atsumu cannot ever take liberties with. Everything, every trust, every assumption has to be earned. Nothing is for granted. Like right now, he can't assume Shoyo wants to be kissed. Even though Atsumu can feel in his bones that he does. He can nearly feel the want radiating off of Shoyo.

He forces himself to ignore how his body yearns to fulfill the need.

Shoyo's fists clench for a moment before he releases them to lay flat along Atsumu's chest again, “Yes,” Shoyo closes his eyes and tips his head against Atsumu's chin, “and more, I want more.”

Atsumu rubs along his spikers back. Holy shit. Shoyo is doing so well. Atsumu knows better than to make too big a deal of it

“I want you to tell me as much as you can,” he kisses the forehead in front of him, just a quick peck, “please.”

“Can you…” Shoyo pauses for a long time. Atsumu just keeps rubbing his back. He's not gonna stop waiting. He’ll wait until Shoyo either gives up or says something. He really will.

“I want to feel wanted.” Shoyo finally says.

Atsumu wishes he could read Shoyo’s mind. And he kind of can. Based on how Shoyo reacted to being pinned…that alone tells Atsumu some things. He needs Shoyo to give him a little more to make sure he's correct.

“I…I don't want you to treat me like I'm fragile. Kiss me, hold me, move me, you know?”

Fuck. Yes. Atsumu knows.

“Any places you don't want to be touched? I'm not gonna do anything beyond kissin’ ya, no choking or hitting or sex, not tonight anyway,” he pulls Shoyo closer to him, his hand firmly braced along the curve in Shoyo’s back, “not until you tell me you want that.”

“Fuck,” Shoyo whispers, “You really gonna kiss me?”

Atsumu nods, using his free hand to cup Shoyo’s cheek, “I am, I'm gonna kiss you till you wish you had asked for more.”

“I can't ask later?” Shoyo’s voice is breathless.

“Mhmm, tonight I'm just kissin’ ya, no matter how worked up you get.”

“That's cruel-,” Shoyo says until Atsumu’s thumb brushes against the corner of his lips.

Atsumu’s gaze stays focused on Shoyo’s lips, “it will be a cruel exercise for the both of us.”

…

Shoyo is quickly cornered up against the door of Atsumu’s apartment. Luckily it's the inside, because with how Atsumu is looking at him…he definitely wants to be behind closed doors.

Atsumu has just been staring for a half a minute now. Shoyo tilts his head, bearing his neck towards Atsumu, “you just gonna look all night?”

“Maybe,” Atsumu says with a calculated voice, “It is quite the view. Surely it's okay for me to enjoy it.”

Fuck. Shoyo tries to think of a way to encourage Atsumu to keep going, to actually kiss him.

Atsumu does lean forwards bringing his mouth closer to Shoyo’s neck. He leans in until Shoyo can feel his breath along his throat. He arches his neck out further, wanting Atsumu to close that final gap.

“Shoyo,” The way Atsumu says his name like he fucking needs is driving Shoyo into the weird part of his brain.

Shoyo feels everything go fuzzy around the edges as he leaves his neck out for Atsumu.

“I'm,” Atsumu rasps and it sends a shiver through Shoyo's body, “I'm realizing how intense this could be,” Atsumu says, still using his whole body to cage Shoyo against the door.

“I need us to have a system to make it stop.” Shoyo can't stand how it sounds like Atsumu is seconds away from losing control. Like talking is fucking hard.

“Stop light system?” Shoyo supplies. He's not an idiot. He knows the common method of consent once it gets heated. He just always says green. Because the few times he did color- he pushes the thought away. Atsumu cares. He won't leave like that when it goes too far.

“Yes, good,” Atsumu taps his shoulder, “Tap me anywhere and I stop. I'll stop if I even think I feel it.”

“Sure,” Shoyo says, wanting this part to be over.

“Can you do it for me?”

Shoyo bristles. He doesn't want to. He huffs and pats Atsumu back before he lets his back and head thunk against the door.

Atsumu smiles gently, “I'm not going further than what we agreed on tonight. If that brings up any overwhelming feelings, please say yellow or red.”

“Mhmm,” Shoyo agrees quickly.

Atsumu’s eyebrow quirks up before he leans in close, his nose a few millimeters from Shoyo’s. Atsumu cups his jaw, tightening his grip to encourage Shoyo to stay in place, “Nothing you can do will make me go too far.”

For some reason, that statement hits Shoyo harder. Atsumu really believes what he is saying. Shoyo blinks, processing the idea that he really might only get…kissed tonight. It feels ridiculous. He honestly had just assumed that they both knew this was going to end in at least sex.

“The thing is,” Atsumu goes on, letting the tip of his nose brush against Shoyo’s, “I'm gonna let you feel how fucking badly I want it. You're going to feel so wanted.”

Is…is Atsumu serious?

“Do you want this?” Atsumu asks.

Fuck, he really, really does. Even though it might actually end with nobody getting fucked…Shoyo wants to feel Atsumu’s raw need.

“Yes,” he breathes out.

“Bedroom,” Atsumu says, grasping Shoyo’s wrist and pulling him further into the apartment. They pass by everything quickly until Atsumu stops before a bed.

Atsumu turns to him, placing his hands on Shoyo's hips. He just holds Shoyo there for a moment, his eyes roving over Shoyo’s body.

“Fuckin’ Christ Sho,” Atsumu rasps under his breath. “Can you go sit against the headboard for me?”

Shoyo is melting under Atsumu's heady gaze. It feels like his setter is undressing him with his eyes. Apparently, without the intention of even following through. Shoyo climbs onto the bed and crawls over to the headboard. The whole way he feels Atsumu's gaze on him.

“Good,” Atsumu says slowly. He climbs onto the bed next and adjusts until he is kneeling in front of Shoyo.

“Should I keep going? Is this level of control feeling okay?”

Fuck. Yes. Keep going. Shoyo hates how the question brings him out of the foggy mental state he had been in.

Shoyo must glare because Atsumu smiles as the spiker answers, “Yes, keep going.”

Atsumu scoots closer until his knees push into the bed on either side of Shoyo’s straight legs. “I'm gonna keep checking in with you, can't have you going too deep our first time.”

Shoyo wonders what that means as the setter lowers himself until he is sitting on Shoyo’s lap, one leg bracing him in on either side. Holy fuck.

Atsumu's hands raise to gently grasp Shoyo's neck and jaw. “I'm gonna let go a little now. I'll still stop if you signal in any way.”

Shoyo nods absently, the feeling of Atsumu on top of him pushing him deep into the fog.

Yes, want me, please.

…

Atsumu realizes what is about to happen right before he sits down.

He's gonna let himself go a little feral. Let all the want and desire flow out of him and into Shoyo. He's going to show Shoyo how fucking badly he wants it. Yet he holds back. He wants to show Shoyo that even Atsumu's most out of control self won't hurt him.

He's going to let himself want freely…and deny himself anymore above kissing. He's denying them both.

He's going to show that he will always choose denying himself over going past a boundary. He will always make that choice.

He settles onto Shoyo’s lap, already feeling the well of desire bubbling up in himself. He can't always even reach this state, where he feels more animal than human. But, of course it would be with Shoyo, who he matched on the court instantly, to match him here too. Of course with Shoyo he would be able to force his needy feral self out into the open like that.

“Fuck I can't wait to taste you,” Atsumu guides Shoyo to lilt his head to give Atsumu more room on his neck.

Atsumu tucks his face over the pale column. He breathes in deeply, Shoyo doesn't smell like anything other than soap but fuck, the inhale does something deep within his brain. He takes a ragged breath.

Is he really gonna let himself let loose?

“Tell me you want this,” he forces his voice to stay out of that lower range. He needs confirmation, but not blind obedience.

Shoyo squirms but keeps his neck exposed, “Please Atsu,” he whines.

Not enough. Atsumu's brain says.

“I need to hear it Sho,” Atsumu cannot let loose on his friend and teammate. Not without hearing it.

Shoyo lets out an exasperated huff of air. Atsumu knows it's hard. He holds himself still overtop of Shoyo’s neck as he waits.

There are a few beats of silence.

“Yes,” Shoyo whispers, “I want it.”

And the flood gates open.

…

Shoyo had not expected how intense it was going to be. The second he finished saying he wanted it, Atsumu grabbed his body, holding it close to himself and buried his face into Shoyo’s shoulder.

The calculated strength that Atsumu handles him with…it's clear he's stronger. Shoyo knows he's stronger. And Atsumu is firm, his grip sure and steady, but fuck, he could pick Shoyo up and fuck him into a wall and Shoyo’s feet would never hit the ground.

First Atsumu just breathes in deeply, exhaling hot air over Shoyo’s shoulder. Shoyo lets himself be held in place, loving every place where Atsumu holds him. His brain chants more. He wants more. Rougher, harder, held down, forced still -

“Fuuuuck,” Atsumu growls the word into Shoyo’s neck, “You're so fucking good.”

His lips brush Shoyo’s throat as he speaks.
It's an electric feeling. Literally like energy is being transferred through contact. Shoyo gasps, his torso twisting slightly under the sensation.

Atsumu purposefully starts to explore Shoyo’s neck. He lightly drags his lips up towards Shoyo’s jaw. The contact is touch and go - short periods where all Shoyo can feel is hot breath, followed by lips that mouth at him for a second before they pull away. His hips shift under the teasing.

He really didn't anticipate Atsumu to be so…slow. He should have though.

Atsumu lightly kisses right below Shoyo’s ear.

Shoyo gasps at the more direct contact, his hands grasping onto Atsumu’s waist. The setter pulls back. Shoyo’s whole body goes hot when he sees how Atsumu is looking at him.

Atsumu carefully pulls Shoyo’s hands away from his waist. He lays them down on the bed, “Let me want you,” he leans back in, continuing to lightly kiss below Shoyo’s ear, “Your job is to feel wanted. That's all,” the whispered words curl into Shoyo’s brain.

“Yeah?” Atsumu asks after a moment.

“Yeah, okay,” Shoyo says back, flexing his hands and getting them settled comfortably on the bed.

“Good boy.”

Shoyo feels the barest scrape of teeth over his neck, followed by Atsumu’s soft lips. His body jerks despite the larger man on top of him.

Atsumu's hand grabs onto the back of Shoyo’s head. That same sure but calculated grip. Atsumu starts mouthing along Shoyo’s extended neck in earnest and when Shoyo’s body jerks in reaction Atsumu moans.

Shoyo’s eyes fly open. What - he can't see Atsumu beyond his hair. Atsumu’s mouth moves to a sensitive spot and a pitched noise flies out of Shoyo’s mouth. He's embarrassed for a split second before Atsumu groans and holds Shoyo even closer.

Holy fuck. Shoyo’s fingers twitch with the desire to hold on to something. He really -he - God it's never been intense like this. Even in his best edging sessions, his whole body wasn't alive like this.

Shoyo whines as Atsumu nips at his ear. God, he's already hard. He can feel himself pulsing hot in his pants. He's embarrassed. Embarrassed that he got so turned on from just this. It's just, he kind of feels like he's drowning. His body jolts when Atsumu’s mouth goes back to sucking on his throat.

He hears himself gasp and moan but sounds feel foreign. It feels so fucking good. Almost perfect. Almost. There is a nagging voice in the deeper recesses of his mind. One that says Atsumu isn't any different. He's just another who loves to dominate and will ultimately twist Shoyo into a knot he can't unfurl.

Atsumu's mouth is down at the base of his throat now. Each motion of lips still sends energy coursing through Shoyo's body. He jerks his hips, this time seeking friction from Atsumu's body on his lap.

“Mmm,” Atsumu pulls back enough to say, “Can you stay still for me baby?”

Shoyo breathes quickly in frustration. His brain searches for the route to more. To push Atsumu to do more. To prove that he's no different. When push comes to shove, once he's hard and ready, it'll go farther. It has to. It always does.

Atsumu sits back a little more so that they can see each other. Shoyo keeps his face turned. He must look like a wreck.

“It's okay if you can't stay still,” Atsumu's words are gentle but his voice is low and desperate.

“I can,” Shoyo says, because it's true, he can.

Atsumu brings his face closer and kisses Shoyo’s cheek, “What is it? Do you want to move?”

Well…yes. Frankly. Shoyo wants to grind against Atsumu. Even through his pants would be fine. Just something other than this mind numbing teasing.

“Yes,” he breathes out.

Atsumu kisses him on his cheek again and again, “Good job baby,” the kisses move down towards his chin and then his throat. Shoyo prepares himself for that electric feeling of Atsumu on his neck only for the man to pull away, “Lay down.”

Shoyo swallows, oh fuck. He turns back towards Atsumu for the first time in a while. He doesn't look as desperate as before, but his eyes burn with something. Atsumu raises his hips which allows Shoyo to wiggle down to the laying position.

Atsumu is now on all fours above him. Oh yeah, Shoyo is getting fucked tonight.

Atsumu lowers his upper half onto his forearms, bringing his face significantly closer to Shoyo. Atsumu’s hips stay up in the air above Shoyo’s prone body.

“I'm gonna kiss you like this,” Atsumu whispers, a few fingers curling into Shoyo’s hair, “You can squirm all you want like this.”

Shoyo blinks up at him. The surprise must be evident on his face, because Atsumu smirks before lowering his head to Shoyo's neglected side of his neck, “I told you,” Atsumu purrs, “Nothing you can do will make me go too far.”

His lips start immediately, mouthing up and down the sensitive, untouched skin.

Shoyo’s hips buck up, into empty air. It's so fucking unsatisfying. He whines, hands grabbing fistfuls of the loose sheets around them.

Atsumu moans into his neck, as he continues.

Shoyo wants to thrash. He needs.

“Touch me, touch me,” the words are out of his mouth before he decides to say them.

Atsumu has hands on the back of Shoyo’s head, holding him in place for Atsumu’s mouth.

“I am touchin’ ya baby,” Atsumu says, kissing up towards Shoyo’s ear.

Shoyo whines, forcing his head to stay still when all it wants to do is rock it back and forth in frustration. Why won't Atsumu touch him?

“More-” Shoyo whines.

Atsumu's fingers pet Shoyo’s head, “Not this time darlin’.”

Shoyo doesn't understand.

Atsumu plants gentle dry kisses on Shoyo’s cheeks.

“Let yourself feel the frustration,” Atsumu says.

Shoyo groans, his body bowing up to try and touch Atsumu. He feels so alone.

“Shhh, shh, it's okay,” Atsumu is nuzzling his cheek now with his own, “I'm not going further than kissing you.”

Shoyo feels on the verge of tears.

Atsumu’s hands cradle his cheeks and then warm soft lips are pressing into Shoyo’s. He whines, hands uselessly clenching by his sides.

Shoyo feels the well of a sob building in his chest. He can't cry. Nobody likes it when he cries.

“Thats it baby,” Atsumu whispers, wiping away a tear before it falls down his cheek, “Let it out, I've got you.”

Atsumu kisses him, soft and slow. Shoyo tries to kiss back but it feels like he's trapped within himself somehow. Like all the frustration and confusion is a wall.

Atsumu pulls away, and wipes away more tears. “Do you remember what your job is?” The setter asks.

Shoyo shakes his head. He just wants to be good. Tell him how to be good enough.

Atsumu presses their faces together so that their noses are side by side.

“Your job,” he whispers, “is to let me want you.” Atsumu takes a ragged breath, “To let yourself feel wanted.”

Shoyo’s eyes squeeze shut and he feels more tears fall.

“Shoyo, darling,” Atsumu's voice is worried now, “Tell me your color, when you're ready.”

Shoyo turns his face away. Atsumu really isnt going to do more. He really won't. Shoyo's eyes open and all he sees is Atsumu’s arm and crumpled sheets.

If Atsumu truly will not do more…what is left for Shoyo to do?

Atsumu said that Shoyo's job is to let himself feel wanted. Could that really be true? His throat constricts. Could it possibly be true that all Atsumu wants from Shoyo is…for Shoyo to let himself feel wanted?

“Green,” Shoyo says, turning back to look at Atsumu through blurry eyes.

Atsumu’s jaw clenches for a moment, “Can I trust that? I can't hurt you Shoyo. Please don't let me hurt you.”

That stabs at a pit of shame deep within Shoyo. The shame of the things he said green to when he didn't want to.

But this time, it's true. He wants to find out what's on the other side of this. What it feels like to know that the limits are limits. He wants to know what it feels like to trust that he is wanted but won't be used.

“Green,” Shoyo says again, “I want to let go.”

Atsumu watches him for a moment and then nods. “I'll take care of you.”

Shoyo feels his eyes water anew, “I know.”

“Wrap your arms around me” Atsumu says and then guides Shoyo’s arms around his neck.

Atsumu lowers his body a bit until he's nearly sitting on Shoyo again. It feels good. Really good. Shoyo can feel that Atsumu is hard. Like really fucking hard. His ears burn hot. He's that worked up, just from kissing Shoyo's neck.

He's that worked up. But he won't go further. Shoyo can just lay back and enjoy it, knowing that this is all that will happen. Maybe…he grabs on tighter to Atsumu, his fingers digging into his shirt.

Maybe he can actually enjoy it. If he's not worrying…and trying to anticipate…

“Please,” he whispers, mouth buried in Atsumu's shoulder, “please, keep kissing me.”

“Of course,” Atsumu says, aligning their lips. They kiss, slow, purposeful. Shoyo kisses back, his hands grasping into Atsumu's hair. Atsumu uses one hand to cradle the back of Shoyo’s head and another to pet his head. It's so gentle. It's so fucking gentle.

Shoyo feels an ache so fierce in his chest. It aches like when the trainer pushes on the pulled muscle. Pain, radiating out from what's hurt. He clings to Atsumu, who just keeps kissing him like he absolutely means it. Fuck…he means it.

Shoyo moans, grasping at Atsumu and desperately trying to pull him closer. Atsumu presses his body down into Shoyo's and kisses him deeper.

All they do is kiss and hold each other, until Shoyo simply cannot anymore. Until he’s too tired from the intensity of it all. Until Atsumu curls up behind him, a strong arm wrapped around his middle. Lips kissing the crown of his head every few seconds.

Until Shoyo falls asleep.

Chapter Text

Tobio’s body shakes. It's really overwhelming. All of it. Atsumu inside of him, just filling him without any movement. Atsumu's hands and mouth on him. And then there is the pressure of Shoyo’s legs which are braced against Tobio’s chest. And his dick is pressed right up against Shoyo. He can't quite bring himself to start trying to push in though.

“You've been waiting a long time, huh?” Atsumu says it so quietly while he mouths at Tobio’s neck.

Tobio doesn't respond, just keeps looking down at Shoyo underneath him.

“You've held back so long,” Atsumu murmurs.

A pair of hands grip Tobio's waist. “It's time to let go,” Atsumu says, pushing forward on Tobio’s hips.

Atsumu's lips brush against Tobio’s ear. The sound of his voice is loud, despite how quietly Atsumu is talking.

“Fuck him like he deserves.”

The words burn hot inside of Tobio. Atsumu pushes harder. Shoyo is pinned between the bed and Tobio, so there is nowhere to go but in.

Tobio gasps out, his face only a few inches above Shoyo’s. Fuck, it is really fucking tight. Shoyo’s eyebrows furrow together as his fingers dig into Tobio’s biceps.

“Fuuuuck,” Shoyo groans, as his head tips back.

Tobio feels Shoyo slowly let him in. It's so fucking hot. Like Shoyo is burning up.

Tobio feels how his abs clench to keep himself from going too fast. He's trying, he's really trying. Atsumu’s words and the fucking way Shoyo feel around him and underneath him. He's descending. He wants to fuck Shoyo like he deserves. He wants to fuck Shoyo so well. He wants to be all Shoyo can think about.

Atsumu uses his whole body to keep pushing Tobio down. He feels the extra resistance as the head of his cock pushes against Shoyo before sliding inside. After that he just lets Atsumu push him all the way until his pelvis is pushed against Shoyo’s backside.

Holy fuck, Tobio adjusts his legs and breathes through the sensation. He’s lower down now, even closer to Shoyo’s face. With how Shoyo is squished up against him he can't quite reach far enough down to kiss him. He really wants to.

Shoyo fucking groans and uses what little leverage he has to press back against Tobio.

“Fuck, how does he feel?” Atsumu asks in his ear. Tobio realizes that it's going to be this intense the whole time. Atsumu is going to say those things into his ear and drive him wild. Shoyo is going to feel incredible and drive him mad.

When Tobio doesn't answer Atsumu pulls back just enough to snap his hips forwards, fucking forwards into Tobio for the first time in a long while. Oh fuck. Tobio moans, instinctively pushing harder down into Shoyo. The spiker grabs onto him and whimpers.

Tobio presses down again into Shoyo, watching his face as he moans in response. Jesus. Yeah…he's not gonna be able to hold it all back anymore.

“That's it,” Atsumu whispers, pushing down on his hips again, “You can let go, let me keep an eye on him.”

“Atsumu?” Tobio says, forcing his own hips to stay still.

“Mhmm?” Atsumu kisses the spot right behind Tobio’s ear.

“You promise? To watch him?”

Tobio can hear the smile in Atsumu’s voice when he says, “Yes love, I've got you both.”

Tobio looks down into his spiker’s flushed sweaty face. God, Shoyo is beautiful, inside and out.

“Now,” Atsumu drawls, loud enough for Shoyo to hear too, “I distinctly remember telling you, that you were going to have to fuck my spiker till he cries.”

Atsumu fucks his hips forwards into Tobio, “Fuck-” Tobio bites out. Shoyo whimpers as Tobio’s body gets pushed against his in the process.

“Surely you don't need me to do that for you,” Atsumu’s hand clenches over his hip, “do you?”

Tobio shakes his head, still reeling from how it has felt each time Atsumu fucks into him.

“Then show me,” Atsumu taunts. Atsumu pulls back, just like how he did each time he fucked forward into Tobio. But no follow through happens. Tobio waits a moment longer, anticipating that surely Atsumu isn't going to leave him with just this?

Atsumu clicks his tongue, “Apparently I do need to show you.”

Tobio bristles, he doesn't. He can fuck Shoyo just fine without Atsumu's guidance. Tobio shifts his hip to pull out of Shoyo so that he can slide back in.

A deep moan is ripped from his lungs as the motion slides him back onto Atsumu's dick until his ass is back against the blonde’s hips. He falters for a second before he rolls his hips forwards back into Shoyo. Oh. Oh fucking hell.

He does that again, fucking himself first before he pushes back into Shoyo. The man under him is clinging to him, moaning and whining through a closed mouth.

It's…it's fucking incredible. Like…he's never felt anything like it. He feels caught, unsure if he loves fucking himself backwards or fucking forwards into Shoyo more. He falls into a rhythm, rolling his hips back and forth. There is no bad direction to go. Anyway he moves is new sensory input.

He feels his body speeding up, chasing the unending pleasure. Shoyo is louder now, writhing and wiggling his hips as much as he can while being pinned to the bed by Tobio’s whole body.

“Harder- harder-” Shoyo begs, his nails bite into Tobio’s skin. Fuck, Tobio doesn't really have a choice, he snaps forward harder, feeling the loss of Atsumu each time.

Shoyo gasps, head tipping back, “ohmygod,” Shoyo slurs, “fuck, Atsu, he feels so big.”

It burns something within Tobio to hear himself talked about like that. To hear Shoyo dredge up the willpower to say that.

He slams into Shoyo and stays there, pressing his hips as firmly as he can. Atsumu's hand tightens on his hips.

“Fuck, he just doesn't stop clenching,” Atsumu comments.

Tobio pushes his hips back to meet Atsumu's pelvis and keeps himself there for a moment. He's still half inside of Shoyo. Neither sensation ever truly stops, he just keeps bounding between them.

“Christ,” Atsumu groans, “I think he might like gettin’ fucked more than fuckin’.”

Atsumu holds Tobio’s hips still for a few moments and grinds his dick in deep. Tobio is losing his god damn mind.

Shoyo scrambles at Tobio’s shoulders, “please don't stop,” he begs.

Immediately Tobio’s hips kick forwards into Shoyo who is panting like he fucking needs it.

Atsumu releases Tobio’s hip and plants a hand firmly on the middle of Tobio’s back. It restricts his movement a bit. He can't quite shift backwards onto Atsumu in the same way. That leaves focusing on Shoyo. Tobio is thankful. He was feeling so overwhelmed by the urge to just keep fucking himself.

“If you can make him finish before you, I have a reward for you Tobio-kun.”

Tobio considers asking what it could be, honestly doesn't matter though. He has liked everything Atsumu has thrown at him.

Tobio looks down at Shoyo. He's not crying, probably because Tobio hasn't had the mental fortitude to actually fuck him properly. He will now though.

He grabs onto Shoyo’s legs and spreads them out so they are no longer braced against Tobio’s chest, but are rather hanging in the air and resting against Tobio’s arms.

“Is this okay, do your legs hurt?”

Shoyo shakes his head, “it's good, it's good, just please keep going.”

“Okay,” Tobio breathes out. With Shoyo's legs adjusted Tobio can fully settle over his spiker till they are nearly chest to chest. Atsumu moves with them, always keeping his hand on Tobio’s back.

Tobio sinks down into Shoyo, spiker’s fingernails digged into his skin.

…

After that first time things were different. Shoyo honestly still struggled to believe that all they had done was kiss…Atsumu truly didn't take it further.

And other than the conversation that they had when Shoyo woke up in the morning, Atsumu hasn't brought it all back up. He has never asked for anything in return.

The only notable change is how often Shoyo finds Atsumu's hands casually on him even more than usual. A hand tussling his hair, an arm around his back to grasp his shoulder briefly, things like that. And God, the way Atsumu looks at him now. Like he could devour Shoyo if given the chance.

And…Shoyo wants to give him that chance.

“I want more than kissing.”

He watches Atsumu's face register the words. Atsumu struggles to push straight up and put the barbell back up onto the bench.

“Shit Sho,” Atsumu wipes the sweat off his forehead, “You tryin’ to kill me?”

Shoyo glances at the weights and sees that there is about 100kilos there. He honestly hadn't realized how much Atsumu pressed…Shoyo’s bodyweight has been clocking in around 70kg these days.

He pushes down the urge to apologize, “I figured you could handle it.”

Atsumu gives a wry laugh, “Ah, so it is attempted murder.”

“Shouldn't be lifting without a spotter,” Shoyo says back.

“Shit,” Atsumu is laying on the bench with his eyes closed, “Ya got me there.” Atsumu’s heavy breathing starts to level out. Shoyo tries not to focus on how his setter’s biceps look in his tank top.

When he glances back up to Atsumu the man has a knowing smirk on his face.

“So,” Atsumu drawls, “More than kissing?”

Somehow the interaction so far has really taken the confidence out of Shoyo. Atsumu is just so….

“I want more than kissin’ too,” Atsumu admits, sitting up with a soft groan. He looks up at Shoyo, “but it's gotta be by the book, at least to start.” He smiles, “Can't mess up my spiker,” Atsumu leans back, “Gonna need ya when Bokuto craps out from one bad spike,” Atsumu throws his thumb over his shoulder towards where Bokuto is absolutely shredding on the left machine.

The joke does somewhat ease the tension.

“Im more than just a replacement for Bokuto,”

Atsumu smiles fully, “Ain't that the truth.”

Shoyo’s stomach has been flipping since the ‘my spiker's comment. It doesn't stop now as Atsumu gazes at him thoughtfully.

“Make a list,” Atsumu says standing up, “of what ya like,” he tips his head pointedly, “and whatcha don't.” He stares meaningfully at Shoyo, “we’ll go over it with dinner, my treat.”

Shoyo stammers for a moment, panic flipping his stomach once more.

Atsumu lays a hand on his shoulder, “No rush, when you're done just text me. We can get food anytime.”

Shoyo looks up at him skeptically.

Atsumu gives a short, soft laugh, “Take a few months if you need,” that enraging and endearing smirk crosses his lips, “Although I'm not sure you'll wanna wait that long.” And with that he walks away, tipping his water bottle back to drink.

He's … he’s…ridiculous. He's cocky as all hell…Shoyo looks down for a moment. He's cocky, but not without reason to be.

He looks up to see Atsumu sitting on the trap machine, back towards him, muscles ripping under a loose fitted tank top.

Jesus.

…

Atsumu reads over the list studiously. Only once does he glance at Shoyo before he keeps reading. It's not a long list…he must have read over it at least three times by now.

Finally he puts the paper down, “This is good, thank you Shoyo.”

Shoyo’s face warms.

“This aligns with a lot of my own interests, just on the controlling side.”

Shoyo nods because he really isn't sure what else to do.

Atsumu taps his takeout container with a chopstick, “Eat hun, it's getting cold.”

Now his ears are warm with blush. He eats, happy for the distraction. All too willing to blame any accused blush on the spice.

“Is there anything you were particularly hopeful to do together?”

Something about actually visualizing them doing any of it together is tightening Shoyo’s stomach. He carefully takes a bite and swallows. How the fuck is he supposed to answer this, he already made the damn list, isn't that enough?

“Not really,” he says quietly.

They both eat for a moment.

“I do have an idea,” Atsumu says carefully.

The words alone send goosebumps down Shoyo’s neck and back. What in the world could Atsumu have in store for him?

…

They are kissing, Atsumu’s clothed chest pressing against Shoyo’s bare one. It is so easy to lose himself in Atsumu’s mouth. Especially after their first time. Fuck. Shoyo’s skin burns red hot with the knowledge that this is already their second time. He grasps onto Atsumu's hair and the setter moans and presses closer into him.

Atsumu still hasn't told him what his great ‘idea’ was. Currently Shoyo won't complain, not while Atsumu is moaning and licking into his mouth.

The anticipation is already getting Shoyo hard. Last time it didn't take much more than this to get Atsumu hard either. Shoyo decides to find out. He arches his hips up until he connects with Atsumu. The moan that lands into his mouth, and the hard bulge he just pressed against is evidence enough.

Atsumu presses down on his hip to pin him to the bed. “Fuck, you are incredible.”

The words make Shoyo whine, his hips bucking despite the strong hand holding him down.

“I can't let'ya do that though,” Atsumu says quietly, kissing absently around Shoyo’s mouth and cheeks.

Shoyo whines, desperately trying to catch Ataumu’s lips again.

“Fuck,” Atsumu groans, letting their mouths reconnect, “You're gonna be the death of me.” Shoyo squirms at the words, still trying to push against the hand, now hands, holding him down.

“I can't wait till I can have ya,” Atsumu nuzzles into his neck, kissing and sucking as he goes, “gonna make ya feel so good baby,”

Why- why is he talking like he doesn't have Shoyo?

“Fuck,” Atsumu groans after Shoyo plants his feet ahainst the bed to buck against Atsumu’s hold with more force, “fuck babe, this might be the hardest thing ive ever done.”

“What?” Shoyo breathes out, absolutely loving how it feels to be so thoroughly pinned to the bed.

“I ain't gonna fuck ya, ain't even gonna come. Tonight is all about you. Learning you. Learning how to play you until I can make you come everytime.”

Shoyo short-circuits. He- Atsumu isn't even going to…fuck…really?

“Just wanna take my time with you,” Atsumu kisses Shoyo’s throat, “wanna learn every little thing that makes you squirm for more.”

This isn't real. This simply isn't real. Atsamu isn't real. His setter’s mouth moves down over his clavicle towards his chest.

“Gonna learn how to make you orgasm so many times you forget who you are-”

Shoyo’s brain is drowning. How can Atsumu want that? Why would he want that?

“Gonna make you drown in it,” Ataumu growls, kissing and nipping at Shoyo’s upper chest.

The spiker’s back bows towards Atsumu’s stomach. A hand snakes under his body to hold the small of this back and keep him arched.

“Gonna teach you to finish in ways you never thought possible.”

Somehow, Shoyo already feels like he's on an edge, just from how Atsumu is talking. Shoyo cries out as Atsumu licks over his nipple. His hips buck and kick as Atsumu sucks in the small hardened nub.

He's, he's, he's, “At- I'm - I can- T”

“Fuck, already?” The words sear across Shoyo’s brain, “Just from my mouth?”

Shoyo nods before he loses himself in the sensation. Atsumu sucks and nips and kisses and licks. It's so overwhelming. Shoyo grabs onto Atsumu’s hair only to find his hands slammed down into the soft bed, “No, only I touch tonight.” Atsumu doesn't keep holding his hands down. But fuck, he could. He could and Shoyo wants him too.

Shoyo keeps his hands up above his head where Atsumu left them. Wishing, really wishing that his setter’s strong hand had him by the wrists.

Shoyo is losing his mind. He raises his head, trying to get closer to Atsumu who just keeps tormenting his chest.

One of Arsumu’s hands grips the small of Shoyo’s back, keeping him arched and tense. The other holds Shoyo’s hips to the bed. Shoyo thrashes in the firm grip while the sensation on his nipple doesn't stop.

“At-su-”

“Fuck, that's it baby, let me see you,”

Shoyo feels red hot.

“Let me see your pretty face come.”

Shoyo does. His body goes rigid and Atsumu doesn't stop for a single second. His tongue flicks over Shoyo’s nipple and then bites. It's not a hard bite, but it's enough to know he could bite. All he feels is Atsumu’s tongue stroking up and up as his orgasm overcomes him. He's not sure what his voice is doing, all he knows is sensation and being held down. He hopes Atsumu holds him down and keeps making him finish until he truly loses himself.

…

Atsumu watches his spiker’s face contort, twisting with effort, “Atsu~” he whines. And fuck if that doesnt drip through Atsumu’s body like a drug. He wishes he could see Shoyo better from this angle. Even though Atsumu can't fully see, the way Shoyo’s body flexes and tenses in his arms tells him what Atsumu wants to know.

He stops actively sucking on Shoyo pink pebbled nipples for a moment, staying close enough that his lips will brush it when he talks, “Fuck, thats it baby,” he feels Shoyo react under him, “let me see you.”

Shoyo whines and his head rolls from side to side. His body is tight like a live wire, he must be so close. Atus amu goes back to sucking on his nipple for a moment. He closes his eyes and cherishes how it feels in his mouth. Fuck, maybe he’ll go down on Shoyo tonight. He groans at the thought and Shoyo’s body jolts.

Atsumu turns his gaze up to Shoyo, only stopping his mouth long enough to say, “Let me see your pretty face come.”

Shoyo squeals and gasps, his body flexing with such strength against Atsumu’s. It very much triggers the desire to hold him down. To pin him and make him take it until he is babbling and wrecked. Atsumu watches Shoyo’s face bloom into pleasure. His jaw open, beautiful, strangled sounds fall from his lips. When Atsumu notices that Shoyo has kept his hands where Atsumu placed them…he hasn't moved them, even when he was actively orgasming. Atsumu bites. Not too hard, just enough that he knows Shoyo can feel it.

Partially he bites because he's not sure what would fall from his lips if he freed his mouth. He's not sure it's appropriate to say some of the things flying through his head. Not on their second session. But fuck.

Shoyo orgasms fucking beautifully. His whole body shakes and moves. And God the fucking sounds he makes. Atsumu wants to hear it again and again and again. He wants to bring Shoyo from one overwhelming orgasm to the next. He wants Shoyo to drown in it.

He releases his mouth when Shoyo’s body finally goes slack against the bed. The spiker pants, his body twitching in the after shocks. Fuck. Atsumu doesn't want to fucking stop. He wants to go right into the next one. He wants to hold Shoyo down and force another.

He takes a deep breath. Second session. Reel it in man.

He sits up and pulls Shoyo’s head into his lap. He pets soft orange hair and brushes soothingly over Shoyo’s cheeks. He listens to Shoyo pleasantly whimper in contentment on each exhale. Atsumu wonders how deep he is from that. It's always hard to gauge at first but after a few sessions Atsumu can usually tell. It's not even a cognitive thing, it's more like an intuition of how deep his sub is, how much deeper they can take, when to ease off gently, when to hard stop.

Atsumu has always found it a little weird. How there is a part of his brain that doesn't even seem to think in words that just…understands. Picks up on all the cues and acts accordingly. It's not a perfect system. He has sessions he wishes had gone differently. But nothing dangerous or traumatizing.

Shoyo curls to lay on his side, his face buried in Atsumu's legs. He really, really tries not to think about how Shoyo’s mouth is just…right there. He just keeps petting that ridiculous hair…not that his isn't worse. At least Sho’s is natural.

Atsumu tries to force his body to calm down. He's coming in too hot. He breathes and pets until Shoyo starts to stir.

Shoyo glances up at him for a moment before he closes his eyes again, “Jesus Atsu,”

Atsumu can't help the smirk that forms on his lips. He made Shoyo finish just from his chest. If anything that says more about how sensitive Shoyo is than any particular talent on Atsumu's end. But, he still lets himself feel a little proud.

“I've never done that,” Shoyo says quietly.

Atsumu’s smirk fades. Never as in…? He keeps petting Shoyo’s head, “Which part hun?”

“Just,” Shoyo’s voice is quiet, “You didn't even touch me.”

Ah, yeah, “That can be really intense, how are you feeling?”

Shoyo is silent for a few moments, “dirty,” he says finally.

Yeah, he had Shoyo keep his bottoms on, and now it probably does feel really gross. Atsumu regrets already getting an orgasm out of Shoyo. Honestly though, it all just happened in a rush. By the time he realized that Shoyo was on the edge it didn't feel like there was anything to do but give the final push.

“Let me clean you up,” Atsumu says, continuing to card his fingers through Shoyo’s hair.

Shoyo shakes his head and starts to sit up, “it's fine, I can do it.”

Atsunu’s stomach twists at Shoyo’s tone of voice. He gently grasps Shoyo’s arm before he can climb away, “Please,” he requests sincerely, “it's okay if you genuinely want to clean yourself up, I'll respect that choice, but it would truly feel good for me to help you get clean.”

“That-” Shoyo looks at Atsumu with distrust in his eyes, “it's…it's dirty.”

Atsumu shakes his head, unwilling to break eye contact. “You're not, it's not. Truly, it feels good for me to help clean up.”

Shoyo looks away, his jaw clenching. It's a minute of silence before he says, “okay.”

Atsumu smiles and says “thanks hun,” he helps Shoyo take off his shorts and underwear. The spiker is avoiding his gaze at every turn now. Atsumu tries to not take it personally.

He debates going to warm up a cloth or to use the disposable ones by the bed. He decides on warm. He cups Shoyo’s cheek, kissing the unoccupied one gently, “I'll be right back with a cloth.”

“Ok,” Shoyo says quietly.

“Will just be a minute, I promise to come back.”

Shoyo doesn't say anything as he sits there awkwardly. Atsumu hurries through the motions of getting the tap warm enough and wringing out the cloth so it won't drip. He returns to find Shoyo in the same position, hunched over himself like he's hiding.

Atsumu climbs up behind him, settling his body against Shoyo’s back. He takes a second to kiss Shoyo’s shoulder and then his cheek again.

“Can I?” He holds the rag up for Shoyo to see. The spiker nods. But something doesn't sit right with Atsumu. He holds the washcloth there for a moment, “Would you feel more comfortable to do it yourself?”

Shoyo’s shoulders raise up towards his ears. Atsumu sits as quietly as he can as he waits for an answer. Shoyo reaches forward and takes the cloth. He rubs at himself much harsher than Atsumu would have done.

Atsumu kisses Shoyo’s shoulder. He's definitely sobered up a lot. He's not feeling the desire to pin Shoyo down and fuck a second orgasm out of him. Well, honestly he's still stoked about the idea, but it's a normal thought now. Not like the Dom thoughts. Those push and push until he is drowning in want. It's exhilarating. It's sometimes so intense it's nearly frightening.

It feels extra intense…and extra frightening with Shoyo. Atsumu isn't sure what it is about this man. But this feels right. He’ll chalk it up to being his first bed partner that is also a partner in life. They work together so much. And Atsumu, in his soul and body, already feels like he knows how to match Shoyo. Match his speed, height, energy, all in a split second.

It's different, of course. Atsumu keeps kissing along Shoyo’s shoulder, trailing toward his neck. Atsumu loves easily. Not necessarily in the romantic sense, but in the, he finds the intensity in everyone lovable. He loves when the people around him show passion. A currency that is boundless in the volleyball realm. There is passion, and drive. It's an energy he never could quite get enough of. The buzz of a stadium. The static thrill in the air a moment before a serve. The way the room erupts for both points made and lost.

Osamu always called him an adrenaline junkie. It wasn't a hard leap to land in sub/dom dynamics. There are definitely feelings and experiences to be reaped from subbing. Atsumu will never knock the other side. Never. If anything, subbing is absolutely the more impressive and intense side. Like, hands down. Atsumu may be an adrenaline fiend, but he's also controlling as hell. It nearly broke him to let go like that.

He never has regretted trying it. And he probably will continue to explore that side throughout his life. It's just…it's intense. Intense in a way that nearly defies words.

His lips finally reach Shoyo’s ear and the spiker lets out a quiet gasp. Atsumu realizes what he's doing and pulls back. Shoyo continues quietly panting, the used cloth still in his hand. Atsumu feels the spike of thrill. He hadn't even consciously meant to, but he was kissing Shoyo's neck. To the point where the spiker is visibly and audibly flustered.

Atsumu glances down the length of Shoyo’s torso to see his soft cock firming. It's ridiculous how these moments affect Atsumu. It is like a drug. Causing these effects in Shoyo drives him wild. Knowing that even simple touches start to get Shoyo worked up. The desire to keep Shoyo feeling wanted and good eats through Ataumu's body. All he wants in the world is to bring Shoyo through pleasure.

He fights through it all, forcing the feral feelings back until he can think.

He carefully takes the cloth and tosses it to the floor. He wraps his arms around Shoyo’s middle and holds him close. He tucks his face into Shoyo’s shoulder, giving a small peck of a kiss every few seconds. This also feels so good. Holding him like this.

“Do you want to stop?” Atsumu whispers.

“No,”

Atsumu licks his lips, “Do you want me to keep going?”

Shoyo’s body takes a ragged breath and he exhales slowly.

Atsumu waits, arms around him, mouth giving quick pecks.

Shoyo is quiet for a long time. Atsumu waits, mind turning over different options of what he should say next. How long should he wait for Shoyo to answer before he talks again? Does Shoyo need support or help? Should Atsumu ask something different?

“Keep going,” Shoyo says quietly.

“Yeah?” Atusmu asks.

Shoyo swallows, “Yeah.”

…

Chapter Text

The plan, in theory…is to actually get this build up to last long enough that Shoyo doesn't finish right away. Purely for logistical reasons of course. Shoyo can only actually orgasm so many times. It's a finite resource.

Atsumu’s goal isn't to tucker Shoyo out. His goal is to…fuck…it's almost embarrassing to admit…his truest desire and goal is to see how long he can make Shoyo feel good.

Atsumu never quite got the domineering, fast and hard, do as I say or else, flavor of Dom. He can lean into aspects of it. He’ll hit Shoyo if he can tell that Shoyo needs to be put into his place.

But it's not his natural default. No…his pleasure lies elsewhere. Somewhere between serving his subs every need (which isn't necessarily what they beg for) and the high of emotional domination.

He could hit Shoyo until he complied. He could tie him up or pin him down. He has. But there is nothing quite like watching Shoyo freely give instead of being forced to provide.

To watch him strain to hold his body still, no help from restraints. Watch him force himself to orgasm again and again even though he’s overstimulated. To watch him feel safe enough to describe exactly what he’s thinking about while Atsumu teases. To fucking watch him never fail to warn Atsumu to stop before he orgasms without permission. To fucking want it so bad and still deny himself.

There is nothing like watching trust help Shoyo let his walls down. Nothing like humiliating him, degrading him, making sure he knows exactly who he belongs to.

Atsumu also feels deep in his bones that he likes those things because of how good they make Shoyo feel. He gets off on it because of how it makes Shoyo feel. How it brings his spiker pleasure.

Atsumu can't drag his eyes away from Shoyo’s face. It's breathtaking. Atsumu groans as Tobio slides back onto him before snapping back into Shoyo.

Atsumu is positioned to mostly give Tobio a well deserved break so that he could focus on Shoyo. It means that Atsumu doesn't get much movement from Tobio, but that's okay. Because what he's really thinking about, as he watches Shoyo’s face, is how he's letting someone else fuck his sub.

In actually, Atsumu has orchestrated this whole thing. He's got Tobio under his thumb and he always has Shoyo tucked under his arm. Shoyo doesn't need the discipline that Tobio does. Well, brat Shoto does, but in such a calculated way that it's clear Shoyo just needs to be pressed down on. It's like, for brat Shoyo, there is a mental block. He is having some mental shift that is preventing him from submitting on his own. Brat Shoyo asks for help.

Normal Shoyo is compliant and docile and fucking beautiful. He does it because it feels good. He does it because he wants to.

So yes, it feels like Shoyo is tucked under his arm and Tobio is on a short fucking leash. It is honestly kind of exhilarating to have the two separate dynamics going on at the same time.

Shoyo chokes on a moan and curls his head forwards to press his face into Tobio’s shoulder. Atsumu misses getting to see Shoyo’s face, but he will indeed survive.

What is currently fascinating Atsumu - as he watches Shoyo’s body start to shake - is how he orchestrated this for Shoyo. He loved that boy so hard, he brought in a second boy to love him too.

God I'm so fucked, Atsumu thinks. Shoyo’s head throws back and Atsumu yanks on Tobio’s hips, pulling him clear out of Shoyo. Shoyo cries out, his head shaking.

Tobio pulls against Atsumu’s grip. Atsumu pulls back hard, forcing Tobio onto his cock and against his body.

“Atsumu, please, please,” Shoyo wails, with genuine distress in his voice. Atsumu does feel badly. He feels badly for the part of Shoyo that wants it now. All the while he is secretly feeding the part of Shoyo that begs to be denied to the point of insanity.

“Please, Atsu please, I want to come, please let me. Please baby.” Shoyo babbles, reaching towards Tobio to have him back.

“You want your toy back?” Atsumu asks, fucking losing his mind with how It feels to be back fully inside of Tobio. He feels the man in his arms pull in a sharp breath.

“Yes, yes, please, I'll be so good.”

It's a tough moment, where Atsumu thinks he might actually want to fully deny Shoyo. Despite everything that went into this. Is Atsumu ready to permanently share Shoyo?

Atsumu knows that this actual act, letting Shoyo orgasm on Tobio’s dick, doesn't actually mean that much. But it does still feel really significant. Letting someone else have that trusting, vulnerable version of Shoyo…is scary.

Atsumu pushes down on Tobio’s waist, guiding him back to Shoyo. The red head grabs and clings to Tobio. There is a new dynamic that has emerged through this. It really is a very short leash, but he is letting Tobio have some of the allotted Dom energy.

Having Tobio hold his hands around Shoyo’s throat like that was dual purpose. It let Tobio have control over Shoyo, while he also submitted and modulated his strength for Atsumu.

And now, Tobio’s the dom that Shoyo clings to, to get fucked. But Atsumu is the Dom be begs to for the chance to get fucked.

It's convoluted…but it's working. He pushes down harder onto Tobio’s lower back, forcing him deeper and harder into Shoyo. Atsumu watches Shoyo’s finger nails drag down Tobio’s upper back as Shoto’s deeper moan fills the air. Fucking beautiful.

This time maybe he’ll actually let Shoyo orgasm.

…

Atsumu’s fingertips trace around Shoyo’s torso. The spiker’s body jerks and flinches over sensitive and ticklish spots. Atsumu still has his mouth on Shoyo’s neck. Atsumu doesn't know why, he's never really felt this way with another sub before, but he's addicted to Shoyo's neck.

He licks over the throat, kissing along Shoyo’s jaw and cheek.

“I can't decide if I wanna make you cum as many times as possible,” he kisses Shoyo’s cheek, “or-” he draws out the word, “if I wanna see how long you can possibly last.”

Shoyo’s body tenses, his back arching to present his chest forwards. Atsumu hasn't touched his nipples yet, not since he made Shoyo come.

“Or,” Atsumu whispers, “maybe I just wanna do both.”

Shoyo whines, squirming restlessly.

“Yeah?” Atsumu asks breathlessly, “You want me to find your edges?”

“Fuck,” Shoyo breathes out, his body reacting even more now.

Atsumu removes his hands. Shoyo is so sensitive. How did anyone even find time to choke him when you can break him down orgasm by orgasm. Atsumu can't wait to see what Shoyo feels like when he's simply wrung too dry to function.

Atsumu’s mind loses itself in imagining Shoyo curled up in his arms. His head on Atsumu’s chest. Petting his hair. Kissing the top of his head.

Fuck- Shoyo interrupts his thoughts, “You can.”

Hmm, sorry, just not good enough. Atsumu only takes enthusiastic consent.

“We can do either option, or neither,” Atsumu gives Shoyo space to think, resting his hands to the side.

Shoyo seems to be feeling the submissive head space. Actually saying what he wants will still take willpower, but Atsumu hopes it's easier like this.

Shoyo is quiet for a moment and then he leans his head back against Atsumu, “Edge me one more time, then I'll tell you.”

There is that fight that Shoyo flashes once in a while. Atsumu is curious to see a whole session start this way. What would it feel like to have Shoyo push back in that way?

“Of course darling,” Atsumu says as he brings his hands back up to tease Shoyo's chest.

Atsumu sees the request for what it is. Buying time and buying headspace. Actually answering will be easier if Shoyo has more time and is a little deeper as well.

“Good job,” Atsumu says quietly as he traces fingertips around the edge of Shoyo’s nipples.

Shoyo gasps and pushes his back closer against Atsumu’s front.

“That's it baby, let yourself feel it.”

It is incredible how Shoyo responds to words alone. Some subs do, the dirty talk or praise or degradation getting them closer than any physical stimulation. Again, somehow, Shoyo feels different.

Maybe…it's because Atsumu means the words on two levels. He doesn't ever really lie to a sub. He often does feel and mean the things he says, just often with varying degrees of intensity. With Shoyo, the impact is at full speed. He deeply and truly means it all.

Atsumu keeps one hand trailing light teasing touching around Shoyo's nipple while the other slides down his stomach towards where Shoyo is hard and already leaking. God. Shoyo really is just fucking perfect.

Shoyo’s hips twitch as Atsumu teases him here too, just there touches around Shoyo’s dick but never touching it. Atsumu’s mouth waters as he thinks about sinking down onto it, getting to taste how badly Shoyo wants it.

Shoyo whines and whimpers as he watches Atsumu's hands continue to tease and deny him.

“Edging was on your list,” Atsumu says, lightly grasping Shoyo’s nipple between two fingers.

Shoyo gasps and tries to push his chest further into Atsumu’s hand. Atsumu can't help but smile at the reaction. Something else had been on Shoyo’s list. It is worth testing out some lighter aspects of it.

Atsumu pinches the nipple between his fingers. It's not enough force to hurt, hurt, but it's enough to get at least a little spike of adrenaline from Shoyo.

The spiker bends forwards even more, presenting his chest fully to Atsumu.

The setter blinks for a moment, his fingers still holding Shoyo’s nipple. He expected Shoyo to pull back. Most people do- it's involuntary. Pain on such a fragile, sensitive place, the body reacts. But…Shoyo leaned into it. His body tried to give Atsumu more.

“God you're incredible," Atsumu whispers into Shoyo’s shoulder. It's so tempting to push the pain and find Shoyo’s limits that way. Exactly how much force would Atsumu have to apply before Shoyo flinches away?

He wont, not this time. Pain, in Atsumu’s mind, is the most intense form of pushing submission. He knows others disagree. He lessens his pinch on Shoyo’s chest,

“You like to be edged?” Atsumu forces himself to redirect his focus. He trails a brushing touch over the base of Shoyo’s dick. The spiker squirms, flexing his hips into Atsumu’s touch.

“Ah,” Shoyo gasps when Atsumu’s hand brushes the underside of his dick, “I think so.”

The phrasing throws Atsumu a little. He thinks so?

“Have you not tried it?” Atsumu lets his fingers touch the underside of Shoyo’s head. It's almost like a balancing act, keeping Shoyo just frustrated and worked up enough to be honest and forthcoming.

“I have,” Shoyo breathes out, “But not to the degree you would do.”

Oh…Atsumu likes that.

He likes knowing that Shoyo knows how well Atsumu provides. He likes knowing that Shoyo is aware of what he's signing up for.

“Oh?” He purrs into Shoyo’s ear, “nobody has ever edged you like you deserved?”

Shoyo shakes his head, hips still jumping towards Atsumu’s touch, “They always lost interest."

Fuck. How in the world could they fucking lose interest? How could they stop anytime before they had this beautiful man sobbing and begging for release.

“You always wanted more, didn't you?”

Shoyo whimpers quietly.

“Always wished they had gone further…would you be disappointed when they didn't deny you?”

A sound gets caught in Shoyo’s and his hips push backwards into Atsumu’s groin. Fuck. He’s gotta be careful about how much he lets Shoyo do stuff like that. Atsumu could really get lost in how Shoyo’s ass feels against his dick.

“Has anyone ever pushed you like that until you felt like you truly couldn't anymore?”

Shoyo shakes his head, his lower body now constantly moving and seeking stimulation.

“But you wanted them to,” Atsumu says, pressing the tip of his finger against Shoyo’s wet slit.

“Didn't you?” Atsumu knows the answer, but he's interested in if Shoyo will admit it.

Shoyo lets out a ragged exhale as Atsumu smears the clear precum over the head of Shoyo’s dick. It's already looking so needy, the head pink and leaking…the shaft tight with how hard the spiker is. Gorgeous.

“Yes,” Shoyo says under his breath.

Atsumu’s brain feels hot when he hears the admission. He kisses Shoyo's shoulder.

“How would I even know when to stop darlin’? If I did edge ya until you couldn't take more, how would I know when to finally let you have what you need?”

He kisses up the column of Shoyo’s neck, his fingers teasing equally along Shoyo's dick.

Shoyo groans, tilting his face towards Atsumu, “I don't know,” he whispers, “no one ever…” Shoyo trails off, “no one ever pushed me like that.”

Atsumu lightly grasps Shoyo’s cock, a nice reward for talking despite how hard it must be. He can feel Shoyo’s hot breath as he pants, hips jerking lightly in Atsumu’s grasp

“Shoyo,” he makes his tone more somber, he needs the spiker to believe and understand him, “I would truly, truly love to spend all night edging you.”

Shoyo’s breathing waivers.

“But only if you want that.” It's impossible for Atsumu to even imagine doing something that Shoyo doesn't actively want. Even harder to fathom doing something Shoyo doesn't want and not knowing till after.

“So please,” he takes a deep breath, “be honest with me, is that night tonight? Or another.”

He is lightly grasping Shoyo's cock still, but not moving. He wants there to be room to think. Atsumu nuzzles his mouth and nose into Shoyo’s shoulder. Shoyo's body keeps flexing in small motions. Like he’s too fucked up grinding against Atsumu.

Atsumu isn't going to say he hates it. He gently stills Shoyo's hips so the man can think.

It's a delicate balance. He can only exert power within a certain frequency. Can't be too little that Shoyo comes out of the submissive headspace, and not so much that he betrays his own needs and boundaries.

This isn't the first time Atsumu has operated within these parameters. He's convinced that all people have a breaking point. All people can be pushed to neglect their own boundaries. With subbing, you lose so much of your higher order thinking, you become so entrenched in the primal parts of your brain, drowning in endorphins and adrenaline.

The further into that deep place you go, the less ability you have to make it stop. Physically and mentally. Atsumu has brought numerous people to the point of being unable to speak. It's not forever, obviously. But the silent spells can last just about as long as Atsumu is willing to go on.

He's had a few sessions go awry, where his subs go nearly catatonic for a while, silent and still, like they are trapped within themselves. Atsumu knows from experience that you can attempt to drag yourself out of subspace to make a session end. He also knows how easy it can be to ignore any redflags in that deep headspace.

Atsumu is not unfamiliar with the unsettling knowledge that you can be pushed so far outside of your own brain that you do something that both people said he wouldn't do.

It's something that has definitely kept Atsumu away from subbing. When he Doms, even deep in the headspace, there isn't much Atsumu can't perfectly control. He doesn't cross boundaries. Not when he doms.

So, Atsumu knows how important it is to stay within the band of safety. Not too little, not too much. In some ways, it feels like Shoyo’s band is a tightrope. it frightens Atsumu. He could so easily press too hard and lead to Shoyo getting hurt.

So most of Atsumu’s maneuvering is straddling the line of just assertive enough to be effective, without going over. It's a gentle balance. Like coaxing Shoyo into subspace. Working so subtly that it's almost like falling asleep. Nothing, and then all at once.

He can't press harder, he can't speed it up, or spank it into existence. Slow and methodical.

His heart jumps, at the thought of slowly widening that band for Shoyo. Helping him learn how to use his voice, and respect his boundaries, all the while drowning in pleasure. It's almost like restructuring something in Shoyo’s brain network.

Tell me what you truly want, what you truly need, and I'll make you feel so good you lose your mind.

Surely the brain makes new, healthier networks through the pleasure of an orgasm. Who knows, Atsumu isn't a brain scientist, although parts of him feels like he intuitively understands some aspect of it pretty implicitly.

If Atsumu can widen the band, he’ll get to press Shoyo even deeper. Atsumu wants that. He wants to help Shoyo give actual boundaries so that Atsumu can truly trust in pushing further. So that Atsumu can let himself want and act.

“Tonight-” Shoyo whispers, “I want that tonight.”

Chapter Text

“Oh god, oh god,” Shoyo’s feet dig into the bed, pushing his hips up into Atsumu’s hand.

Watching Shoyo writhe under his touch is truly a pleasure. Atsumu glances at the digital clock on the nightstand. A few more minutes. He looks back down at Shoyo who’s beautiful face is blushed and sweaty.

Atsumu has been pumping a lubed hand over Shoyo’s cock for a bit now. Alternating between applying more speed and pressure with slow and languid strokes. The rhythm change in itself is an edging technique. It's a bit less intense than getting all the way up to orgasm. But it is still a lot.

From how Shoyo’s body won't stop moving, it's clear he's getting close to an actual orgasm.

His eyes flit to the clock again. Yeah, this will work. He quickly puts more lube on his hand and grasps Shoyo tightly. The man keens, body desperate for more.

“You let yourself get as close as you can, yeah?”

Shoyo blinks for a second, like he is decoding the words before he nods.

Atsumu has a feeling that Shoyo is just as intense about this, as he is with everything. If he's gonna do it, he's gonna do it right. Even if that means going to Brazil and learning a whole new language. He’s pretty sure when Shoyo warns Atsumu that he's close, he will truly be close. It won't be a ‘close-enough’ situation. Shoyo will force himself to ride that edge.

Someday, if this all goes well, Atsumu would love to keep going once Shoyo warns him…just for the pleasure of watching intently as Shoyo uses everything he has to push the orgasm back.

Not tonight though. Tonight, any warning indication makes Atsumu stop.

Atsumu uses a firm grip to fuck his hand up and down Shoyo’s cock. It's obscenely hard. It already kind of looks like it hurts.

Shoyo's body contorts, his hips stuttering into the air to chase more. That's it baby, let yourself feel so good.

Up until now Atsumu has been giving him about 15-30 seconds worth of tighter, orgasm building stimulation before he would switch back to slow and languid. This time, right around the minute mark of fisting Shoyo’s cock, the man under him seems to realize what is happening. Atsumu is finally dragging him towards the edge.

Shoyo's body keeps writhing and jerking into Atsumu’s hand. Shoyo’s hand grasps at the bedding until he finally lands on Atsumu’s thigh. He squeezes, his grip strong enough that Shoyo’s fingers dig into Atsumu’s skin. Atsumu glances at that hand, watching for any movement. Shoyo just grips, his head pushing down into the bed to keep his hips up. He's close, so close. It's up to Shoyo to decide when to actually call it. Atsumu wonders what it must feel like inside of the spiker right now.

…

Shoyo had been truthful, he has been edged before. But after only a few everyone always let him have it. There was always a part of him that grieved the permission to finish. He hadn't been brought far enough to truly need it. It felt empty. It also felt selfish. How could he let himself want more like that? And of all things to be disappointed about, seriously? Denial? He should be thankful for what the men who played with Shoyo gave, rather than ache for less.

Shoyo can tell Atsumu is of a different mindset. He seems to be…enjoying himself as he tosses Shoyo back and forth with varied stimulation. Slow, torturously slow, just for Atsumu to give him a few really good pumps, only to resume the lethally slow pace.

It is fucking with Shoyo’s head in a way no edging session ever has before. He really truly feels the desire for release building inside of him. Each time Atsumu slows down a part of Shoyo wilts. It feels fucking amazing. It feels amazing to be touched like this, like a play-thing for Atsumu. Shouo’s chest floods with heat as he wonders if Atsumu really won't get bored of this. Will he go on until Shoyo can't?

Shoyo has been pushed to limits before. Been pushed past them. But never like this. Never within the parameters for Shoyo’s pleasure. It truly feels like he is too full of energy to stop moving up into Atsumu's grasp. He genuinely is chasing the orgasm now, even though he knows how it will end. It's almost like he just doesn't even care. He's so worked up, even a close-call will feel good.

Atsumu starts to pet Shoyo’s hair, like he can fucking tell that Shoyo is hurtling towards the first edge. Shoyo turns his face into Atsumu’s arm, desperate for something to ground him. He wishes Astumu would hold him down and make it more manageable. But no, Atsumu uses his free hand to hold and pet Shoyo’s cheek as his body writhes for both more and less stimulation.

“You've got this sweetheart, just relax, let it build, you don't have to control it.”

The words - Shoyo barely makes sense of them. He can't relax, he can't, not when he could screw this up before it's even started.

Atsumu slows down a little, but continues to use a firm grip. Then he stops altogether and let's Shoyo just fuck his hips up into Atsumu’s hand.

“Is this what you need, baby? Do you need to control this one?”

Shoyo huffs out his breath and presses his face closer into Atsumu's hand. He is overwhelmed by the new realization that Atsumu is just watching him. It should have been obvious, and it is now. Atsumu is watching Shoyo fuck himself into Atsumu's wet grip.

Shoyo forces himself to open his eyes. Most of what he sees is Atsumu's hand and the sheets. He looks up out of the corner of his eye to see Atsumu above him. Atsumu is indeed watching Shoyo’s hips fuck up again and again.

Atsumu’s intense eyes flick down to Shoyo’s face. The spiker feels his face heat and he forces his eyes shut again, embarrassed for having been caught looking.

Atsumu's thumb pets his cheek, “Look at me darling.”

Shoyo feels his jaw clench as he forces his eyes to open again. Atsumu is looking right at him, a gentle and kind smile on his lips.

“You're doing so good, go ahead and let yourself get there, take your time.”

Shoyo feels emotion well up inside of himself. It slithers from his stomach, up his chest and finally into his throat. He tries to push it down. Now is not the time.

He closes his eyes and nuzzles into Atsumu’s palm. This feels so different. Atsumu is so different. It feels almost…greedy to love how Atsumu treats him.

“Thats it baby,” Atsumu says softly when Shoyo’s hips push up into his hand, “I love watching you fuck yourself like this.”

Shoyo’s body burns.

“Love watching your hips thrust,” Atsumu grips him a little harder, “Love listened to it.” And then the lewd, wet, squelching sound of Shoyo’s dick fucking into Atsumu’s hand is all he can hear.

God, its fucking humiliating. He can't stop. He moans and gasps into Atsumu's hand as he lets his hips go wild.

“Oh baby,” Atsumu whispers, his voice straddling the line between degradation and awe. It only urges Shoyo on.

“Look at you darling,”

Shoyo cant. He can't watch.

Atsumu surprises Shoyo by pressing his thumb against Shoyo’s bottom lip. The setter pushes, just barely entering Shoyo’s already open mouth. He lets Atsumu press down on his tongue, oh so slightly altering the tone of Shoyo’s moans in the process.

Shoyo’s fingers dig into Atsumu’s thigh. He’s hurtling towards the edge. Hurtling towards denial. Hurtling towards something he can't even name.

His hips are thrusting without rest. He needs it. He needs this from Atsumu. He feels the buildup in his legs and then his pelvis. It's tight, its so fucking tight. Shoyo whimpers as Atsumu keeps pressure on his tongue, holding it down.

Shoyo doesn't actually chose to, but his eyes open and he finds Atsumu looking right back at him. He holds the intense gaze for as long as he can, the whole time his body filling more and more with intensity of its own. He's close. He's so close. Just a little more. Just a little more he tells himself.

He watches Atsumu watch him. It's a visceral feeling, knowing that Atsumu is not doing anything but watching Shoyo pleasure himself. Somehow, it's a submission of a different kind. In his experience, Doms do things to get Shoyo ready for something that will pleasure them. But Atsumu, he’s here for Shoyo alone. He wants to see Shoyo do this.

He fucks into Atsumu’s hand hard, the edges of his mind totally frayed under the pleasure and desire. He wants to come. He really does. He wants to come all over Atsumu’s fingers. He wants to think about this every time he sees Atsumu’s hands. Every set - every clap on the back - every high five. Because - Shoyo closes his eyes, truly overwhelmed by the build up and emotion that comes with it. It feels like Shoyo is giving a part of himself to Atsumu. He wants a part of Atsumu back.

His hips stagger and lose their rhythm, so desperate for the final release. Shoyo feels his balls tense and pull up. Fuck - fuck - he's so close. He fucks up one last time, really savoring how Atsumu’s hands feels vice tight around him. He can feel how fucking amazing it would feel to cross that line. He can feel in his bones that Atsumu wouldn't even ridicule him. He’d probably just hold Shoyo until he calmed down, like he did the other day.

Shoyo’s eyes fly open but he swears he doesn't even process what's in front of him.

“-ose, -ose” he tries to warn Atsumu through the way his tongue is held down.

Atsumu immediately lets go and time snaps like a taunt piece of cord. Fuck--- Shoyo’s body bends, seeking, seeking anything. His body is still alive with energy and desire but there is just nothing.

It feels like a single touch could bring him down. He shifts his gaze to Atsumu who continues to watch him. Shoyo stares back, too fucked out of his mind to do differently.

He wants Atsumu to fuck him. He really, really wants Atsumu to fuck him. Shoyo knows he won't. Not tonight. Tonight, apparently, Shoyo is going to get edged within an inch of his life. And he lives for it.

Atsumu releases his tongue and goes back to petting his hair and face. Shoyo is panting. Desire, want, and need all so forceful inside of him.

“Breathe with me,” Atsumu says softly and starts to model long deep breaths. It is hard for Shoyo to match him, his body just too worked up. He does the best he can, until finally he really does take a long deep breath.

“So good baby,” Atsumu praises. Shoyo feels his eyes prickle with potential tears.

“Now, with each breath, just let go. Let all the want and energy just bleed away from you.”

Shoyo takes a new breath, holds it for a second and then releases it slowly. He lets everything his body wants slowly drop away. It takes a few tries to bring Shoyo out from the oppressive intensity of being denied so close to the edge. He feels more clarity in his brain and body. He drops his hips to the bed, finally able to feel how sore they are from straining for so long.

“You did so good, Shoyo,” the use of his name is doing something to him. People don't usually say his name during. It's always something else. Something they chose.

“It's time to do a check-in, which is part of why I tried to bring you back,” god, the check-ins, how did Shoyo forget?

In lue of having a solid foundation of revoking consent, Atsumu presented periodic check-ins. Its goal is to provide Shoyo with structured opportunities to call it for the night. And Atsumu, very kindly, helped Shoyo regain his brain enough to actually check-in.

Truth be told, there isn't much Shoyo wouldn't rather do than check in. He knows it's important to Atsunu though. So he will.

Shoyo nods, his brain still swirling with fog. He's not deep, but he's not suddenly unaffected.

“I have some questions, if that's okay?” Atsumu’s voice clearly conveys that this conversation lies outside of the dynamic. Shoyo does appreciate that. There is a time and place for keeping the element of pretend going, so to speak. Some Dom's will do almost anything to prevent the illusion from being broken. Not Atsumu.

Shoyo raises a hand in a vague gesture, attempting to encourage Atsumu to go ahead and ask.

“Does any part of your body hurt?”

This…isn't what Shoyo had been expecting. He feels his face pinch in confusion for a moment. His hips ache, but nothing hurts. He shakes his head.

“Did you do anything you didn't want to do?”

What? No, not even close. Shoyo definitely wanted that…he already told Atsumu that.

He shakes his head. Atsumu smiles, “Thank you, rest for a bit more, then we can talk about what we want next.”

Shoyo hears the words. He hears them, he really does. But…a part of him doesn't understand why Atsumu isn't just continuing. It's because I wasn't good enough. It's because he doesn't want Shoyo. It was all a show, or obligation, or -

“Sweetheart, talk to me, please,” Atsumu’s voice pulls Shoyo from the spiraling thoughts. He looks up at Atsumu who just gently strokes his cheek while cupping it.

Shoyo wants to bury himself and hide. He takes a ragged uncontrolled breath. Why is he like this? Why can't he handle anything?

Atsumu leans over him and kisses his forehead, “you did so well, I'm so sorry if something didn't feel good.”

Shoyo can't believe this, “No, its- its- not that,” he forces himself to say. He can't let Atsumu think…that.

Atsumu just keeps petting him. The silence is far too big. “If you want to stop,” Shoyo says quietly, “just stop.”

Atsumu hums softly before he says, “I personally don’t want to stop unless you're too tired or don’t want to continue.”

He just says it so easily. It's a bit infuriating.

“What if you did want to stop?” Shoyo whispers.

“Oh, yeah, that's actually good to talk about, thank you. Usually I try to give a signal that I'm reaching an energy or headspace barrier before I'm actually there. It can feel good to go until you're truly unsure if you could even do more but then the transition can be jarring for either person.”

Atsumu pulls his hand away from Shoyo and the sudden lack of warmth leaves a small hole in Shoyo’s chest.

Atsumu surprises him by laying down parallel to Shoyo, “can you sit up for a sec?” Shoyo does and Atsumu’s strong arm is placed under his neck and head. Atsumu’s other arm curls around Shoyo’s torso and back. Oh…they're cuddling. Shoyo naked and Atsumu with all of his clothes still on.

“So I try to give a 10% battery life warning. But that warning still reserves energy for aftercare of drops.”

Their faces are more or less forehead to forehead. Atsumu is talking quietly into the small pocket of space between them, “It is pretty rare for me to want to stop for any reason other than energy or a drop.”

“A drop?” Shoyo asks.

“Yeah, my drop, or your drop. Either makes me want to stop.”

Shoyo holds back the question in his throat. From the word alone he can guess what it means, but what if he’s totally wrong? He searches for a way to ask without seeming so clueless Atsumu will ask him to leave.

“What is your drop?”

Atsumu's hand starts to trail along Shoyo’s back in steady, full palm movements. It's soothing. Shoyo’s eyes close and he finds his body drawn close to Atsumu’s.

“It's kind of like,” Atsumu is quiet for a moment, “like having my confidence shattered. It's uncertainty. Worry and guilt that I didn't do the best I could as the person in charge. Sometimes it's fear that I went too far or too hard. Sometimes it's just that I can't calm down because the adrenaline is stuck in my body.”

He sighs, “I hate it, honestly. It's so hard to come back from. A really bad drop will affect me for days. It makes it hard to reengage with that person again. It makes it hard to trust myself again.”

Shoyo nods. He was pretty much right about what drops were. The crash after when all the pleasure and intensity are gone. Shoyo hadn't really considered that the crash that happens to him could happen to someone like Atsumu.

The proximity of Atsumu, and how Shoyo can feel the rumbling vibration of his voice, coupled with not having actually orgasmed, is starting to weigh on Shoyo. He grasps onto the shirt in front of him.

“Can I ask you a few questions?”

Shoyo's jaw clenches in frustration but he nods.

“Do you want to keep going tonight? We can always pivot.”

Shoyo does. He really wants to keep going. It feels like every second that passes is making his body hotter and needier.

“I do want this, tonight.” Shoyo whispers into their shared space.

“On a scale of 1-10 where is your energy level right now?”

Shoyo tucks his head down a little bit. He’s never been good at categorizing his limits like that…if playing until he broke out in a fever is any indication. He tries to conceptualize it. If one edge made him feel this much, how many more could he do before he was at his limit?

“Like, maybe a 3 or 4?” His unsure voice waivers. What if that isn't the right answer?

“That's fine, just was looking for a ballpark. You can still have us end whenever you want.”

Yeah, sure. Shoyo nods, knowing deep down that he won't unless something is seriously wrong. He wants to be pushed up to the limit. Maybe even past it.

In the lull that follows Shoyo feels anticipation prickle up his spine. He shifts his hips forwards against Atsumu's body. God, Atsumu is hard too. Both of them are.

The hand that had been gently stroking Shoyo’s back grabs on tight for a second.

“Shoyo,” Atsumu says carefully. Shoyo hums in acknowledgement as his hips keep moving.

“If you want more, yer gonna have to say it.”

This antic might be the one thing Shoyo doesn't prefer about Atsumu. Atsumu isn't willing to take. There always has to be permission.

Shoyo…is getting desperate enough that he might be willing to actually admit it. He grinds forwards into Atsumu again, feeling the hard cock under pants. Shoyo feels his mouth start to fill with drool. He's seen Atsumu in the locker room…but never like this. How can Atsumu be hard like this but refuse to make a move? He could so easily get Shoyo on his knees…or his hands and knees…or with his head hanging off the bed, mouth open, throat ready to-

“Shoyo?”

“How?” Shoyo gasps out. He knows Atsumu won't do more. Their first time was only kissing…Atsumu isn't gonna let Shoyo have his dick tonight. So…how will he edge Shoyo a second time? His hand again?

“How will you edge me?” Shoyo asks.

“Oh,” Atsumu’s voice is soft, almost amused, “I was thinking of using my mouth.”

Chapter Text

Shoyo’s hips wiggle at the idea. Atsumu’s mouth on him. Not his neck, or lips, or shoulder, or chest…

But Atsumu’s mouth felt so fucking good in all of those places. How the fuck would it feel on where Shoyo is most sensitive? Especially now after he's been edged. It's going to be…Jesus.

He curls his face into Atsumu’s body, hips still moving automatically.

There is such pleasure in Atsumu’s voice when he says, “Yeah? Would you like that baby? Want my mouth on ya?”

Shoyo nods, because, fuck...yeah, he wants that. The fears and insecurities of earlier are well hidden now. All he feels is ‘Yes.’

Fingers thread into Shoyo’s hair, “Gonna need to hear you say it,” Atsumu is a little breathless. Possibly from how Shoyo hasn't stopped wiggling and grinding against him.

Shoyo bites down on his bottom lip. Atsumu lets there be a moment of silence before he continues, “Come on baby, let me know how much you want it.”

Shoyo whines. He should be embarrassed. He's basically humping Atsu at the mere thought of feeling his mouth.

He feels the words in his mixed up mind, ‘I want your mouth,’ he can nearly taste them.

Atsumu’s hand slides down to the nape of Shoyo's neck. Fingertips dance along the sensitive skin.

“I won’t,” Atsumu whispers, “Not until you say you want it.” Atsumu’s breath hitches when Shoyo gets some good friction between them, “If you plan on humpin’ me all night, that's fine too.”

Shoyo groans at the idea. Bringing himself close like this, again and again, until he finally is given permission to come on Atsumu's stomach. It's tempting. Shoyo wonders if he could get Atsumu to finish like that too. Just from the grinding…

Atsumu leans forwards to kiss him, his tongue immediately tracing around Shoyo’s lips and dipping deeper into his mouth. And that's the last straw. He can’t bear the thought of missing out on feeling that tongue on his dick. He just can't. So he has to figure out how to say it.

He wishes Atsumu had just commanded him to say it. It's easier when it's part of the role. But this clearly isn't. Shoyo wonders if he could manufacture the pressure for himself, what if he pretends that Atsumu had told him to? It won't work, Shoyo groans in frustration and pleasure as Atsumu’s hand falls to the small of his back and holds him close. The added pressure makes the contact between them even better.

Atsumu keeps licking into his mouth, wet and hot tongue sliding along Shoyo’s. It would feel so good. It would feel so fucking good.

“Atsu~” he whines, bucking faster against his setter.

“That's it baby, keep going,” Atsumu’s voice is steady and soft in his ear.

Atsumu’s words make Shoyo realize that his body is shaking with effort. He’s starting to get close again. Shoyo's back bows and he lets his hips just keep snapping forward against where Atsumu is hot and hard in his pants. Shoyo wishes he could make Atsumu finish. He wants Atsu to feel so good. Shoyo wants it to be because of himself. He wants to be good for Atsu.

“Just tell me when you're close,” Atsumu reminds him and it crashes over Shoyo. He's not gonna orgasm. He feels the beautiful dread of edging drip through his body. He's choosing this. He grabs onto Atsumu in an attempt to get even closer. Atsumu grabs onto his back and pulls. He urges Shoyo’s body to flip up so that he is face down, crouching over Atsumu.

Oh god. Oh god. Shoyo can't make his hips stop fucking forwards against Atsumu. He can't stop, even though it's so embarrassing. He peaks through his eyelids to see that Atsumu’s face is blushed and sweaty. Atsu likes this. He likes feeling Shoyo hump against him like this.

Shoyo buries his face into Atsumu’s chest, wailing into the shirt below him when Atsumu's hands grip his waist and start guiding his movements. Deeper and harsher. Something- something about Atsumu directing the movement feels so different.

Shoyo’s legs shake and he’s nearly crying into Atsumu’s shoulder. He’s fucking riding that edge, just a few clicks away from having to warn Atsumu. It just feels so good, he just wants to stay here a bit longer - because once he warns, Atsumu will make him stop. He can do a bit more.

The shirt under his mouth is wet from his spit.

“Fuck,” Atsumu whispers and pulls Shoyo down onto him harder. The word and accompanying movement zaps through Shoyo like electricity. He's gonna come. He fights with the urge to let himself orgasm. It's right there. It's right there, one or two rotations of his hips away. He tries to force his hips still, resulting in a hiccuping thrust into Atsu. He's so close. He’s so- he- he should - he needs to - fuck it feels so good. He -

Shoyo grits his teeth and forces his hips up and away from Atsumu. His legs shake- pelvis still twitching with energy.

It might already be too late, he pants into the body below him as he waits to see if his body is already past the threshold. Time stands still, frozen to that second, as Shoyo feels stuck at that edge. He wants to, he doesn't want to, he needs to, he can't. He feels himself clench, his body automatically trying to get him over that edge.

He sobs, fingers clenching into the bed sheets. Shoyo bows his back upwards, forcing his hips to relax. The position takes away the slightest bit of pleasure from the clenching. Just enough that it finally tips towards no. He sighs, relieved that he didn't finish. He takes deeper inhales, breathing in Atsumu’s musk. God. He's addicted. Sex has never felt like this before.

“Yeah,” Shoyo breathes out, brain foggy and frustrated, “please let me have your mouth.”

…

Atsumu stares up at orange hair for a second. He had been close too- so caught up in it all that he lost sight of the bigger picture. He knows it would have been okay, he’s not gonna hurt Shoyo by accidentally coming, but fuck. His body is alight with energy as he processes what Shoyo just said.

“Yeah, please let me have your mouth.”

Atsumu loves it when his subs beg and say what they want. But fuck its never felt like this. Never felt like something is finally clicking into place. He uses all of his willpower to not throw Shoyo to the bed and put his spiker’s cock into his throat.

He grips Shoyo’s hips, trying to find anything in this world to ground him. He’s in deep. Like, truly deep in the headspace, and he can tell Shoyo is too. There is something so intense about both falling into it. He doesn't know if Shoyo can feel it too.

‘Can't hurt him,’ Atsumu tells himself, pulling out the fool proof defense against going too deep. He takes a deep breath. Can't hurt him. His brain feels hot, like it does when they are down to the wire in the last set of a match. He's in the zone. And the zone is Hinata Shoyo. That means not going too fast, not throwing off the tempo, but not losing sight either.

He uses his grip to guide Shoyo back down to the bed and Atsumu climbs on top. He's careful of Shoyo’s legs as he climbs in-between them. He should check in before they go again. Logically, Atsumu knows that, but…he can really authentically feel that it is all okay. Shoyo is okay. Maybe he’ll crash after. Maybe this is a mistake. Atsumu will take care of him if it does tip towards a drop. Atsumu will take care of him now too.

He drops his face down to Shoyo’s pelvis. Fuck. Atsumu sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. He wishes he has the patience to tease him. Kiss around his thighs and the base. Make him squirm in frustration. Make him beg for more. Shoyo never specifically said how Atsumu should use his mouth.

But fuck, Atsumu doesnt have it in him. He wants. He glances up at Shoyo to see brown eyes through heavy lids watching him. Shoyo’s chest heaves.

Atsumu’s brain itches. He wants to scratch. Just- he - just one small check, just to make sure, “Color?” He asks far too quickly, almost slurring the word.

“Green, green,” Shoyo says just as fast, a hand landing in Atsumu’s hair.

Fuck, thank God, Atsumu grasps Shoyo, a wail- like sound already leaves his spiker, as Atsumu wraps his lips around the head of Shoyo’s cock.

Fingers clamp into his hair tight. So tight it hurts. The pain blurs down the back of Atsumu’s neck and into his spine. Good boy, he thinks. He closes his eyes and lets Shoyo fill his mouth.

Chapter Text

Atsumu groans. Shoyo is perfect. He's not so big that Atsumu can't take him all the way, - he can, apparently, with a strained huff of breath because Shoyo isn't so short that he doesn't push into Atsumu’s throat. He can breathe around it okay, his gag reflex mostly suppressed.

Shoyo feels perfect in his throat. Just big enough to push his limits. But manageable enough that Atsumu gets to feel his lips and nose pressed against Shoyo’s pelvis.

It's perfect. Atsumu breathes through his nose, fucking painfully aware of how, if Shoyo thrust in hard, he would likely close Atsumu’s airwsy for a second.

Drool flows down towards Atsumu’s lip as he fantasizes about that very idea. Getting to feel Shoyo press up against his mouth. Getting to feel his raw need after being edged again.

Shoyo’s fingers tighten in Atsumu's bangs, his fingers flexing against chunks of hair. It burns. Atsumu stays planted on Shoyo’s dick, taking another steady breath through his nose. He adjusts his tongue and gets the need to swallow, he resists for a moment, his body pushing back against the urge, the threat of gagging providing ghost sensations. He’s not gagging, but he can feel the future potential to be.

He breathes through it again, forcing his jaw and tongue to relax. Lean into it, or he very much will gag. He relaxes as much as he can and his body swallows around Shoyo’s cock.

The spiker’s hips thrust up before the hand in Atsumu’s hair pushes down against the force upwards. Atsumu gets pushed and pulled, the fist in his hair keeping him mostly still. Shoyo's hips twitch but they don't fully thrust up again. It's mostly twitching motions while Shoyo writhes in place.

Atsumu feels his eyes water, the movement forcing him closer to gagging. He feels his fingers press into Shoyo’s hips. He takes a steady breath and looks up through his lashes at Shoyo.

Shoyo looks back at him, and the eye contact freezes a moment in time, nearly crisp. Atsumu feels himself sober abruptly, his eyes locked onto Shoyo’s.

Atsumu’s brain reels with the realization that they just switched. He blinks up at Shoyo. That…how did he…

Shoyo’s hand loosens from his hair and cups Atsumu’s cheek. Atsumu breathes out through his nose, mouth still fully occupied with Shoyo’s cock.

“You did so good, baby,” Shoyo says quietly. Atsumu’s chest restricts. He…he shouldn't feel…this good. Like he could cry.

“Do you want to finish?” Shoyo asks, his thumb sweeping over Atsumu’s cheek.

He closes his eyes. He can't figure out how he got here. All he knows is, yes, he wants to finish what he started. He nods his head as much as he can, feeling the minute angle change of his head shifted how Shoyo sits in his mouth. Again the urge to gag threatened to rise up in him. His eyes water anew with the sensation but he manages to hold the gag back and relax again.

Shoyo’s hand slides up from his cheek to his undercut. Atsumu’s body tingles with the brushing touches through his short buzzed hair. It spreads sensation down his back towards his pelvis. Atsumu’s hips twitch and there is a spike of pleasure inside of himself. He feels muscles tense, pinching on something that feels euphoric.

His hips jolt, pressing down into the bed. He groans, body overwhelmed by the spikes of pleasure his pelvis is giving him. It's wild. The source is not his cock, it is inside of him. Fuck it must be his prostste. Just some specific muscle that presses there-

It's so much more intense than the typical prostate stimulations. Anal never felt like this. He’s genuinely crying now, hips humping endlessly against the bed as he swallows against Shoyo's cock. The motion triggers his gag reflex and he can't catch it, his throat constricts around Shoyo, trying desperately to dispel the thing stuck in his throat. It constructs and he can't breathe as his airway closes against the cock. His hips just keep pressing into the bed, a tremendous wave of energy pushing through him. He feels his throat open, momentarily allowing him to relax. He - that felt just like coming but - a little different. More general than specific.

He barely gets time to wonder if he just orgasmed while gagging and whether that was a whole body high, because Shoyo is still in his throat and it almost feels like he's even a little deeper. It's not so comfortable anymore, it feels like Atsumu's tongue is pressing lower, allowing Shoyo in more, but once it is relaxed he can't tense up again without triggering the urge to gag. But…he can't hold this relaxed state forever. The pressure in his pelvis grows again, starting with twitching spikes and rolling pleasure.

His throat starts to tickle with the need. The need to swallow or gag or expel, just to get it out. The body pressure is building higher than the last time. The need to gag grows steadily, scratching at Atsumu’s throat. His hips press harshly into the bed, maintaining pressure downwards while his throat rolls over Shoyo’s cock.

Atsumu’s body was flooded with pleasure as his air was cut off. It was back a moment later, and Atsumu took a deep breath through his nose, and it cut off again, as his throat repeatedly gagged. He couldn't get it to stop, each one triggering the next. He forced his tongue up, momentarily pushing Shoyo up and out, just enough for him to take in more air. The pressure on the roof of his throat triggers the next round of throat convulsions. The whole time, his body rocked into the bed, absolutely flooded with pleasure.

His throat involuntarily pushed Shoyo’s cock up for a moment of air before it fell back in, this time, significantly deeper, too deep. A cough wracks through his throat, air blowing out harshly through his nose and where his lips are pressed against Shoyo’s pelvis.

Shoyo pulls out quickly and Atsumu takes a deep breath, followed by another clearing of the throat. Shoyo’s tip sits against his lips once he's done. Atsumu’s tongue presses out to lap at what's in front of him and Shoyo presses back in slowly. Before long his nose is back to being pressed up against Shoyo’s skin. He’s startled, not fully able to reset his throat in that short amount of time, he almost immediately chokes again, the convulsions bordering on painful now. He feels the overwhelm for breath and release overtake his body and he's hitting Shoyo’s hips with his palm.

Shoyo pushes Atsumu up and off, keeping a hand around the back of his neck. Atsumu coughs wetly, clearing his throat for good. He inhales, taking a careful exhale.

Atsumu stares down at the spit-covered cock below him. How- the fuck just happened? He tips his forehead against Shoyo’s stomach. Hands gently stroke his hair.

Atsumu's body starts to settle back into reality. It comes with a sense of dread. He wasn't supposed to do that.

He hovers overtop of Shoyo, mind spinning endlessly. There is a gut feeling that something is wrong. He's too deep. He's way too deep. His brain is so heavy he can't think of a way out.

“It's just me,” Shoyo says, his fingers so gentle in how they caress Atsumu.

Shoyo. Atsumu looks up, in awe of the man ahead of him. Terrifying awe. Nobody has ever done this to Atsumu. He blinks at Shoyo, who looks just as dumbfounded. Apparently, that trust on the court translated into bdsm for more than just one of them. Or, more than one direction.

Shoyo gently urges Atsumu to move forwards. He does, on autopilot, placing himself how Shoyo wanted. His head is cushioned on Shoyo's bicep, he blinks, face warm from Shoyo’s skin. Arms wrap around his backside and a blanket falls over his legs.

He breathes, brain more similar to static than an actual brain.

“I've got you,” Shoyo says, keeping his arms tightly wrapped around Atsumu's body. It literally feels like the higher order part of his brain behind his forehead is asleep. His lids drift shut as Shoyo’s hand rubs circles on his back.

Chapter Text

Atsumu has no clue how long he drifts. He has moments he remembers. Shoyo shifting his body, or asking a question. Atsumu thought about responding, he did, but any words stayed floating in his brain.

Atsumu didn't really mind that he couldn't or wouldn't talk. It just felt right. He felt…simple. Peaceful. Oh…

Atsumu smiles slightly, he's high. How many times has he seen this and yet he can't even figure out what's happening. He focuses on grasping onto Shoyo’s shirt. The spiker holds him right in return, “I have you.” Shoyo soothes. Atsumu nods slightly. He feels had.

Well…Atsumu always tells his subs to take their time. No need to rush back to reality. Let yourself spin in that bliss as long as you can.

He tucks his face into Shoyo’s shoulder and lets himself spin.

…

He’s not asleep, not fully. His brain floats from vague concepts to sparkles of a thought. Nothing fully forms but Atsumu feels. He feels himself wandering through parts of his body, sensation flowing through him in odd patterns. When he felt lost or confused he clutched at Shoyo who would murmur something comforting. It didn't matter what he said exactly, it was more that Atsumu was soothed by his voice.

Slowly he emerged from it, like night turning into dawn. He became more aware of the ambient sounds in the room. A fan, a neighbor's television show, cars on the street. It all comes back into focus, almost too much sound after having blocked out most of it. His ears feel full.

Shoyo whispers to him, rubbing small circles on his back. Atsumu’s body twitches, and he realizes it's the first time he has moved in a long time. After that twitch he starts to feel focus return to his physical body. Toes twitch and legs shake.

Then parts of his brain come back online. Thoughts. Whole thoughts that start and end.

He breathes out, testing out using his hands and rubbing Shoyo’s back.

He went deep. Deeper than he's ever gone by a lot. Honestly, Atsumu didn't think he was capable of that level of submission. He…was very pleased to have Shoyo use his throat until he gagged. And then Atsumu had the audacity to come from it too. Apparently, he's a great fucking sub.

Atsumu's arm jolts clumsily as he reaches down to feel that Shoyo is still hard. Atsumu realizes that Shoyo never finished. He grasps at Shoyo, wanting to finish what he started, even though he feels his body sinking into a sensation of sleep.

Shoyo pulls his arm away, “Not tonight,” he puts Atsumu’s hand back on his hip.

It doesn't sit right with Atsumu. He had promised to be the one taking care of Shoyo. Yet, here he is leaving the man literally hard as a rock.

He fights with the dread that is building in my stomach. He wasn't good enough. He didn't do enough. He should have made Shoyo come.

Atsumu knows what is happening. Again, he has seen it so many times. Still, he can't stop the despair train. If you could will your way out of a drop, you would. Despite all he knows, there is still a level of shame that comes with the drops existence. He tells himself that he's not bad. He tells himself that, again and again, until he can't anymore.

…

It's kind of like the high, but downwards. He sinks deep into himself. If the sub high felt like his mind was expanding beyond himself, this drop feels like being plunged deep within himself. Into parts of himself that he ignores.

It's confusing, because it feels so real. He grabs onto Shoyo but he can't even hear what the spiker says in return. He feels failure. Every time he has failed. Every time he felt the crushing weight of a mistake.

His fear. His fear of the future. He can't do what he loves forever. He is one bad injury away from a life without what he loves. It's a fear all athletes live with. It's one that Atsumu has learned how to cope with in his day to day. But here, forced into the core of himself, he feels it.

He feels how it felt when Osamu left. The pain and grief that Atsumu couldn't name. The realization that Osamu was ready to separate and get ready for the future…and Atsumu wasn't.

He’s feeling it all. All the unnamed, unexplored, unresolved feelings that Atsumu likes to watch pass by, tuck away into himself, and then ignore.

It feels unbearable. His body suddenly feels so constricting. He wants to get out. He can't stay here. His body starts sucking in breath faster and faster. Something is wrong. His eyes leak silently as his body rapidly breathes. He stares straight ahead, unable to control moving, despite how desperately he wants to find a way out of these feelings - out of his body.

Atsumu has never felt so trapped in all his life. He can't stop hyperventilating, and he's starting to feel light headed. What is going to happen to him?

Shoyo pushes Atsumu onto his back. His view changes and he stares up towards the ceiling. Shoyo climbs on top of him and Atsumu feels dread. What will he do? Can Atsumu even stop him? Atsumu works on trying to figure out how to get his hand or voice to work.

“I'm just gonna give you some pressure,” Shoyo explains as he settles his body weight onto Atsumu’s torso. Shoyo lets the full weight of himself press downwards into Atsumu. And Atsumu finally catches a breath.

The downward pressure doesn't solve everything, but it is grounding enough to bring Atsumu back a little. He fights his body to breathe regularly. His eyes are still leaking without any of the normal crying sounds and behaviors. They just leak.

He lays there, looking up at the ceiling, feeling every negative feeling he has ever ignored and tucked away for later. And somewhere in there, Atsumu decides that he's never letting this happen again.

…

Shoyo lays as still as he can. He truly doesn't know what to do. He doesn't fully understand what happened. It switched, somehow, and then…Atsumu was there, all subbed out. Shoyo was there too, still deep in the headspace from being edged and then trying with everything inside of him not to come down Atsumu’s throat.

He looks down at Atsumu, who can't even focus his eyes all the way. He doesn't know how to take care of this version of Atsumu. His setter seemed to settle under the weight of Shoyo. Shoyo is glad he was able to cut off what looked like a full blown panic attack.

What happens when there is nobody to take control? Shoyo doesn't know. Atsumu keeps crying without making a sound. Just endless tears rolling down his cheeks. Shoyo wipes them away and kisses Atsumu’s face.

What do you need? He wants to ask. How can I help?

He feels so useless. “I'm sorry,” Shoyo whispers and he tucks his head over Atsumu's shoulder. He lets his body weight keep grounding the man below him. He's so sorry that this is all he knows how to do.

…

Somehow Atsumu does manage to build a barrier in his brain, and he never falls into subspace like that again. He couldn't explain it, other than to say that he now takes more care to modulate his own band of tolerance. He doesn't put himself into situations that are so intense he runs the risk of it flipping.

They of course talk about the anomaly session. There is a lot Atsumu doesn't say, because he really doesn't know how to even say it. They agree that neither of them are at fault (sure) and that it's okay to avoid Atsumu subbing out.

Shoyo clearly has some feelings about having let Atsumu down. Which is ridiculous. Atsumu can't convince Shoyo that they are unfounded. Atsumu worries that the experience has fractured something between them. A hairline split that cannot be healed.

He imagines that the experience has in some ways broken Shoyo’s trust. How could he trust a Dom that failed so spectacularly?

There are a few weeks where they don't hook up. They still see each other nearly every day. Shoyo still smiles that bright, sun-like beam. He still hits every single one of Atsumu's sets (the hittable ones anyway). Shoyo seems to be recovering fine, but Atsumu has felt off. For weeks now. He gets in his head, he second guesses, half of his sets have been shit.

He’s overthinking everything. It's delaying him, making him miscalculate. It's getting to the point where teammates are checking in on him. He swears he can feel them talking about him. Talking about how they can't win a game with a bum setter. He doesn't know how to stop it. He doesn't know how to put everything back where it belongs.

It's like that night dragged all sorts of things to the surface, and now they are stuck there, impeding Atsumu at every turn.

When it's Kiyoomi fucking Sakusa that comes to check on him next, Atsumu about loses it. He finds himself outside in the brisk air outside the gym. The cold air against his sweat shocks him a bit and he breathes in deeply. The urge to scream builds within him.

He leans his back against the rough exterior of the building and looks up at the sky. He wishes he could let it all out. He never really learned how to process his feelings. He is really good at avoiding them and tucking them away. Now that all these feelings are stuck at the surface, what the fuck is Atsumu supposed to do with them?

The back door squeaks as it opens and God, why can't Atsumu catch a fucking break? Who the fuck followed him out here? If it's Kiyoomi then they are legit gonna have a fight.

Orange hair and brown eyes peak around the door, almost certainly looking for Atsumu. They find each other's eyes and Shoyo lets the door close. He stands there until Atsumu nods his head, clearly inviting him to come closer.

Shoyo leans against the wall, shivering a little as his back hits the cold stone surface.

Atsumu could offer to have them go inside, but he truly doesn't know if he could handle it. It feels like the cold is the only thing keeping him sane.

Shoyo just stands there, looking upwards at the clouds with Atsumu.

Atsumu figures he came out here with something to say, but apparently not. They stand there together until Atsumu breaks the silence.

“I'm sorry,” Atsumu keeps his eyes on the sky, even when Shoyo turns to look at him.

“If I apologized for every time I wound up in sub space, my voice would be raw,” Shoyo says.

It's more than that though. Atsumu had said he would be in control, he said he would take care of Shoyo, he said he was going to be responsible for the scene.

But in the end he failed. He failed to be responsible, or to take care of Shoyo. He failed. He failed Shoyo.

He bites down on his tongue and holds his breath, desperately trying to hold back tears.

“You're stuck,” Shoyo says gently.

Atsumu nods. There is an intense relief at being understood, a relief that brings on even more tears. They finally start to spill from his eyes, falling down to the ground.

“Have you…” Shoyo trails off, uncertainly coating each word, “have you, tried again? With anyone else?”

Atsumu shakes his head. No, he hasn't done anything with anyone else, not since…

He had considered it. Thought that maybe setting up a scene with somebody he knew already might help him be able to reset things. But…what if it all just happens again? He can't trust himself. His eyes widen a bit, in realization. Maybe he dropped both ways. The sub drop was obvious and overwhelming, but maybe the Dom part of his brain dropped too. It would explain some things. Like his unwillingness to try domming again.

“You didn't do anything wrong,” Shoyo says quietly.

Bile burns in the back of Atsumu’s throat at the words. He knows they are untrue. He shouldn't have done what he did. He shouldn't have let it happen. He should have been stronger. He should have lived up to his promises.

“Atsumu,” Shoyo says gently. The fragility in his voice makes Atsumu turn to look at him clearly.

“I miss you,” Shoyo says, looking down towards the ground. Atsumu blinks, and it dawns on him. He's been avoiding Shoyo. And of course Shoyo picked up on it. Yet he came out here anyway, and chose to spend his time trying to reassure Atsumu. When really he should probably be smacking Atsumu’s arm and telling him off for avoiding him.

New tears flood his eyes. Atsumu is really dropping the ball. Shoyo doesn't ever deserve to be avoided or ignored. Atsumu wipes the tears from his face. He turns and gathers Shoyo in his arms and pulls him close.

He holds Shoyo tightly to his body. He's sorry. He's so sorry. For all of it. For everything.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers into orange hair, “I'm sorry for pushing you away, it wasn't you, it wasn't anything you did, I promise.”

Shoyo’s back quakes under his hands. He's crying. Atsumu closes his eyes. He hates himself. He hates himself. Why does he do this? Why can't he just…function?

Why hadn't he realized that how he was acting was affecting Shoyo too? Shoyo deserves better than this. So much better than this. He wishes he could make Shoyo understand that.

Atsumu feels stuck. He can't pull away, that's unfair to Shoyo, but it also feels like Atsumu can't be around him without being unfair to him. It feels like a trap. He’s too much, but he can't make himself less either.

He keeps his arms around Shoyo. Maybe…he bites onto his cheek. Maybe the only way is through. He kisses the top of Shoyo's head. And as selfish as it feels, he wants to go through it together. With Shoyo.

…

Atsumu isn't sure why that particular memory jumps into his head. It has been many, many months since the accidental sub incident. It took time, but the both of them came back from it. Atsumu mostly feels resolved about it. He can see how the younger version of him truly couldn't have anticipated such a steep plunge into sub space.

The memory still scares him a little though. The knowledge that that can happen. The knowledge of how truly euphoric the orgasms were. The knowledge of how peaceful and blissful the high was. And then of course the knowledge of how brutal the drop was.

He hasn't subbed since that time. And he truly doesn't feel like he has any interest in it. Well, that's what he tells himself.

He shakes the memory off as much as he can. Focus. Focus on what's at hand. Tobio has fallen into a rhythm that has Shoyo panting so hard he can barely moan. Bright red nail marks streak Tobio’s back from where Shoyo keeps clawing and grabbing at him.

It is honestly breathtaking to watch Shoyo fall apart with someone else. Atsumu’s body is barely involved, leaving all the mental room for him to enjoy the view. Shoyo’s legs clamp tightly against Tobio’s torso, his toes curling with pleasure.

His spiker is getting close again. Atsumu has kept at least one hand on Tobio’s back, rising and falling with the other setter’s every thrust into Shoyo. Atsumu has got to give it to the boy. Tobio has stamina.

Shoyo’s back bows up into Tobio, his voice vocalizes with each exhale. It's possible that Atsumu has pushed Shoyo to the limit. His spiker has been so good.

Atsumu picks up the lube container, the tell-tale click making both of the other men react for a moment. He pours some onto his hand and pulls out the little bit of his dick that had still been inside of Tobio.

He rubs his wet hand up and down the length of himself, warming it quickly. Fuck, it is finally time to get this moving. Shoyo will come and then Atsumu and Tobio will work together to see how many more times Sho can come on top of that.

He wipes his hand on the bed and grabs onto Tobio’s waist. He pushes the head back in and sucks in a breath. Fucking hell, Tobio has no right to feel this good. Atsumu braces his center of balance over Tobio and slides in, pressing hard enough that Tobio in turn presses into Shoyo. They moan and groan beneath him.

He stays there for a moment, enjoying feeling connected to both of them.

“Sho,” he says, watching over Tobio’s shoulder to see the spiker react.

“Mmm,” Shoyo’s eyes flutter open and find Atsumu.

“I'm gonna let you come now,” Atsumu says softly. Shoyo’s body sags back into the bed, the tension bleeding away from him.

“Thank you,” he sighs. Shoyo brings his hands to the bed, resting them up by his head, palms up and relaxed. Oh baby, Atsumu licks his lips, Shoyo looks so good.

It is a shame that Atsumu doesn't personally get to fuck him until he finishes. That's okay, he's made Shoyo orgasm around his cock enough times to last a lifetime. It's his personal hobby at this point.

He presses his lips against Tobio’s ear, cherishing the small shiver that goes through the man.

“It's so good isn't it?” He asks, knowing full well that Shoyo feels like heaven on fucking earth. And the way he squirms and moans and rocks up into it makes you want more. Always more. Makes you want to fuck him until he's drowinging in pleasure.

And now, Atsumu is handing that over to Tobio. He rolls his hips forwards into Tobio, fingers still digging into his waist. Tobio groans, his hands braced against the bed on either side of Shoyo.

Atsumu nips at Tobio’s ear and tongues at the sensitive skin behind it. Tobio turns his head, almost pulling away from the stimulation. Atsumu follows, pressing his lips to the nape of Tobio’s neck, right along his hair line. Tobio huffs out a breath, ducking his head slightly. He must be overstimulated. The frustration that underlies overstimulation. He wants Tobio to let it out. Let all that frustration out. Let it out darlin’.

He feels that Tobio is just barely holding back. He doesn't need to. He spreads his knees a little, better finding his balance. He uses one hand to brace against Tobio while the other grabs him by the throat. He doesn't grip hard, but hard enough to hold Tobio still. His fingers press up against the underside of Tobio’s jaw.

With Tobio held still Atsumu is given the chance to continue overstimulating Tobio. He kisses the back of Tobio’s neck, paying attention to how Tobio’s body starts to strain and shake.

Tobio groans, his body involuntarily trying to pull away from Atsumu, only to be blocked by the hand on his throat. That's it baby.

“You know all that pressure you were holding back?” Atsumu whispers into his neck, “with your hands around his throat?”

Tobio takes a shaking inhale, and nods.

“It's time to let it go,” Atsumu feels the deep breaths that Tobio is taking. The raw energy that Tobio has been holding back, the potential of it all, Atsumu can feel it.

Apparently he needs to push Tobio a bit before he can let himself have it.

“Look at him,” Atsumu whispers, just loud enough for Tobio to hear, “He is falling apart on you, and all he wants in the world is to come on your cock.”

Tobio groans, the sound almost pained.

Atsumu smiles and kisses the back of Tobio’s neck. He saddles his mouth alongside Tobio’s ear. It's like the moment before the whistle to serve. The hush of the stadium before it erupts.

“I want you to,” Atsumu says each word pointedly. Tobio whines deep in his throat, “I. Want. You. To.” Atsumu says again, letting his lips brush along Tobio’s ear.

And maybe this is a mistake. Maybe this is why Atsumu had the memory of his surprise sub session pop into his head. Maybe it was a sign. He pushes through anyway.

“Please,” he breathes into Tobio’s ear.

And he watches Tobio break, body finally moving, hips pushing down into Shoyo like he fucking means it.

“That's it baby,” Atsumu praises, “So good for me.”

Tobio’s body shakes as his hips snap forwards hard. Shoyo takes it, beautiful as always. Tobio pushes against the hand around his throat. Atsumu doesn't release him, not yet.

He grips a bit harder, squeezing on either side of Tobio’s neck. Tobio’s body goes right around Atsumu’s dick. Fuck- who fucking knew it was going to be so fun to play with Kageyama Tobio. Atsumu grinds deeper, loving how he can feel Tobio’s voice through his hand.

“Fuck. Him.” Atsumu says harshly, “Fuck him like he deserves.” He releases Tobio’s throat and the man falls forwards on top of Shoyo. He doesn't waste any time. Tobio curls his hands under Shoyo’s body, holding him by the shoulders. Shoyo wails as Tobio starts fucking him hard.

The hold Tobio’s has on Shoyo’s shoulders keeps the spiker in place while he fucks him hard enough that he should be sliding up the bed. Atsumu watches Shoyo’s head throw back and press into the bedding, his hands still resting idly on the sheets. He's so fucking beautiful. Shoyo is making endless noises now, sharp “Ah-Ah-Ah-”s fall from his lips with each snap of Tobio’s hips.

Atsumu remains mostly upright, one hand still gripped around Tobio’s hip as the dark haired man pushes back and forth between Atsumu and Shoyo. He uses his newly freed hand to trace just his fingertips down the length of Tobio’s exposed back. Muscles ripple in the wake of his touch and Tobio cries out, his body jerking erratically forward.

When Atsumu’s fingers reach the lower curve in Tobio’s spine he jolts forwards harshly. Oh? Atsumu traces over that spot again, trailing his fingers down towards Tobio’s ass. The man shakes under him, squeezing so hard around Atsumu.

“At-” Tobio loses the word in another sharp cry, his body endlessly fucking forwards into Shoyo. Atsumu could play with Tobio like this for hours. Just keep him serving Shoyo, body endlessly overstimulated and full. But, it's time for Shoyo to have release.

Atsumu stops playing with Tobio’s back and grabs Shoyo's ankle. He leans over Tobio, pushing the ankle up higher with him, making Shoyo stretch. Shoyo vocalizes loudly. He sounds delirious. Atsumu now has Tobio slightly pinned forwards between the other two men. Atsumu has a gorgeous view of Shoyo, two wet tear trails on either side of his face. That's it baby. Atsumu pushes even harder on Shoyo’s ankle, it's not a stretch the spiker can hold forever. But that's okay, because he’s almost there. He places his mouth over the back of Tobio’s neck, and bites.

Chapter Text

Tobio's eyes fly open as teeth sink into the back of his neck. He was barely able to handle the other stuff - this is so much more. He swears he hears Atsumu growl as the teeth pinch harder into his skin. It's too much, his body flinches away, pushing closer to Shoyo.

Atssumu seemed to know this would be the reaction because he easily follows, keeping his jaw clamped to Tobio. Something about the pain and the utter intensity of the sensation is sending Tobio into a mindless place.

He hears Shoyo cry out sharper as he squeezes vice tight around Tobio’s dick. The mixed pain and pleasure forces him higher, closer. His chest is nearly pressed to Shoyo’s. God he’s perfect. Tobio can't even begin to try and fathom how Shoyo is holding this position.

Atsumu bites down harder, forcing all of himself inside of Tobio. There truly just isn't room for anything but this- his eyes look upwards, really only able to see his own bangs. Shoyo hasn't stopped clenching around him, like a ripple of tighter and tighter sensation. Tobio is caught in the middle of it all, sandwiched between the other two, forced to feel it all.

He’s caught in the rushing wave of the orgasm. It feels like it was torn from him in a way that he's never felt before. Like Atsumu and Shoyo forced it through him, rather than it building on its own.

His hips move on their own, rocking back and forth between both sensations. He's full, he’s surrounded. Men on either side of him. It goes on longer than it ever has before. Tight pressure in his chest makes him realize he's not breathing- his lungs fill desperately and the motion breaks the peak of the orgasm. He collapses forwards, still holding onto Shoyo’s shoulders. He pants heavily, trying to catch his breath. Holy, fucking, hell. Shoyo breathes hard too, boneless beneath Tobio.

Atsumu releases his mouth from Tobio’s neck. It aches. Tobio is sure the imprint of Atsumu’s teeth adorn his skin.

He doesn't care. He likes it. His body hazily lets waves of more manageable pleasure swirl around him. Atsumu is still inside of him. He's still inside of Shoyo, who just won't stop clenching. It's too much for his sensitive cock.

He awkwardly pulls his arms out from under Shoyo and places them alongside the man. He treads his fingers into Shoyo’s empty ones, and just tries to breathe.

Atsumu trails one finger down the length of Tobio’s spine. He whines, back muscles twitching wildly, hips moving forwards to escape the sensation. He wishes he could figure out how to say “no more, please.”

Luckily that's all Atsumu does. Maybe he can tell Tobio is on the brink of insanity.

“Just think,” Atsumu muses from behind, “If you learn how to breathe through the orgasm it goes on even longer.”

Tobio’s eyes flutter shut. Impossible. It was already so fucking much.

“Then you get to decide when it's over.”

Fucking hell. Despite how insane that sounds, Tobio’s mind buzzes with the possibility. He grits his teeth as Shoyo just keeps rhymically clenching around him. It's filling his head with cotton, the sensation seemingly endless, and Atsumu is pushed right up against him, making it impossible to back out.

“God it looks like it feels so good,” Atsumu says quietly, his hand coming to rest on Tobio's hip.

Tobio wonders what that even means, until Shoyo groans low in his throat and takes a quick breath in. Is…is he…Tobio forces his eyes open, letting out a grunt as Shoyo squeezes particularly hard around him. Is
Shoyo still going?

Shoyo is blushed everywhere. His face, his neck, his chest, all a beautiful pink. Sweat clings to his skin, hair slightly darker around his forehead. Shoyo’s body shifts gently, eyes closed, fingers almost completely relaxed in Tobio’s hand. Holy shit. How- Tobio glances downwards to where they are connected. Sure enough, there is a trail of cum on Shoyo’s stomach.

He starts to breathe a little faster at the realization that Shoyo is still caught in an orgasm. How- Tobio truly did not know that was possible. A suppressive heat starts to fill his brain as he watches Shoyo gently writhe on his dick. God, has Tobio even gone soft? It's hard to tell. All he knows, is that what previously was overstimulating sensation on his dick, now feels so fucking good. Each time Shoyo clenches down it pulls at some feral need inside of Tobio.

Shoyo’s torso flexes up and the spiker pushes himself back onto Tobio’s dick even harder.

“Fuck-” he groans, unable to resist pushing back, grinding his dick deep into Shoyo. It's fucking mind melting when Shouo just relaxes under him - like a fucking invitation.

Ataumu had promised to watch Shoyo. He promised to make sure the spiker was protected, even in situations like this.

“Can I?” Tobio grinds out through his teeth.

“You think you can go again?” Atsumu’s tone brushes up against mocking. Tobio’s body flares with the urge to prove himself.

Shoyo whimpers quietly under him, hips flexing up and down to get new sensation from Tobio’s cock. Fucking hell.

“Tell me, yes or no,” Tobio keeps his voice back from actually growling. His eyes dart around Shoyo, looking at everything. How he breathes, how he bends and flexes, how he whines quietly in his throat. Whining for more.

“What if I said no?” Atsumu’s tone proves that he knows exactly what he is doing.

Tobio bites down onto his bottom lip. He feels close to tears. Shoyo’s eyes flutter open for a moment and close again. The spiker’s fingers flex in Tobio’s hand. Please, please let him, can't Atsumu see how much Shoyo needs it?

“Fuck,” Atsumu breathes out, “it's fucking powerful. It's almost like he forces ya, huh?”

Tobio watches Shoyo’s head turn to the side, his mouth open with how heavily he is breathing.

“Alright,” Atsumu says breathlessly, “I'll let ya, but after, yer mine to play with, got it?”

Tobio couldn't care less. Atsumu can do whatever he wants, but Tobio needs to keep going. He needs to keep making Shoyo feel good.

“Go on, be a good boy for us,” Atsumu pushes down on Tobio’s back.

Tobio sobs, nearly collapsing onto Shoyo. He draws his hips back, pulling out of Shoyo to the tip. Shoyo whines, wiggling, trying to scoot further down.

“Shhh, shhh,” Tobio whispers softly, “I've got you, I will,” he slides back in, absolutely overwhelmed with how fucking good it feels to slide into Shoyo. He slides his arms under Shoyo again and grabs onto his shoulders. He feels like his heart might beat out of his chest and he lets his hips fuck Shoyo as fast and hard as they want.

…

The orgasm has moments where it wanes, but it's never fully gone. Tobio is relentless, fucking into Shoyo like he needs it.

Shoyo holds on, his fingers wrapped around Tobio’s bicep and forearm. The force of Tobio’s body keeps jolting Shoyo up, only for his momentum to be stopped by Tobio’s hands holding his shoulder down.

Shoyo is beyond moaning. He's just holding on for dear life as his body shakes in pleasure. He feels perfectly used. Like a beloved doll. Like the perfect little plaything.

Tobio breathes harshly into his ear, his body never slowing down or stopping. If only teenage Shoyo could see them now.

He smiles at the idea, Tobio’s cock fucking in harder and harder, the sound of their bodies hitting fills the room completely.

Tobio shifts his knees, and bends Shoyo in half. Shoyo feels his legs bounce in the air with every snap forwards. Between being forced into the mating press, and the strong setter hands holding his shoulders. There is nowhere so Shoyo to go, his body doesn't move anywhere but down into the bed as Tobio fucks him relentlessly.

He lets himself be used, again and again. He loves it. There is something so peaceful in being wanted like this. His body is anything but peaceful, but a pocket, deep in his soul, is finally restful. Tobio wants him…wants him this much.

He feels hands on the back of his thighs, forcing him into the stretch even more. His legs are gonna be fucked up after this. He doesn't care. He knows that both of them will take care of him. He knows he's not alone.

Shoyo’s not sure if he’s coming again or if it never stopped. It doesn't really matter. He’s just a vessel for Tobio’s desire. Fingertips dig into the underside of his thighs. Must be Atsumu.

“Go on,” Atsumu says quietly, “Let him have it.”

Tobio growls, grabbing onto Shoyo’s shoulders even harder. One of Shoyo’s hands leaves Tobio’s bicep and fumbles, trying to find Atsumu’s hand. His fingers brush against Atsumu’s wrist and the blonde stops pushing on Shoyo’s thigh to hold his hand.

Their fingers interlace and the touch keeps Shoyo tethered. He knows Atsumu has him. No matter how rough Tobio gets, Atsumu is looking out for him. Shoyo lets his brain sink away, until he's just a body in pleasure.

…

Atsumu watches Tobio’s back heave up and down. Atsumu is pretty sure that he finished again. Shoyo is going to be such a mess. Hmmm, maybe Atsumu can get Tobio to clean Shoyo up with his mouth.

Atsumu can't help licking his own lips as he thinks about it. Atsumu pulls on Shoyo’s legs until they are more relaxed. He uses his hands to hold them up so Shoyo doesn't have to. Poor boy’s legs must be killing him…or they will when the endorphins start to wear off.

He wonders if Tobio even remembers what he promised to let Atsumu do. He lets Tobio catch his breath for another minute. He brings his mouth down to Shoyo’s ankle, kissing the sensitive skin there. Shoyo’s legs muscles twitch, and he moans softly where he is tucked under Tobio. God, Shoyo must just be spinning in such a beautiful sub high right now.

Atsumu drops one of Shoyo’s legs, gently placing it down onto the bed and taps Tobio’s side, “We need to give his legs a break.”

It takes a moment but Tobio nods, “how- what should I-” Tobio trails off. Atsumu gently pats the setter’s side. It's okay Hun.

“I'm gonna have you pull out,” as tempting as it is to have Tobio eat Shoyo out, that should probably be saved for another time. A time both of them will truly get to enjoy it. “Then you're going to help Shoyo stretch out his legs, and turn him over onto his knees.”

Tobio breathes out, “Okay,” he starts to scoot backwards, pulling out of Shoyo. The redhead whines and squirms.

“It's okay baby, we got you,” Atsumu reassures. As Tobio moves backwards Shoyo can finally let his legs all the way down. The spiker groans in discomfort. Once Tobio is free of Shoyo, Atsumu retreats too. He didn't finish inside of Tobio, so they don't have to clean him up right away.

Tobio gets to work helping Shoyo straighten out his legs. Atsumu soothingly pets Shoyo’s lower legs as Tobio lightly massages the upper thigh muscles. Shoyo is soft and compliant, quietly moaning to himself as he lets his body be moved into a more comfortable position.

Atsumu reaches over to the bedside table, opening the drawer with the wipes. He pulls it out and passes the container to Tobio, “Will you wipe him up?” It's something Atsumu always does. But this, he feels, Tobio has earned.

Tobio gently guides Shoyo’s knees up to his chest, legs together this time. It probably stretches, but in a good way. Tobio reverently uses a wipe to clean Shoyo. It does pull at Atsumu’s chest to see Tobio so lovingly care for Shoyo’s body. But to be honest, Atsumu wouldn't have tolerated anything less than adoring treatment.

Tobio lowers Shoyo’s legs and tosses the used wipes to the floor and immediately goes back to massaging his spiker’s legs.

Atsumu watches Shoyo’s face. He's not sure Shoyo is up for another round, understandably so. He's been through the wringer. He doesn't feel comfortable going further unless he gets the chance to talk to Shoyo. If he's too far gone to speak, so be it. This is where they will end.

Atsumu climbs out from behind Tobio and crawls over to Shoyo’s upper body. The spiker looks exhausted, his head tilted to the side, eyes closed, taking calm breaths. He pushes Shoyo’s wet, sweaty bangs off of his forehead. Shoyo hums and his eyes flutter open for a brief moment. He's in deep. God it must feel so good.

He pets Shoyo’s cheek and watches Shoyo smile. “Sweetheart,” he says gently, as Shoyo nuzzles into his touch.

Shoyo’s eyes open and there is a bit of clarity to them.

“How are your legs?”

Shoyo looks away for a moment, and then shrugs his shoulders, “not the worst,” he says quietly.

Atsumu is glad to hear his voice.

“Does anything else hurt?”

Shoyo shakes his head.

“Did anything happen that you didn't want?”

“No,”

Atsumu pets him. These moments can be hard. Knowing when to call it and when to continue…it's not often clearcut. Atsumu is in the position to make gray-area decisions with real consequences.

“You did so good darlin’, I'm so proud of you, you let yourself feel so good, huh?”

Shoyo is back to laying with his eyes closed. He nods. It fills Atsumu with pride. Shoyo wasn't always able to acknowledge when he had been good.

Atsumu leans down to press their foreheads together, “I'm so proud of you,” he says again.

Shoyo vocalizes quietly and then whispers, “you too, took care of me.” Atsumu’s chest warms. He loves Shoyo. He really, really loves Shoyo. He has for a long time now. But it's different to fully acknowledge it.

“I love you,” he whispers.

“Love you Atsu,” Shoyo says quietly. It almost sounds like he's drifting off while they talk.

Atsumu kisses the top of Shoyo's head. To be honest, Atsumu wants nothing more than to cuddle up behind Shoyo, and hold him in his arms, until they both fall asleep.

Tobio shifts on the bed down by Shoyo’s legs. Ah, yes, Tobio. Atsumu sits upright, keeping on hand cradling and petting Shoyo’s cheek.

“How are you feeling?” Atsumu asks Tobio.

The dark haired man is focused on where Shoyo is laying peacefully. He shifts his gaze up to Atsumu’s face, “A little restless, honestly.”

Atsumu nods. He was aware that Tobio was switching kind of rapidly between the submissive and dominant head spaces. He ended with a dominant one, which fills you with a kind of energy that can be hard to come back from.

Atsumu sizes Tobio up for a moment. Hmmm. Atsumu wonders if…

“You can definitely tell me off if I'm wrong,” Atsumu says quietly, “But maybe you were looking forward to being used by me one last time tonight.”

Tobio’s cheeks color and he glances back down to Shoyo. The rival setter’s eyebrows pinch together.

Atsumu follows his gaze to look down at Shoyo, “He is okay, but I do think we should let him rest.”

Tobio stays quiet. For some, it's easier to come out of one headspace than another. Atsumu hasn't really played with anyone who switches, on account of the fact that Atsumu avoids subbing like the plague…but with Tobio… Atsumu gets to play with a switch, while personally staying in control the whole time. Maybe Tobio is someone who benefits from ending in submission.

“It's okay,” Atsumu says carefully, “to let it go, to let me help you. I'll ease you back into it.”

They both watch Shoyo lay there high out of his mind on endorphins.

“You’ll get to feel like that,” Atsumu’s chest aches. It does look like it feels so good. He’s offering it to Tobio on a golden platter. It's right there, but off limits to Atsumu.

Shoyo never once expressed desire to Dom. But watching Tobio let himself be rough and authentic with Shoyo…it's different. It's making him wonder about things he thought he’d never want.

Tobio bites on his lips, eyes still stuck to Shoyo. Atsumu tilts his head, watching the gears turn inside of Tobio's mind.

“I might fight it,” Tobio whispers.

That is likely true, Tobio will probably fight it, but probably only at first. If he truly wants to let go, he will.

“I expect you will, I can handle it.” Atsumu feels quite confident that he can out-Dom Tobio. He already has several times.

“If you want it, I will give it to you,” Atsumu says, “but make sure you want it.” He’s happy to try and help Tobio come down from the Dom high. Atsumu only has his own experience to go by, but he figures the two of them can hack it. Or not. If Tobio drops, Atsumu will still take care of him.

Atsumu isn't going to force Tobio to submit. Well, not unless Tobio asks him to.

Tobio is quiet for a long time. He continues to look down at Shoyo, absently petting the spiker’s thigh. Atsumu doesn't know what it's like, other than the time he fell from the Dom headspace into subspace. Atsumu has no clue what it feels like to genuinely choose that.

“Yes,” Tobio says finally, “I will likely fight, but…” he trails off for a moment, “I want to be with Shoyo, like that.”

Something pinches and twists in Atsumu’s chest. Something almost hateful. Atsumu tries to push it away, desperate to ignore the shame of what he just felt.

He- He likes what he has. He likes being in control. He likes it.

Atsumu tries to force himself to keep his eyes on Tobio, but something deep inside of himself makes him look down at Shoyo. The ache and shame in his chest increases. He blinks down at his spiker and realizes that he can't. Atsumu can't. He…can't.

He stays looking down, drops landing on the sheets. It's- he almost doesn't even have words. It's just…feeling. And the feeling hurts. He can't think. It just keeps looping with no progress. He’s stuck.

How- it happened so fast - he doesn’t usually- he stares down at the small wet marks dotting the sheets next to Shoyo’s head.

He’s…jealous.

Chapter Text

It's always a bar, Atsumu thinks to himself as he watches Shoyo dance. Shoyo doesn't even need to drink to have fun like that. It's nearly concerning how Shoyo can have fun and find joy nearly everywhere. Especially with what Atsumu knows about his history and personal life.

He doesn't know a ton, beyond the choking and the theme of Shoyo being unable/resistant to revoke consent. Atsumu is almost certain there is more than just that one choking incident.

Atsumu pushes his back against the backrest of the booth, completely unaware of what the other could even possibly be talking about. He's watching Shoyo. Partially in a protective way, partially just because he's so fun to watch.

Apparently, the theme for the bar tonight is dancing. They bumped up the music so loud that nobody can hear a God damn thing. It's something heavy, with a beat that you feel in your chest. Shoyo, is absolutely loving it.

He's been dancing for a while now. He mostly stays on the edge of the small crowd, like he knows he should stay in line of sight of the team. Atsumu, honestly, never fully understood the appeal of dancing in public. Sure, he danced at his brother’s wedding, but there was always something awkward about it, even when he had drank enough to forget about social rules. Shoyo though…he lets something loose tonight.

With how Shoyo moves, endlessly following a thudding base they can all feel, Atsumu starts to understand the appeal of dancing. Or, more like watching someone dance. It pulls at something deep in Atsumu’s brain. If he were going to psychoanalyze it, it probably has to do with watching something that is his showing off his body in such a public way. And yes, Shoyo has been letting his shirt ride up. Yes, he has been moving his hips in a way that only Atsumu should see. And yes, it is all affecting Atsumu.

They haven't done anything together yet. Shoyo hasn't been pushing it…not with words. Atsumu has seen the glances, felt the lingering touches…and now this. It's clear that Shoyo isn't the party keeping them from continuing to explore together. It's Atsumu. He…god he always fucking hates a Dom drop. Plus this extra shit on top.

He rubs his hands over his eyes. He wants to keep exploring Shoyo. He really, really does. He feels like he can't. He can't be what the man needs. He can't be trusted. He can't trust himself.

Honestly, Atsumu has never fully been able to recover from a Dom drop with a sub. He usually just politely cuts things off and gives himself time to reset until he’s ready to reenter the game with someone else. He doesn't have that option with Shoyo. He could end their sexual relationship, sure, but even if he did that, the spiker would still fill his life. God, it's possible it really was a mistake to start fucking a friend and coworker.

He pulls his hands away and re-finds Shoyo on the makeshift dance floor. But when he’s with Shoyo…nothing has truly ever felt more authentic and true.

He really, really doesn't feel able to give up what he and Shoyo were just starting to explore. He also doesn't know how to trust himself again. How to trust himself with Shoyo.

Bokuto, rowdy as always, especially with a drink or two in him is suddenly unable to sit still and knocks into Atsumu. Atsumu rolls his eyes, to see that Barnes apparently had the audacity to challenge Bokuto to arm wrestling, and lost, spectacularly. Even Atsumu knows better than to even try.

Barnes rubs his wrist where it had hit the table as Bokuto tries to goad another sucker into the same fate. Nobody on this team is gonna beat Bokuto. Nobody should try, it’ll just feed his ego. Atsumu declines when Bokuto finally starts trying to pester him into a round.

“I'll pass, you're damn near freak sized.”

Atsumu probably could hold his own for all of five seconds before Bokuto’s sheer willpower won.

Bokuto deflates dramatically as the table laughs. He's beloved, even though he can be difficult. Atsumu leans over and says just loud enough for Bokuto to hear over the music, “I'm passin’ cause I know you'd win.”

That earns Atsumu a small smile from Bokuto. He gets back into his rowdy, ridiculous self in no time. Atsumu sighs, resting his chin on his hand. They really did collect a team of freaks. Him included. Shoyo included. Speaking of, he scans the crowd to find that it has grown considerably as time passes and people loosen up with drink.

He clicks his tongue, searching for that bright orange beacon. It's possible Shoyo got sucked into the middle. Not being able to see his spiker leaves him deeply unsettled. He's about to actually get up and brave the dancing mob when he finally spots Shoyo’s hair.

Atsumu has mostly come to terms with the fact that Shoyo isn't just a teammate anymore. He lets finding Shoyo in the crowd soothe the anxiety that had been building in his stomach. He smiles, watching Shoyo’s hips…watching the smooth stomach that comes into view when the spiker raises his arms above his head. It truly is incredible. He can hardly believe that Shoyo is the same person as that scrawny little sprout in high school. His time in Brazil…really did something. Atsumu loses himself in watching Shoyo, trying his hardest to not let the attraction affect him in inappropriate ways. They are in public after all.

…

Shoyo can feel Atsumu's eyes on him. And the few times he has glanced over to check, sure enough, his setter is looking his way. It makes his body burn up. He lets himself fall into the rhythm all around him. He bumps against other bodies, but he knows Atsumu is only looking at him.

Shoyo loves dancing. When he is mentally able, he can really just fall into the physicality of it. His brain slows down until all that occupies his mind is the motion of his body. He’s aware of the people around him - aware of the energy that carries between them all.

He feels hot. He resists the urge to find Atsumu’s gaze. He drags his hands down over his chest, feeling like every part of his skin is alive with sensitivity. He imagines how it would feel to have Atsumu behind him, hands on his hips, moving together.

Shoyo feels himself flush as he imagines. He could roll his hips back, he could feel Atsumu’s hands travel his body, he could hear Atsu’s voice low in ear, telling him what to do.

On a packed, barely there floor like this, it's inevitable that you touch other people. Sweaty, hot skin, brushes of hair or fingertips.

He can't stop thinking, imagining, wanting Atsumu to be here with him. To feel their bodies together. Shoyo whimpers, the sound thoroughly lost in the thrumming base. He misses Atsumu. He misses how it feels together.

It feels like the bodies around him are getting even closer. Maybe they are, it is not a very big dance floor. Touch trails up over his ass. Shoyo shifts away, trying to get a little more room. The touch remains, and something sparks in Shoyo’s mind.

It-it could just be crowded. Shoyo tries to pull his brain through the stifling high of having been so thoroughly engaged in his fantasy. It's like trying to rip himself out of the zone. He turns in place, half hoping that whoever has been grabbing his ass was actually Atsumu. It's not.

He's tall though. And he reeks, like alcohol. He's gotta be at least ten years older than Shoyo.

He smiles, putting an arm around Shoyo’s waist. Like Shoyo having turned to see him was an invitation. The people all around them keep moving. The music keeps thudding. Shoyo nervously tries to glance over his shoulder to locate the table with his team. He can't quite find it, at some point Shoyo got turned around, he’s not sure where his teammates are anymore.

The man reaches down to grab Shoyo’s ass. Shoyo’s face is pressed into the man's chest as fingers dig into his ass. Shoyo watches himself freeze instead of react. He should be pushing this fucker back, he’s smaller but he's strong. But he just watches himself let it happen. He’s always just letting it happen.

The man's fingers dig in more. He’s talking, but Shoyo can't hear it over the music. A finger slides up between Shoyo’s cheeks and his body arches against the sensation.

The man is closer to his ear now, and Shoyo can hear him say, “You like that?” As he repeats the motion, his fingers pressing somewhere Shoyo doesn't want.

Always. Always. Shoyo hates that he is like this. He’s always like this. He tries to get his arms to work. Just push. Just fucking push him away.

“God, you're so fucking easy.”

Shoyo chokes, nearly inhaling the shirt forced up against his mouth.

He doesn't want this.

He doesn't fucking want this.

He. Doesn't. Fucking. Want. This.

Shoyo shoves.

The spiker stumbles back into some of the other people that had been dancing. Their bodies keep him upright when honestly all he wants to do is collapse.

“The fuck-” the man snarles. Shoyo wonders what will happen now. Did he just make everything worse?

“Get- fuck off dude,” the stranger growls.

Shoyo snaps his head up. He nearly bursts into tears, the adrenaline of it all crashing through him. Atsumu.

Shoyo can only half catch what Atsumu says over the music. He watches Atsumu’s mouth as he says, “What? You don't like this?” Atsumu has the man’s arm twisted behind his back in a way that clearly hurts.

Atsumu puts his mouth right up against the man's ear and says something that makes the color drain from the stranger's face.

“Fucking let me go,” the man struggles, a touch a genuine fear in his eyes now. Atsumu keeps his hold, twists a little so the man has to bend his torso to avoid having his arm twisted fully.

Atsumu pushes the man forwards into the crowd. He strumbles, looking back for only a moment before he disappears into the mass of people.

The altercation caused all the people nearby to step back. They watch, giving Atsumu and Shoyo space. Shoyo blinks up at Atsumu who has his eyes where the man ran off.

He…where did Atsumu even come from?
Shoyo looks around and locates the table with his teammates. They are all just sitting there. If Atsumu hadn't been watching him…

Shoyo wipes at his eyes, which just keep filling with new tears. He can't calm down. He went and did this, in front of everyone. He’s breathing too fast. The people are too close. His head swivels, searching for the door.

Atsumu commands his attention by putting his hands on Shoyo’s shoulders. His face is just a few inches from Shoyo’s, “Breathe baby, breathe,” he says over the music. Shoyo stares back at him.

Atsumu guides Shoyo out from the crowd of people and walks with him towards the exit. The cool air hits like a wall after being in the humid mass of people for so long. The music quiets to a dull thrum as the door closes behind them.

They can both hear how fast Shoyo is hyperventilating now. It's embarrassing.

Atsumu steps away from him and rubs at his eyes. Shoyo can't stop. He wants to stop. He really wants to stop.

Atsumu pulls him into a hug that is so tight it forces some of the air out of Shoyo’s lungs.

Shoyo's eyes keep leaking, dampening Atsumu’s shirt. He can't stop.

The hug does help. With Atsumu covering his whole front, and watching his back, Shoyo feels his body sag into his setter. Finally able to relax a little.

“Can I take you home?”

Shoyo thinks about his empty one bedroom apartment. How when Atsumu drops him off, he’ll just be alone.

He shakes his head, wishing he was strong enough to voice what he truly wants. He wants Atsumu to take him to his place. He wants Atsumu’s warm, safe body in bed next to him. He just wants…to feel safe.

Atsumu rubs his back with firm and predictable movements, not like when he’s teasing Shoyo and making him squirm.

Atsumu doesn't follow up with another question, he just keeps holding Shoyo and petting him. The circles on his back somehow transition into fingers carding through his hair. He relaxes even further, nearly relying on Atsumu to hold him up.

“My apartment isn't too far,” Atsumu says quietly. There is no expectation behind the words. Just an offer.

Shoyo nods, wanting nothing more.

“Okay baby,” Atsumu pulls back enough to kiss Shoyo’s forehead, “I've got you.”

…

They walk. Atsumu keeps a hand on Shoyo’s back as they head down the sidewalk. They are both quiet for a while. Shoyo works on getting his body to finally stop crying. He wishes he had tissues for his nose.

Atsumu breaks the silence.

“I'm sorry if I scared you.”

Shoyo gives a small smile. Sometimes Atsumu is ridiculous.

“You didn't,” and it's true. He felt scared, but never of Atsumu.

“What did you say to him?” Shoyo is so curious what made the color drain from that guy’s face so fast.

“Oh,” Atsumu gives a short chuckle, “I just told him how much I can bench press.” Atsumu tilts his head to face Shoyo, “he obviously was quite impressed.”

Shoyo bumps his setter with his shoulder, “You did not,” he says laughing.

“I did! Swear on Samu’s life!”

Shoyo stops walking and looks at him for a second, “That doesn't make any sense, why would that scare him so much?”

“Well, I may have also told him how many pounds of force it would take to dislocate his arm.” Atsumu sounds way too smug for having literally threatened someone tonight.

“Oh my god,” Shoyo stops walking and puts his face into his hands, “how do you even know that?”

Atsumu shrugs, “Samu and I did martial arts. Was honestly such a bad idea on Ma’s part. Only meant we got better at fighting each other. So much for the self discipline part.”

Shoyo sighs and looks up at the night sky. He starts walking again, feeling Atsumu fall into stride with him.

“How much force does it take?”

Atsumu’s smile is clear when he says, “About 70kg, give or take.”

…

Once inside and showered, dressed in one of Atsumu’s oversized tshirts, the shame of what happened tonight hits him again.

Atsumu is taking his turn showering and Shoyo buries himself into a bed that only smells like Atsumu. Nobody else. Just him.

Shoyo closes his eyes but he can't keep the tears at bay. It's not a full crying episode. They kind of just keep leaking.

He flinches when the bedroom door opens. Atsumu moves about the room and after a minute the bed dips with his weight.

“How are you doing?”

Shoyo nearly laughs at how ridiculous the question is. He forces himself out for the blanket cave he burrowed under. He must look a mess, face ruddy and wet from crying nonstop.

He hates that Atsumu saw how weak he was. He hates that Atsumu saw.

Shoyo squints against the light from the bedside lamp. His eyes adjust and Atsumu, wet from his shower, comes into focus.

He isn't giving Shoyo a pitying look, thank God. Shoyo was gonna break down all over again if Atsumu looked at him like he was pitiful. Even if he is.

“I'm okay,” he says, settling his back against the headboard. Atsumu stays sitting crosslegged, facing him.

“It's okay to not be,” Atsumu says gently.

Shoyo frowns and stares down at the bedding. If Shoyo had just pushed that fucker off to begin with…there would be nothing to be upset about.

Shoyo feels his brain start to go to a dark place. Now that Atsumu doesn't even want him, maybe that’s all Shoyo deserves. Getting felt up and pushed around at bars.

He doesn't want that to be true. He doesn't want to just be something easy that other people use and throw away.

“I saw you push him, right before I got there.”

Shoyo’s back tenses. That means Atsumu also saw the significant period of time that Shoyo did absolutely nothing. How he just let that guy touch him. He saw Shoyo be treated like the whore he is.

“I'm proud of you, I don't think anyone truly knows what to do in a fucked up situation like that.”

Shoyo’s eyes cloud as he just keeps staring down at the bed. Maybe it was a mistake to have Atsumu take him here.

“I-” Atsumu stops himself, takes a deep breath and starts again, “I'm not sure if it needs to be said, but nobody should do that to you. Not unless they know you want it.”

Why is Atsumu assuming he didn't want it? What if he had? Would Atsumu still have put that guy in an arm lock and threatened him?

“What if I did?” Shoyo’s voice is far harsher than he means it to be.

Atsumu is silent for a beat before he gently asks, “Did you?”

For some reason, hearing Atsumu ask, so authentically, makes something inside of him break. His vision fully swims until the tears are falling down his face.

No. No he didn't. He brings his hands up to his eyes, trying to force it all away. He wants to curl up and disappear.

He shakes his head. He needs Atsumu to know that he didn't. He's not…he isn't…

A hand gently rubs on Shoyo’s upper back and his body sobs. It's a horrid, genuine sound. Never has it felt like this. Well, the only other time was with Atsumu in that closet. What is it about his setter that brings him to this?

“I'm sorry,” he croaks, his words smothered by the tears, “I'm sorry.”

…

Atsumu keeps petting Shoyo's back as he breaks down. It is clear that Shoyo holds so much anguish. These tears are beyond what happened just tonight.

There is still an amount of nervous energy in Atsumu’s own body. He isn't violent. He isn't. But seeing that tonight. He saw red.

His hands were twisting that fucker’s arm before Atsumu even had a chance to decide to. He wasn't going to let anyone hurt Shoyo. Not right in front of him like that. The adrenaline feels insane. It just keeps zipping through his body with nowhere to go. He’s trying to sit still and remain calm when all he wants to do is…something. Maybe he needs to take a walk.

It almost feels like an interrupted session. But it's definitely more intense. His body is amped up. The energy has nowhere to go.

He watches Shoyo, his back quakes under Atsumu’s hand. God. It must have felt so fucking awful. Atsumu hasn't really ever thought about the privilege his body type gives him. Sure he gets hit on, mostly by women, a few bold men. But…no one has ever just invited themselves to assault and touch him. It's not something he realized that someone like Shoyo had to be fearful of. It kind of blows his mind. He knows how strong Shoyo is. It's not fair that others assume otherwise. Not that a lack of strength should invite fucking creeps.

Atsumu shakes his head, feeling himself start to get worked up. That fucking creep. The fucking audacity. Who does that? Who just puts their fucking hands on somebody like that? Atsumu remembers watching it unfold. He remembers not being fast enough as he pushed through people to get to Shoyo. He remembers watching Shoyo get turned around, and how that fucking creep’s hands went lower.

It takes everything inside of Atsumu to keep his body still as the images of what he saw, what he let happen, play in his mind.

“I'm sorry,” Shoyo manages to say, he takes a ragged breath, and a sob bubbles up through his throat, “I'm sorry,” he cries.

Ataumu wishes he had followed that guy and actually fucked him up. Career be damned. This fucker needs to hurt.

He wouldn't have left Shoyo though. He knows he wouldn't have. In any scenario.

Because, at the end of the day, his true priority isn't revenge, or fairness, it's Shoyo.

“Darlin’ please don't apologize,” he runs his fingers through Shoyo’s hair along the back of his head, “I might cry if you keep tryin’ ta apologize.”

Shoyo gives a short laugh through the tears. Atsumu smiles, "And I'm not a pretty cryer,” Atsumu says, letting the joke carry through his tone. He leans in towards where Shoyo is hunched over.

Shoyo shakes his head in disbelief, still stuck somewhere between crying and laughing.

Atsumu doesn't know if it's a mistake, but something in his gut is making decisions now. He’s caught in the whirlwind of adrenaline, his brain is more Dom than normal. He cups Shoyo’s chin and gently coaxes him out from his hunched over position. Atsumu guides Shoyo to look up. Shoyo keeps his gaze to the side, unwilling to look directly at Atsumu.

“Baby,” Atsumu whispers. He watches Shoyo’s mouth downturn in a frown. His cheeks are moist with previous tears. Shoyo sniffles, his nose uncomfortably stuffed.

He looks at Shoyo’s frowning face. And it almost just feels natural. He leans forward and gently presses his lips to Shoyo’s. He hears his spiker suck in a breath through his mouth.

Atsumu isn't quite sure if he is picking up on his own adrenaline, or if he is truly sensing a need in Shoyo. Even though they only played within the dynamic twice, Atsumu is familiar with how Shoyo feels when he wants. When he wants to win, when he wants another set, when he wants to play and get out of the box- Shoyo’s want energy is loud. And it's loud now.

Atsumu really truly hopes he is reading this right, and that he isn't being tricked by his own body. He kisses Shoyo gently, pulling back so that Shoyo can breathe through his mouth. Atsumu can feel the desire- it's not quite a normal desire, it's more like…desperation.

Atsumu bites on his bottom lip. It's an acute feeling. It reminds Atsumu of when he would get spooked in the night and crawl into Osamu’s bunk. He just wanted to not be alone. He wanted to feel safe.

Atsumu slides his fingers into Shoyo’s hair on either side of his head. He presses their foreheads together. What if he is totally misreading? He can't be someone who takes advantage. He can't.

But he also wants Shoyo to know that it's an option. He wishes he could make Shoyo understand that, yes, Atsumu will help him let go, Atsumu will take care of him, he just needs to ask.

How can Atsumu make Shoyo understand without pressuring him?

Atsumu runs the tips of his fingers back and forth through Shoyo’s hair. It's so hard to trust what he feels, because if he is wrong it could truly hurt their relationship. He might no longer be someone who Shoyo trusts. Instead he would look like someone who preys on those who are vulnerable.

His jaw clenches as he gets the tell-tale prickle of impending tears in his throat. Fuck. He takes in a deep breath that wavers at the end.

“You're upset,” Shoyo whispers.

“Not with you,” Atsumu says back, unable to hide how close to tears he is. He knows he needs to follow up with more, otherwise Shoyo’s anxiety will create a totally wrong narrative. He scratches Shoyo behind the ears gently.

“It was hard seeing you be hurt, I wasn't fast enough.”

Shoyo scoffs and shakes his head.

Atsumu powers on, letting a little bit of the adrenaline keep him moving forwards, “I felt helpless,” he takes a breath, “I want to help, I really, really, do” he pushes his forehead harder into Shoyo’s “Whatever that means, I want to do what I can. I want…” he trails off, truly unsure of how to proceed.

Shoyo doesn't make any indication that he's gonna talk and save Atsumu from having to figure out what he wants to say.

“I want you to feel safe,” Atsumu knows it's not enough to convey what he is trying to offer, “The world is scary, but here, together, I can help you feel safe.”

He hopes. He truly hopes that Shoyo understands the underlying offer.

“I would never do something you told me not to.”

“I know,” Shoyo says through a stuffed nose and thick throat. He leans against Atsumu, their foreheads plastered together in a way that will leave them both pink afterwards.

“You've never pushed, not like that,” Shoyo says, his hands finding their way to the hem of Atsumu's shorts. Shoyo grips the edge of the fabric, “You don't have to, we haven't…” Shoyo shakes his head slightly, “I thought…” the sound gets caught in Shoyo's throat.

Atsumu feels his eyes overwhelm, and even though they are closed, a few push past to fall down his cheeks.

“It was never because I didn't want you,” Atsumu says. He’s almost certain Shoyo is referring to the break they had been taking. The one-sided break that Atsumu silently implemented.

“I've wanted you this whole time,” he breathes in, the unsteady waiver betraying his emotion, “I felt like I couldn't trust myself. Like I couldn't hold up my word. I've never dropped into another headspace like that before,” he breathes, his own nose fully stuffed now, “It felt like I betrayed you.”

“That's so stupid,” Shoyo says, his voice breaking.

Maybe. Probably. Yeah…it's stupid.

“I'm sorry,” Atsumu says earnestly, "I'm not sure if you've noticed but I'm kind of a perfectionist.”

Shoyo laughs for a moment, but it quickly morphs into a frustrated sound.

Atsumu clenches his jaw in anxiety.

“Yeah,” Shoyo says quietly, “I noticed. I kind of like that about you. Up until the point that it hurts you.”

Atsumu blinks, more tears falling, as he looks straight ahead at Shoyo’s too close face. It is blurry and vague. Atsumu…isn't sure he has ever been praised for his difficult personality outside of volleyball. His obsession with not messing up got him far, but it pulled him down in so many other ways. He is rigid, despite the carefree attitude he puts forward. Perfectionism is fine and dandy when you actually manage to be perfect…but life inevitably throws something at you that you can't do perfectly.

The number of times Osamu has tried to talk Atsumu down from his own self-hatred when he messed something up…the number of times that Atsumu got so sucked into his own self deprecating narrative…The number of times he didn't pursue something he wanted out of fear of failure.

How could Shoyo like that about him?

Atsumu doesn't realize how heavily he is crying until Shoyo starts to try and brush away the tears.

Atsumu didn't mean to push Shoyo away. He just…he wasn't good enough for Shoyo. He had proved to himself that he couldn't be perfect. He had failed. He ran from the fear of letting Shoyo down. He ran so Shoyo couldn't see how lousy he really is. He knows it's ridiculous. He doesn't hold anybody else to the standard he does himself. He can't stop though. There is something in him that demands perfection. But that something has been trying to push Shoyo away.

Atsumu doesn't want to let that part succeed. He doesn't want to lose Shoyo…even if it means…he can't even think it.

“I'm sorry,” Atsumu whispers, “I'm sorry I ran.” He takes a deep breath, filling his lungs, willing himself to be brave.

“I was…am terrified that you would realize I don't deserve you.”

Shoyo gives a short, wet laugh, “Funny, I was thinking the same thing.”

Chapter Text

It feels raw, both of them voicing this deep fear. The fear of not being good enough. The terror of being known, truly known, and deemed not enough.

Shoyo grabs onto him, fingers tangling in Atsumu’s longer blonde hair. Their mouths move together feverishly. Shoyo moans into Atsumu’s mouth, fingers continuously moving along Atsumu’s scalp. The sensation makes Atsumu moan in turn, his hands braced along Shoyo’s back.

They are still sitting upright, their torsos pulled together, fighting to get as close as possible to each other.

Atsumu fights through the intensity of Shoyo's lips. After the night, and the crying, and the opening up, and voicing his deepest fears, to then have Shoyo desperately grabbing and kissing him- it's so fucking much. He needs, he needs to…check in- Shoyo bites Atsumu’s bottom lip, melting Atsumu’s brain all over again.

Atsumu goes against everything inside of his body screaming at him to continue, he pulls away from Shoyo’s mouth. They both pant for a moment, both unable to breathe through their noses.

Atsumu pushes through all of the desire and emotion clouding his head.

“Shoyo, is this what you want?”

Shoyo’s fingers dig into Atsumu's scalp. The spiker whimpers, takes a breath and says, “It's you I want. You, and this.”

Atsumu’s jaw clenches, the words soaking into his mind. Shoyo knows, he knows Atsumu’s deepest fears. He knows and he chooses Atsumu anyway.

“I'm not going to be rough with you,” Atsumu whispers into the space between them.

“I know,” Shoyo says back.

Atsumu leans in and kisses his spiker again. They stay together like that, mouths moving, body's arching to reach each other.

Atsumu lets himself focus on Shoyo. He lets himself feel wanted. Just in this moment, he lets himself be enough for Shoyo.

…

The kiss seems unending. They do take breaks, when one of them doesn't get enough air. It's intense. All of that feeling, all of that crying, all of the pain, and then this beautiful moment, where Atsumu can't keep his hands off of Shoyo’s body.

Atsumu’s fingers go under the oversized T-shirt and move around Shoyo’s back. He grasps and grabs, never roughly, but with an aimless, restless energy.

They can't get close enough, but they are both hesitant to take the next step. The one they both want. The one they both feel driven towards.

Several times now, Atsumu has made a motion like he’s finally going to push Shoyo down onto the bed. Each time he halts just short of actually going through with it, investing the energy back into kissing his spiker.

Shoyo’s body bends, moving with how Atsumu touches and kisses him, his fingers threaded in the setter’s undercut. Atsumu groans when Shoyo’s fingers go up into his longer hair and pull. Shoyo uses his leverage to pivot onto his knees, slightly higher than Atsumu now he kisses Atsumu and holds his head in place.

The setter’s hands find Shoyo's waist, pulling gently to try and get Shoyo even closer.

Shoyo uses one hand to brace on Atsumu’s shoulder, the other still holding the setter by the hair. He climbs onto Atsumu’s lap, putting each on his knees on either side of Atsumu’s body.

Atsumu immediately holds Shoyo closer, wrapping his arms around the spiker’s smaller frame. Shoyo keeps holding onto Atsumu’s longer hair, directing the setter’s head to kiss him deeper.

Shoyo stays on his knees without fully sitting down onto Atsumu’s lap. They both seem to know how liable it is to devolve once their bodies are touching like that. Shoyo keeps pressing down, their mouths never stop moving against each other.

Atsumu taps Shoyo’s back and they break apart, mouths just an inch apart.

“Fuck,” Atsumu breaths out. He tilts his head forward to rest against Shoyo’s chest as he breathes in deeply, “Sho,” he whispers into his own shirt on another person.

Shoyo stays on his knees and cards his fingers through Atsumu’s hair.

Atsumu pets up and down Shoyo’s back underneath the loose t-shirt.

“Tell me what you want, please,” there is a desperation in Atsumu’s voice.

Shoyo uses his hold on Atsumu’s head to tilt his face up. They look at each other, the silence between them full of the emotional vulnerability from earlier. This isn't a hook up. This isn't meaningless.

Atsumu swallows, continuing to look up at his spiker. Shoyo caresses Atsumu’s cheek, and leans back in to kiss him. Before their lips touch, Shoyo whispers, “I really want you to fuck me,” he finishes the statement by bringing their lips together.

Atsumu groans and grabs tightly into Shoyo’s body, wrapping his arms all the way around to hold his spiker close. They lose themselves in kissing, soft moans and groans swap between them.

Atsumu uses his grip on Shoyo to encourage the spiker to roll his hips forwards. Shoyo moans right into Atsumu’s mouth, his hips stuttering forwards as he presses into Atsumu’s stomach.

Atsumu smiles into the kiss, and continues to guide Shoyo to grind against him. Shoyo gets so lost in the motion that he stops kissing Atsumu, his mouth relaxed as he breathes deeply and moans against Atsumu’s lips.

“That's it princess, just like that.”

Shoyo whimpers and tucks his face into Atsumu’s shoulder. Shoyo keeps pushing his hips into Atsumu’s body, letting Atsumu’s hands guide his movements.

Atsumu kisses the parts of Shoyo that he can reach, whispering sweet words of encouragement into the spiker’s ear.

“You're a good boy,”

“So good for me,”

“That's it, let yourself have this,”

Shoyo’s back quakes and he sobs into Atsumu’s shoulder. Atsumu immediately holds Shoyo’s hips still and tries to lean back to get a look at the man in his lap.

Shoyo shakes his head, “Don't stop, please, please keep going.”

“Baby,” Atsumu says gently, his thumbs rubbing up and down on Shoyo’s sides.

“Please, please, I'm sure, I'm really sure, I-” Shoyo cuts himself off, “if…if it makes you uncomfortable, I can stop, we can stop-”

Atsumu successfully captures Shoyo’s lips and silences the man. They kiss, Shoyo’s face wet with tears. Atsumu pulls back, letting them both breathe, “Baby, you can cry, as long as I know you don't want me to stop.”

Shoyo's shoulders sag and he closes his eyes. Atsumu cups his cheeks and wipes away his tears, “I mean it baby, you're not gonna scare me away.”

Shoyo chokes on a sob in his throat.

Atsumu gives him a soft peck on the lips, “You’re not too much, you're not bad, you're so good Shoyo. It's okay to have this.”

“How- what if-” Shoyo shakes his head in frustration, “What if I can't stop you?”

Atsumu pulls gently on Shoyo’s hips until the spiker is sitting on his legs. He presses their foreheads together and lightly taps Shoyo’s arm two times, “You do this,” he taps again, “And I'll stop, no matter what. You can always decide to start again.”

Shoyo grimaces and keeps his eyes closed before he nods.

Atsumu smiles and kisses his cheeks, “Can you do that for me baby?”

Shoyo whimpers deep in his throat and nods again.

“Can you show me, baby? Show me how to make it stop?”

Shoyo freezes in his lap, his bottom lip trembling slightly.

“It's okay if you can't yet, baby, we can do something we have done before.”

Shoyo swallows, and presses his cheek against Atsumu’s. The setter uses the opportunity to gently pet Shoyo’s back in steady circles.

Shoyo takes a deep breath and pats Atsumu’s arm.

Atsumu glances up at the ceiling for a second and then starts peppering kisses all along Shoyo’s cheek. The spiker startles and then giggles as Atsumu just keeps going, kissing again and again.

Shoyo laughs and starts to pull away, “Atsu! Stop, it tickles!” Atsumu stops, a wide smile on his face. Shoyo catches his breath and looks at his setter.

“I'm proud of you,” Atsumu says gently.

Shoyo looks away and lays his head on Atsumu's shoulder. Atsumu resumes rubbing circles on his back.

“Do you want to stop here?” Atsumu whispers.

“No, I still want you,” Shoyo whispers back.

“You can want me, and say that's enough for tonight,” Atsumu says back.

Shoyo huffs in frustration, “Are you going to make me beg for it?”

Atsumu hums dramatically, “Oh now there is an idea,” he kisses Shoyo’s temple, “You would sound so good begging for it.”

Shoyo buries his face into Atsumu’s shoulder.

“But,” Atsumu drawls, “I won't make you beg, not tonight Princess.”

Shoyo shoves his face completely into Atsumu’s shoulder. And then he nods.

Chapter Text

It is intriguing…the idea of begging. Shoyo can't quite get it out of his head as Atsumu kisses up his neck.

They both know Shoyo can come from just that. Let alone what is going to happen later. Shoyo is going to get Atsumu’s dick. The thought alone brings his mind crashing down. Miya. Atsumu. Moaning…because he’s got his dick up to the hilt inside of Shoyo.

He thinks about how deep Atsumu could get if he put Shoyo into a mating press. He can do it, not forever, but for a decent while. And fuck it feels so good. To feel nothing but the man on top of you, and the pressure of the bed underneath. Nowhere to fucking go, just pushed down and held there.

Shoyo moans loudly as Atsumu licks up to his ear and starts to nip and suck at that. It sends overstimulating shocks down Shoyo’s body. He grinds down, unable to believe that Atsumu still just has him in his lap.

Shoyo realizes what he has actually asked for. Atsumu said he wasn't gonna be rough…Shoyo asked to get fucked. Atsumu isn't going to dominate him, not like that, no, Atsumu is going to make love to Shoyo. He's going to go slow, and make every little moment feel incredible. Shoyo might be put in a mating press, but it's going to be done in the most reverent, loving, beautiful fucking way. It's going to be unbearable.

It feels shameful and selfish. Shoyo wants it anyway.

…

It has never felt like this. Atsumu has never felt so in tune with this part of his brain. It's like being in the zone up to the max. He swears the apartment building could catch fire and he might not notice. All he feels is Shoyo. It feels like Shoyo has crawled into his brain- not in a tangible way, but like his energy has infested Atsumu’s body.

He holds the spiker down to the bed, smaller wrists under each of his hands. Shoyo doesn't fight against him, he just enthusiastically keeps kissing Atsumu.

Shoyo’s body arches up from the bed to try and grind against Atsumu. Seeing Shoyo want badly enough to…Jesus, Atsumu isn't going to be able to keep any cool.

Atsumu mouths up Shoyo’s neck as the man writhes and jerks under him. Atsumu realizes that he might now be addicted to the sensation of Shoyo chasing pleasure.

Atsumu feels deep in his body how obsessed he is going to become with making Shoyo feel this again. He is going to create intricate opportunities to keep convincing Shoyo to chase what feels good. Train his brain to let himself have pleasure. To let himself be worshiped and adored.

Atsumu will never find a high like this again. Not without Shoyo. Atsumu groans as Shoyo successfully manages to press himself against Atsumu. God they feel perfect together.

There is a warning light in the back of Atsumu's mind. This is how he dropped. The Dom high went so fucking far that it circled back and he went straight past the threshold into sub space, where all he wanted in the world was to worship Shoyo.

Fuck, remember how good Shoyo felt on his tongue? Atsumu’s mouth waters as he remembers. Shoyo’s fingers in his hair, holding his head in place. How it felt to gag over Shoyo’s cock.

Atsumu’s eyes close as he keeps licking and mouthing along Shoyo’s throat.

He never realized that the worship aspect of domination could overlap with the submissive part of it. It makes sense…

Shoyo arches up again, this time finding the right height of his hips and grinding slower than before. He presses them together with intent rather than desperation.

It near about drives Ataumu wild. He growls for a moment before he opens his mouth and bites onto Shoyo’s shirt. God does he want to bite Shoyo. He wants to apply just enough pressure and pain to push Shoyo so deep that he can't properly think about things like lining up their hips. Atsumu wants to watch Shoyo let himself lay back, bliss out, and let himself be worshiped.

He feels himself growl as the urge to bite more than a shirt flows through him. He said he wouldn't be rough.

Gentle, gentle, he tells himself as he feels Shoyo pointedly raise his hips and press into Atsumu. He bites down on the shirt harder before he growls through his teeth, “Stay still.”

Shoyo stops, his hips still hovering in the air. Atsumu uses one hand to push them down until they are pressed into the bed. Shoyo stays where he was put.

Atsumu has a moment of clarity where he realizes this might all be way too much way too fast. He sobers, studying Shoyo’s face below him. The red-head is flushed and still squirming a bit.

“Baby,” Atsumu says gently and he watches Shoyo open his eyes.

“Do you want me to stop?” Atsumu feels the bubble of clarity in an otherwise drowning body. The chemicals racing through him are held back by his brain alone.

Shoyo shakes his head, “No, keep going, I want this,” there is an odd sober quality to Shoyo’s eyes and speech too. Like he has genuinely already thought about the answer.

Atsumu stares at him a moment longer, “Me too,” he says, “You tap me if you need a break,” Atsumu zero’s in on the bit of smooth chest under the t-shirts oversized collar, “Lay back baby, let me take care of you.”

His hands slide up under the hem of the t-shirt dragging it up to Shoyo’s collar.

“Let me worship you,” he says quietly, as he looks down at Shoyo’s beautifully flushed and rosy chest. He looks between Shoyo’s nipples, his mouth watering with desire.

Shoyo squirms, his chest aching up beautifully.

“Please,” Atsumu breathes out, unable to tear his gaze away from the now pebbled nipples.

He stays there, staring at Shoyo's chest as he waits for a response. It's almost like a spell. He cannot pass the threshold unless invited. He cannot.

Shoyo keeps squirming and arching his chest up, seeking stimulation. Atsumu watches and sees how badly Shoyo wants it- how badly he wants the touch. His hips writhe in place, no longer arching up off the bed.

Fuck. Even when he's losing his mind he’s a good boy.

“Baby, I see you're keeping your hips still.”

Shoyo whines and nods, body starting to twitch and shake.

“You're so good for me baby, you listened so perfectly.”

Shoyo gasps and turns his face away.
The praise. The praise pushes him.

Atsumu’s eyes flutter closed as he imagines making Shoyo orgasm from that alone.

Atsumu stays perched over Shoyo, eyes carefully watching his chest rise and fall.

“Shoyo, can I use my mouth on your chest?” He doesn't look away from the breathing chest below him.

Shoyo breathes out, and vocalizes softly. Atsumu looks up to watch Shoyo make eye contact and nod. Atsumu feels himself melt. He lowers his head to Shoyo’s chest and starts peppering kisses all around his skin, avoiding kissing the nipples directly.

The spiker under him arches and squirms, trying to control himself enough to present his chest. Atsumu pauses and gently presses down on Shoyo’s chest to still him, “Just lay here for me baby, just enjoy it. Ain't gotta present, or do anything. Just feel it all.”

Shoyo deflates and relaxes until he has sunk back into the bed. Atsumu kisses one of Shoyo’s nipples and says, “Thank you baby.” Shoyo’s torso twitches but he mostly stays still.

Atsumu pulls himself up to be level with Shoyo’s face, “Show me how to stop baby,” he prompts.

Shoyo taps Atsumu’s knee a second later.

“Good boy,” Atsumu says from deep in his chest. “Ready?” Shoyo nods and Atsumu kisses down to return to Shoyo chest. He takes one of Shoyo’s nipples into his mouth and pleasure drips through him when Shoyo flinches and moans. He truly, will forever be addicted to this feeling.

He runs his tongue over the pebbled nub, wrapping his lips around it and groaning when Shoyo quietly says his name.

“Atsu-” it is said like a plea. Atsumu’s brain might seriously be overheating. He keeps sucking and licking Shoyo’s chest, falling into the bliss of pleasuring Shoyo.

…

Atsumu isn't sure why that particular memory pops into his head. The dance floor night.

He’s been nearly catatonic for a while. After offering to sub Tobio out…Atsumu had freaked out. Now though, he is neatly tucked into Shoyo’s arms.

Once Atsumu started crying, Shoyo sat himself up, collected Atsumu into his arms and held him. Shoyo was clearly still in some kind of altered state. Honestly, knowing that Shoyo wasn't being forced out of sub-space helped Atsumu calm down. He wasn't as worried about Shoyo crashing, not if he's still happily spinning.

Atsumu wonders if it was a conscious effort to stay under. This isn't even the first time Atsumu has Dom dropped with Shoyo. It won't be the last. Something about the vulnerability of what Atsumu and Shoyo do together made the probability of drops higher for Atsumu.

As awful as they are, Atsumu feels like he heals a little part of himself each time he goes through it. So, with Shoyo subbed out and close by, Atsumu lets himself drop.

He and Shoyo have tried things over the months. Distractions, comfort media, food, snuggles…nothing worked. The easiest and least traumatizing way, is just through. If Atsumu tries to fight it off he ends up unable to sleep, and having panic attacks through the night.

He’s been letting himself cry. He let his mind wander, stumbling from topic to topic. Many of them evoke this burning pain inside of his chest. It's memories, but he feels them in a way that is so acute. Usually when you remember something you just get the little twinge of feeling. But in this place, it's all real. The feelings are big and they consume.

Usually this is the part Atsumu fights. He doesn't want to feel all those memories. He doesn't want it.

But tonight his brain shows him the memory of the dance floor night.

He relives how it felt to watch Shoyo cry, begging for more, as Atsumu fucked him into the bed.

How it felt to know, deep down, that Atsumu was showing Shoyo love. Atsumu saw how he was holding space for that part of Shoyo who needed safety. A safe place to actually feel what his body had to delay. Shoyo couldn't feel the pain of the assault in the moment, his body had to force it back for later. And Atsumu watched ‘later’ come. He watched Shoyo writhe, almost like he was in pain, tear tracks marking his cheeks, as he clung to Atsumu.

He relives how good it felt to let Shoyo truly feel it. Atsumu’s eyes start to tear up again. What would be the odds that Shoyo might feel the same way? Has Atsumu been robbing Shoyo from experiencing the privilege of holding that space?

Atsumu’s throat chokes, leading up to a future cry. Shoyo wants this version of Atsumu too? The same way Atsumu wants this version of Shoyo?

As if understanding that Atsumu was finally on the right page, Shoyo moves his hand and places it on the curve in Atsumu’s back. Fuck- this spot…

When Atsumu subs Shoyo out and helps him access and process his feelings, Shoyo always wants to be held like this afterward. Shoyo showed him where to hold his hand, applying a steady force that keeps Shoyo pressed against him.

Shoyo provides that same sensation now, to Atsumu’s back.

Atsumu can't at all explain why it feels so good. It feels like, like a really fucking good hug. The kind where you really don't feel rushed to let go. He feels like his back is safe. Like he can finally stop checking over his shoulder.

He sighs, like the air is forcing itself out of him. He inhales, refilling his lungs and it's like something unlocks in his mind.

And this time, instead of fighting the emotions, Atsumu embraces them.

Shoyo will hold space for him.

Chapter Text

Atsumu doesn't know what time it is when he finally stopped crying. He doesn't know what time it is when he starts to feel like a person again. It's dark in the room, all the gentle soft yellow lamps are turned off.

Atsumu's body hurts. He always forgets how crying that much actually hurts. Shoyo has been breathing deep and even as he sleeps.

Atsumu slowly and gently extracts himself from Shoyo’s arms. He feels raw, but not devastated in the way his drops usually go. He kisses Shoyo’s palm before he places it face down on the bed.

With his eyes starting to adjust he can see Tobio is asleep spooning Shoyo. Good. Atsumu hadn't been able to help Tobio come down. He’s glad Tobio stayed.

He climbs off the bed and quietly leaves the room. He closes the door behind him and finally relaxes. He rolls out his neck and stretches his arms above his head.

He could have woken Shoyo up. In fact, Shoyo would probably prefer that to Atsumu coming out here alone. He does feel okay though, and there is only so much observed weakness that Atsumu’s ego can handle.

Sometimes, he needs to finish his breakdown alone. He's not sure that’s even what he needs tonight. He just enjoys the silence and solitude. Finally, a moment where nobody is watching or perceiving him.

He hears the bedroom door creak open before it gently closes again. Atsumu closes his eyes, still facing the open refrigerator for something to eat. He’s already building a response to tell Shoyo to go back to bed when Tobio’s deeper, sleep groggy voice says “Hey.”

Atsumu is doing his best not to feel disappointed…in the absence of annoyance and disappointment, he just feels embarrassed.

“Hey,” he says back, keeping his eyes on the interior of the fridge as it quickly expels cold air.

Atsumu closes the door without having gotten anything. He stays staring at that same spot though, just now there is a flat gray wall in front of him.

For some reason, Atsumu is really hesitant to face Tobio. Drops happen…but…yeah honestly Atsumu hadn't prepared himself mentally to let Kageyama Tobio see him full out ball and weep.

“Sorry, I realized you were probably getting up to eat and-” Tobio clears his throat, “Well Sho is out cold, has been all night.”

Atsumu nods to himself. Tobio wasn't sure he was necessarily allowed to just raid Atsumu’s food and kitchen. So he’s just been starving.

Atsumu pulls open the fridge door again, “Want your take out?” He pears into the produce bins, “There is also some fruit we can cut up.”

“Uh, yeah, honestly anything sounds good.”

Atsumu is ravenous, Tobio must be too. Shoyo is just straight up sleeping through his hunger. Atsumu grabs what they need and pointedly keeps his back to Tobio as he moves about the kitchen.

He starts reheating and cutting up some melon. From the first few pieces he cuts he puts them on a plate and puts it in front of Tobio.

Atsumu quickly scans over the dark haired man as he looks down at his phone on the counter. He seems to be physically okay. Tobio glances up as the plate is pushed close to him and Atsumu sees the darker bags under Tobio’s eyes.

“Thanks,” Tobio says, looking down to the food and immediately starting to eat.

Ataumu turns back to the fruit and keeps cutting it up.

“Couldn't sleep?” Atsumu asks. He keeps working on the fruit as he waits for a response.

“No, not really. Maybe I dozed at some point.”

Atsumu nods, “Couldn't settle down?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Atsumu pops a piece into his mouth. God, post sex food is truly on another level. At this point, it is actually just post breakdown food.

It makes sense that Tobio couldn't settle down. It truly bothers Atsumu that he wasn't available to ease Tobio through that.

“I'm glad you stayed and didn't try to go home.”

“I-” Tobio pauses, “I really wasn't sure what I was supposed to do.”

Atsumu lets his defensive wall down a little. It helps to be reminded that Tobio is vulnerable too.

He brings the reheated takeout and cutting board of fruit over to Tobio. Tobio sits on one of the counter barstools, and Atsumu stands on the other side of the counter from him. They both just eat for a minute, their only priority getting hot, filling food into their stomachs.

When his belly isn't screaming, Atsumu pauses eating, “I am truly sorry that you had to face navigating the aftermath by yourself. It wasn't my intention to…” he scratches the back of his head, “frankly, freak out, you know?”

Tobio nods but doesn't look up.

Atsumu watches the other setter eat for another minute as the ideas start to click together and make sense.

“You're not telling yourself that it's your fault…right?”

The way Tobio’s shoulders jump up in defense is telling enough.

“Tobio,” Atsumu says gently, “Had you ever tapped into that part of your brain before? Outside of volleyball?”

Tobio shakes his head, “No, but now that you say that, it is pretty similar to being in flow on the court.”

Atsumu had suspected that it wasn't something that Tobio had explored before. The confirmation is good though, and it gives Atsumu a starting point to dismantle the sense of guilt Tobio is harboring.

Atsumu takes a steading breath. There is a part of his brain that is hesitant. Probably the part of his own brain that feels guilty. Maybe he needs this for himself too.

“None of us did anything wrong,” Atsumu’s stomach twists as he makes himself say the words. Because it is true. If Tobio had truly dropped like that, it wouldn't have been his fault. Atsumu has to hold himself to the same, human, not superhuman, standards.

Or…at least, that's what Shoyo has always been trying to tell him.

“Sometimes, the headspace that you reach, it's like, connected to such a primal part of your brain, that all the things your thinking brain tries to shove down and lock away, are suddenly freed,” Atsumu pauses, looking down at his now cooling food, “sometimes it feels truly freeing, sometimes you get buried in it.”

“Sometimes, it leaves you buzzing and unable to calm down.” The highest highs, the lowest lows, and everything in-between. Atsumu is glad that Tobio didn't seem to truly drop. That would have probably actually traumatized the guy.

He looks up at Tobio, who is pointedly looking down. Atsumu glances to Tobio’s left hand, relaxed on the table top. He puts down his eating utensils and gently holds Tobio’s hand. Their fingers are not threaded together like Atsumu and Shoyo would do - so used to holding hands.

Tobio looks at the hands and then back down at his food. But he doesn't pull away.

Atsumu slides his hand under Tobio’s until he is lightly grasping the underside of Tobio’s wrist. Tobio relaxes his own hand and holds Atsumu the same way. It's a little odd, but, honestly, it feels true for them.

Atsumu slides his thumb along the edge of Tobio’s wrist.

“You didn’t cause me to break down, it was caused by something I had been unwilling to face within myself.”

Tobio’s fingers tighten slightly before he relaxes them again. So Atsumu is right. His own drop is at least part of what is bothering Tobio. Atsumu closes his eyes against the now painful prickle of tears. He can't cry more, his head already aches from dehydration.

He looks down at their hands. Atsumu knows now what he wants. But…is he brave enough to actually try and let himself have it?

He grasps Tobio’s hand a little harder. It's possible that the best way to help both of them is for Atsumu to be painfully honest. It would help deconstruct the false narrative in Tobio’s head, and it would allow Atsumu to finally stop holding this part of himself down.

He bites the inside of his cheek. He really doesn't want to. He’s not sure he can. Even though a part of him deep down is crying and begging. Atsumu doesn't feel like he can honor that part of himself.

He’s tired of standing at the counter and honestly they both stopped eating a while ago.

“I'd like to keep talking, if you feel up for it.” Atsumu says, “It's okay if you want to try and go back to sleep, there will be time for us to talk later too.”

It's true that there will technically be time later…Atsumu is pretty sure if he leaves it to later, he’ll lose a lot of his courage.

“No, I don't think I could sleep anyway,” Tobio says down towards the now cooled food.

Atsumu slides his hand out from under Tobio’s and takes the plates, cleaning up with as little effort spent as possible.

“How about we sit on the couch?” Atsumu gestures to the other room where he has seating and a TV. Shoyo and him have watched so many matches on that couch.

Tobio stands dutifully and heads into the other room. Atsumu stands, gripping the edge of the counter, staring down into a sink with three dishes in it. It feels like he is at war with himself.

The part of him that wants and has needed this is loud. The protective part of himself that keeps everything in check is forcefully trying to push it all back down. And current adult Atsumu feels like he is just along for the ride.

He closes his eyes, biting down on his lower lip.

He remembers Shoyo’s sweet face and even sweeter words, “I love the part of you that tries so hard. That works to always do your best.” They had been laying in bed after Atsumu crashed hard. Atsumu was dedicating almost all of his energy into trying to hold it all in. It genuinely felt like he was going to explode. “But Atsu, sometimes that part of you ends up hurting you,” Shoyo kissed his forehead.

“It's hard to see the other parts of you make themselves smaller.”

Shoyo had cupped his crying face in his hands, “When you're ready, I'm ready,” Shoyo had said, “When you're ready to stop making yourself small, I'll be here, ready for you.”

Atsumu sniffles and wipes at his eyes, still standing there in front of the sink. That was so many months ago when Shoyo said that. Atsumu looks up at the ceiling. He wonders how long his spiker has known that Atsumu has a deep desire to be dominated.

…

Tobio isn't sure how to put his body. He’s in Atsumu’s living room, awkwardly perched on his couch, dreading what Atsumu is wanting to talk with him about. Probably everything Tobio did wrong…

He lightly taps his fingers on his knees, trying to settle what feels like a mounting panic attack. He should have just pretended to go back to sleep. He has no clue what he is doing, as Atsumu pointed out. He’s never dominated anyone, he's never submitted to anyone. He probably severely fucked something up. And this is where Atsumu tells him that this was a mistake. Tobio feels certain that Shoyo is about to get ripped away from him.

His fingers dig into his knees. The tapping was barely working anyway. It never did work as well when he tried to do it himself.

He hears the floor creak outside of the doorway and his back muscles tighten. He doesn't want to lose Shoyo. He already lost so much time.

He quickly wipes away the small amount of moisture in his eyes as Atsumu enters the room. He rounds the couch and surprises Tobio by sitting right up against him.

Atsumu turns his torso and awkwardly wraps one arm around Tobio’s front. Atsumu tilts his head to lean his forehead against Tobio’s temple. Tobio feels his thoughts stall and attempt to reboot. How, what, why…

“I'm sorry,” Atsumu whispers, “I forgot to tell ya how good you did.”

Tobio’s mind flatlines…the earnest words push right up against the wall of anxiety that had formed inside of him.

“You took care of him, and checked in, and let me monitor him. You made him feel so loved.”

Tears push out of Tobio’s eyes and down his face. Atsumu doesn't lie.

Tobio’s hand reaches up to grab onto Atsumu’s forearm. Atsumu doesn't lie.

Tobio’s chokes on a sob, his body fighting against the relief that…maybe he didn't hurt Shoyo. Maybe he’s not going to lose him tonight. That maybe…

Tobio turns to look at Atsumu, he needs…can he really let go of that fear? Is he sure Atsumu is telling the truth?

Atsumu looks back, his own eyes red and puffy from crying. Atsumu’s other hand comes up to hold Tobio’s jaw. There is something so honest and knowing in Atsumu’s gaze.

Tobio knows that Atsumu loves Shoyo. That much is abundantly clear, even to Tobio. Everything Atsumu does is for Shoyo. Including this, including letting Tobio be here.

The view of Atsumu swims with tears and Tobio lets his eyes close. Can Tobio let himself have this? Let himself believe that he’s not going to get thrown away at the first mistake?

Tobio bites down on his bottom lip to hold back the intense emotions. He feels Atsumu adjust to hold him closer.

“It's okay to feel it. Sometimes you just gotta,” Atsumu says. Tobio shakes his head in disbelief. That's gotta be a Shoyo-ism that Atsumu picked up at some point. Because it's nearly the exact same phrasing that Shoyo used to use with him in highschool.

Hearing the same words now, from Atsumu…they both love Shoyo. And maybe…to truly make this work, they need to learn how to connect with each other.

A sob escapes Tobio. He clenches, a part of him fighting furiously to hold it all in.

Atsumu’s fingers move up into the hair on the back of Tobio’s head, “It's okay to feel it,” Atsumu says again, “I'm not going anywhere,” his tone is so gentle, like how he talks to Shoyo.

Tobio shakes his head. He can't. He can't. It'll be too much. He’ll be too much.

He trusted Atsumu in the bedroom. He trusted Atsumu to tell the truth. He trusted Atsumu to take care of him. Is this different? It sure feels different. Why is it so different now? Tobio’s head pounds, with the force of holding everything back.

Atsumu’s fingers brush along the back of Tobio’s neck. Why is Atsumu being so nice to him now? Tobio head throbs.

“Why?” Tobio croaks.

Atsumu hums questioningly, continuing to pet Tobio’s head.

“Why did-” Tobio feels like the words burn him from the inside, “What did I do wrong?”

Atsumu pulls Tobio close, putting his head up against Atsumu’s shoulder. Broad arms wrap around Tobio’s back.

“Oh darlin’, it really wasn't anything you did.”

Then why? Then why did Atsumu break right after Tobio said what he wanted? It's not the first time Tobio has misread. It used to happen a lot more. He tries. He really tries, but sometimes he just doesn't understand. People say one thing when they mean another. Why don't people say what they mean?

Atsumu takes a deep breath, “I meant it, my drop was because I was forcing part of myself to be silent.”

Atsumu pulls Tobio back, thumbs wiping at his tears, “I never-” Atsumu smiles wryly and closes his eyes for a moment, when he opens them again they are moist with tears, “I never really let myself think about how it would feel to choose to let go,” Atsumu tilts his head down, “the idea has always kind of terrified me.”

He breathes shakily, “The lack of control,” Atsumu gently holds the back of Tobio’s neck, “it never felt like I ever truly could.”

…

It's true. It never really felt like an option. Atsumu was never going to let himself have that kind of vulnerability. Not truly. The very few times he played around with subbing, there was always a part of him that stayed vigilant. It felt more like a performance than anything true. The only thing that ever felt authentic was when he slipped into it with Shoyo.

That's when a part of him actually started to want it. Just like that little boy who climbed down to Osamu’s bunk. Atsumu wants to feel safe.

He swallows around the lump in his throat. Maybe he even wants to feel beloved.

He started to want something that felt impossible. He’s not the type of person who can have that. He's not someone who can let go. But then along came Tobio, so much like Atsumu in the fact that they both demand perfection from themselves.

Atsumu watched Tobio figure out how to let go. How to thoroughly enjoy the freedom and peace of subbing…

Atsumu thinks he might already know, but he still needs to ask.

“How did you do it?” his voice cracks through the words, “How did you just…”

“Oh,” Tobio says softly. Tobio raises his hands to hold Atsumu, cupping the back of his head and neck.

Atsumu chokes and bites down on his bottom lip. They have done a lot together, but Tobio has never really…held Atsumu.

“It was hard,” Tobio whispers, “you made it possible. Watching you take such good care of Shoyo made it feel safe. I really didn't trust you at first.”

Atsumu smiles despite the fact that he feels like he's about to fall apart. He could tell that Tobio was suspicious. Mostly because he was glaring the whole time. But then there was that beautiful moment, where he started to yield, just a little. And then Shoyo said it was what he wanted. And Tobio took the plunge.

It really was quite something to watch Tobio fall deeper and deeper into the headspace. There were times that just playing with Shoyo seemed to push Tobio deeper too. Like they were connected through the submission.

“How did it feel?” Atsumu asks.

Tobio keeps his hands on the back of Atsumu's neck, gently brushing his fingers up and down.

“It felt…” Tobio laughs quietly, “Honestly I'm not sure if I can describe it. It was euphoric. Being there with Shoyo and trusting you to keep us safe…it felt true. Like I was experiencing something deeply true.”

Atsumu blinks. That's…oddly similar to how it felt the time he slipped into sub space. Like he was experiencing a truth of some kind.

Tobio runs the tips of his fingers along Atsumu’s undercut. The touch is light enough to be nearly teasing. It makes Atsumu’s neck bloom hot under his skin. It feels like something is shifting. Something overwhelming.

“It felt so good though,” Tobio whispers, “so fucking good.”

Atsumu catches the whine in his throat before it vocalizes. He wants that. He wants to let go and become simple and malleable for somebody who he trusts.

Ataumu saw how Tobio treated Shoyo. Even when he was fucking overstimulated out of his mind, cock still buried in Shoyo, he didn't overstep. He held himself back until he had permission. And then he followed it all up with loving and doting aftercare.

“Atsumu,” Tobio says carefully.

Atsumu nods to show he's listening.

“Can I kiss you?”

Atsumu opens his eyes. Tobio is still reverently running his fingers through Atsumu’s shorter buzzed hair, the sensation trailing down his back in tingling lines.

The setter's crystal blue eyes are watching Atsumu. It is intense.

Atsumu couldn't put it to words, but his body feels that something is shifting. Something between them.

“Yes,” Atsumu says after a few seconds of silence.

“Do you feel able to let me lead?” Tobio asks.

And Atsumu realizes what is happening. It's almost just like how Atsumu eased Shoyo into their dynamic.

Atsumu's face must be saying something because Tobio follows up with, “Just kissing, no more.”

Atsumu can say no. He can, and they will move on like this never happened. Tobio is a good boy like that. But…that part of Atsumu is screaming at him to say yes. To use this as a chance to see. To know what it could feel like to choose. To actually, mentally choose to let go.

No performances. No accidental slips. Just choosing yes.

He swallows, caught between the warring parts inside of himself. If he lets go now, he might not ever be able to go back.

He remembers how it felt to sit in his own bunk, spooked from headlights casting shadows through the blinds. How he had to make the choice. Either hide under the covers or be brave, climb the ladder down, and then not be alone.

Atsumu doesn't want to be alone anymore. This part of him deserves to not be alone anymore.

“Yes.”

…

Tobio glances down to Atsumu’s lips and then back up to his eyes.

“Yeah?” Tobio asks.

Atsumu’s throat feels dry. He’s…excited. He nods slowly, letting his own gaze fall down to Tobio’s lips.

It's not even their first time kissing…but it might as well be.

Tobio is still holding Atsumu by the back of his head. Tobio applies just the slightest bit of pressure. It pulls Atsumu forward until their mouths are nearly touching. Atsumu can feel each exhale Tobio breathes out.

Atsumu swallows, his jaw clenching. Usually it's him orchestrating this kind of tension. But, it is truly exhilarating to step back…to not know what Tobio will choose to do next.

Tobio shifts like he's going to close the gap between them. Atsumu sucks in a breath, anticipating contact. Tobio stops short, threading his fingers up into Atsumu’s longer hair.

Atsumu bites down on his bottom lip, forcing himself to hold back the whine that is building in his throat. Tobio stays there, so close, but not quite there.

Is this how Shoyo feels when Atsumu makes him wait? Like he’s going to melt on the spot? He does love when Shoyo looks like he's going to melt.

He licks his lips, remembering the time he came home to Shoyo already flushed and sweaty in his bed, having worked himself up over and over while Atsumu was out running errands. Boy did he make Shoyo wait that night.

When he licks his lips his tongue brushes against Tobio’s mouth. The dark haired spiker clenches his hand, fisting Atsumu’s hair. Holy fuck. Atsumu's head is pulled back slightly, but mostly it just stings. He feels the moment his body tries to resist.

A part of his brain seeks a way to get Tobio off of him. In actuality, all Atsumu would have to say is ‘Stop’. He knows he could. He chooses not to. He stays where Tobio holds him.

“That's it Atsu,” Tobio breathes out, like he's barely keeping it together too. The nickname hits Atsumu harder than he ever could have anticipated. It always feels good when he hears Shoyo use it, but this feels different. This feels like Tobio acknowledging that he knows Atsumu.

Atsumu feels his eyelids flutter as he focuses on not pulling against the hold on his hair.

The fog that is starting to settle in his head, almost feels like being suppressed. Like the thinking and analytical parts of his literal brain have been forced down. He feels a spike of energy shoot up and down his spine. He jerks his head in response, his hair aching as it pulls away from Tobio’s grasp. Atsumu sees the chair reaction as it starts. He felt his brain start to sink, causing his body to freak out. It's just going to keep amping up if Tobio keeps applying pressure.

Atsumu puts his hand against Tobio’s chest, “Let go,” he says quickly. Tobio does immediately. Atsumu runs his hand over the back of his head, trying to convince his brain and body that the threat is gone.

He closes his eyes. He can feel that he is grimacing.

Starting to settle into the head space had caused an adrenaline spike. But he wasn't actually deep enough for the adrenaline to heighten the headspace. So it just freaked him out.

That…is really frustrating. He tries to remember what he had been thinking about when he felt the adrenaline dump. He was…he was thinking about how the head fog felt. He was noticing that he was slipping into the headspace.

What if…what if Atsumu just isn't capable of turning off his brain in that way? What if he tries and tries but never can?

No. He knows he can. He did it with Shoyo. But that was so different, he had been so deep in the Dom headspace. And he had been actively doing something, not just waiting for more.

His eyes open and he sees Tobio looking at him worriedly.

Duh. Atsumu’s entry point into subbing has to be different. Every stubborn person has a weak spot.

Atsumu smiles and chuckles, leaning his forehead against Tobio. Oh boy…and guess who knows all of Atsumu’s weak spots?

“I think we’re gonna need Shoyo.”

Chapter Text

4 weeks later.

Atsumu shuffles his shoes off in the entryway. Tobio is back from Italy for a bit, he just flew in today.

Of course Shoyo beat Atsumu back to the apartment. He would jump on the opportunity to get a head start.

Atsumu debates calling out that he has arrived or just going into the bedroom to see for himself.

He glances around but doesn't see anything of Tobios. Maybe Atsumu still beat him back. He shrugs off his bag and washes his hands. He listens intently but he doesn't hear the tell-tale sounds of Shoyo being up to something.

Atsumu’s stomach rolls with anticipation as he heads towards the bedroom. It's been over three weeks since Tobio was last here.

After their first night, Tobio stayed with them until he had to travel. The sex was fucking unbelievable. They truly didn't waste a second of the time they had with Tobio. Chills roll up and down Atsumu’s shine as he reminisces.

Atsumu’s favorite session might have to be when he and Shoyo dommed Tobio together. Shoyo still took point from Atsumu…he wasn't truly in the role. But fuck. It was incredible.

They had that boy weeping big fat tears into the sheets. They found out how many times Tobio Kageyama can come in a row.

Atsumu is positive that they can get an even higher number out of him now that he's had a few weeks break. Well, it wasn't really a ‘break’ because all three of them have been sexting absolutely constantly. Phone calls, video chats, audio messages- fuck they tried it all.

Fuck, Tobio has only watched and listened Atsumu fuck Shoyo again and again for weeks. He’s gonna be dying for it. He’s gonna come in hot.

They talked about subbing Atsumu out once they were all three back. Atsumu knows it's not what they'll do first. First, they get to blow off some steam.

He wraps his fingers around the doorknob, still listening for any sounds in the bedroom. It's eerily quiet.

He turns the knobs and steps into a softly lit room. Atsumu’s step falters and he grips the door for balance from what he sees.

“Babbbyyy” he groans, his eyes scouring every part of Shoyo’s body. Shoyo looks up from where he had been lightly rubbing a single finger up and down over his dick, through the thin, sheer fabric of the panties he wears.

Shoyo smiles, tilting his hips to better display the full body lingerie he wears.

“No need to sound so desperate already,” Shoyo comments, looking back down to where he is teasing his own dick.

Atsumu reacts too slowly, surprised by the bratty comment. He- holy crap. Atsumu is in for such a fucking fun night.

When Atsumu has still failed to move or say anything, Shoyo makes a noise of accomplishment, “I'm not sure I've ever actually seen someone he dumb-founded.”

He’s perfect. God. Why does Atsumu even want to try subbing when he already has the most perfect one ever.

Atsumu steps towards the bed, loosening his belt along the way. Shoyo quirks an eyebrow at the motion.

Shoyo’s body is absolutely put on display by this lingerie. The color, the cut, the trim, the lace. Shoyo looks like a fucking princess. The color alone is stunning, a petite, blushed pink. Both of his thighs are wrapped in thin ribbon, each linked to the next. At mid thigh it turns into sheer stockings. The tights and encircling ribbon are connected to a pair of gorgeous panties. Lace scallops and ribbon frame the center where Shoyo is tucked under a denser lace.

Atsumu's mouth waters as he watches Shoyo tease himself over the panties. He wants to get his mouth on that fucking lace. His eyes continue upwards over Shoyo’s exposed stomach to the bralette covering his Spiker’s chest.

The style matches the bottom piece completely. The lace reappears, barely covering Shoyo’s nipples. In fact, the cup size is slightly too big, the fabric falling open to further expose Shoyo’s chest. The ribbons further criss-cross Shoyo’s body, attempting to emphasize tits that Shoyo certainly does not have. Even with the bulk Shoyo gained since high school, he can't fill that cup.

Shoyo notices Atsumu looking at his chest and arches to put it on display. “You like it that much?” Shoyo breathes out.

Atsumu smiles, loving the glimpse of Shoyo under that brat disguise.

“Yes baby boy,” he says sweetly, moving to press his knee down onto the bed and climb in, “I love seeing you all dressed up for me.”

Shoyo legs fall open even further as Atsumu starts to move towards climbing between them.

Atsumu is ready to fucking sink into Shoyo. He can't look this good and not expect Atsumu to jump him.

Shoyo raises his foot and presses it against Atsumu’s shoulder, effectively holding him back. The motion surprises Atsumu as it is something that Shoyo has never done.

The red head tilts his head back, his eyes lidded with satisfaction, “It's not for you,” Shoyo says coyly.

Ohhh. Atsumu’s blood runs hot. He loves when Shoyo challenges him. It's so, oh so very satisfying to watch this type of facade crumble under pressure.

Atsumu sits on his haunches, raising an arm to support Shoyo’s leg in the air. Atsumu turns to kiss the ankle beside his head, never taking his eyes off of Shoyo. How could he, when there is so much to look at? The lingerie truly is stunning.

He can't kiss Shoyo’s skin directly, not with the tights hugging his gorgeous legs. The effect works all the same. Atsumu watches Shoyo’s eyes go dark and simple as Atsumu starts to kiss up the inner side of his leg.

Atsumu puts his free hand down in-between Shoyo’s legs, right beneath where his cock is hiding under almost see-through panties. This allows Atsumu to lean forwards more easily as he trails kisses up to Shoyo’s knee.

The spiker whimpers in his throat when Atsumu nips teasingly at the sensitive skin on the side of his knee. It's very slight, but Atsumu notices how Shoyo starts to shift against the bed. Usually by now Shoyo’s hips are already moving.

Atsumu keeps moving past Shoyo’s knee, now kissing downwards towards his sensitive thighs. And actual skin. He just has a few inches left before the tights finally end. He is about to reach Shoyo’s soft, perfect skin when a hand presses against his forehead.

Atsumu halts, glancing up to see Shoyo sitting up, already breathing heavily, his hand firmly planted against Atsumu’s forehead to hold him still, “I told you,” Shoyo breathes out, “It's not for you.”

Atsumu wants to growl. Apparently, Shoyo is going to try and stick to his guns.

“Who is it for then, Princess?” He knows. Atsumu knows. He wants to hear Shoyo say it though. He kisses the highest part of Shoyo’s covered thigh he can reach while being held back.

Shoyo hums thoughtfully, “I did plan a nice surprise for you though, didn't I?”

Well, yes, obviously. Walking in here to a sight like that…it was fucking incredible.

Shoyo lowers his hand and brushes it though Atsumu’s hair. It feels good. Atsumu kisses the leg beside him again.

“There is a rule for tonight,” Shoyo caresses Atsumu’s hair, “There is another set,” Shoyo says, arching his body to show the lingerie off a bit, “And the only way you'll get to really touch me tonight,” Shoyo looks up to meet his eyes, “Is if you wear it.”

…

The flurry of pictures that arrive when Tobio turns his phone’s airplane mode off is almost overwhelming. Tobio glances around to see that nobody is standing too close to him. He scrolls through Shoyo’s messages.

It starts with a simple picture of the lingerie set laid out on the bed. The dusty pink is beautiful against the bedspread. It's going to look fucking incredible on Shoyo’s body.

There is a shot of just Shoyo’s legs in the bedroom’s full length mirror. He is turned to show off his ass, the straps and tights hugging every curve of his body. Fucking hell.

Tobio hesitates, and then zooms in on how the panties cover Shoyo’s ass. The lace transitions into just a slit of fabric that rests between his cheeks.

Tobio should get moving. He should go get his checked bag and then get a taxi. Because this fucking gorgeous specimen is waiting for him. He should go…but he just has to keep looking.

He scrolls to the next one. He sucks in a breath. Shoyo must have set a timer for this one. He’s in the full outfit. Tights, garter belt, bralette…he is sitting with his legs spread, the bulge in the panties resting against the bed. He's got one elbow out, his hand braced on the exposed skin of his thigh. His face is cut out so that Tobio can only see his mouth, slightly open and relaxed. Shoyo is flexing at least a little, his abdomen muscles showing and then disappearing below the high wasted, lacy garter. And fuck, how the bralette straps frame Shoyo’s chest. Tobio turns towards a nearby wall, feeling how his face is blushing.

Tobio zooms in on various details. Like how the bralette cup is too big, leaving more of his chest exposed. And how the various straps truly hug every single one of Shoyo’s curves. Tobio is captivated.

His phone dings with a notification. He glances up to the small thumbnail preview. Even just that small glimpse is enough to get Tobio moving towards checked baggage claim.

…

“Mmmm,” Shoyo feels on display. He’s sitting on Atsumu’s hard dick, still tucked away in his own underwear. But still hard and hot and so fucking fun to rub against.

Shoyo has his legs spread over Atsumu’s hips while his arms are braced onto the legs behind him. Atsumu reassures him that this is the pose that best shows off his body.

It feels way more lewd than taking pictures by himself. Atsumu holds the camera up in one hand, finger ready to hit the shutter button, while his other hand grips around Shoyo’s hip. Shoyo looks down to where they are pressed against each other, both in frilly lace panties. Atsumu is barely staying contained in his. The view of their soft, lacy bulges pressing together is too much.

Atsumu grips Shoyo a little harder and rolls his hips up into the spiker. He chooses that moment to take the picture, the flash and camera shutter making Shoyo’s brain melt.

Shoyo might never get used to being posed and photographed like this. Like he’s fucking desirable. Shoyo hears the sent message tone and knows that it's now in Tobio’s inbox.

When they actually get a ding back, the first ding back all day, Shoyo’s body starts to really heat up.

“Is he off the plane?” Shoyo asks, starting to move his hips to press their dicks together.

Atsumu grunts, his fingers tightening around Shoyo’s hip, “Mhmm, just got off.”

Shoyo keeps fucking his hips forwards, trying to get as much contact with Atsumu’s dick as possible. That means they still have some time. It's not exactly a quick trip back from the airport.

“He say anything?” Shoyo leans back even more, scooting his hips up a fraction to stay pressed against Atsumu.

Shoyo watches Atsumu smirk as he puts the phone down.

“Maybe,” Atsumu teases.

Shoyo starts to lose himself in it all. Being photographed like a pornstar, humping against Atsumu’s dick, and the fucking lingerie. He’s barely hanging on.

“I don't get to know?” He slurs slightly, rolling his hips forwards. Atsumu places his now freed hand onto Shoyo’s other hips. Atsumu’s hands force Shoyo to slow down, his hips now grind forward at half the speed. He whines, his body shaking from the effort of going slow.

“You don't need to know baby,” Atsumu purrs, “Look at ‘ya,”

Shoyo whimpers, his back bowing out towards Atsumu.

Atsumu grips him even harder and forces his hips to move even slower.

“Atsuuuu” Shoyo whines, drawing the name out.

“Yer just barely hangin’ on, huh?” Atsumu asks.

Shoyo nods desperately. He is, he’s right on the edge before his brain will be too fully submerged to truly be present.

“Why are you holding back baby?” He pulls Shoyo down onto his hard dick still covered in black lace, high cut panties. There is almost not even a side to the panty, and it arches up so high over his thigh. It's like his legs never stop.

Shoyo knows why a part of him is holding back. But if Tobio is truly off the plane and heading home to them, then it's also about time for Shoyo to let go.

He managed to get Atsumu into the lingerie Tobio picked out. Honestly, Shoyo figured that might be the biggest hurdle of the night.

Atsumu caved pretty quickly though, especially when Shoyo squirmed against him and reminded him that his body was off limits until Atsumu fell in line.

And fuck, watching Atsumu walk in, wearing his own full set…Atsumu had stalked over the bed, climb in and on top of Shoyo like it was any other day.

“Is this better for you baby?” He had purred into Shoyo’s ear.

He kissed Shoyo’s neck and face, working him up, while he kept peppering questions into his ear.

“You just wanted to see me all dressed up for ya, huh?”

“You like feeling pretty like this baby?”

Atsumu snapped one of the straps along Shoyo’s thigh, “You feel good all wrapped up for me? Like you're giving yourself to me?”

Shoyo had nodded yes to all of the questions. Because, fuck, yes. Yes to all of it.

And then Atsumu got Shoyo to sit all pretty on top of his hips, making sure to get a good picture to send Tobio. A picture where it was clear they both were wearing what Tobio had picked out.

And now Atsumu is pulling Shoyo’s dick against his own, both of them still tucked away in the lace panties, asking him why he’s holding back.

Shoyo doesn't have a reason to stay sober minded anymore. Doesn't mean he can't still play the brat. Plus, it is truly exhilarating to be forced and pushed into subspace after holding it off.

“You tell me,” he breathes out, frantic anticipation filling his body as he says, “Why haven't you put me under yet?”

He watches through low lids as the words slither into Atsumu’s brain. This moment, this moment before Atsumu either takes the bait or doesn't, is always so truly empowering. Either Shoyo gets to watch Atsumu hold himself back, or Shoyo gets to watch him crumble into a beast.

He watches Atsumu take a deep breath through his nose. Anticipation prickles along Shoyo's back as he feels Atsumu’s attention bore into him.

“If you want me to get rough with you, you can just ask, princess,” Atsumu works hard to keep his voice even. The effort doesn't go unnoticed. Unfortunately, Shoyo knows almost all of Atsumu’s tells. And Shoyo knows when to push.

“You're the one wasting time, sweetheart. You think Tobio is going to come home and wait for my permission?”

Shoyo tilts his head back a little, wiggling his hips down against Atsumu, “No, I think he’s going to take me dressed up for him as permission enough.”

Shoyo groans, pushing his hips down again. It really is going to be such a whirlwind when Tobio gets here. Fuck, Shoyo bites down on his lip, grinding his ass down against Atsumu.

He knows exactly what he’s doing when he quietly moans, “Mmm Tobio,” he rolls his hips again, savoring the sensation, “Yes, yes, baby,” he says breathlessly.

Shoyo's back has never hit the bed faster. He gasps, his body reacting to suddenly being down. His arms are pinned to the bed, Atsumu's hands close to his shoulder, severely limiting his ability to move.

Shoyo forces his eyes open, looking up at Atsumu with all the willpower left inside him. It's not much. He's definitely enjoying being pinned to the bed. Shoyo glances down in-between their bodies. There’s more. He can push a little more.

He smirks, plants his feet against the bed and arches up to grind against Atsumu. It's oddly reminiscent of other great sessions.

Atsumu releases one of Shoyo’s arms to instead push his hip still against the bed. Shoyo uses the newfound freedom to slide his hand into Atsumu’s hair and grip it. Not as hard as Atsumu does, but hard enough.

Atsumu growls as he goes back to pushing both of Shoyo’s arms to the bed. Atsumu repositions his knee to bend and press against Shoyo’s hip, effectively using his body weight to keep Shoyo down.

“Do you need to be fucking tied up?” Atsumu’s voice is harsher than it almost ever is. The sound of Atsumu about to break is driving Shoyo wild. Just a little further. He wants to see Atsumu finally lose control.

“Only if you can't handle me,” Shoyo breathes out, pushing his hips up against the force of Atsumu's body weight. He can barely move the man on top of him.

Shoyo loves being held down. It's a surefire way to get him under. He fights against the way his brain naturally wants to sink down. It's almost second nature at this point, like a trained animal. Atsumu pushes and Shoyo yields. That's how it always goes, there is no reason to fight it.

Except, Shoyo wants to fight it. He wants to feel the moment his resolve is broken.

“You know I can,” Atsumu growls back.

Shoyo forces himself to open his eyes, he looks up at Atsumu above him. Shoyo is truly hanging on by a thread. He can tell Atsumu is too. It really is a battle of wills of who can hold back longer.

Shoyo squirms, almost no give to how Atsumu is holding him down. Atsumu just keeps sitting on top of him, eyes rolling over Shoyo’s exposed body.

“You really do look incredible,” Atsumu murmurs, using a single finger to pull at one of the straps on Shoyo's chest.

Oh god. Shoyo might not be able to hold back against praise.

“Did you spend some time admiring yourself before I came home, love?”

Shoyo's eyes flutter closed. His fingers tangle into the loose bedding. Why is he even hanging on? Why fight it when it feels so good to submit.

“Sent-” Shoyo swallows, trying to ignore how he’s pretty much totally immobilized by Atsumu, “Sent some, to Tobio,”

“Mmm,” Atsumu hums, “Is that who picked this out for you?”

Shoyo nods. Tobio picked out both outfits. His skin burns everywhere the lace and straps touch. Tobio wanted to see Shoyo in this.

“Now that I know you like being dressed up,” Atsumu murmurs, "I'll have to put you in some pretty panties every day.”

Shoyo glances up at Atsumu. Fuck. It's working. Shoyo feels his resolve slipping.

“Would you like that baby?” Atsumu uses his hands to push Shoyo’s arms up until his hands are up above his head. Atsumu holds both of Shoyo’s wrists in one hand, his middle finger sliding in-between.

He still has Shoyo pinned under his knee, but he also has a free hand now. Shoyo knows he's in for it now. All that bratting, and now he's pinned under Atsumu at his mercy. He's fucked. And he’s ready for it.

“Only you and I would know what you're wearing under your clothes,” Atsumu says as he trails the tips of his fingers over the ribbons framing Shoyo’s chest.

Shoyo whines, his body automatically bowing up into Atsumu’s touch. His hips try to flex forwards to no avail. Atsumu is too heavy. Atsumu has him too thoroughly pinned.

“Imagine how it would feel, this pretty lace covering your cock all day,” Shoyo turns his head to the side, a part of him trying to get away from the way Atsumu’s voice is pushing him deeper.

“Nobody knowing that you’re dressed up under your uniform.”

Shoyo’s eyes fly open, and he gasps, Atsumu’s fingers teasing his nipple through the bralette.

His uniform. He hasn't thought about that. The…risk involved with that. They get photographed all the time during games and for promotions. If even a little bit of lace showed…

“Mhmm,” Atsumu hums knowingly, “Truly nobody would guess how beautiful you are under your clothes. Nobody would ever guess how gorgeous you look pinned to a bed.”

He can't fight against the words anymore. He sighs, letting the praise wash over him, his body twitching and reacting as Atsumu teases him, “Nobody would guess how much you love being dressed up like this.”

Atsumu’s fingers tease over Shoyo's throat.

Shoyo tilts his head more, presenting his neck to Atsumu.

“You do love it, don't you?” Atsumu loosely wraps his hand around Shoyo’s throat. The motion is so restrained that it drives Shoyo wild in a new way. He again gets the urge to feel Atsumu’s raw desire. He doesn't want restrained and taunting. He wants visceral and dangerous.

He wants Atsumu’s hand to authentically hold him down by his throat. He wants Atsumu to need to hold him down. He wants to be at the mercy of Atsumu’s truest desire.

He takes as deep of a breath as he can. Fighting through the fog. Searching for the words that will hopefully make Atsumu finally snap. How can he convince Atsumu to finally let Shoyo feel his unrestrained desire?

“I do love it,” he admits. It's true. Dressed up like this he feels like the perfect little doll to be played with.

Shoyo struggles weakly against the hold Atsumu has on his wrists. Atsumu tsks quietly, applying more pressure down to pin Shoyo’s arms down harder.

The words bubble up inside of Shoyo. Maybe the only words in the world that will make Atsumu finally give him what he wants.

“Use me,” Shoyo breathes out, “please, Atsu, please use me.”

“All you had to do was ask,” Atsumu purrs as he grips Shoyo’s throat tighter.

Chapter Text

Atsumu watches Shoyo’s body melt like liquid into the bed. That's it baby boy. Let it all go.

Atsumu keeps his hand on the firmer side, pressing on the sides of Shoyo’s throat. He listens to Shoyo breathe, making sure it doesn't sound at all labored.

Fucking brat.

Atsumu really wasn't sure how much longer he was going to be able to hold on. Short of physical domination, he was running out of tricks. He held out though, and did in the end get Shoyo to beg for what he wanted.

He knows what Shoyo wanted. He wanted to see Atsumu break. He wanted it hard and fast. He wanted it real.

Atsumu presses down ever so slightly on Shoyo’s windpipe, just hard enough to feel the harder cartilage of Shoyo’s throat against his hand.

Shoyo sighs, his shoulders rolling back, putting his chest on display beautifully. Atsumu glances up to Shoyo’s face and then his relaxed hands. Perhaps Shoyo doesn't need to be restrained anymore…

Or maybe he needs to be genuinely restrained. Attached to the bed for Atsumu to thoroughly use as he pleases.

“Princess, I want you to stay still,” Shoyo’s eyebrows pinch together for a moment before he nods, fingers clenching and relaxing up above his head.

“It takes a lot of effort to stay still on your own, doesn't it?”

He watches some understanding bloom across Shoyo’s face. The spiker swallows under Atsumu’s hand.

“I don't want you distracted,” Atsumu says earnestly, “I want you to only think about what I'm doing to you.”

Shoyo nods in understanding.

“Shoyo,” Atsumu says, loosening his hand from around Shoyo’s throat to caress his cheek instead, “Can I tie you up my love?”

Shoyo breathes out, a small smile on his lips, “Yes, please.”

Atsumu leans down and kisses Shoyo’s cheek, “Thank you baby,” he whispers into Shoyo’s skin.

Shoyo hums contentedly, the same sound he makes when he's just spinning in subspace after a session. Atsumu caresses his spiker’s cheek for a moment longer and gives him another kiss.

Even when Shoyo whips Atsumu up to his limit, Atsumu feels unable to compromise on worshiping his spiker. No matter how in his head he gets, he always wants Shoyo to feel his love and adoration.

Atsumu releases Shoyo's wrists, letting his eyes roam Shoyo’s body. God…with free reign over Shoyo’s body, where is Atsumu going to let himself start?

He groans, eyes falling to the dark spot staining Shoyo’s panties. He reaches down and gently caresses Shoyo’s bulge. The spiker moans, body straining to stay still.

Sometimes it is really overwhelming how much Shoyo trusts Atsumu. It's never a scary kind of overwhelming. But it does occasionally almost bring Atsumu to tears. It's so much trust. To let someone tie up your body so that you cannot move, to ask to be used, to put your wellbeing so thoroughly into somebody’s gentle hands. He hopes he can show Shoyo that kind of trust someday.

Atsumu leans over the side of the bed and pulls out the toy box. He pets Shoyo’s thigh, fingers running over the soft satin ribbons around his leg, as he digs through the box for the rope.

They don't often slow down enough to actually use restraints. He finds the soft red rope that just looks fucking stunning against Shoyo’s flushed skin. He drags the end of the cord around the outline of Shoyo’s panties. The spiker squirms and whines.

“Please, I can't-” Shoyo tips his head forwards and briefly looks at Atsumu before he lets his head thump back down against the bed, “I can't on my own.”

Atsumu crawls up the bed and places his knees on either side of Shoyo’s head.

The redhead groans low in his throat, lips parted as he looks up at Atsumu above him. It's a good look downwards too. Atsumu admires how Shoyo’s face looks framed by his thighs, especially with the black panties and garter belt breaking up Atsumu’s skin. He reaches down to run his thumb over Shoyo’s open lips before he finally gets to work.

He kneels, legs folded against the bed, supporting most of his weight on his legs while he sits on Shoyo’s chest. He starts working the rope. He keeps glancing down at Shoyo who is just watching his fingers manipulate the material until he has a structure to hold Shoyo’s hands.

He leans forward and helps Shoyo put each of his hands through the loops. Atsumu finishes by tightening the rope around Shoyo’s wrists to fit and then adhering it to the headboard.

“Test that,” Ataumu prompts, resting his hands on his thighs.

Shoyo yanks his arms against the rope. He doesn't get far, there is very little give.

Atsumu watches where the cord wraps around Shoyo’s wrists. It looks snug.

“Is that too tight?” He asks, already leaning forwards to check. He runs his fingers around where the binding meets Shoyo’s skin.

“It's not,” Shoyo says, flexing his fingers.

Atsumu agrees and sits back onto Shoyo’s chest. He glances over his shoulder towards Shoyo’s feet.

His little spiker won't have any room to think tonight.

…

Shoyo is drifting quite peacefully as Atsumu adheres each of his feet to the corner bed posts. It's not really to the bed posts…Atsumu explained it once, something about a 4 way set of cords under the mattress.

All Shoyo knows is that once he’s tied in, he won't be able to move at all. Atsumu never leaves any extra slack…unless he wants to see Shoyo fight it, and reach the end of his rope again and again.

“Okay hun, last bit of movement for a while,” Atsumu's voice breaks through the general fog. Shoyo flexes his hips and moves his legs, flexing and bending them to stretch.

He lays them back down and nods. He's ready to be still. Atsumu tightens and fastens each one. The relief is immediate. He sighs, only needing to test the restraints a little before his body understands. He's not moving.

It sends chills down his whole body. Atsumu can do whatever he wants now. Atsumu can use Shoyo to his heart's content…at least until Tobio arrives.

Shoyo gasps, his body still reactive enough to try and fight the restraints. Shoyo looks down the length of his body to where Atsumu is sucking a sharp mark on the inside of Shoyo’s thigh. It hurts, he’s using teeth. Atsumu glances up at him, releases the bite, switches legs and starts all over again.

Shoyo groans, pushing his head back into the bed. His leg strains as it pulls against the rope. It's mind melting. He wonders how long Atsumu will go on biting and marking up his body.

Maybe that's all he’ll do until Tobio arrives. Maybe he’ll just turn Shoyo into a canvas of blooming purple marks.

Atsumu pushes down on Shoyo’s thighs and bites him again, right below the pantyline. The pain, in such a sensitive place, and zero ability to move away from it.

Shoyo gulps in air, nearly hyperventilating as he feels Atsumu's teeth sink in.

“Ahhh, ahhh, hah, hah,” Atsumu releases the bite, giving Shoyo a moment of peace, before he bites the same spot on the other side, “Nya, hah, ah, fu- fuck-” it hurts. His hips flex, back bowing, trying to create even a little bit of room to get more relief.

“Sho,” Atsumu’s voice is gravely and deep. Shoyo feels his chest rise and fall, trying to cope with the sudden lack of stimuli. He blinks up at the ceiling. It's almost like whiplash, being so thoroughly overwhelmed and then nothing. It's so hard to transition back into the realm of thinking.

“Color?”

The word hangs there. Shoyo breathes in deeply. He checks his shoulders and wrists. They are okay for a while longer. Shoyo puts the effort into lifting his head high enough to look down at his legs. He spots the red marks that Atsumu has left between the straps around his thighs. There are more bruises than he even remembers Atsumu making.

He looks…fuck…he looks beloved and used. The red rope around his ankles, the soft pink tights, leading up to fresh, just sucked and bitten marks all over his legs. He lets his head hit the bed, once again looking up at the ceiling.

“Green,”

Atsumu caresses Shoyo’s thigh, his fingers brushing over the raw, overstimulated marks. Shoyo’s body jolts, ultimately halted by the rope.

“You seem to already feel better,” Atsumu observes. Shoyo sighs. He does.

Atsumu climbs between Shoyo’s spread legs. He tracks Atsumu's movements through barely open lids.

“I'm not quite done with you yet.” Atsumu whispers reverently, “I want to watch you struggle a little longer. When it feels right, you just let go, baby doll.”

Shoyo understands. Shoyo’s body is still fighting it, even if his mind is under. Atsumu fully settles between Shoyo’s legs. He leans over Shoyo’s vulnerable form and places his hands on either side of his waist.

Shoyo’s body lights up, his skin desperate for sensation and touch. He can't help but feel excited when Atsumu climbs on top of him like this. Atsumu lowers his head to Shoyo’s stomach and places feather light kisses over the bare parts of his skin.

After the adrenaline of the marks and bites, this is it's own kind of torture. He groans, his toes curling as Atsumu reaches his ticklish sides.

“Hah-” he can't help vocalizing as Atsumu's fingers join the mix, teasing along Shoyo’s waist on the opposite side from his mouth. The duel sensations on either side of his body.

He is genuinely pulling against the restraints now, his fingers itching to push Atsumu away.

“Nnnnng,” Atsumu isn't letting up. Shoyo squeezes his eyes shut, all of his muscles straining against the unyielding cord. And then Atsumu bites, pinching the delicate skin between teeth. Shoyo cries out, nowhere for the energy to go but out through his voice.

While Atsumu bites, he keeps tickling his fingers up Shoyo’s side. Shoyo’s head thrashes from side to side, the only part of himself that he can actually move.

What's actually most depraved about this scene, is how much Shoyo loves it. He could tap out verbally and Atsumu would stop immediately. Shoyo doesn't. Because he doesn't even want to. He loves feeling like a live wire. He loves feeling nothing but what is happening this very second.

It's like…everything is finally quiet. No overthinking. No worrying. No second guessing. He just…exists.

He feels the moment his body gives in- finally relaxing against the bed instead of straining for freedom. It's not that Shoyo can't feel what Atsumu continues to do. It's more like - just finally not caring. He feels it, each brushing touch, but his body simply can't react anymore. There is no point in struggling.

The only person who can make it stop is Shoyo. And he chooses not to. So his body just has to take it.

Atsunu releases his teeth from Shoyo's skin. He licks and kisses over the spot. Shoyo feels the sensation disperse throughout his body and he moans. Long and drawn out. Atsumu licks over the bite mark again and another deep sound comes out of Shoyo’s chest.

“Fuck,” Atsumu whispers against Shoyo’s stomach. The setter sits up, fingers still teasing along Shoyo’s body. Shoyo watches. Atsumu looks back at him.

“Does it feel good?” Atsumu asks, a knowing smile on his face.

Shoyo nods, half high out of his mind.

“Good,” Atsumu purrs, laying his palm flat against Shoyo’s stomach.

“I love watching you submit,” Atsumu admits, rearranging his legs so that he is now straddling Shoyo's hips rather than sitting between his legs.

Atsumu's weight pins Shoyo’s hips to the bed. “It's fucking incredible, watching you sink further and further,” Shoyo’s eyes drift shut as fingers climb his stomach up to his chest.

“I just want to see a little more,” Atsumu brushes his finger over where Shoyo’s nipple is covered in lace.

“Can you do that for me baby”

Shoyo uses the little bend he has to push his chest up into Atsumu’s fingers. Yes. More.

“Gonna need more than that baby, are you too far gone to talk?”

Shoyo blinks up at the ceiling, processing the words. Yeah…it would be hard to talk. Shoyo doesn't want to sacrifice this headspace for the ability to talk.

He gets his head to nod. Can't talk.

“So good baby, you just stay there,” Atsumu pauses and time seems to stretch on forever. Shoyo is snapped back to the moment when Atsumu says, “Do you want a break? Or to stop?”

Shoyo turns his face from side to side. No. Don't stop. His body shifts with the motion of shaking his head and he squeaks out a little moan. Everything feels so big. Every touch…is pleasure.

“Fuck baby,” Atsumu groans, letting his hands go back to exploring Shoyo’s chest in the bralette.

Shoyo’s body has given in, letting sensation translate into bliss and pleasure. Everything feels so overwhelming, and so good. Shoyo moans breathily, his restrained limbs twitching as Atsumu tugs at one of Shoyo’s nipples through the mesh and lace.

Shoyo’s body shifts rhymically, nearly grinding in place, while Atsumu starts to actually pluck at his nipple. He feels his nervous system start to react. His hips try to grind down, finding pleasure buried in the pain. Atsumu keeps pulling and pinching.

Shoyo feels himself vocalizing softly against his closed lips. He feels his body start to escalate and then it drops away. His body goes still even though Atsumu is still touching him. The sensation from his body becomes even duller and detached.

His eyes open and he looks blankly ahead. He stares at some corner of the room, light and shape blurring in his unfocused eyes. Atsumu is still playing with his chest, using both hands to roll and pinch each of his nipples through the fabric.

Shoyo barely notices as his brain floats. It truly does feel like floating. Bobbing and rolling with unseen waves. His eyes settle shut as the sensation in his chest starts to come back into focus. His hips start to grind against nothing, the sensations of his chest becoming more acute and urgent.

Shoyo realizes that he's reconnecting with his body. He can take the ride back up the surface…or he can just stay here. It's an easy, mindless choice. Stay. Shoyo’s bodily sensations fall to the wayside again. He floats, body swimming in sensation. Kind of. It's not his body feeling it…it's almost just like energy. Energy flowing through him on a level deeper than his skin. If the sensation is a river, Shoyo is letting himself drown.

He drowns, until the prickles of true sensation start to gather around his chest. And he goes through the cycle all over again.

Chapter Text

Shoyo sank so fucking beautifully. It's been nearly an hour since Tobio texted from the airport and Shoyo has gone from full brat to nearly comatose. He’s still responding a little…kind of, and from everything Atsumu can see, his sub is very content.

Shoyo keeps letting out these short, pleased little moans in his closed mouth. He vocalizes on nearly every exhale, his body truly and deeply relaxed on the bed. Atsumu pinches one of his nipples decently hard. Shoyo doesn't react at all other than a slightly louder noise on his next exhale.

Atsumu sits above him, almost unable to drag his eyes away from Shoyo. Even though Shoyo is on another plane of existence, Atsumu still feels connected to him. He’s swimming in his head in his own way. The high of bringing another person to this level. The responsibility of what he’s done.

His eyes slide up Shoyo’s body, from his flushed neck and chest, over his relaxed face, up to where his arms are pulled taunt to the headboard. Atsumu reaches up and starts to undo the knots. As soon as Shoyo’s hands are free he rubs the wrists to bring circulation back. He does each wrist and then puts Shoyo arms down in a position that gives his shoulders a break.

He works on Shoyo’s ankles next, always keeping an eye on Shoyo’s face for any signs of distress. He lays his Spiker's legs down, running his fingers over the many marks now decorating Shoyo’s skin. Some are nearing welt territory, still raised and puffy. He’ll have to keep an eye on these later.

He looks over the scene, unrest settling in under his skin. There isn't more to do…other than wait. Usually by the time Shoyo is this deep Atsumu is also bone tired. This time though, Atsumu has a lot of unused energy.

He considers his options. None of them feel right. What he truly wants, lies beyond a boundary in his own mind. He lays down next to Shoyo, carefully wrapping the spiker into his arms. He gently kisses the parts of his spiker that he can reach, soothing himself through the adoration.

He listens to Shoyo quietly vocalizes his content on each exhale. He kisses his spiker softly and buries his mouth into Shoyo’s hair.

…

Shoyo floats. He felt everything Atsumu did, untying the ropes, massaging his joints, and then scooping him up into his arms.

He felt it, but through many, many layers of fog. It almost feels like those things are happening to a different person and Shoyo is just watching. He knows it is himself though. He knows Atsumu is taking care of him.

Warm, tucked into Atsumu’s arms. Warm, positive energy circling through Shoyo. Warm breath. Warm skin. Warm. Warm. Warm.

He’s so thoroughly sedated already, it kind of feels like he is already half asleep, or dozing. He’s gotten here before. Although it's honestly not too common for Atsumu to push Shoyo to this level.

Here…it almost feels like deep meditation. Like when Shoyo would meditate on the beach, early in the morning, before anyone else was up. The waves, circuitous in their sound, pushing and pulling, in and out. There were a few times that the sound and focus pulled him into a deep, trance-like state.

There was a similar disconnect from his body. Shoyo could still tell what was happening, but there was a barrier. The first time he went that deep into the trance he nearly scared the shit out of himself. He remembers realizing that he couldn't actually move his body. It was too far away. Like somebody has severed his brain to body connection.

Even though he felt the panic of being trapped, his body still didn't react. He just kept sitting there, in the dark, unable to move.

He felt himself claw his way back to the surface, time stretching out painfully as he fought to gain control back. Finally he gasped and jolted in place. He stared forward at the ocean waves, still pulling and pushing.

He blinked, testing out his fingers and then his limbs. He got up, dusting the sand off of himself. Well…as weird as that was, it was awfully peaceful until he freaked out.

With Atsumu, it feels so safe. Shoyo knows that even if he gets trapped within himself, Atsumu will help him out of it. He knows that even if he gets stuck, Atsumu will take care of his body. And ultimately, Atsumu doesn't let him stay this deep for longer than half an hour. They agreed. He promised.

There is an end. So Shoyo can just enjoy it. He feels all the places where Atsumu holds him. He feels the strength of Atsumu’s body. He’s safe.

…

He truly was dozing, perched in the dusk of sleep. His brain wondered, almost dream-like through various ideas and thoughts. None of it made much sense. Just a jumble of associations and snapshots of ideas.

He’s interrupted by a kiss to the cheek, and Tobio’s soft voice saying, “How is he doing?”

Atsumu’s voice comes from right beside Shoyo’s ear, “He’s been all the way for a while.”

Tobio sits on the bed, and pets Shoyo’s leg covered in stockings, “Is it time to bring him back?”

“Mhmm,” Atsumu hums in affirmation, “I'm glad you got here in time.”

Fingers trail along Shoyo’s back, sparking the nerves everywhere he is touched.

“Me too,” Tobio says, caressing Shoyo behind his ear.

Shoyo feels Tobio place a hand on his lower back. He nuzzles into Atsumu’s chest. He's coming back, slowly but surely.

“How was he?” Tobio asks.

“God, a fucking dream, I should have taken a picture of him tied to the bed,” Shoyo feels the rumble of Atsumu’s voice through his whole body.

“Jesus,” Tobio whispers, leaning down to kiss Shoyo’s cheek, “I bet you looked fucking incredible,” he whispers into Shoyo’s ear. The back of Shoyo’s neck tingles. He presses his forehead into Atsumu, feeling Tobio’s breath on the back of his neck.

“Have you been enjoying the high, baby?” Tobio whispers as he peppers Shoyo’s neck in kisses.

Shoyo nods, his fingers curling against Atsumu’s chest.

“Good boy,” Tobio whispers against his neck. Shoyo feels the praise flow through him. Tobio is pleased. Atsumu is pleased. Shoyo is good.

“Has he come yet?” Tobio asks, settling his body to lay against Shoyo’s backside. Shoyo is now sandwiched between them. He feels so secure.

“Mmm,” Atsumu hums, “Not physically, I'm not sure if he came dry at any point.”

Shoyo shakes his head. He didn't.

Atsumu chuckles and kisses his forehead, “No baby? You got this deep and didn't even orgasm?”

Shoyo breathes out, jolting in place when Tobio starts to kiss the back of his neck again.

Shoyo’s body arches as somebody’s fingers run along his sides. He’s definitely falling back into his body, and all of the overwhelming sensations that come with it. His setters are pulling him out gently.

Shoyo’s body starts to move, just slightly, almost there movements, just barely grinding his hips and chest forwards and back. No matter where he moves, there is a body right there, either in front of him or behind him.

“Baby boy,” Atsumu breathes out, kissing Shoyo’s forehead, “You back with us?”

Shoyo vocalizes, a half whining sound as he presses his face into Atsumu’s chest. He is, each moment slightly more present in his body than the last.

“Do you think he’s ready to play with?” Tobio asks.

Shoyo’s eyelids flutter. He loves when they just talk about him like he’s not even there.

“He’ll do fine, right baby?” Atsumu asks, playfully grabbing Shoyo’s ass.

Shoyo nods. Yes. He wants them. Both of them.

“Fuck I've missed you,” Tobio growls into Shoyo’s neck, “And you look fucking perfect, kept it on for me and everything.”

Shoyo whines, high in his throat, pushing his ass back against Tobio.

“God you're perfect,” Tobio moans, his hand also grabbing at Shoyo’s ass. The spiker lets his two setters play with him like this, tracing the lingerie, grabbing handfuls of his ass, letting the ribbons and lacy elastics snap back into place.

Each touch works him up, makes him feel needy. He's already so fucking subbed out. He would do anything they'd ask. He wishes they would just tell him to do something already.

“Do I get first pick?” Tobio asks breathlessly.

Atsumu chuckles, “I've had him for weeks, have at it.”

“Fuck,” Tobio groans, “As embarrassing as it is, I honestly just want to see him come on your dick Atsu.”

Shoyo feels Atsumu’s grip tighten for a moment.

“Ya sure?” Atsumu asks, energy already starting to radiate off of him.

“Mmm, apparently, I kind of like being denied. Plus, I'll really get to watch if he’s under you instead of me.”

It's Atsumu’s turn to swear. “Any particular way you want us?” Atsumu’s fingers are now very much digging into Shoyo’s skin. The idea of Tobio just watching when he could have Shoyo himself…does Shoyo really look that good?

“I have a few ideas,” Tobio says.

Chapter Text

Okay guys...this could get dark. In typical me fashion, my life is in a crisis mode and I cope though these really dark plots.

I originally actually posted this chapter to this story but I feel like, ethically, I just can't, because it's just a little too far off of what One Night is. And it doesn't feel fair to put something that traumatic in just because I'm needing to cope.

So I'm posting it as it's own separate work called "Special" you can find it in my catalog of works. It is Atsumu's trauma history. I guess I'll briefly mention it in this version of the story but it won't be the fully graphic thing.

Be safe.

Chapter Text

Shoyo can barely hold himself up. They meant it when they were debating if he was ready for more. He was…but what Tobio had in mind…it's good that Tobio is here to help keep him upright.

“God he’s like a vice around me,” Atsumu growls from behind Shoyo, the setter's fingers digging into his hips. Shoyo would be swaying in place, perched on top of Atsumu’s dick, if not for the fact that Tobio is right there helping hold him up. Atsumu is laying on his back…Shoyo sits on Atsumu, cock buried deep inside of him…Tobio sits in front of him, kissing, touching, admiring…

Tobio is groping his chest, squeezing what little pectoral he has in the bralette. Tobio is keeping one hand on Shoyo’s back to keep him from falling backwards. A few times Tobio has had to prevent him from falling forwards too. Shoyo is truly amazed that he is vertical at all…but, to be fair, he was picked up and placed here, he didn't get here on his own.

He feels everything and nothing. His brain keeps flipping back and forth from overwhelmed to almost numb. It is making his body jerk and react in odd, unpredictable ways. Apparently, this includes squeezing and clenching around Atsumu.

“Fuck,” the blonde breathes out, “He’s so fucking tight Tobio.”

Tobio hums and pinches Shoyo’s nipple harshly. The stimulation causes Shoyo’s body to react and Atsumu hisses under them.

“Yer killin’ me,” Atsumu says breathlessly.

“Don't go finishing now, I have more I want you to do,” Tobio says, his voice the only calm and sane sound in the room.

Shoyo is aware…barely aware…of what is going on. He knows the plan…he knows the bare bones of the plan…he's excited for the plan…but when Tobio twists his other nipple, all he can think about is that…and the consequent way Atsumu feels even bigger inside of him when his body clenches.

…

For their whole relationship it was the default for Atsumu to service Shoyo. Atsumu is aware that it's not necessarily typical of a Dom to not demand services from their sub. Many of them will spend whole sessions making the sub do x,y, and z.

Atsumu finds more pleasure in seeing how overwhelmed with pleasure he can make his sub be. Fucking him, making him come from just his nipples, eating him out, sucking him down, kissing his neck, biting him, caressing him, Atsumu could go on and on about all the things he loves to do to Shoyo.

He will let Shoyo do things back…just…way, way less frequently. He's not sure why but letting a sub serve in that way always felt…off. Not bad. Usually it physically felt amazing. But sometimes it felt like it tugged at a loose thread in his mind. Like…something about it unsettled him. Maybe it was the lack of control. If Atsumu was the one doing he was the one controlling the scene.

So he chalked it up to that. His intense, almost ridiculous need for control. Seems to work out for his subs tho…they have never complained.

Right now, Atsumu is barrelling his way through the 3rd edge while Tobio tells Shoyo exactly what to do. Tobio told Atsumu to hang on, to not come yet, to hold out. For Shoyo. Apparently Tobio has some sort of master plan, and it involves Atsumu not orgasming yet. Maybe Tobio truly plans to have them go all nice…

Tobio isn't…edging him. He at no point requested that Atsumu try to get close just to prevent it…but it's naturally happening. Especially when Shoyo is giving the fucking sloppiest blow job Atsumu has ever seen. How? Fucking how is Atsumu supposed to not get close from that?

So, three times now, Atsumu has gotten close and had to pull Shoyo off for a second. Each time he breathes deeply and caresses Shoyo's cheeks. He makes sure to tell Shoyo how good he is doing, before he lets the man continue.

There is at least one reason Atsumu doesn't let his subs service him. Fuck, it's so hard not to come and accidentally end the session short. If Atsumu controls the pace he can make sure he doesn't get stimulated to the point of getting close. He can keep it just under that threshold for as long as he needs.

This though…Atsumu has no control except for having Shoyo temporarily stay still. The rest of the time Tobio pushes down on Shoyo’s head while Shoyo does his fucking best to suck Atsumu’s soul out of him through his dick.

Fucking hell. Atsumu’s fingers clench in Shoyo’s hair as he feels his cockhead press against a hot and wet throat. Shoyo moans, swallowing around the cock in his throat. Once the swallow is complete Shoyo moans again, breathing heavily through his nose. Atsumu's fucking just pressing right up against the back of Shoyo's throat. He could probably feel Shoyo’s throat bulge with his hand.

Atsumu needs Shoyo to stop, or he's gonna paint his spiker's throat white.

“Sho, ease up,” he requests, gently tugging on Shoyo’s hair to guide him up. Tobio counteracts the motion with his own hand in Shoyo's hair.

“Don't stop Shoyo,” Tobio says, a knowing, mocking tone to his voice, “Keep going.”

Atsumu groans, in real frustration now. He's getting closer and closer to that edge. He’s not gonna be able to hold it back, not when Shoyo is literally dripping with drool.

“Fuck, I'm gonna,” Atsumu bites out, hoping for mercy from either of them.

“Go ahead Sho, make him come,” and something about those words, finally tips Atsumu over the edge. His hips snap up and fuck harshly into Shoyo’s throat as the orgasm starts to roll through him. The words though…they rustle a memory. A dark one. One Atsumu keeps pushed as deep as possible.

The true reason he doesn't often let his subs service to him.

…

The orgasm feels like it tears him apart. It hurts. He’s caught somewhere between groaning and sobbing. He remembers. He remembers the shame. The things he and Osamu don't talk about. The things they silently promised to never talk about, to anyone.

He feels the shame as acutely as if it's happening all over again.

Atsumu finally catches his breath, taking one last breath before he holds it in his lungs. He can't. He can't face this now. Tears flow down his cheeks, his hand still nestled in Shoyo’s hair.

He wishes he could just snap out of it. Shoyo pulls his mouth off of Atsumu’s dick and the sensation…he sobs, fingers clenching slightly. He can't hurt Shoyo.

Atsumu has kept his eyes closed, unwilling to see the people who are surely watching him. They don't know Atsunu’s shame…but it feels like if he opens his eyes they will. They will see right through into his rotten core.

They were only 8. They didn't know. They had no clue what they were doing. And Osamu…Atsumu chokes on another sob. The number of times his younger self tried to picture Osamu, alone in that dirty community storage room with their Coach. He tried to imagine how it all played out. The times Atsumu wasn't there…and it was just Osamu alone.

Atsumu is pretty sure they both, in their guts, knew it was wrong. Some, deep, intuitive part of them knew. But…the brothers shared everything.

Atsumu’s body starts to shake with the force of holding it all in.

They shared everything, and Atsumu wanted to be good. He wanted to be good enough for special attention from Coach too. He wanted…fuck…Atsumu is really crying now. He feels exposed, he wants clothes. He wants to leave. He wants to forget about that year completely.

He just wanted to be good. As good as Osamu. But it had nothing to do with being good. It was rape. And…well he’s not really sure what it is when two 8 year olds just do what an adult taught them. Atsumu doesn't think it's rape…not like what Coach did.

Atsumu’s hands find his hair and pull. It's the only relief he’s had, the pain cuts through the thoughts for a moment.

He is lowered onto his side by gentle hands. He keeps tugging on his hair. Bad. Bad. Bad. Don't want to be bad. The things he did…the things Osamu did…the things he never, ever lets himself think about. Bad.

The thought that finally twists the knife completely, is that…there were times it felt good. And…he thinks Osamu felt the same.

Atsumu chokes, unable to catch a breath, he gasps, unable to get a full inhale. He can't breathe. The panic triggers more. More memories. Of Coach. Of Osamu. Of scenes.

What the fuck is wrong with Atsumu? There is seriously something wrong with him.

Why did he sometimes like it?

Why? He asks himself.

Why did I like it?

…

Shoyo knows, almost immediately. It's so different from any of Atsumu’s other drops. This one is…it's a flashback. The way Atsumu’s muscles clench, like it's reliving something horrific, the silence, the twitching eyelids.

For a moment, Shoyo is so surprised, and so foggy from the subspace that he just stares. What…what is Atsumu having a flashback to?

Tobio snaps him back to the moment, “What do we do?” The setter whispers.

Shoyo glances at Tobio, who has unshed tears in his eyes. Oh god. Shoyo looks back at Atsumu. They might all crash tonight.

Shoyo sits up fully. In doing so Atsumu lets go of his hair and grabs onto his own. Shoyo watches Atsumu’s fingers clench and pull. Shoyo will try to disentangle that later. For now, “Help me lay him down?”

They gently lower Atsumu to the bed. Shoyo scans the nearby floor for clothes, but of course there are none, Atsumu left the room to change into the lingerie. Shoyo grabs the blanket that has been pushed to the floor and settles it over Atsumu.

The man is not exposed anymore, which hopefully helps. He’s hyperventilating though, which isn't good. Shoyo bites down on his bottom lip, tears in his own eyes.

Atsumu helped Shoyo though so many triggered memories. And now it's Shoyo’s turn and he's failing.

“Wha-what is happening?” Tobio asks, a waiver in his voice.

“Um,” Shoyo is on the verge of crying himself, “it seems like a flashback, it's…this hasn't happened before.”

He tries to remember. What did Atsumu do when it was Shoyo?

Shoyo feels like he could hit himself. He can't remember. He barely knows what's going on when his brain is triggered like that. Fuck…fuck…Shoyo clenches his fists but doesn't let them hit like they want to. Focus idiot. Focus.

Then it clicks, the cold when he comes to-

“Go get something frozen, like- like a bag of veggies or something,” Shoyo turns to Tobio who looks nearly as shell shocked as Shoyo.

“Huh?” Tobio’s eyes glance to meet Shoyo’s.

“Frozen bag, please Tobio,” Shoyo says again.

“Oh, oh, yeah, okay,” Tobio gets up on shaking legs and leaves the room.

Shoyo listens to Atsumu continue to hyperventilate and twitch.

I'm sorry, Shoyo thinks. I'm sorry. In a flashback every second is agonizing. Shoyo’s tears fall. He watches Atsumu sob and choke, gasping for air. Shoyo doesn't know what to do. Would touching Atsumu make it worse?

Tobio returns with the bag. The cold shocks even Shoyo when he reaches to take it. He hopes this helps. He really hopes this helps.

…

It's like breaking the surface of the water after almost running out of air. Atsumu’s body jolts, freezing cold sensation radiating out from the back of his neck.

He inhales, a good, deep inhale. The first in a long time. His lungs scream, aching for more. Atsumu inhales again, filling as long as he can through the still falling tears and hiccuping throat.

He keeps his eyes closed. He reaches back and feels the frozen bag against the back of his neck. A shiver runs through him and he realizes that he's covered in a blanket.

Atsumu isn't okay, but he's back. It's all still raw, and right there under his skin…but he's not reliving the memories anymore. What a terrible thing that the brain can do.

He grabs the bag and pushes it against his face. The cold stings. But it also feels so good against his eyes and nose. His lungs shudder and he cries. He's not 8. He's an adult.

“Atsumu,” Shoyo whispers quietly, “What can I do?”

Atsumu’s heart aches. This wasn't supposed to happen. This wasn't supposed to affect him anymore. It was so long ago. He was just a kid.

He places the bag back onto his neck, the cold continuing to soothe and regulate. He reaches out his hand and Shoyo links their fingers. Atsumu lets his hand be held, as tears leak from his eyes, and quiet whimpers fall from his lips, interrupted only by a hiccuping cry.

Chapter Text

Atsumu feels utterly powerless. That must have been how it felt at the time too. Usually, Atsumu barely remembers. It's like a distant memory. Something that probably happened to someone else.

He must remember more than just vague ideas and timeline knowledge…because what he felt earlier was so visceral. So fucking real. Way too real.

And that, on its own, is a whole world of pain. When you start to live like none of that ever even happened. When you go months without thinking about it because you have buried it so deep into your psyche…it's fucking brutal to live it. It was real. Those things…were real. Atsumu…Osamu…it happened. It really happened.

No amount of wishing it hadn't…no amount of pushing it down…no amount of silence and secrets changed anything. It still happened.

Osamu’s first was their coach. And Atsumu's first was his brother. That will never change. As horrifying and shameful as it feels. It's just the truth.

The truth is, it happened.

It hurts. It feels like Atsumu is being dragged across the hot coals of his mind. Accepting the truth feels impossible. It would mean…

Too many things. Atsumu can't face them all. He can't face the shame.

He wonders if Osamu ever has moments like this. Where it all just hits you. The truth of what you did, the truth of what you did even though you didn't want to, because a softly spoken praise filled your head, and you just wanted to be good so fucking bad.

The truth of what you did because… sometimes it felt good.

Atsumu isn't sure what's worse. Right now, the shame of having enjoyed parts of it is burrowing into his heart. It feels like the shame is consuming him. Eating him up until no part of adult Atsumu is left.

This isn't you, it says. You never were this person you've been pretending to be. You'll always be that boy, on his knees, next to his brother, hoping for more praise. Hoping to be special enough. Hoping to be seen as good.

You'll always be that boy. You never stopped being that boy. You’ll always be that. A shameful, dirty, needy, slut.

Part of Atsumu tries to fight back, tries to say ‘No, I'm not’ but it's too big. Like the nest of shame grew and grew in all those years it was left unattended. So many years. Nearly twenty…

He hates this part of himself. He really, really does. He remembers the moment it fully soured into something horrid. Something horrid and stuck inside of him. Something he could never fully get rid of. Because it was a part of him.

It was just another day, about a year after Osamu showed Atsumu what Coach had ‘taught’ him. Things had changed, it wasn't just Samu now…the things they did…were different than when it started.

Atsumu thinks both of them knew it had transformed into something truly evil, but neither of them knew how to stop it. Like a runaway train, they kept heading down the track, unsure of where it all led. The speed of the train, whipping through the countryside, it blurred everything. Life became a blur. Samu cried all the time. Atsumu yelled and picked fights.

Atsumu barely remembers that year. He remembers fragments and moments, but he lost the thread tying it all together. Just snaps of life in a blurred out existence.

Then came the day that Coach didn't show up. The adults whispered. Some woman took over the volleyball club.

Atsumu remembers standing next to Osamu, their backs to the wall, as they listened to their mom talk on the phone in the other room.

“Can you believe what he did to that little girl?”

“It's…it's disgusting. And at the community center too.”

Osamu grabbed Ataumu’s hand and held it in a tight grip. Atsumu didn't dare breathe.

“I can't believe it took this long for anyone to realize.”

Their mom sighed, “I mean, it's terrifying, what if he had liked little boys instead?”

Samu whimpers.

“Why she didn't say anything is beyond me, I mean, it's so obviously wrong, you know? Even at her age…”

“Well there was no evidence that he was violent, she could have told anyone, instead she let it go on for months. How sick.” Their mom truly sounded disgusted.

Their mom chuckled uncomfortably after listening to the person on the other side, “I wouldn't go that far…nobody could actually like that.”

That is the moment Atsumu tucked it all away. He locked it all up and put it away, deep, deep within himself .

Because nobody could like that.

They never talked about it again. They never did anything again. What was there even to fucking say?

Other than Atsumu begging for forgiveness for letting this happen to Osamu.

Atsumu wishes he could remove his part of himself. If he could just be him, without that one year. Without the part of himself that gets nauseous in musty storage rooms. Without the part of himself that is always searching for praise. Without the part of himself that now has to control everything.

He wonders what it would take to actually destroy or kill this part of himself. Would he finally be able to live? Finally breathe?

Would he be free without this tumor that leaches from his soul? A tumor that always demands more. Perfection, violence, control. Always more. More. More.

Atsumu can't take it anymore. He can't be what the tumor needs. He’s never going to be enough.

He can feel Shoyo behind him, talking softly, gently petting him. It's like Atsumu isn't even really there though. He doesn't feel real. He might as well be a mannequin…or a sex doll.

Maybe that's what he needs. He should just let the tumor in his mind really have it. Let someone fuck Atsumu until he’s truly broken. Tie him up, hit him, gag him…maybe that would finally shut it all up.

He wishes he could…but he’s pretty sure both Shoyo and Tobio wouldn't ever treat him like that…like how he actually deserves.

Not unless he tricked them.

He can't. He couldn't ever. It's not their fault Atsumu is like this.

No…that guilt is Atsumu’s alone.

…

There is movement in the room. Voices. Atsumu struggles to follow any of it. He’s still just laying there. Wasting space.

Atsumu has no clue how much time has passed. Minutes? Hours? At some point he started to come back to his body, as much as he didn't want to. Returning to the moment came with utter dread.

Everything weighs down on him. The feeling, the memories, the sex he interrupted.

Maybe it's time to give it all up. Shoyo has Tobio now, they can take care of each other. There is no reason to keep Atsumu. In fact, there are reasons not to keep Atsumu. He’s pretty sure Shoyo won't drop him like that though…so it probably has to be Atsumu who breaks it off.

He just…he can't anymore. He feels done. He's tired. He's so fucking tired. He's drowning. Has been. For so many years. He just didn't even let himself truly feel it. And now it's here, all at once. A torrential downpour of shame and self loathing.

And…not for the first time in his life, he entertains the idea of dying. He knows he can't. It would crush Osamu. Destroy their mom. Ripple through his small but close community. He can't. But…sometimes he thinks about the relief it would provide. The nothiness. Maybe it would be okay. Maybe…

Somebody is shaking Atsumu’s shoulder. He cracks his eyes lids open, unable to even tell his eyes where to look.

“Atsu, Osamu is calling you.”

No. Absolutely not. No. No no no no.

Shoyo answers the call and places the phone next to Atsumu’s face.

Dread trickles down his chest towards his legs. This isn't what he wants.

“Tsum-Tsum? I hear yer like, freaking out.”

Shoyo must have texted…when Atsumu was so dissociated for so long. Little did he know, Osamu is exactly part of the problem.

When Atsumu can't and doesn't respond Samu just keeps going.

“He said you were up to some ‘stuff’ he said stuff all weird so I figured…you know. Figured you were havin’ a good time.”

Atsumu hears the door close and he realizes that he's alone in the room.

“Well, maybe less of a good time than you had hoped,” Samu says quietly.

The line is quiet, save for the occasional crackle and rustle.

“He said you hadn't talked in a few hours.”

So it really has been hours.

Osamu takes a deep breath. “It's okay.”

Atsumu closes his eyes. It's not. It's really, really not.

“I know…we both know, right?” Osamu asks, like he’s mostly just reassuring himself.

“We have things. Things that…aren't normal.”

Atsumu’s lungs give a little huff. That's a funny way to put it. No…their things are not normal.

“I think it might be time…I always figured you'd be the one to…bring it up…what I did,” Osamu pauses, and then his voice cracks when he says, “to you.”

Atsumu’s eyes burn as his body musters more tears. No…Samu…no.

“I…maybe I'm totally off base, but I figured, if you were havin’ sex, and then totally freaked out…it was probably…that, ya know?”

Samu whispers to himself, “Am I talking to a damn wall?”

That does get an actual little scoff out of Atsumu.

“Ah, I think I heard ya, or your chokin’ ‘n dyin’...”

“Na’ dyin’,” Atsumu manages to say, after a sizable amount of effort.

“Good,” Samu says gently.

“I really did think you'd finally bring it up one day. And just like…finally realize how much you hate me. I'm always kind of just waiting for that text or call…”

A tear falls from each of Atsumu’s eyes, falling down his face sideways.

No…Samu…I don't hate you. Not at all.

Atsumu cannot get his mouth to work right. Everything is all stiff and stuck. Even his thoughts are disjointed. Like, Atsumu went and turned into person soup.

Hearing Samu is helping though…more than Atsumu thought it would. Despite how bad it was…Atsumu wasn't alone. He always had Samu.

“It's okay, if today is that day. Or if you haven't realized it yet…I'm pretty sure I've been hating myself on your behalf all this time. So, whatever you feel, it's okay Tsumu.”

Atsumu bites down on his bottom lip, trying to muster the focus to speak.

“Do-” he tries again, “Don't hate’ya” he whispers.

“I think you should,” Osamu says, “I'm the one that…” he sighs, “if I hadn't, then you wouldn't have…fuck, I'm sorry Tsumu, I'm so fucking sorry. I can't even…I'm so sorry.”

Atsumu can tell that his brother is crying. They've never, ever broached this topic…Atsumu hadn't realized what his brother had been holding onto all this time.

“Jus’ a kid,” Atsumu says. Because it's true, Osamu was just a kid.

“So were you dumbass,” Osamu shoots back.

The line is quiet. And Samu’s words hang there in front of Atsumu. They really were both just kids. Atsumu may be older, but only by 12 minutes. They both were just kids.

He feels his throat constrict. He was just a kid. His eyes overflow. He really was, just a kid.

This whole time they have each been blaming themselves…hating themselves. When in actuality, Atsumu would never want or expect his brother to do that…and maybe…

He sobs, pushing his face down against the bed. Maybe Osamu doesn't blame him back.

“You were just a kid, Tsumu,” Osamu whispers through his own tears, “we were both just kids.”

He can't- this is too much. No. Nooooo. Atsumu cries, his fingers twisting into the bed sheets. It's not Osamu’s fault. It's not. Because he was only 8. But that means…that means…

It couldn't be Atsumu’s fault either.

Chapter Text

They don't truly talk about ‘it’. They can't. It's just too much. But they talk around it.

Atsumu, exhausted from his mental breakdown, finds himself starting to drift off during the quiet parts of their conversation.

Osamu's voice reawakens him, “How long have you and Shoyo been together?”

Atsumu smiles sleepily. He doesn't really talk about his sex life with Samu. It always felt taboo…for obvious reasons.

“Well, it was unofficial for a long time, like…mmmm…probably ‘bouta year now.”

Osamu makes a noise of acknowledgement.

“A little over a month ago, we both finally fessed up to having feelings too…”

“You love him?” Osamu asks.

“Yeah, I really do. I have for a long time.”

“I'm glad ya figured it out then, he's a catch.”

Atsumu chuckles, “You don't even know the half of it.”

There is a pause and Atsumu smiles, knowing that this last bit of information will truly surprise his brother.

“Remember Karasuno’s setter? Dark hair, blue eyes?”

“Uhhh, yeah, Ka-...Kageyama was it? He's on the Adlers right? Honestly, I'm kinda surprised you snatched Shoyo away from him, they obviously had some chemistry, even back then.”

Atsumu can't help the jesting tone in his voice when he draws out the word, “Well~”

…

When he and Osamu finally hang up, as if on cue, Shoyo reenters the room. Osamu must have texted him that they were done. Shoyo kneels at the edge of the bed, his face right there in front of Atsumu's.

His round, curious eyes pierce into Atsumu's. Atsumu knows that Shoyo must realize that there is more to this than a sub drop.

Atsumu really is exhausted though. Like, even keeping his eyes open feels like a heurculean effort. He tries though, forcing his eyelids back open every few seconds when they start to close.

Through bleary, sleepy eyes, he looks at the man he loves. He trusts Shoyo a lot. But…does he trust him with this?

He doesn't know. He barely feels like he trusts himself with this. In fact, for his whole life he hasn't trusted himself with this part of himself. He pushed it down and locked it away. What if Shoyo doesn't understand? What if he thinks…what if it's too much?

“Can I take care of you?” Shoyo asks. And the way his Spiker's eyes are glassy with tears makes Atsumu nearly cry too. Atsumu knows how strong the care urge is after something goes off the rails. And boy…did it go off the rails. It's like…Tobio tapped into a live wire that Atsumu thought was buried for good.

It seems like everyone was prepared for a drop…but not for a full on breakdown.

It might be legitimately cruel to prevent Shoyo from taking care of him. It feels nearly impossible though…Atsumu hardly ever lets Shoyo provide aftercare…they almost never need to.

And he’s so tired. It really feels like he would prefer to just fall asleep.

Shoyo bites the inside of his cheek as he waits for Atsumu to respond.

“What's the first, then?” Atsumu asks, his voice so quiet.

This is something that Atsumu used to do for Shoyo. It helped a lot towards the beginning of their relationship. When a scene was winding down, or over, Atsumu would tell Shoyo what was going to happen next. It always started with a ‘first’ and then Atsumu would list a few ‘then’s. And eventually they just began to refer to it as the ‘first, then’.

“Sure,” Shoyo says, straightening his back a little, “First I would like to get you into real clothes,”

Oh…Atsumu is still wearing the lingerie…he had forgotten what was under the blanket.

“Then, if you're up for it, I was hoping to have you eat. If eating isn't in the cards, at least water.”

Shoyo pauses, and lets Atsumu digest the information.

“Then?” Atsumu asks.

“Then, I'd like to tuck you back into bed and let you sleep.”

Atsumu closes his eyes, that part sounds so nice. Too nice. Like…far more nice than he deserves.

He knows though…deep in his heart…how badly he would want to do those things if the roles were reversed. He opens his eyes to look at Shoyo. Perfect, beautiful, kind Shoyo.

He would want Shoyo to have this. His eyes water even more.

He would want Osamu to have this, if it was his brother going through everything Atsumu just went through.

Maybe…maybe Atsumu can let himself have this. Maybe…

Shoyo reaches up to pet Atsumu's face, fingers reaching back to lightly scratch the back of his head.

“I know it's hard,” Shoyo whispers, “You have taken care of me so many, many times,” a single tear falls down to Shoyo’s cheek and he wipes it away with his free hand.

“Please let yourself have this too,” Shoyo whispers.

It hurts. It almost physically hurts to think about letting himself have that. There is a voice, deep within himself that tells him he doesn't deserve it.

You chose to do those things

You chose to enjoy it

You wanted it.

‘No.’ Atsumu says back in his head

Atsumu imagines himself at 8 years old. He imagines what it would have felt like to hear these words then.

‘You didn’t.’

It feels tight inside of his head. Like something is clenching.

He focuses on that feeling and says, ‘You really, truly didn't.’

The tightness increases. It almost makes Atsumu feel dizzy. He struggles to pull his thoughts back together. He’s not 8 anymore. But…a part of him is…a part of him has been trapped at 8 for a long time.

Atsumu feels Shoyo’s hand on the back of his neck but it also feels miles away.

Atsumu is the adult now. He's the adult who has to pick up the pieces. He can't push it down anymore. He can't just go back to pushing this vulnerable part of himself away. He can't. He won't.

‘I'm sorry,’ he thinks to himself, ‘I'm sorry you had to tell yourself that you wanted it.’

He feels something inside of him shrink back, like it's curling in on himself.

‘I’m sorry you had to tell yourself you deserved it.’

It feels like his chest is going to burst.

I did. I deserved it. I wanted it. It's my fault.

‘No,’ Atsumu tells himself, ‘You didn't. No child deserves that. No matter what.

You didn't deserve it.

I didn't deserve it.’

…

Eventually Atsumu nods. He's ready for Shoyo to take care of him. To take care of them both.

Chapter Text

It's sweet, sickeningly sweet. Shoyo helps him out of the lingerie, reverently touching him and petting the skin once it's bare. He helps wipe down Atsumu with a warm cloth…just like how Atsumu does for him.

Atsumu holds off tears as each kind gesture tumbles into the next. Shoyo helps him put on his favorite sleep shorts and helps him get a comfortable, threadbare high school T-shirt over his head.

The clothes truly help. It's like a layer of safety. Atsumu starts to kind of feel like a person again. Once he's dressed and sitting upright, Shoyo takes a moment to gently pet the back of his head and neck. Atsumu closes his eyes…he's not sure he’s ever felt like this before.

Like he's precious. Shoyo takes one of his hands and threads their fingers together.

“Tobio is still here, I think. He kept saying he should leave but…” Shoyo trails off, “If you'd feel better with an empty apartment, we understand.”

Atsumu squeezes Shoyo’s fingers in his own. He’s…not upset with Tobio. He's not, the guy didn't do anything wrong…but there is fear in the idea of having him around.

It takes Atsumu too long to respond and Shoyo nervously keeps talking, “I know, sometimes after…everything is so raw. I always feel like that game, the one with the wooden blocks that get stacked up. One wrong move and I'll come crashing down all over again…”

He sighs, seemingly frustrated with himself, “What I'm trying to say is, whatever you need, whatever would help, that's what I want.” Shoyo nods to himself in finality.

He's so good. Atsumu just wants to lay down and sleep. He doesn't have anywhere near enough energy to decide what he wants. It feels like an impossible task. Where would he even start? He wants to not have been molested.

He closes his eyes. Shoyo can't undo that, nobody can. He feels stuck. He doesn't know what he wants. He doesn't know how to even let himself know what he wants.

He’s a mess. Maybe he should just send both of them home so he isn't a burden. His stomach twists. Apparently it doesn't like that idea.

“Will you stay?” Atsumu asks.

“Yes, if that's what you want,” Shoyo says looking up at Atsumu.

Atsumu lets himself nod. He does want Shoyo, that is easy to determine. Tobio though…that's messy.

His mind supplies the memory of Atsumu and Shoyo’s first night together. The night where Atsumu took his time, just kissing his spiker until they were both too tired to go on.

Something with boundaries. Something concrete. Something where Atsumu won't have to analyze and decide what to do next.

“Shoyo,” Atsumu says quietly.

The spiker looks up again. Their eyes meet and the intensity of Shoyo’s gaze is overwhelming. Atsumu glances down to their hands, “You've never really brought up domming.”

It takes a few seconds for Shoyo to respond, “I guess I haven't…it's…it feels daunting. How do you know what to do? How much to do? How hard to push?”

Shoyo’s thumb starts to fidget against Atsumu’s hand, “I really don't think I would be good at it,” his hand clenches against Atsumu's, "I'm not like you or Tobio.”

“What if you weren't guessing?” Atsumu asks.

Shoyo is quiet.

“What if,” he takes a deep breath, “What if I told you exactly what to do ahead of time?”

“You…would that even feel good for you?” Shoyo asks.

Atsumu shrugs, “Did it take away from a scene when I used to tell you what I was going to do?”

“Mmm,” Shoyo looks up thoughtfully, “Not really, it took the surprise out, sure, but it was all still intense.” he looks up to Atsumu again, “Was it Tobio’s fault that…?”

“No, no,” Atsumu reassures, although he's kind of feeling like that might have been part of it.

It's not that Tobio did anything wrong… there is just so much less history and trust.

“Maybe,” he finally admits, “But I don't need anything to change, I think I just need to spend more time with him before I can…” for some reason he can't bring himself to finish the sentence.

Shoyo uses his free hand to turn Atsumu to face him directly, “You don't ever have to do that with Tobio.”

Atsumu blinks, his mouth opens, but no words come out.

“Really,” Shoyo says, keeping intense eye contact, “you get to choose who you are vulnerable with like that.”

Atsumu gathers Shoyo into a tight hug, pulling the spikers body as close to his own as possible.

“Thank you,” he says by Shoyo’s ear, his voice dripping with emotion, “I love you, thank you.”

…

The rest of the night is a blur. Shoyo does get him to eat and drink and then the lights are out and Atsumu is back to fighting for his eyelids to stay open.

Shoyo kisses his forehead and curls his fingers around Atsumu’s cheek, “You are good Atsu, you can sleep now.”

As soon as he lets his eyes close, he is asleep.

…

They bring Tobio back the next day. Atsumu explains as much as he can without actually giving away the nature of his history. They use the time they have together to continue connecting physically. Atsumu stays in his normal role, happily. It almost feels like a reset to fall back into that part of his brain. It feels natural.

In the background though…he feels the anticipation of what he and Shoyo might soon explore.

…

It's been a few days since Tobio went back to Italy. It's kind of hard to believe that some of the kids they played in high school are on foreign teams now.

Atsumu looks up at Shoyo, bathed in golden light. Atsumu never really ever got over Shoyo’s glow up in Brazil. Even in the winter his tan lines never truly fade all the way. And dear God, what those years did to his body…Osamu wasn't lying when he said Shoyo was a catch.

“How are you doing?” Shoyo’s head tilts to the side. God he's so fucking cute. Atsumu feels the urge to grab a hold of his spiker and --- no, that's not quite what this session is for. It's easy to fall into the part of his brain that applies pressure down onto Shoyo, using his strength, words, mannerisms, commands, whatever avenue, to help Shoyo let go and submit.

That's not tonight. He reigns in a vision of pulling his spiker into his lap, kissing his neck, running teasing trails up and down the man’s back…well, he tries to reign it in. He really does. It's just…it's right there. It would be so easy, it would feel so good. So…them.

“Atsu?” He asks, pulling Atsumu out of his daydream.

“Mmm,” Atsumu hums, dragging his brain away from the idea of rocking Shoyo against his own hips until they are both so worked up they need more.

“Sorry, just thinkin’ about what I'd do to you…”

Shoyo smiles and leans forwards, planting a chaste kiss on Atsumu’s lips, “Oh? Anything good?”

Atsumu nods. Everything with Shoyo is good. Hell, cleaning the kitchen with Shoyo is good. How he prances around, singing under his breath, unable to finish any one task and instead doing a small amount of all of them.

“Do you want to do one of your ideas?” Shoyo asks gently. It's an out. An easy out. Atsumu could say yes, and continue to avoid the vulnerability that he is so frightened of. But…

He closes his eyes for a moment and takes a breath. He wants to learn what it feels like to let go…and feel safe. Possibly for the first time in his life.

He wants to feel that part of his brain, finally rest. To find out what is underneath the intense need to control. To find out who is under there.

He shakes his head, declining Shoyo’s offer to stay in their normal dynamic. He wants this, as uncertain as he is that he’ll like what he finds…he wants to find out. He wants it to be Shoyo that helps him find out.

Shoyo nods once in understanding, “Still want what we agreed?”

Atsumu had done his research…well, the research is mostly just what he already knows about putting people into sub space. He broke it down, the actions, the timing, how to balance, creating safety and trust … he basically made a recipe for putting himself under. And then he gave it to Shoyo. He is still going to cue the other man to let him know when it's time to take the next step, or when to back pedal…but other than that, it's up to Shoyo to lead.

“Yes,” Atsumu says back, anticipation prickling up his spine. To choose it…explicitly…feels so different.

Shoyo glances down to the unused side of the bed, “Go ahead and lay down for me,” Shoyo says it so softly…so earnestly. There isn't a bone in Atsumu's body that wants to resist. He lays down, realizing immediately how even just this feels vulnerable. Shoyo leans over top of him, his orange hair backlit by the warm lamp light. He looks ethereal.

Shoyo scans his face, his eyes lingering on Atsumu’s.

“We stop, anytime, any reason,” Shoyo says.

Atsumu swallows, the words sitting heavy in his chest. He knows how it feels to say those words and truly mean them. How it feels to have the power and want so desperately to not apply more force than the other can handle. The feeling of never wanting it to go too far…because you love the other person so much.

He doesn't want Shoyo to know what it feels like for a scene to go too far. To stop it too late. For the damage to already be done. He nods, letting Shoyo see that he understands. He will do everything he can to stop it before it's too far.

Shoyo smiles so warmly that Atsumu can feel parts of himself melt in response. The love is there. Shoyo doesn't want it to surpass what Atsumu wants. Atsumu truly believes that.

“Go ahead,” Atsumu encourages, “I will stop you,” he adds.

Shoyo leans down and closer to his ear. His lips briefly brush against the upper cartilage, “Then be my good boy and turn into your side.”

Oh.

Atsumu didn't expect his spiker to start so…

huh…it feels easy to comply, especially when Shoyo eases a hand up Atsumu’s side, from hip to shoulder. When Atsumu settles onto his side, an arm tucked under his head, he feels Shoyo put his own body up along Atsumu's backside.

Chest to back, groin to his lower back. Shoyo wraps an arm around Atsumu, forearm braced along his chest to hold him close, “Thank you,” Shoyo whispers into his skin, before he starts to pepper soft, barely there kisses along his neck.

The ‘thank you’ rings in Atsumu’s ears even after Shoyo has spent a decent amount of time teasing him with soft kisses.

Being thanked…for just turning over. But it's more than that. Shoyo knows it's more than that.

Shoyo drags his upper teeth along Atsumu's shoulder. The hard press makes Atsumu acutely aware of what he’s in for. What he himself planned…what he signed up for. He swallows, the nerves starting to itch under his skin.

What if he has bitten off more than he can handle…what if he can't do this? What if -

“Breathe,” Shoyo interrupts, “Until you tell me otherwise I'm just spending the night doing the first thing on your list.”

How does Shoyo do it? How does he let himself trust and submit when he has no clue what Atsumu will make him do? No, not make. Atsumu never makes him. Shoyo chooses.

Just like how Atsumu chooses now.

Shouo’s hand lies flat and still under Atsumu’s pecs, on the upper part of his stomach. Once Atsumu gives the word…that changes.

He feels the resistance within himself. He feels the urge to roll over and claim the power for himself. He knows Shoyo would give it freely. He knows…they talked about it as a backup to help Atsumu make it stop. At any time he can reverse the roles…yet he still hesitates.

He turns his intent inwards, and his attention is immediately drawn to a bundle of anxiety in his stomach.

Breathe, he tells himself. Shoyo will not go beyond what was agreed upon. He won't ask for more than you can do.

Shoyo won't take. It's an agreement. Not force. He feels the anxiety lessen slightly.

“I'll make it stop,” Atsumu says aloud.

Shoyo hesitates for a moment and then says, “I believe you will.”

Atsumu doesn't want to let Shoyo down. What they have built together feels far too important. Atsumu can't hurt it with carelessness for himself. To respect Shoyo…he has to respect himself.

“I'm ready,” he breathes out, pushing his back closer against Shoyo’s chest. Shoyo continues to use his arm to hold Atsumu close.

He feels Shoyo nuzzle against Atsumu’s shoulder.

“I love you,” Shoyo whispers, his hand, which had been perfectly still under Atsumu’s chest, starts to move. Just fingers loosely clenching and expanding again, like he is absently teasing Atsumu.

“I love you too,” Atsumu whispers. He does. He really, truly, does.

…