17 Works by Novus_deusz
Listing Works
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“The realist in Keiji has always been at odds with the romantic and maybe that’s the core of all his problems.”
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.Rattled, stressed, Akaashi slips up. And in the process, realises maybe he doesn’t know Bokuto quite as well as he thought.
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It’s surreal. A moment Keiji can’t believe he’s living out.
This is a lap-dance.
Koutarou is giving him a lap dance.
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Closeted, sexually repressed office worker Akaashi Keiji is closing in on 30. Chafing at the life he finds himself in, he’s desperate to know the touch of another man, if only for one night. So he summons all his courage and steps into “Blue King” - a rundown gay nightclub nestled deep in Shinjuku. There he meets Bokuto Koutarou. Bokuto is 36. Experienced. A tempting little beacon of light in a dank, monotonous world. And he sure knows how to touch.
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Akaashi Keiji is sure he can find Bokuto Koutarou anywhere.
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“Keiji’s already come several times, Koutarou’s made damn sure of that. But his husband’s wanting to give as good as he’s gotten, flexing that he can ruin Koutarou in return, show that he can do in minutes what Koutarou’s done in hours.”
——————————————————-Koutarou has taken such good care of Keiji, and Keiji returns the favour by riding him.
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There’s a beautiful vulnerability to Koutarou like this, though: that normally constantly moving body so relaxed, so comfortable, so wonderfully naked. He’s yet to even stir an inch, so asleep he’s clueless to the way Keiji’s watching him, wanting him.
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Keiji admires Koutarou before he wakes
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Keiji’s trapped in his own stress addled mind. Thankfully Koutarou knows how to set him free.
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MSBY learn Akaashi’s in Osaka; Bokuto’s body is walking proof of it.
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He’s sure that Keiji choses to turn at that precise moment, wanting to give Koutarou, and every other soul present, an obvious and uninterrupted view of those elegant shoulders.
Because there emblazoned across Keiji’s back, mirroring Koutarou’s own, is the name: BOKUTO.
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A Pro Volleyball Player Keiji AU
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He’s naked, the dying evening light warming the room as well as his body. The only things that are adorning him are his black heavy-rimmed glasses and a pair of Bokuto’s leg compression sleeves.
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It’s Bokuto’s Birthday, Akaashi surprises him.
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They travel home together most days. Akaashi’s chest aching at every slight brush of their knees, eyes trailing over his captain's profile, Bokuto silhouetted perfectly against the dying light that fills the train windows.
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Akaashi’s anxious, stressed, his job weighing heavy on him.
But Bokuto loves him gently.
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The adrenaline’s coursing through Bokuto as he leaves the court. It’s a feeling he’s chased his whole life. The rush of victory, the pounding of his chest as he gives everything he has to the game he loves.
But here in the MSBY locker rooms stands Akaashi Keiji and his heart reaches new heights.
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Bokuto runs most mornings. Apart from when it rains.
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“Baby, you think I’d want to be anywhere other than here?”
Bokuto snaps his hips forward suddenly and Akaashi calls out for him, hands gripping the sheets, thighs squeezing tighter around his waist. “That I’d want to be anywhere other than between your legs, Keiji?”
Bokuto shows Akaashi how much he loves spending News Year’s Eve in their bed.
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Most know Akaashi is fluent in Bokuto. But those who really listen will know Bokuto is also fluent in Akaashi.
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He’s read countless poets and the greatest of all literature, but nothing makes him believe in eternity the way Bokuto’s soft gaze does, the way Bokuto promises forever and means it.