Work Text:
“Bokuto-san.”
And man, isn’t that different from the way Akaashi says it during practice?
At school, Akaashi is polite, reserved, quiet. She’s exceedingly respectful to her upperclassmen, so much so that it freaks the rest of the team out sometimes. She only comments on things that are directly related to her, and does her best to give her critiques as vice-captain in a tactful, considerate way.
Sometimes, with Koutarou, her voice takes on a more exasperated tone, but that’s only when she’s being really stupid, like trying to do a spike-serve with her forehead (and she might have made it over, if she hadn’t been stopped by Akaashi) or trying to drink an entire ramune in one gulp (they’re mostly bubbles anyway). Kuroo says she plays favourites, since she only ever really listens to Akaashi’s reprimands, but what does she know, anyway? She can barely even brush her hair out - probably came out of the womb looking like that - and she’s just as dumb as Koutarou most of the time.
In a lot of ways, not much has changed since they started dating. Akaashi is still the same walking-contradiction, introverted and reverent but with a sharp, wicked sense of humour and a strict no-bullshit policy. Koutarou still forces her to toss for her, long after practice is over, and Akaashi still scolds her when she neglects the more boring side of her duties as a captain. They still study together, and even though Akaashi is a second year, she’s often the one helping Koutarou with her maths, prefacing it by saying she’s doing it to get ahead for next year. Koutarou knows it’s because her pouting face is so ridiculously cute that not even her apathetic setter can resist it.
But bottom line, they’re the same duo, no matter what their relationship status is - inseparable, weird, polar-opposites - yet with a sort of rhythm that makes it hard for even the best of teams to figure them out. With Akaashi’s brain, her game sense, her planning, her precise, neat sets, and Koutarou’s power, sheer athletic ability and charisma which always inspires her team to do their very best - no one is really surprised when they win the Spring Prelims, qualifying for nationals.
The evening had been insane, with the whole team on a live wire; from the moment Koutarou slammed the finishing spike down onto the other court, it was a blur of sweaty, exhausted hugs, pictures for the third-years, even some tears from their two managers. There had been an intense, relieved sort of energy in the air; even the ever stoic Washio had really let her hair down (as much as she could, with her pixie-cut) to celebrate. Coach Yamiji had treated them to yakiniku, where Komi and Sarukui had challenged her to an eating contest, but Koutarou had been too focused on her genius-setter-girlfriend to really enjoy it.
Like any other smart person, Akaashi Keiji suffers a great deal from overthinking. She gets so stuck in her big brain that she can’t really find her way out, especially when the pressure is up. Koutarou could see it happening during the match, could see the far-off look in her eyes, the way she seemed to ruminate on every move, hesitating before each decision. They’d pulled through with their win, because they always somehow do, but Akaashi had been quiet on the bus back, slumped over in exhaustion from not only her body, but her head, too.
So tonight, Koutarou is helping her get out of her head. She’ll get her to such a state that all she can think about is what her captain tells her to think.
Yes, she’s right in saying not much has changed since they adjusted their relationship from best-friends to girlfriends, but a great deal of things have.
Right now, Akaashi is lying on Koutarou’s sheets, pale skin flushed pink from her shower, legs spread, head thrown back.
“Bokuto-san..”
Seriously though, that tone of voice is different to the one Akaashi normally uses during practice. It’s got a more airy quality to it, huffed out between breathless pants, laced with a faint sense of desperation.
Koutarou looks up from where she’s mouthing along Akaashi’s thighs.
“Yeah, ‘Kaashi?” And man, she does love Akaashi’s thighs. They’re slim and toned, like the rest of her, muscles defined from hours of training, but the innermost part is buttery-soft, milky, untouched. Well, untouched save for Koutarou, who feels like a pervert, slobbering all over them, but it’s allowed - this is practically in her job description as Akaashi’s girlfriend. Leave no stone untouched, no part of her unloved.
“Might it please you, captain, to hurry up?”
Koutarou huffs, because Akaashi’s sarcasm is so funny, so biting, and no one one would believe her when she’d shown them this slender, curly-haired Venus, and said that she has a mean side to her. But it’s true, and Koutarou is going to fuck it right out of her.
She brings her right hand down, hard, on Akaashi’s outer leg. She flinches, jerks in Koutarou’s hold, letting out an exhale of air in surprise.
“You know I can hit much harder, Akaashi. Don’t make me,” she keeps her tone light, because it’s too early in the game to make her voice all deep and rumbly, even though she knows that will make Akaashi as pliant as a bendy-straw, right off the bat. She’ll be patient, just this once, because easing someone into compliance is a lot better than chucking ice water all over them and forcing them to obey.
It seems her tone of voice is irrelevant; Akaashi gives like butter under a hot knife, hands resting by her sides limply, tilting her head back slightly.
“Sorry, Bokuto-san.” She says nothing further, but her voice is soft and wispy, almost like she’s floating.
Just to be mean, Koutarou hits her again, at the top of her thighs. It’s not as hard, barely even a tap; Akaashi gives a small grunt, but stays quiet other than that, allowing her to continue her ministrations. So she makes it her duty to mark every inch of Akaashi’s inner leg with kisses, sucking lightly at any particularly sensitive spots which make her kick out involuntarily; these will definitely leave marks, but they’re high up enough that Akaashi’s gym shorts will just about cover them.
Akaashi is doing well, not making much noise apart from the occasional shaky sigh, but that changes as soon as Koutarou’s left hand reaches up to brush over her clit, just slightly, without warning. Her hips jerk, seemingly on their own accord, and she twists the sheets in her fists roughly. Koutarou has her right arm bracket over her thighs to still her, and it does a great deal to control her sporadic movements.
“Bokuto - oh - Bokuto-san..”
Koutarou increases the pressure, fingers working in firm, sure circles, swiping her thumb over Akaashi’s labia to spread her growing wetness across the skin. She nudges her thighs open with her elbow, rearranging her position so she can press a kiss to Akaashi’s quivering stomach in reassurance.
“That’s right, ‘Kaashi. Just let me take care of you.”
She mouths a path down Akaashi’s lower abs, down past her bikini line, to join her fingers, giving a teasing kiss over the sensitive bud, before she continues, licking at the seam of her pussy with one broad stroke.
She’s so very wet already, and her tangy, metallic taste coats Koutarou’s mouth, heady like a strong wine and sharp like a tart fruit. Not to be dramatic, but she feels like she could stay here forever, coaxing little whimpers from her beautiful, highly-strung girlfriend, easing her into that soft state of submission, where all she does is blink her pretty eyes and beg for more. Her skin is hot, unbearably so, and silky, scented with her arousal and the faintest hint of soap from the shower. She’s absolutely perfect.
Akaashi gives a loud whine when Koutarou breaches her with her tongue, spreading her with the muscle and pushing it as deep as she can. Akaashi’s hand reaches for Koutarou’s hair, and really, she should know better by now - she pinches the softest part of her thigh in warning, without moving from her place between her girlfriend’s legs. The lack of verbal reprimand seems to work well enough, anyway, because Akaashi retracts her hand; when Koutarou looks up, her face is a warm shade of pink which spreads down to her neck, and her lips are red and raw from where she’s bitten them in an effort to stay quiet.
It’s a very delicate thing, eating someone out. Since a tongue obviously isn’t hard, like fingers, its flexibility lends itself to the task of stimulating the entire interior, every sensitive spot, in a soft, gentle way. It kind of gently teases you to the precipice of an orgasm, a sort of pleasure that washes over you like a wave, deeply satisfying and utterly decadent. The problem with it, though, is that it’s sometimes so sudden that one second you’re just enjoying life and the pleasantries that come with it, and the next your knees are shaking so hard and your vision whites out with its intensity.
So Koutarou keeps a close eye on Akaashi, wanting to bring her just to the verge of orgasm but not allowing her the courtesy of the release, because this is about clearing her head of anything that harms her, anything that holds her back. Ridding her of the thoughts that permeate her head during a match, when the pressure is up, mulling over every move and the possible outcomes that come with them. All she should be thinking about is how she can possibly stave off her impending climax until Koutarou allows her to come.
Sure enough, Akaashi’s thighs begin to quiver, and the noises she’s making become a little more erratic, shaky, like the tremors running through her body have invaded her vocal chords too. And bless her, she hasn’t moved her hands from where they’re holding the sheets in a white-knuckled grip, and Koutarou feels she has to reward her for her efforts.
Koutarou keeps going for a few more seconds, just to test her, before pulling away, face slick with Akaashi’s arousal. She has to hold her girlfriend’s hips still with bruising force, who huffs out a sad little sound of disappointment which is almost (almost) enough to make Koutarou relent, but she can’t. This is for Akaashi, she reminds herself, as she sits up on her knees and leans over the prone body in front of her.
“You’re - mean, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi breathes out; her eyes are dark with lust, the blue swallowed almost completely by her pupils like the most beautiful solar eclipse. Her cheeks are flushed a deep rose colour, highlighting the few freckles she has spread across the bridge of her nose, and she has a trail of drool coming from her mouth; she hadn’t even moved her hand to wipe it off.
“You’re so good, Akaashi. So good.”
She reaches up tenderly, swiping her slick thumb across her cheek with the guise of cleaning up her saliva, but all it really does is deposit a healthy amount of Akaashi’s own fluids onto her face, and now she really does look ethereal, her blushed skin shimmering in the low light like some sort of perverted alien princess.
Akaashi seems to like it, though, because she tilts her head back even more, exposing her beautiful, pale neck to Koutarou like an offering, and really, how can she resist something laid out so prettily for her? She’s never really had much in the way of self-control, so why start now?
While she sucks bruises onto the delicate skin of Akaashi’s neck, her hands wander over her torso, feeling the swell of her breasts and the leanness of her stomach and sides; Akaashi shivers, gives a strange little sound, because she’s always been a bit ticklish and these feather-light touches can’t be helping that much.
“You won’t come until I say so, Akaashi,” it’s murmured softly into her collarbones, but it’s not a question.
“Yes, Bokuto-san.”
With that out of the way, Koutarou grasps Akaashi’s legs behind the knees, pushing them gently up to her chest; she gets the hint, shifting her hips lightly and aiding in the movement. She looks uncomfortable, though not in the position - it seems like she’s not too sure where to put her hands. Koutarou fixes that problem for her, taking hold of her wrists and pushing them above her head; they go easily, grasping lightly at the pillowcase within their reach.
With the new angle acquired, Koutarou settles down again, on her knees, and, with one final glance up at Akaashi’s face, plunges one finger in her without further hesitation.
She’s wet enough, relaxed enough that it slides right in with little resistance, but Akaashi still hisses at its abrupt entrance. The position she’s in makes it easy for Koutarou to still her hips, and very difficult for Akaashi herself to control her pleasure. Her best option is just to lie there and take it.
Which she does, beautifully. It’s hardly any time at all before Koutarou is adding a second finger, moving them together in gentle circles before curling them just so.
Akaashi moans, loud and unrestrained, the loudest she’s been all night, in fact, and Koutarou’s lips curl upwards.
“That’s so good, Akaashi. You’re good for me.”
She isn’t met with any kind of verbal response, but Akaashi’s pussy tightens around her almost impossibly so, vice-like, trying to force her deeper.
It’s an overwhelming experience, to say the least, and a lesser woman would have succumbed to the pressure, probably started furiously jacking off right then and there because seriously? Akaashi Keiji is a vision right now; the feline slant of her eyes, the curve of her breasts, the delicacy of her hips - she’s every single wet dream Koutarou’s had since she was ten.
And luckily for both of them, Koutarou is not a lesser woman, not on the court and certainly not in bed; she perseveres, adding a third finger and working the inside of Akaashi’s cunt with a methodical thoroughness that is rivaled only by her compulsion to spike every set tossed her way.
Akaashi is warm and wet, smooth and silky in a positively sinful way, and her G-spot, when Koutarou presses against it, feels swollen, plump, begging to be teased. The sight of her fingers plunging in, pulling out, over and over again is nothing short of intoxicating; she really is beautiful, opening up around Koutarou’s ministrations like a blossoming flower, skin soaked and stained pink with desire. Her thighs are slick, coated in her arousal, giving them a silvery sheen that catches the light as Akaashi’s hips move desperately with every curl of Koutarou’s fingers, every luxurious slide against the sensitive flesh.
For the most part, Koutarou ignore’s Akaashi’s noises, because they’re pretty quiet and subtle. She’s never been loud, not during sex or anywhere else, for that matter, except for when she’s really riled up. Still, she gasps and pants under Koutarou’s attention, inflating her ego somewhat and allowing her to judge just how far-gone her girlfriend is.
It’s only when she adjusts her hand, three-fingers deep, so she can press her thumb firmly to Akaashi’s clit, Koutarou starts paying attention to those noises. Because although this exercise is predominantly for Akaashi to gain control over her orgasm, and precisely when she does it, Koutarou’s not that mean - she’ll stop when it becomes too much, when staving off Akaashi’s orgasm becomes an impossibility.
“Close!”
That one word is forced out suddenly from between Akaashi’s clenched teeth, and Koutarou looks up to find her eyes shut and her hands kneading the pillow above her head into some sort of abstract sculpture. She looks it, too, like one more good push would tip her over the edge.
“Good girl. Thank you for telling me.”
But, this isn’t meant to be easy. Koutarou spreads her fingers a little, stretching her inner walls and allowing more fluid to gush out onto the sheets below. She accompanies this with a firm flick to her clit, and Akaashi whines.
“Close, close!”
Koutarou feels her own arousal, suddenly, as it hits her like a freight train, because Akaashi is so desperately trying not to come that her wide vocabulary has been condensed to just one word. She smiles wickedly, leaning forward to nip at the back of her thighs with her teeth.
“Five more seconds, then I’ll stop. Five…”
Akaashi’s lip is pulled between her teeth, but she can’t seem to stop the noises she’s making. Her eyes are fluttering, lashes fanning across her flushed cheeks, stained red with arousal.
“Four.”
Koutarou’s fingers speed up to a punishing pace, which may seem unfair, but hey, she’s never claimed to be nice,
“Three, two..”
Her thighs are shaking so badly now, but Koutarou holds them steady. Her toes are curling, back arched, and she whines from somewhere high in her throat. Her hands are twisting into the pillow so fiercely it’s a miracle it hasn’t ripped by now.
“One.”
All at once, she stops. Akaashi is panting hard, like she’s just ran a marathon, her voice bleeding out in soft whimpers. The warm flush has spread from her face, to her neck and collarbones, all the way to her chest. Her ears are scarlet. Koutarou pulls her fingers free, spreading Akaashi’s pussy slightly just to see her clench on nothing, before she leans up and kisses her.
Even her mouth is trembling, it seems, but her hands stay put as she kisses back. She really is being good tonight.
“You doing okay?” Koutarou murmurs when she pulls away. Akaashi nods; her eyes look a little glassy.
“Fine. I’d rather like to come, though.”
“I’m sure you would.” She pinches Akaashi’s cheek, before pushing herself off the bed.
“Wait here,” it’s a useless statement; as it stands, Akaashi’s legs don’t look as if they’d be able to hold her up. Instead, she seems perfectly comfortable to just sink into the bed, eyeing Koutarou with a lidded, side-long gaze. She looks like she wants to reply, have some sort of snarky come-back, but says nothing, apparently thinking better of it. Smart girl.
Koutarou takes her time in locating her trump card, (what will ultimately be the reason for Akaashi’s untimely demise) in the form of a small bullet vibrator, from the bathroom. It will help calm Akaashi down from what was about to be a very intense orgasm, and Koutarou herself, who’s feeling so hot she’s kind of lightheaded; she can finally take a moment to breathe in air that isn’t coated in Akaashi’s rich scent.
After giving the smooth, grey toy a thorough wash in the sink, she slips in the battery, fumbling with it a bit because her fingers aren’t as nimble as Akaashi’s and this is pretty delicate work. She turns it on, just to check it’s working, before taking a deep, steadying breath and leaving the bathroom. Several things happen as she moves to enter the bedroom.
She can hear the mattress squeak before her eyes even adjust to the low light, and when they do, she feels a sudden, piercing sense of anger.
Akaashi, the little minx, has reached her left hand down between her legs, rubbing what looks to be frantic circles over her clit; her right hand is crumpled into a fist, stuffed in her mouth to muffle her. It’s a beautiful sight, in all fairness, because desperation (like every other emotion) looks stunning on Akaashi, but it’s not what either of them need tonight.
“Tch.”
And, because she knows she shouldn't be doing this, Akaashi’s eyes flash with guilt as she notices Koutarou’s presence in the room. Her hand doesn’t slow, though, her hips still thrusting upwards.
Koutarou is pretty angry, to say the least. It’s not just that Akaashi has disobeyed her, moved her hands from the position they were put in - it’s that she’s clearly thought about this, probably thought that she’d be able to come before Koutarou could cross the bedroom and stop her. Or maybe, she thought she’d get away with it because Koutarou is such a big softie.
The point is, she’s not supposed to be thinking, not for herself. Koutarou is doing the thinking for her right now.
“Keiji.”
Koutarou’s voice, which is a far cry away from it’s usual upbeat timbre, is enough to shake Akaashi out of her momentary lapse in obedience. She gives a full body shudder, clearly not used to hearing her given name in such a menacing way, before her hand slows to a stop. Koutarou takes a step forward.
“You know I’m doing this for you, Akaashi, I thought you knew I’d do anything for you.” She feels strangely vulnerable after saying that, but she swallows it down.
“It’s really easy for me to tie your hands, if I need to.” Akaashi has gone still, clearing considering Koutarou’s thinly-veiled threat.
“Do I need to, Keiji?”
Akaashi’s face crumples, and she exhales, long and slow, through her nose, before shaking her head.
“No, Bokuto-san. I-I’m sorry.”
Her hands resume their position above her head, and though it looks difficult, her hips cease their frantic movements. She does sound truly sorry, and Koutarou’s heart pangs a bit because really, she doesn’t want to be mean. She wants to pet Akaashi and give her kisses and make her feel good, tell her it’s okay and that she’s still Koutarou’s good girl, even if she messed up. She takes another deep breath, to calm herself, and joins Akaashi on the bed.
“You know better, ‘Kaashi. Just - whatever your brain is saying, tune it out. You don't need it. You have me.”
It’s a cryptic statement, and she can already see the cogs of Akaashi’s brain whirring, trying to decipher it. Before she can reply, Koutarou turns on the vibrator, holding it between her thumb and forefinger for Akaashi to see, who gulps, clearly visible in the long line of her throat.
“Now let’s see how long you last. I was going to say three minutes, but that stunt does need some kind of punishment. Five minutes with this on, and if you make it, I’ll let you come.”
It’s implied, but this really is an exercise in trust, trust that Koutarou has in Akaashi to obey, and vice versa - that Koutarou actually knows her girlfriend’s limits, knows how far she can push her before she breaks. Either way, Akaashi will get to come, it’s just a matter of whether it’s with or without Koutarou’s permission.
She hovers over Akaashi, setting a timer on her phone and placing it beside her knees; it’s just out of Akaashi’s field of vision, keeping her in the dark, but it’s close enough for Koutarou to glance at periodically. Then, she’s turning the vibrator on - it buzzes loudly in the quiet room, and to be honest, looking at her, Koutarou’s not entirely sure Akaashi will last. But she’s brought this upon herself, so she’ll have to face whatever creative (soft, because she is a softie) punishment Koutarou can think up.
First, the vibrator skirts up her abdomen, before reaching her left nipple. Now, that gets a reaction; entirely untouched until now, it hardens quickly, and Akaashi moans. Koutarou has learnt all the tricks to this - she’s done it too many times to herself, she knows just how much stimulation to give before moving on to the other one. The vibrator moves between the two, teasing the little buds until they’re blossom-pink, puffy and tender-looking.
Akaashi, when she looks up, is tearing up. It’s a very pretty sight; Koutarou thinks Akaashi is pretty all the time, unfairly so, but this is just ridiculous - her lashes are all wet and clumpy, heavy with tears, lips pulled down in despair, eyebrows knitted together tragically. It’s too much.
“Bokuto-san…”
Koutarou spares a glance at the timer.
“It’s been almost a minute, ‘Kaashi. You’ll be fine.”
And without further ado, Koutarou teases the vibrator over her clit, with barely any pressure. Akaashi makes a small snivelling sound, which is clearly just to garner sympathy points, and it won’t work - not this time.
So Koutarou steps it up, reaching down with one hand to tease her entrance, before pressing the blunt head of the vibrator fully against the abused nub of her clit.
Akaashi howls.
“Bokuto-san!”
And oh, maybe she won’t be fine. She already looks ready to go, what with how she’s gushing; it’s positively obscene, and Koutarou is briefly reminded again of her own arousal, which soaks through her underwear and onto her thighs. She’s been desperately turned-on for a while, and now it’s starting to get painful. Ignoring it as best she can, Koutarou tries to just enjoy having the impassive, untouchable Akaashi Keiji in a painful state of desperation.
This time, she slips two fingers in right off the bat, and is met again with the velvety warmth of Akaashi’s inner walls, squeezing her tightly. With little foreplay, she adjusts the angle expertly, hitting the spot that makes Akaashi’s breath stutter in her chest with pinpoint accuracy and steady, unwavering pressure.
She is careful not to overstimulate her, considering the vibrator is fiercely powerful and Akaashi is very sensitive, especially right now - holding it directly to her clit for too long will have the opposite effect of what she wants.
Instead, she moves the little toy down, slowly, and Akaashi’s eyes go very wide when the very tip of it teases the spread lips of her cunt.
“Bokuto-san - hah - please..”
She really has no control over herself at this point, with a deadly grip on the sheets, her legs kicking out every which way, movements which Koutarou are quick to stifle with her own weight. She curls her fingers, one, two, three times, stokes the rim of her soaking cunt with the vibrator, and watches as Akaashi loses her mind.
“Bokuto-san,” She’s panting, ruined, desperate. “How - long, please?”
Koutarou feigns indifference, even though she’s dying inside, watching something incredible, something rare, like the birth of a neutron star or the Aurora borealis explode across the night sky, something powerful and extraordinary and utterly sublime.
“One minute and fifteen seconds.”
Akaashi sobs.
“I can’t.”
Koutarou tuts, because she’s brought this upon herself.
“You can, Akaashi. Just a little longer, now. To think, you’d have done it, by now, if you hadn’t..”
She’s cut off from finishing that sentence, however, because Akaashi is making the most adorable noises, kind of like ‘uh uh uh’, and her eyes are streaming steadily with tears; they leak down the sides of her face, disappearing somewhere by her hair, tucked behind her ears. Koutarou leans forward, fingers still working tirelessly, vibrator still buzzing away, and mouths along her pubic bone.
“No, no, please, Boku-”
Koutarou swirls her tongue over her clit in an act of pure malice, one she will look back on later and maybe feel bad about.
“Oh, oh, oh, please..”
Her voice is high, shrill, almost a sure sign she’s nearing the edge, but she’s got around forty-seconds left.
“Hold it.”
Koutarou hardly even recognizes her own voice, deep and raw, scratching its way out from somewhere low in her chest. Her face is pressed into Akaashi’s groin, and the vibration of her words against her clit causes her to shout.
“Stop, I can’t-”
“Don't come, Keiji.”
And she doesn’t and it's a miracle.
Her cunt squeezes Koutarou’s fingers, clenching and unclenching like it wants something bigger, and suddenly Koutarou is running her mouth because she’s never known when to shut up and this is too much, it’s all too much.
“So beautiful, so perfect. You want more, don’t you? I’ve given you all I can, and you’re still begging for more.”
Akaashi pants, blinks her wet eyes desperately; her lashes are sticky, jeweled with tears which catch the light with every flutter of her eyelids.
“Oh god, Keiji. Look at you, look at you stretched around my hand. Next time, I’m - I’ll take even longer, maybe I can get my whole fist in here-“
Keiji screams, eyes rolling back, “Bokuto-san!”
She’s so wet it’s making it hard to ignore the sounds, filthy, obscene noises which fill the room and add to Akaashi’s own bleats of pleasure, and her hands are tense, locked around the sheets like a vice and twisting them between her fingers. Her pussy throbs, clenching on Koutarou’s fingers.
But she doesn’t come.
The timer counts down steadily: “Five more seconds, Keiji. Hold it, hold it,”
“Oh, oh, oh god-”
“-Three, two, one-”
Then it’s ringing, a loud, shrill tone, but Akaashi weeps in relief and Koutarou lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Akaashi blinks up wetly at her, dark lashes fluttering, breasts shivering with every shuddering inhale, and Koutarou is so gone for her.
“Come, now.”
And seriously, there is nothing in this world, nothing in this universe which can be compared to this. No neutron star, no solar eclipse, Aurora borealis.
Watching her face, slack with pleasure and exhaustion as she sobs beautifully, head thrown back in ecstasy, glistening skin like the pale marble of a classical sculpture - she is a vision, the most beautiful, obscene, wonderful thing she’s ever seen. Her body shudders all over and her cunt pulses, releasing even more fluids and gripping Koutarou’s hand with impossible, crushing strength.
Koutarou fucks her through the aftershocks, milking her of the last few drops of pleasure, before Akaashi snivels, going completely boneless.
Her hair, normally pretty ruffled anyway, is a mess, poking up every which-way and sticking to her damp face, but her expression blissed out, something which is so rare on her but so very stunning.
They’re silent for several more moments. Koutarou manoeuvres her prone body so she’s lying with her head in her lap. Akaashi’s eyes are closed as Koutarou tangles her fingers through her hair; her chest is heaving as she comes down from her high, and she turns to press her face into Koutarou’s stomach, nuzzling into her shirt. But Koutarou isn’t done, not yet. She entertains the idea of letting Akaashi sleep for a moment, but that was never going to happen, ever.
“Akaashi,” she starts. She doesn’t think she’s ever been this turned-on in her life. Akaashi gives a hum, rolling back over to meet her gaze.
“How many more times can you come tonight, do you think?”
And she watches as Akaashi’s face goes through the five stages of grief; her eyes widen, comically, and she looks as if she wants to say ‘are you serious?’ but she doesn’t, because she knows the answer.
Her mouth is open, but she’s not replying, clearly trying to accept the fact that Koutarou isn’t done with her yet, and her best and only course of action is to just obey, to do what she says and cooperate.
“Two,” It’s whispered, like a prayer, and Koutarou grins.
“Two, huh?”
She reaches down and savagely pinches Akaashi’s left nipple, twisting it until she cries out in pain. Her legs kick out reflexively.
“Two who, Akaashi? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten your manners already?”
Akaashi’s eye twitches, and she opens her mouth, expression indignant like she’s going to retort. Koutarou pinches her other nipple twice as hard.
“Bokuto-san, two, Bokuto-san!”
She’s fun, when she’s like this. She’s all sleepy and fucked out, sassy, too - but somehow she still wants to please just as much as always.
“That’s better,” Koutarou leans down to kiss her, and it’s sweet and warm and precious. She squirms a little in her lap. Koutarou pulls away, just barely, and her words a barely a whisper.
“You’ll give me three, won’t you Keiji?”
Akaashi’s hips jerk.
“Yes, Bokuto-san.”