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It was the little things. The day Daichi asked Suga out; the day he nervously agreed with a smile on his face, blush up to his ears. The day they first kissed under a street lamp in the dark streets of Suga’s neighborhood. The day the silver haired boy purchased condoms as the joke and the hours later when they were used. The endless days they spent together, lying in either Daichi’s or Suga’s bed in a sweaty daze of love with each other. The day they were caught by Tanaka in the club room and the day they came out to the rest of the team without any surprise.
There was the day when the short boy’s shaking hands held a neatly wrapped gift, eyes looking downward, slight smile lifting the corners of his mouth. A little off guard, Daichi took it, audibly saying a thank you before Ukai’s whistle blew, surprising the two. That sweet smile crossed his lips, nodding and parting, walking towards the rest of the group, Daichi’s eyebrows curving inwards.
Many things could be in his hands. A CD? They didn’t listen to much music. Their favorite movie? The two had already spent more than enough of movies for late nights together. A DVD of their future opponents? Why give it to just Daichi and not share with the team?
“Daichi!” A voice yelled, his brown eyes hardly raising up from his hands when the quick yet familiar whizz of a volleyball whistled in his ear, slamming against the wall behind him and bouncing back to his heels. A couple voices yelled back at him.
“Are you okay?!” “Daichi-san!” “Sawamura!” But what stood out the most was the smirking smile on Suga’s lips, his eyes closed, finger to his cheek as he shrugged. “Sorry!” A light jog to his step, Suga came over, not meeting Daichi’s gaze.
“What was that?” Daichi whispered, his boyfriend standing next to him.
“Nothing!” He blurted, elbow jabbing the taller boy’s side, causing him to flinch. “Save it for later,” the soft words lingered, Suga leaving and Ukai yelling again for Daichi to join his team. Throwing his jacket over the gift and heading in with the itching feeling of surprise and anxiety creeping up his spine.
Sweat rolled off his face like budding beads, the back of Daichi’s hand too wet to continuously wipe it off.
“Here,” someone said, a towel appearing in the corner of the boy’s vision.
“Thanks,” he responded, sighing and furiously cleaning himself off.
“Did something happen?” Takeda asked, pushing up his glasses.
“Ah,” Daichi said, rolling his shoulders and looking at his advisor. “It was nothing.”
“Tell me if something happens,” his voice was sweet and caring, but it dropped in an instant. “We can’t have couple’s bickers ruining the team, as you know,” he whispered.
“It was nothing,” the teen repeated, standing up and handing the towel back. “We’ll be better tomorrow.”
“Good,” Takeda said, nodding and pushing up his glasses again, giving Daichi a pat on his shoulder before leaving.
Suga didn’t look his way on the way back to the club room, nor when they changed or started walking back. Daichi began to wonder if the other was mad at him when the latter turned on his heel, stopping Daichi.
“Sorry,” his eyes were avoiding a locked gaze. “Do you still have it?”
“Oh,” turning to dig in his bag, the teen pulled out the package, still wrapped despite the curiosity.
“Good,” The corner of Suga’s eyes curled into a smile, before nodding and walking ahead. Assuming it was a mystery he would have to solve himself, there were no parting words between the couple when they went their separate directions.
Of all the things Daichi expected, this was not it. His futon was still messy from waking up late this morning, settling down and unwrapping his present. In a black DVD case was a blank disc only labeled “Daichi” with hearts dotting the i’s. Taking it out and putting it in his laptop, the screen pulled into a full screen of black. Noises of fumbling with the camera was audible before the black faded away, a blurry image of a familiar room focused back into a better shot. Suga’s bedroom, no boy to be found.
“Daichi,” the voice was nervous, a little distant from the shot. “I’ve been thinking about what happened the other day.” Oh.
This could only reference one thing: when Suga tried a different position and Daichi finished way before the other, leaving an awkward situation that other repeatedly said was all right, Daichi too embarrassed to help the situation but settled for spooning. The memory flushed his cheeks with more embarrassment. He’d rather forget it, but something on the screen changed.
“I want to make you happy, Daichi.” Socked feet walked across the room, sitting on his futon. White, tall socks that ended in the middle of his thighs, the camera cut off a little before Suga’s neck. Besides the socks he was wearing a large sweater - one of Daichi’s left there. It ducked into his lap, Suga’s pale hands keeping the hem tugged down. He exhaled nervously, fingers playing with the shirt until he inhaled, his back straightening and exhaled loudly, saying something softly and pulling the shirt up to his rib cage.
“Daichi,” he mumbled, hands running over his hips and thighs, settling comfortably on his crotch. This was certainly new. Thin strips of pink lace hardly covered him - something Daichi had never seen before. A noise of amazement and surprise escaped his lips, settling with the laptop on his chest, sinking onto his back. Lingering hands nervously tugging down the lingerie piece, the familiar curled hairs bringing peaceful memories to Daichi. Suga was unsure what to do; he continued to run his fingers over his stomach, hips, thighs, avoiding what needed attention. He couldn’t relax because he knew Daichi was going to watch this.
“Sorry,” Suga said, as if he could read Daichi’s mind through the screen. He let out a little laugh, taking one hand and lifting it to his face, out of camera view. When he began to touch himself his shoulders hunched forward, his hand covering his eyes to hide his embarrassment of Daichi’s observance. Soft, sweet and harmonic moans began to bleed through Daichi’s speakers, quickly turning the volume down when Suga got louder.
Be it as it may, it was hot. To imagine how nervous and cute Suga was to do something like this, purposely doing it to make up the awkward night between the two; a special gift directly from Suga that could match no other. His body was somewhat far from the camera, but his motions were familiar that Daichi could close his eyes and know exactly what he was doing. The steady and rough strokes, the beads of white that trickled down his fingers as his stomach quivered, dropping the shirt down, bunched around himself. The way his voice sang out blissful and shameful, self indulgent and choked cries of Daichi’s names and little swears between heavy breaths. His toes curled inside his socks, pulling them closer to himself, lifting his hips as his motions became shaking, close to climax, dropping his hand from his eyes and making direct eye contact with the camera. He didn’t break his gaze until he rode himself out, a muffled scream into his hand, spraying onto his socks, face flushed and shoulders shaking, trying to regain his breath.
“Shit,” he said, realizing he didn’t have anything to clean himself up with, eyebrows bunching, staring at his hands. “Be right back.” Scrambling to his feet he got up, his legs buckled a little as he left. Daichi couldn’t tell how long the video was, but he pressed the backwards arrow key, rewinding until Suga tugged off his underwear. There was clearly one reason Suga would do this - ‘to make him happy,’ as he put it. Needless to say it was clearly working.
Rewatching and hearing every breath and whispered moan, Daichi rubbed his hand over his clothes, feeling his length through his pajamas, sensing the involuntary twitches, his own breathing hitching in tune with his boyfriend’s. He tried his best to last as long as Suga, feeling dribbles of wetness on his palm, shifting on his bed until he had his sweat pants rolled to his mid thigh, harsh strokes reaching him closer, trying to keep himself close to match Suga. Rolling his thumb over his tip to keep from a mess, holding his breath to listen to Suga’s cry, letting out shaky groans, finishing after the other.
Head a little fuzzy from recovering from climax, Daichi heard faint rings, eyes prying open to glance at his phone, vibrating on the mattress besides him.
“Hel-”
“Daichi!” The smile on Suga’s face was contagious and warm through the phone, Daichi closing his eyes again and listening to the other. “Have you seen it yet?”
“Mmhm,” Daichi mumbled a response. A slight pause.
“Did you like it?”
“Of course!” He responded embarrassingly fast, Suga holding back a chuckle.
“Good.” Another pause, Suga inhaling. “Are you busy?”
“Not reall-”
“Great! Wanna come over?”
“Right now?” Huffing out breath as if saying of course right now, Suga shifted with the phone. “I still have work to do.”
“I still have those panties on.”
“Damn, you win. Give me a bit.” Shuffling to collect himself but not hanging up, they listened to each other breathe for a while before Daichi left his house, locking the door and starting out in the night breeze. “I hope you know I have a bruise in my side.”
“I’ll kiss it and make it better.”
“Good,” Daichi scoffed, looking at the stars that freckled the sky. “Keep the socks, too.”
“Of course.”