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As all wonderful mistakes do, it begins with a dumb kissing game at the obligatory post-tournament house party.
Members from different high school volleyball clubs decided it would be a good idea to just have a party at Bokuto’s massive empty country house. The vacation home got transformed into a frat party within an hour, with snacks and plastic cups scattered through the whole place. Music blasted from bluetooth speakers scattered about. The party goes an hour and a half before the prime events begin. What else would a couple dozen high school boys do at a party after spending a week doing nothing but rigorous training and matches?
Make up shitty party games, since the classics are never good enough.
The name of the game is “Lady Luck’s Game.” The setup is simple enough once things start that it won’t frustrate anyone into refusing to play and it doesn’t confuse the simpletons too much.
The group of 24 is split evenly into two separate rooms. Both have a basket with a lid, holding slips of paper with the names of the people in their group written on them. One person in each group gets selected at the beginning of the game to hold a walkie-talkie and they are the only ones to hold it the whole time so it won’t get lost between hands. Each round, the basket is passed clockwise and shaken up, then a name is pulled without looking. A blindfold is put on the person so they can be led to a room far enough away from the groups that nothing could be easily heard. Group A guides their person to the room first; once the guide returns, the person with the walkie-talkie gives the okay to send the guide from Group B.
The point of the game is for no one to know the identity of the other group’s person, including the ones that are put together. The room is completely dark and the goal is to go as long as possible in the 15-minute time set without revealing your identity to the other person. Silent signals are established at the beginning of the game for what’s okay as far as touching, kissing, and further; if they don’t want to do anything like that; as well as “all good?”, “pause”, and “stop”. The door is unlocked the entire time in case someone wants to leave and be done before the time is up. After the timer goes off, someone comes to get the couple and their identities are revealed, if they haven’t been already.
In general, the game is a lot of fun and sparks a lot of teasing, laughter, and gossip. The groups get split up at random. Nothing should inherently go wrong.
Except, no one thought about the twins being separated.
And no one thought of the small possibility of them getting pushed into the room together with literally no one knowing what’s actually going on. It’s not like the twins were going to recognize each other right away when they’re both trying to stick to the point of not revealing who they are.
So, Lady Luck decides it’s a great time to have some more spicy fun than She’s been having so far.
Atsumu gets shoved into the room, and he almost turns to bitch at his guide, but he knows his partner could be near. And sure enough, the door opens not long after and shuts just as quickly. As soon as the door clicks and they’re told the timer has started, they both give the okay to make out and whatever else they want to do. They jump in without a second thought.
And it’s made clear from the start that the two are enjoying each others’ company as Atsumu pins his partner to the wall and the atmosphere drifts with building intensity. He leaves heated kisses, making them unpredictable for the fun factor. When he nips at his partner’s tongue, hands grab at his hips and scratch lightly at his lower back.
Taking it as encouragement, Atsumu starts making his way down the boy’s neck. He takes note of the way his partner twitches when he breathes against the spot just under his pulse. With a sharp grin, he runs his tongue lightly over the area.
When he hears a soft, high whimper, Atsumu turns cold. Manicured nails dig into his hips. And he can tell the boy is about to ask if he’s alright, but he can’t help but cut him off by sinking his sharp teeth into that same spot.
A gasp, then a deeper, whiny moan.
Atsumu’s grip tightens on his partner’s waist, enough that he gets a confused, startled grunt. He releases the skin as his brain short circuits.
“Samu.”
It’s not a question at all. It’s a breathless, firm statement of truth. Osamu jolts in Atsumu’s hands.
“Tsumu.”
Atsumu’s entire world shatters and rebuilds itself in less than two seconds.
Still, even with this revelation, the twins don’t let go of each other. They’re both silent, so stiff they could practically be statues, waiting for the other to give any kind of cue for what comes next. The fear and hesitance in the new air around them is the most noticeable thing.
But, there’s an underlying terrifying curiosity mixed in to create a looming dangerous tornado.
One second passes. Two. Three. Four.
Finally, Atsumu moves. It’s a tiny, stuttered brush of his nose over the bite mark. If Osamu wasn’t paying attention, he wouldn’t have even noticed. But, he was very much paying attention. And there’s no denying the choked hitch in his breath as he squeezes Atsumu’s hips ever so slightly.
“We,” Osamu hesitates in his murmur. “We shouldn’t…”
It’s weak. It’s upset for all the entirely wrong reasons. It’s disappointed and pouty in a way future Osamu will deny to his grave when Aran asks what happened to trigger the shift in their relationship.
Atsumu was never one for hesitation, and he’s not about to let his baby brother feel a mirrored ache in his chest. So, he brushes his nose over a spot closer to his throat, further from that sensitive, fresh hickey. It’s much more pronounced, more intentional with small circles rubbed on Osamu’s sides.
“I know.” Atsumu matches the quiet for once, fearful of breaking the delicate atmosphere in a way that could ruin everything.
Buried desperation claws closer and closer to the surface as the tense beats drag on. They both know twin telepathy isn’t a real thing, just as much as they know their twin like the palm of their hand.
So, it’s only natural that they move at the same time.
Lips crash together in the most oddly gentle way possible. Though, it quickly grows with intensity once again as Atsumu’s thigh brushes against his brother’s half-hard dick.
Osamu can’t be blamed for the way his hips give a weak buck for more friction, nor the way he huffs when he can’t find that pleasure. He starts trailing heavy kisses and nips along his brother’s jaw, getting dizzy with the scent of strawberries and lime.
“Fuck, this is so wrong, holy shit,” Osamu whimpers as that thigh finally settles between his legs.
“Just don’t think about it, idiot.”
Osamu retaliates with a bite and harsh suck on the base of his asshat brother’s neck. “Shut the hell up. Don’t tell what to do, fuck-nuts.”
Osamu is nowhere near prepared for the way his head is wrenched back by a fist in his hair. Even less prepared for the high keen that slips out when a low rumble sends tingles through his ear straight down to his dick.
“Oh, don’t gimme that. You like getting ordered around. Love being an obedient little bitch.”
The statement is proven true by Atsumu growling “hump” and Osamu following the command without hesitation. A moan falls out so loudly that if he were in a more clear headspace, Osamu would worry that the others heard. An amused, satisfied chuckle easily covers the thought.
A soft cinnamon tongue muffles the whines and moans as Osamu moves his hands to latch onto the sides of Atsumu’s neck. His nails drag over the skin, earning a pleased grunt. Repeating it gets a soft pant against his lips. Those sharp teeth disappear and reappear on his neck again, heavy and painful in the best way as they scrap over the underside of his jaw.
They latch onto a spot that draws out a little whimper, harsh sucks and nips soothed with brushes of a hot tongue. With just a little shift upwards, Osamu’s chest arches out and the slow dragging of his hips kicks up.
“Please!” Osamu can’t help his flowing moans. “More, want more, Tsumu. Please please mo–!”
Two rough fingers shut him up, a firm hand coming up to push Osamu’s chest back down. His back hits the wall with a light thud. Calloused fingertips graze the back of his throat and trigger his gag reflex with the startle. They pull away just enough to him from choking but still keep him muffled and occupied.
However, that occupancy only lasts a good couple minutes before Osamu starts squirming and shaking his head. Atsumu immediately makes a concerned noise.
But, Osamu soothes his worries by insisting, “‘ith, ‘ith” around his fingers.
Atsumu is confused for a brief moment before he registers what his twin is begging for. He chuckles and pulls back his fingers to replace them with a demanding kiss. Osamu has no complaints as he tries to keep up with the pace.
After a moment, Atsumu notices that Osamu is starting to slow the kiss, his grip on Atsumu loosening and his hips calming back down to a lazy grind.
There’s a specific note of new affection in the fresh pace; one that Atsumu can’t help but return in honesty.
Osamu lets out a soft, pleased sigh as Atsumu’s hand drifts down over his brother’s heart.
When they break apart for air, they don’t go more than a few centimeters. Close enough that Atsumu can still feel the brush of the boy’s lips when he whispers to him.
“Want you, Tsumu.”
And Atsumu is more surprised at the fact he isn’t surprised at all about the true meaning of those three words. He isn’t surprised about the way his heart clenches and speeds up just like his twin’s as he rubs his nose lightly against Atsumu’s.
What surprises him the most though, is the door being thrown open, revealing a grinning Suna.
The twins panic immediately, especially when they notice the phone pointed at them and how their friend’s grin dropped into pure shock. Osamu is so stiff he isn’t even breathing. Atsumu can feel the way Osamu’s entire body practically vibrates as he blanches. Osamu’s most glaring sign of an impending anxiety attack is when his bottom lip starts to wobble just the tiniest bit.
Atsumu’s priorities quickly switch around as he uses the hand not over an unsteady heart to pull his brother’s face into his neck. He moves to block as much of Osamu as possible without having to move the boy’s body. An iron grip latches onto Atsumu’s chest.
“It’s okay, Samu. It’s gonna be okay,” he murmurs. All feelings of screeching panic are turned down as he focuses on the growing emergency in his arms. He moves his arm from around the boy’s chest to around his shoulders, blocking out cruel Lady Luck from seeing his Osamu. Gentle fingers tug lightly on Osamu’s hair, over and over to provide a steady pressure pattern.
When Atsumu sees a change in shadows, he lets out an actual growl to keep the intruding threat away. The shadow stops moving, and Atsumu looks over.
Some of that flashing rage is tamed by the rare open honesty written all over Suna’s anxious, worried face. The phone is missing and Suna keeps his hands in plain view.
“I’m not going to tell anyone. I swear to god, I won’t tell anyone.”
Atsumu narrows his eyes at his friend’s quiet attempts at assurance.
So, Suna says, “Atsumu, I am not going to breathe a word of this. I promise.”
An important thing to know about Suna Rintarou is that he’s a man of very few promises. He’s also a man who follows through on every single promise, never offering something he’s not sure he can follow through with.
Atsumu has no choice but to put his faith and his life in his friend’s word. Still, his hold on Osamu tightens. Suspicion and chilling fear still color his entire body.
An important thing to know about the Miya twins is that Osamu is always the one to be able to read almost anybody. He’s the one who Atsumu silently relies on to help him choose who’s safe to have close. While Atsumu is slow to trust and forgive, Osamu will make the immediate choice that seems absurd to Atsumu but is the right choice majority of the time.
Atsumu has no choice but to trust his brother when he peaks out and stares wide-eyed at Suna, hiccuping, “Promi-ise.”
“Osamu, I promise on everything I love that you two can trust me.”
And though Osamu still takes a moment to look their friend over, he ends up giving a small nod. Atsumu grimaces but doesn’t say anything as the anxiety attack will no doubt start cooling down in a matter of moments.
Suna’s quiet, deep in thought for a few seconds before nodding to himself. “You two need to go home.” Before any objections can be made, he looks Atsumu dead in the eyes. “Go. Home. I have a plan to cover for you two.”
And so, the three clear the room. Suna walks with Osamu, a snicker falling out as they make it back to their group and they all go into a commotion about how marked-up Osamu is.
Another round passes before Atsumu bursts into the room, a loud complaint about a killer headache delivered perfectly. An improvised argument starts up when Osamu teasingly accuses Atsumu of getting rejected by his secret crush. Atsumu tries to use his hickeys as evidence that it’s not true, but Suna points out that it’s easily possible they came from a previous round. Atsumu goes red and snaps at them both before storming off to the front door. Osamu rolls his eyes and shouts at him to quit acting all huffy when Osamu can easily make him walk the ten-minute drive home.
When they finally get in the car, no words are spoken. Atsumu puts the keys in the ignition; Osamu’s anxiety playlist is put on; the mood adds to the headlights as they pull out of the driveway.
A minute into the drive, one of Atsumu’s hands moves to take Osamu’s hand, fingers threading together with a firm squeeze and little rubbed circles.