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the first time kiyoomi brings atsumu home, they’re drunk and frantic and it’s hot. it’s too hot.
liquid fire courses through atsumu’s veins in more ways than one. the alcohol is doing things to his mind — sakusa kiyoomi’s doing things to his mind. and his groin.
but there’s something weighing harder on atsumu than expected. when kiyoomi slams him against the back of atsumu’s apartment door and slides their lips together, without even turning on the lights, his mind is occupied by something else.
“if i’m gonna be with anyone, it’ll just be for sex. i don’t have time for a relationship right now.”
kiyoomi said that three weeks ago, and fuck, if it’s the only thing atsumu can think of right now.
“fuck, you’re so hot.” kiyoomi groans between aggressive kisses. he catches atsumu’s bottom lip with his teeth and tugs lightly, and atsumu moans in return.
he really wishes he could fully enjoy this. maybe he’ll have to be satisfied with having just a little bit of sakusa kiyoomi.
kiyoomi snakes a hand under atsumu’s waistband, and atsumu claws at the back of his shirt desperately.
“off, take the damn thing off-“
but he wants. he wants so bad.
kiyoomi chuckles darkly and does as he’s told, moving in to connect their lips again, bare chest pressing against atsumu’s button up.
he reaches an arm down to lift atsumu’s thigh, pressing it with his strong hands, just to grind against atsumu even closer. atsumu lets out an involuntary groan, and kiyoomi honest to god smirks.
he moves down to attack atsumu’s neck, sucking and nibbling at whatever skin he can find, running his lips over atsumu’s adam apple and pressing a soft kiss to it. all atsumu can do is hold on for dear life and enjoy how good everything feels. how good kiyoomi feels.
from the corner of his eye, he sees kiyoomi pat down the pocket of his slacks, like he’s looking for something.
before he can think about it even more, kiyoomi pulls his shirt off, and suddenly he has something else to worry about.
“always knew you were gorgeous, baby.” kiyoomi says like a triumphant sigh. atsumu blushes hotly. it’s one thing to know you’re hot, but it’s another thing to have ab lord, pecs champion kiyoomi tell you you’re hot. it’s an ego boost if anything.
but right now, all it does is make atsumu blush down all the way to his neck.
did he say this to the last guy he brought home?
“miya?” kiyoomi gives him a quick kiss, eyes sparkling in the street light from a nearby window. it makes it so much more intimate, so much worse.
“do you want this?”
the answer should be simple. it should be a yes. a quick, breathy, yes take me please you’re all i’ve ever wanted-
this may break him. if kiyoomi leaves tomorrow morning before he wakes up, and they just nod at each other at training, not a single indication of how much they’ve touched and kissed and felt tonight, atsumu may just break.
but he can’t shake the feeling that this’ll be the only way kiyoomi’ll ever want him.
“yeah. let’s do it.”
kiyoomi genuinely lights up when he replies, so bright atsumu can see it, even though the street lights are the only thing illuminating them now.
he drags atsumu towards the hallway, but then realises he’s never been here before, and sheepishly asks atsumu where his room is.
he’s such a dork. atsumu wants to bring him to museums and shit.
he guides kiyoomi to his room and pushes him onto the bed, sliding their lips together once again. his tongue enters kiyoomi’s mouth with newfound motivation, exploring the cavern.
kiyoomi’s groaning like it’s the best thing he’s ever felt. it’s doing things to atsumu’s brain.
it better be so good, it ruins kiyoomi for anyone else.
his hands are sliding over atsumu’s waist, his hips, his back, and then he’s flipped over. kiyoomi straddles him with his thick thighs, and presses a hand to atsumu’s chest, pushing him towards the bed.
“be a good boy for me.”
only for you. no one else.
then kiyoomi reached into his pocket to pull out a small packet. a condom.
suddenly, reality hits atsumu like a fucking truck.
that means kiyoomi went out today looking for someone to bring home. that means, that means —
it means atsumu could’ve been anyone at that god forsaken bar.
his eyes begin to burn. he can’t do this, he can’t do this with kiyoomi. he can’t do it and have it be “just sex”.
kiyoomi reaches to unzip his slacks, but stops midway.
“miya? miya.” he cups atsumu’s cheek with one hand, and atsumu feels him wipe a tear away. “fuck, what’s wrong?”
this is the worst thing that could’ve possibly happened. what kind of loser cries during sex?
“shit. did i hurt you?” kiyoomi eyes flash with concern, and a tinge of dread. but maybe it’s just the streetlights.
“no, no i just-“ atsumu tries to come up with a logical explanation, but he comes up empty. “i can’t do this.”
“okay, i’m sorry. let’s st-“
“i can’t just fuck you.”
kiyoomi startles. “what?”
the floodgates open now. atsumu presses his palms to his eyes, and it feels like all of the past three weeks’ previous feelings begins to spill. right infront of the one person who it shouldn’t.
“i can’t do this and just be a fuck buddy! i want to take you to a museum and make out in the bathroom! i wanna bring you to this really good udon place! i want you to be the first thing i see when i wake up tomorrow.” he wails.
a beat passes. kiyoomi doesn’t respond, and deep down, atsumu realised he’s fucked up. he’s fucked up real bad.
this is the worst possible way to get rejected. half naked, in his bed with the love of his life, sobbing his eyes out.
before he can detach his hands from his face to make a deviating joke, kiyoomi whispers, and atsumu feels it like a slap to the face.
“you like me?”
atsumu laughs, mostly at himself. “fuck, yeah. sorry i guess.”
“no, wait, atsumu-“
at the use of his first name, atsumu catches kiyoomi’s eyes for the first time and oh.
the dude is as red as a tomato.
“you actually like me? like actually? genuinely?”
“please stop, i just told you all about my date plans.”
“oh thank fuck.” kiyoomi flops his head onto atsumu’s shoulder. “i was worried i wasn’t going to be able to make you blueberry pancakes.”
… what.
“what?”
kiyoomi’s ears get even redder, if it were possible. “i was going to make you pancakes tomorrow, and hopefully the mind-blowing sex and the equally mind-blowing pancakes would be enough to convince you to date me.”
atsumu’s brain stutters to a complete stop. kiyoomi groans.
“fuck. you like me? thank god. i really want to get udon with you.”
“but.” atsumu squeaks helplessly. “you said you have no time for a relationship.”
kiyoomi detaches from his shoulder with a half-hearted glare. “and who do you think changed that, you idiot?”
atsumu’s beginning to realise how stupid they both are.
“kiss me.” he whispers, like he doesn’t think this is real. it doesn’t feel real.
“fuck you. i had a whole plan and everything.” kiyoomi kisses him sweetly, wrapping his arms around atsumu’s neck. “was gonna woo you with pancakes. i learnt to bake pancakes for nothing.”
“but you can still woo me.” atsumu smiles, tears beginning to well up, for a different reason. “i still want pancakes.”
“i’ll make you pancakes if you date me.”
atsumu’s heart is about to burst, probably.
“i better get bomb-ass pancakes tomorrow, then.”
kiyoomi smiles so brightly that he’s probably brighter than the street lamps.
( kiyoomi actually makes mind-blowingly good blueberry pancakes. atsumu is successfully wooed. as if he wasn’t already. )