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Class had ended earlier than anticipated, leaving you with roughly an hour of free time. The local cafe had been your first stop, grabbing drinks for Kuroo and yourself in addition to Kenma, albeit begrudgingly. It annoyed you to think about how you had remembered his order, an oatmilk latte loaded with any sort of sweet syrup. It annoyed you even more to think about how forgettable Kuroo’s order was— an iced americano with a splash of caramel— or was it just an iced coffee?
A quick text to Kuroo was enough to confirm that it was in fact an iced coffee with a splash of sweet cream. When he replied with Kenma’s order in addition, you assured him that you already knew his order. A mistake on your part it would seem, as you could almost see his smirk as you read his teasing texts. You pocketed your phone with a frown and warm cheeks as you stepped up to order.
The air was cold and biting as you walked against the wind, tray of drinks clutched close to your body in fear of spilling almost twenty dollars worth of drinks. Luckily enough, the cafe was located closer to your apartment than it was to the university, so the final hurdle was bearable.
The warmth of the building greeted you with a generous hug, snuggling you all the way to the elevator and up. You made brief small talk with the elderly woman who lived downstairs, though it made you wished you had just taken the stairs when she started to talk about Kuroo once again.
“That boy is just so handsome,” she cooed, clutching her cheek like he was a sweet candy leaving a twinge in her mouth. “If I were younger I would’ve snatched him up the moment he moved in.”
An impossible reality, honestly. Kuroo had yet to settle down since entering college, claiming that his heart was too big for one person to handle. Luckily enough, all of his friends with benefits and flings were enjoyable enough to be around— not so much for Kenma. You smirked a little at the thought.
“Ah, unless you’re finally dating him?” The grandma turned towards you with eager eyes. “Though all of us older ladies were sure that you were dating that young man with long hair… Kenta was it?”
“Kenma,” you corrected before you could think. You shook your head, almost laughing in the grandma’s face. “He and I aren’t dating, far from, really.”
“Oh really? You two always seemed so close so we really didn’t think otherwise.” She shrugged, tucking her laundry basket under her arm as the two of you approached your floors.
“Close?” You nearly sputtered. Every waking moment around Kenma was spent bickering and arguing, or in tense silence if Kuroo wasn’t around. You had no idea what you had done to give the grandmas in this building the impression that you were in a relationship with Kenma.
The elevator chimed and the grandma pulled herself from the wall, waving bye to you. “Tell Kuroo I said hi, and to come to me if he needs anything.”
“Just him, huh?” You muttered to yourself as the elevator brought you up to your floor. Truly, you couldn’t believe that anyone would perceive you and Kenma as a couple. Perhaps a toxic, loveless one, maybe, but not a true romantic couple with enough affection to show it. Kuroo’s flings had more love between them compared to you and Kenma.
You had been introduced to Kenma through Kuroo when the three of you were still in junior high. From the moment Kuroo familiarized the two of you, Kenma made it clear that he didn’t like you. He was calloused, rude, and unresponsive to any and all of your advancements. You weren’t used to having to take the initiative, and so being shot down outside of your comfort zone numerous times eventually turned you off completely. You began to return Kenma’s cold demeanor towards him, which only served to infuriate him and amuse Kuroo.
The only reason why the two of you ended up sticking together for so long was because of Kuroo, whom the two of you seemingly cherished very much. Unfortunately though, that meant that you’d be stuck with Kenma at least until the end of Kuroo’s senior year, or whenever he moved out.
You groaned internally at the thought, unlocking and pushing into the warm embrace of your apartment. You toed off your shoes, noting that Kuroo’s worn pair of black sneakers were absent. Though Kenma’s pristine, white sneaks were very much present despite your cursing.
You moved further into the apartment, not bothering to announce your arrival since it was just Kenma who was home. You shrugged your jacket off and hung it up on the rack along with your keys, moving to the kitchen to set the drinks down on the counter. Your drink was a little sweeter than you were used to, but it didn’t bother you all that much.
You tugged your phone out of your back pocket and shot a quick text to Kuroo, his prompt reply letting you know that he was meeting up with a friend of his.
Great, you thought, I’ll be alone with the fussy cat for a few hours.
At the thought of said fussy cat, you sighed and picked up Kenma’s drink, deciding to just bite the bullet. You paced towards Kenma’s room, the one just across from yours and to the left of Kuroo’s. You knew how annoying it was when Kuroo would just burst into your room without warning, and it seemed Kenma did too considering that he at least took the time to knock on your door. On the rare occasion that he needed to knock on your door, of course.
Just as you lifted your hand to rasp on his door, a strange sound made you pause. A cry of sorts, a sound that you had never heard him make. The first conclusion that came to mind was that Kenma had someone over while he thought the apartment was empty, but you hadn’t seen any extra shoes at the entrance. The sound was so foreign to you that you were almost sure it wasn’t him.
A stuttered curse however, negated your previous conclusion. That voice was indeed Kenma— and there was no one else here.
Kenma was playing with himself.
You held your breath, heart thudding in your chest. It was wrong of you to just stand outside of his door and listen to him pleasure himself, but the noises that he was making were so sweet and foreign to you, so much so that you couldn’t help but want to listen to them.
You tried your best to quiet yourself, listening close to the wet, slick sounds he was making. A sudden whimper caused your heart to lurch.
“Fuh- fuck!” Kenma cried, mumbling sweet nothings. “So goodd… you feel so fucking good for me.”
‘You?’ Kenma was thinking of someone.
“Ngh— uh!” His cries were loud and shameless, unabashed in the false safety of being alone.
A dull throb warmed between your thighs, pressing your legs together as you stared at the white door in front of you. What are you doing? You absolutely hate Kenma, don’t you?
Even if you hate Kenma, hate his attitude and the way he gets to you every time, you don't hate the sounds that he makes while he touches himself.
Your face warmed like an oven as a dark thought crawled from the depths of your consciousness.
I wonder if his face looks as pretty as he sounds?
There was no denying that Kenma was attractive. His body was lithe and toned from years of volleyball, his face sharp and pretty like a cats, and it didn’t help that you typically went after guys with long hair. Your intense dislike for Kenma hadn’t ever allowed you to perceive Kenma as sexually attractive, but your body was reacting rather strong just towards his voice.
Is it really that bad if he doesn’t know? That little voice tried to reason, urging your hand towards the handle. I’m sure he’s heard you masturbate before right? What’s a little peak?
Your hand was on the handle before you could reason otherwise, firmly and quietly twisting the knob with baited breath. When the latch released without so much as a click, you let out a breath. The door was compliant as you slowly cracked it open, hinges silent for once.
The image laid before you stole any breath away from you that you had previously.
There, in the middle of his bed, Kenma sat with his pants pulled down to mid thigh. The rings on his left hand caught the light and gleamed as he dragged it up and down his arousal, squeezing around the pale pink tip. Precome dripped over his knuckles and painted his rings clear. The wet, slicking sounds were embarrassingly loud now that you’d opened the door.
You hadn’t even had a chance to look at his face just yet, so entranced by the way he worked his hand up and down his cock. Kenma had big hands, bigger than yours, with long fingers and pronounced, red knuckles. At one time, you thought that they must’ve served him well with his serves, but now you thought that his hands were truly suited for handling his arousal. He seemed rather large, larger than it had any right to be considering his slighter frame and shorter height. His fingers nearly failed to close around the girth fully, closing tightly around the bulbous pink tip that seemed to flush even more pink than it was a few seconds ago.
His shaft was long and rigid, with a particularly tempting vein curving around the side to run underneath. The length allowed him to glide with rhythm and a certain slowness that almost made you feel like he was teasing you.
His pale fingers squeezed around his tip, ripping a deep moan from his throat. It was enough to divert your attention and draw your eyes up to his face.
Your heart nearly fell out of your ass.
There was his right hand in all of its glory, clutching a pair of panties to Kenma’s face. Kenma’s eyes were closed, head tossed back in clear pleasure, luckily for you. He was drooling, you noticed, as he took a heady inhale of the fabric bunched against his nose.
He moaned and murmured drunken curses, speaking incoherently at times— lost in his fantasy you could only assume. When Kenma unbunched the fabric a bit, you felt heat course all over and throughout your body.
Clutched up against Kenma’s face was the pair of panties that you had changed out of just this morning, laid atop your laundry basket in your room. Or so you had thought.
You snapped out of your stark realization when Kenma whimpered low, followed by the quiet cry of your name. His release came quickly, painting his lower abdomen and then fingers once he clenched his hand over the tip tightly, crying out as he came. Your name was laid bare amongst his broken cries, lost amongst his curses and moans.
Kenma’s chest heaved as he gasped for air, low groans escaping his throat as he came down from his high. Realizing that the show was now over, you quickly steeled yourself and slowly closed the door once again, so as to not attract Kenma’s attention. Though you doubted he’d notice anything in his drunken state.
You stepped back from the door and paced back towards the entrance with light feet, placing his latte back in the coffee tray. You picked up your jacket and keys quietly before approaching the door and opening it. You then slammed it rather loudly, so much so that you were sure you’d get a complaint from the grandma below you.
You made a show of putting your jacket on the coat rack as well as loudly tossing your keys back onto its hook. You then stomped into the kitchen where you took a sip of your drink once again, really wondering if your act was promising enough.
Hopefully it was enough to give Kenma a scare and get him to pull himself together.
You pulled Kenma’s latte from the tray once again, loudly marching towards his door and rasping on it loudly. “Kenma, I got you a drink.” You hoped that your tone sounded flat enough, how it would’ve sounded if you hadn’t caught him in the first place.
A few seconds of shuffling was followed by a red faced Kenma, his furrowed brows greeting you with familiarity. “I thought you had class till two.”
“Professor had an appointment.” You pushed his drink towards him. “Take the drink, I’m sick of staring at your face.”
That line would’ve been true five minutes ago.
“Like you’re such a beauty,” he sneered, snatching the drink from your hands. “Is this—“
“An oatmilk latte with whatever seasonal flavor is out? Yeah, check the label.” You said rather indignantly over your shoulder as you headed back to the kitchen to retrieve your drink.
“Whatever.” Followed by a prompt slam of the door.
You’re not sure how you had never noticed it before when talking to him, but his pupils dilated just like a cats when he looked at you. His flushed cheeks got even redder after seeing you, which you could only assume to be a result of him having just fantasized about you.
Suddenly, you no longer found yourself hating his attitude. It was rather cute, you couldn’t help but think. His repressed feelings lead him to deflect by being mean towards you, like a little kid. You began to wonder if you could catch him once again.
:p