NSFW SakuAtsu Atsumu bends over Kiyoomi to help him stretch but Kiyoomi can do a full front split easily so Atsumu's crotch lands directly on Kiyoomi's crotch and.. Jerseys and compression shorts are thin as hell so... "Are you hard?" Atsumu gasps. "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"
Kiyoomi frantically, furiously whispers because, as usual, they're amongst the last ones lingering around to go through their thorough stretching routine but Shouyo isn't far, Inunaki too... "Wait—Miya are you..." Atsumu is not going to blush, okay? It's just some natural
reaction. Pure science. A guy is hard and rubbing against another guy, sue him, and what if— "Get off me!" Kiyoomi hisses, leg still pressed against his own chest, Miya hovering above him and holding his calf. "No, I can't, I really ca—" "Move, Miya." "I swear ya don't want
me to m—Sho-kun! We're almost done, don't wait on us!" Kiyoomi wants to die. Twice. First from Shouyo's appearance. Then from the fact his boner isn't even dying from said appearance. He wants to sink through the gymnasium floor right now. "You're sure? I can help—"
"We're GOOD!" No one ever barks at Hinata Sunshine Shouyo, yet here they are, stopping the man in his tracks with their full chests. Atsumu will feel guilty about these huge round eyes later, for now he forces a smile that's as straining as the stupid tight boxers he's wearing.
The collateral damages are, in the end, far less worse than they could have been. Shouyo retreats, breaking eye contact immediately — thank god, and he's somehow inspired enough to drag their libero along with him. The double doors leading out of the gym close in a loud
echoing bang. And in all this time, they. haven't. moved. Now that they're alone, though, it's another story. Kiyoomi pushes Atsumu back at Mach speed. That's not counting on the fact that the setter would cling onto his calf by reflex to avoid falling backward on his ass.
Kiyoomi wants to die a third fucking time when his ass lands on Atsumu's chest with the momentum, and he's propelled forward, stopping the fall with his hands. Now he's not just hard, he's hard right in Atsumu's face. The setter is oddly silent under him, frozen in place.
"Can ya—would ya—Not that /I/ would mind but maybe not right in the middle of the gym, Omi-kun!" Atsumu eventually stammers. And if Kiyoomi was about to move, indeed, past the shock, he's paralyzed once again. Not that he would mind? "Omi?" "Fuck! Miya, fuck!" Kiyoomi curses
as he finally pushes himself off the setter's body. He doesn't go far, rolling on his back next to Atsumu, a hand covering his face that still has the audacity to get crimson — a wonder how there's still blood to color his cheeks when his dick is draining it all, really!
"Yer okay?" "/No/! I need a minute!" Kiyoomi snaps. Instead of a full sixty seconds, like he's asked, a mere dozen pass, before Atsumu runs his mouth again: "Nah, I think ya need a /hand/." Kiyoomi can't believe what he's hearing so he uncovers his face to stare. "And like I
said, I wouldn't mind." Atsumu isn't staring back at him, he's staring back at Kiyoomi's dick. Which throbs in his constricting underwear. Kiyoomi's throat runs dry. Somehow, he knows, he feels that he doesn't have to ask if Atsumu is serious. He knows him all too well.
He props himself up on his elbows, knowing he must look like the human version of grumpy cat when he glares at the setter but he doesn't care. "Will the middle of the showers do?" he asks without any detour. Atsumu's eyes trail back to his face, mouth curling into a sly grin.
Make it a fourth time. Kiyoomi wants to die a fourth time. Atsumu pretends to think about, it's all so fake and dramatic, now Kiyoomi wants to end him instead. Still, as he waits for the reply and to avoid that deadly smirk, he looks down. Not the only one who needs a hand.
"Can it be something else than my hand?" the setter eventually asks. Kiyoomi's eyes are back on him in a flash, his lips parting from the shock and the definitely not subtle innuendo. "You're seriously asking me if I'm willing to do this while you can't run your mouth?"
Kiyoomi moves to get on his feet. Atsumu's hand reaches out to grab him by the wrist and hold him back a little longer. His grin is downright evil. "Oh I think yer gonna let me run my mouth plenty, Omi-kun." Kiyoomi pulls on the arm Atsumu is holding back to drag the other man
up. He uses the same grip to pull the setter into him, bringing them face to face. Their noses brush, Kiyoomi squints. "You go first and use that stupid mouth to find an excuse to clear the way, Miya." "Shou-kun is gonna get suspicious," Atsumu teases. Kiyoomi grabs the
setter's other hand and guides it toward his hard-on, taking a sharp breath when Atsumu palms him through his shorts. "/He/ doesn't need a hand so you better start thinking about a solid play." The setter takes his hands back, raising them innocently. "Be there in five, Omi."
"Make it three!" Kiyoomi calls after Atsumu as the setter walks away, shamelessly adjusting himself in his shorts. He looks back over his shoulder, devastatingly flirty when he just comments: "Greedy." Make it a fifth. Kiyoomi wants to die a fifth time. /the end hehe ♥
