Work Text:
Bokuto had always been fast. Raw, untamed speed—something that made him a legend in junior categories, but also reckless. His aggressive style won him races, but it also made him a risk. Every team wanted him. No team trusted him.
Until Akaashi.
Akaashi Keiji was young for a race engineer. He didn’t have decades of experience like some of the others on the pit wall, but what he had was a sharp mind and an even sharper instinct. He’d studied under the best, analyzing strategies that no one else would dare attempt. He wasn’t just following the book—he was rewriting it.
Their first year in Formula 1 wasn’t supposed to be special. Bokuto was a rookie, signed to a midfield team that wasn’t expected to challenge for podiums. Akaashi was assigned to him because, as the team principal put it, "You're both unpredictable. Maybe you'll understand each other."
Neither of them knew what to think at first.
The first time Bokuto heard Akaashi’s voice in his earpiece during pre-season testing, he nearly spun the car.
- Bokuto, you need to save the tires in Sector 2.
Bokuto blinked.
- Wait, Akaashi? Akaashi from F2?
A pause.
- Yes.
Bokuto grinned.
- Hell yeah! I remember your calls! You made me win Monaco last year. You were the only one who said not to pit in the rain!
- Because I trusted you wouldn’t crash. Akaashi replied smoothly. I hope you don’t make me regret that in F1.
Their first race weekend was chaos. Bokuto pushed too hard in qualifying, but when the race came, Akaashi’s strategy calls were unlike anything the team had ever seen.
- Stay out, ignore the pit window. Push now, don’t listen to delta.
Bokuto followed every command, no hesitation. And somehow, impossibly, they crossed the line in P5. A midfield car fighting with the frontrunners.
As soon as he parked in parc fermé, Bokuto jumped out of the car and sprinted for the pit wall. Akaashi barely had time to take off his headset before Bokuto grabbed him by the shoulders.
- YOU’RE A GENIUS! Bokuto beamed, his forehead nearly bumping into Akaashi’s.
Akaashi huffed, trying (and failing) to hide his small smirk.
- And you’re an idiot for listening to me.
Neither of them moved for a moment. Bokuto’s hands lingered on Akaashi’s shoulders, squeezing just slightly before letting go.
That was the beginning.
*
As the season progressed, so did their reputation. Akaashi’s strategies were the boldest in the paddock. Bokuto executed them flawlessly, even when they made no sense to anyone else. Other teams started calling them reckless. Their own team sometimes hesitated before approving Akaashi’s plans.
But Bokuto never doubted him.
- You sure about this? Bokuto would ask.
- Yes.
And that was all he needed.
Off-track, their partnership was just as intense. Bokuto always sought Akaashi out during team meetings, during debriefs, during press conferences.
Akaashi never missed a lap Bokuto did, analyzing his every move, his every mistake.
They weren’t just driver and engineer. They were in sync.
Then came the rain race in Silverstone.
Akaashi made the call.
- Stay out.
Everyone else was pitting for wets. The track was a mess. Bokuto was sliding, barely keeping the car in control.
- Trust me. Akaashi said.
Bokuto gritted his teeth and stayed out. Lap after lap, he wrestled the car, fingers gripping the wheel so tightly that his gloves creased.
Then, the rain lightened. The track started drying. And suddenly, Bokuto was the fastest car on the grid.
He overtook five drivers in ten laps.
P2. Podium finish.
When he crossed the line, he didn’t just celebrate—he ran. Helmet still on, race suit drenched in sweat, he sprinted to the pit wall and grabbed Akaashi’s wrist.
- Told you! You’re the best! BEST STRATEGIST EVER!
Akaashi tried to stay composed, but Bokuto saw it—the flicker of something in his expression. The way his fingers curled just slightly before pulling away.
Neither of them acknowledged the way Bokuto’s hand stayed warm long after he let go.
*
The tension was unbearable by the time they reached the final races of the season.
Bokuto’s touches lingered—his hand on Akaashi’s shoulder during meetings, the way his fingers brushed Akaashi’s wrist when handing back a telemetry tablet. Akaashi was always watching him—his data, his movements, the way Bokuto chewed his lip when he was nervous.
Then came Abu Dhabi. The season finale.
Akaashi made the riskiest call yet.
- Bokuto. He said, voice steady. We’re going long. No one else will.
If it worked, he’d win. If it failed, he’d fall out of the points.
Bokuto’s fingers twitched on the wheel.
- You trust me? Akaashi asked.
Bokuto exhaled.
- With everything.
And that was the moment Akaashi felt it.
Not just trust. Not just respect. Something more.
The race was brutal. Bokuto’s tires were nearly gone. The entire paddock thought Akaashi had made a mistake. But in the final laps, Bokuto still had enough grip to push.
He overtook the last car on the final straight.
P1.
His first win.
The moment the race ended, Bokuto tore out of the car, skipping celebrations, skipping interviews, running straight for Akaashi. This time, there was no hesitation. He grabbed Akaashi’s wrist, then his arm, then pulled him completely into a crushing hug.
- I fucking knew it. Bokuto muttered against his shoulder. You’re always right.
Akaashi didn’t pull away.
- …You make me right. He murmured.
Bokuto laughed against him.
- Nah. You’re just brilliant.
Akaashi finally let his fingers rest against Bokuto’s back.
- And you’re ridiculous.
Neither of them moved. The cameras were flashing, the world watching, but the only thing they felt was the heat between them, the electricity in the air.
The season had ended. But for them, something else had just begun.
The first win should have been the hardest. The one where Bokuto proved himself, where the world finally acknowledged that he wasn’t just fast—he was calculated, lethal, a driver who could take any strategy and make it work.
But the hardest part came after.
Because as soon as the season ended, the adrenaline faded. The cameras turned away. And suddenly, it was just Bokuto and Akaashi in the quiet of the team’s post-season briefing room, staring at each other like they had no idea what came next.
- Well. Bokuto finally said, breaking the silence. That was insane, huh?
Akaashi exhaled slowly, fingers tapping against the edge of his tablet.
- Yes. It was.
Neither of them mentioned how tightly Bokuto had held onto him after the race. How Akaashi had barely let go.
Instead, they did what they always did—ran simulations, reviewed telemetry, prepared for the next season.
But something had changed.
The touches that once lingered now felt deliberate. Bokuto’s hand brushing Akaashi’s arm when he leaned over to look at data. Akaashi’s fingers barely grazing Bokuto’s wrist when passing him a water bottle. And Bokuto—who had always been loud, tactile, open—was suddenly aware of every single one.
He found himself watching Akaashi in ways he hadn’t before. The way his brow furrowed in concentration. The way his lips pressed together in thought. The way his voice softened—not for the team, not for the media, but only for him.
The realization hit him like a car slamming the brakes at 300 kph.
Oh.
*
Bokuto wasn’t the type to get nervous. Not before races, not before big moments. But the first time he saw Akaashi after the winter break, standing in the team garage, arms crossed, headset in place—he forgot how to breathe.
Akaashi glanced up from his data.
- You're staring.
Bokuto jolted.
- What? No, I was just—uh—checking out the new car. It looks great! So fast!
Akaashi raised an eyebrow.
- You’re looking at me.
Bokuto grinned, scratching the back of his neck.
- Well, you did design the strategy, so technically—
Akaashi sighed, turning back to his screen.
- Get in the car, Bokuto.
This is bad, Bokuto thought, climbing into the cockpit.
And by bad, he meant really bad, because suddenly it wasn’t just about racing anymore. It wasn’t just about strategy.
It was about the way his stomach flipped whenever Akaashi spoke in his earpiece.
- Sector 2 is your strong point—use it to close the gap.
It was about the way Akaashi said his name—not just Bokuto, but Koutarou, in moments where it mattered.
- Koutarou, trust me on this.
It was about the way they understood each other without speaking, the way their bond was built on more than just trust.
And maybe it had always been there. Maybe Bokuto had just been too distracted by the speed, the competition, the need to win.
But now?
Now, it was the only thing he could think about.
*
By the time the season started, the entire paddock knew that Akaashi and Bokuto were something different.
Their strategies were riskier than ever. The way they communicated—sharp, efficient, but somehow intimate—was impossible to ignore. And when Bokuto won his second race in Bahrain, he didn’t even think before running to Akaashi. The cameras were watching. The team was cheering. But the only thing that mattered was the way Bokuto grabbed Akaashi’s arm, tugged him closer, his forehead nearly touching Akaashi’s.
- You knew this would work. Bokuto breathed, his pulse racing.
Akaashi swallowed, just barely. His fingers curled against Bokuto’s sleeve.
- I always know.
And for the first time, there was no denying it.
Not the way Bokuto’s hands lingered.
Not the way Akaashi’s breath hitched.
Not the way the tension between them had stopped being just about racing.
The cameras caught it all—the way they looked at each other, the way Bokuto’s thumb traced against Akaashi’s wrist before pulling away. And maybe, just maybe, the whole world knew before they did.
The moment lingered longer than it should have.
Bokuto's thumb had barely grazed Akaashi’s wrist before he pulled away, but the warmth stayed long after. And Akaashi—composed, unreadable Akaashi—had let his fingers curl just slightly before stepping back.
The cameras were on them. The team was watching. So they pretended nothing had changed.
They didn’t talk about it. Not after Bahrain. Not during the next race. Not during the long flights between circuits.
But something was different.
Bokuto caught himself staring too much. Akaashi looked away too quickly. The tension that had always simmered between them now felt like something else—something unspoken, something waiting.
It was after the Monaco Grand Prix, late at night, when Bokuto finally snapped.
They were in Akaashi’s apartment—one of those sleek, minimalist places that looked untouched except for the perfectly stacked books and a single, half-finished coffee on the table.
Bokuto had been here before. After late-night strategy meetings, after races that drained them both. But tonight, something was different.
Akaashi was making tea, standing by the counter in a t-shirt and sweatpants, looking so different from his usual composed self, and Bokuto—who had spent the entire day running on adrenaline—suddenly couldn’t stop watching him.
And then it happened.
Akaashi turned, caught Bokuto staring, and—blushed.
Not just a flicker of red. A full blush, spreading across his cheeks, down his neck.
Bokuto's brain short-circuited.
- …Oh my God. He muttered.
Akaashi narrowed his eyes.
- What?
Bokuto pointed at him, still half in shock.
- You—wait—you like me.
Silence.
Akaashi didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.
Then, very quietly:
- What kind of ridiculous conclusion is that?
Bokuto grinned, leaning forward, voice dropping.
- You’re blushing.
- It’s warm. Akaashi lied.
Bokuto laughed.
- No, it’s not.
Akaashi exhaled through his nose, clearly debating whether to just kick Bokuto out of his apartment. But Bokuto had seen it—the slight shift in his posture, the way his fingers curled around his mug just a bit too tightly.
Bokuto softened.
- Akaashi.
Akaashi closed his eyes for a brief moment, then set his tea down with a quiet clink. When he finally looked at Bokuto, it was different—no evasion, no deflection. Just quiet, undeniable honesty.
- …Yes.
Bokuto blinked.
- Yes?
Akaashi exhaled, almost like he was annoyed.
- Yes. I like you.
Bokuto swore his heart did a full 360 inside his chest.
For once in his life, he was speechless.
Akaashi tilted his head, studying him.
- You look surprised.
Bokuto snapped out of it.
- Well, yeah! You’re— He gestured wildly. You! And I thought maybe, but you never said anything, and you always just—look at me like that, and I didn’t wanna assume, but then you blushed—
Akaashi sighed.
- Bokuto.
- Yeah?
Akaashi looked at him, and this time, he didn’t look away.
- Are you going to kiss me, or are you going to keep panicking?
Bokuto stopped breathing.
- Oh. He said faintly. Okay.
And then he did.
It wasn’t fast, wasn’t rushed. Just a slow, quiet thing—Bokuto leaning in, Akaashi meeting him halfway. A hand on a jaw, a breath between them, the warmth of something inevitable finally settling into place.
When they pulled apart, Bokuto was grinning.
- Told you. Always the best plans.
Akaashi huffed a quiet laugh.
- Shut up.
Bokuto kissed him again.
Bokuto had never been patient. On the track, he pushed limits, threw the car into corners at speeds that made the engineers sweat. Off the track, he was the same—impulsive, all or nothing.
But when it came to this, to Akaashi, he found himself holding back.
Because the moment Akaashi kissed him back, something inside him clicked. This wasn’t just adrenaline, wasn’t just the high of winning. This was real. And if Bokuto was good at anything, it was trusting his instincts.
Akaashi’s hands were cool against his skin, fingers barely grazing the back of his neck. Bokuto shivered at the contact, but kept the kiss slow, steady.
Then, just as he shifted closer, Akaashi let out a quiet, almost inaudible—moan.
Bokuto froze.
Akaashi stiffened immediately, as if realizing what just happened. His hands started to pull away—
- Wait, wait, no. Bokuto blurted out, grabbing his wrists. Do that again.
Akaashi scowled, his ears bright red.
- Absolutely not.
Bokuto beamed.
- You did moan.
- I did not.
- You did. Bokuto said, voice practically vibrating with excitement. And it was so nice.
Akaashi groaned, covering his face with one hand.
- I regret everything.
Bokuto laughed, giddy, and kissed the corner of Akaashi’s mouth.
- No, you don’t.
Akaashi sighed, tilting his head slightly—just enough to let Bokuto brush his lips along his jaw, down his neck.
- We have a race in two days.
Bokuto hummed against his skin.
- I know.
- I need you focused.
- I am focused. Bokuto muttered, nipping at his collarbone. Just… on something else right now.
Akaashi’s breath hitched, but he refused to give Bokuto the satisfaction of another sound. Instead, he grabbed Bokuto’s chin, forcing him to look up.
Bokuto’s pupils were blown wide, his grin a little too smug.
- You’re exaserating. Akaashi muttered.
Bokuto kissed him again, grinning against his lips.
- And yet, you like me.
Akaashi exhaled sharply, letting his fingers tangle in Bokuto’s hair.
- Unfortunately.
*
Bokuto had never been this happy before a race. He was always excited, always in a good mood, but this was different. This was smug. This was radiating energy through the entire paddock. The mechanics definitely noticed.
- Uh… what’s with him? One of them muttered as Bokuto practically bounced into the garage, grinning like he’d already won.
Akaashi, standing beside the pit wall, cleared his throat and adjusted his headset.
- …Ignore him.
Easier said than done, because Bokuto was practically glowing, stretching in his race suit with the kind of confidence that had the whole team raising their eyebrows.
Then, just as Akaashi walked past, Bokuto leaned in way too close and whispered :
- You moaned.
Akaashi nearly tripped.
Bokuto beamed.
Akaashi glared at him, voice sharp through the earpiece.
- Focus, Bokuto.
Bokuto just smirked, strapping into his car.
- I am focused.
Akaashi sighed. This season was going to kill him.
*
The race was a success—P3, another podium. Not a win, but solid points. And more importantly, it was clean. Bokuto didn’t overextend, didn’t make a single reckless move, just executed Akaashi’s strategy to perfection.
Akaashi knew it was because of him. Because Bokuto was trying to prove something.
Not just that he could win. But that he could listen. That he could be serious when it mattered. That he could make this work. And so, when the media rounds were done, the podium celebrations over, and the team finally dispersed, Akaashi didn’t argue when Bokuto followed him back to his apartment.
It was quiet when they arrived. No adrenaline, no cameras. Just the hum of city lights through the window, the faint clink of Akaashi setting down his keys, the shuffle of Bokuto kicking off his shoes. The night they confessed, nothing had happened beyond the kiss. And then the season restarted, the races piled on, and neither of them had addressed it since.
But tonight, something felt different.
Bokuto stretched his arms behind his head, watching Akaashi move through the kitchen.
- So. You gonna pretend like I didn’t catch you staring at me all day?
Akaashi didn’t look up from grabbing two glasses from the cabinet.
- I have to stare at you. It’s my job.
Bokuto grinned.
- Nah, not just on track. You were looking during the interviews. And on the podium. He leaned against the counter, voice dropping. And when I took my race suit off.
Akaashi exhaled, setting the glasses down with a little too much precision.
- I was—analyzing.
Bokuto outright laughed.
- Analyzing what, exactly?
Akaashi’s lips pressed together, clearly refusing to answer.
And that was Bokuto’s new favorite thing. Because Akaashi was sharp, controlled, unreadable to everyone else. But not to him.
Bokuto had figured out his weaknesses.
So, naturally, he stepped closer.
Akaashi stiffened slightly as Bokuto invaded his space, resting his hands on the counter behind him. Not quite touching, but close enough to feel the warmth.
Bokuto’s voice dropped lower, playful, teasing.
- You know, I was thinking about something during the race.
Akaashi glanced at him warily.
- …What.
Bokuto grinned.
- How I haven’t heard you moan since that night.
Akaashi froze.
For a second, Bokuto swore he could hear his brain short-circuiting. The slight twitch of his fingers, the way his jaw clenched just slightly—perfect.
- You... Akaashi said slowly, carefully, like he was considering murder. ...are insufferable.
Bokuto beamed, leaning even closer.
Akaashi sighed sharply, but Bokuto saw it—the way his breath hitched, the way his grip tightened on the counter.
Bokuto hummed, dragging his fingers along the edge of Akaashi’s wrist.
- Maybe if I— He leaned in, brushing his lips just below Akaashi’s ear, whispering. —did this again— And kissed the sensitive skin just beneath it.
Akaashi sucked in a sharp breath.
Bokuto smirked.
- Oh?
- Shut up. Akaashi muttered, but his voice wasn’t as steady anymore.
Bokuto pressed a slow, deliberate kiss along his jaw, then just barely scraped his teeth against the same spot—
Akaashi let out a real, uncontrolled moan.
And Bokuto’s brain broke.
He pulled back slightly, eyes wide, grinning like he’d just won the championship.
- Hey there.
Akaashi’s face immediately went red.
Bokuto stepped even closer, caging him against the counter.
- Akaashi.
- No.
Bokuto grinned.
- I knew it—
- Don’t.
Bokuto kissed the corner of his lips.
- I can’t believe—
Akaashi grabbed his wrist, gripping tight.
- If you say a single word, I will—
But Bokuto just kissed him properly, swallowing whatever threat Akaashi was about to make.
And this time, Akaashi didn’t hold back.
Bokuto had always been the impulsive one, the reckless one. But tonight, it was Akaashi who grabbed his jaw, who pulled him closer, who tilted his head and deepened the kiss like he was claiming him.
And Bokuto—who had never backed down from a challenge in his life—melted into it completely.
Bokuto had never been one for patience. Now, with Akaashi against the kitchen counter, lips kiss-bruised, pupils blown wide—restraint was the last thing on his mind.
Akaashi was trying so hard to keep himself together. Trying to suppress every little reaction, every sound. But Bokuto knew how to push him.
He dipped down again, this time to the soft skin just behind Akaashi’s ear. And then—he bit. It wasn’t hard. Just enough to tease, to let his teeth press against sensitive skin before soothing it with his tongue.
Akaashi moaned.
Loud. Uncontrolled.
And Bokuto felt it—how Akaashi’s fingers dug into his arms, how his entire body tensed, how his breath shuddered against Bokuto’s skin.
- Oh fuck. Bokuto whispered, half in awe, half completely ruined. Keiji—
Akaashi’s only response was a sharp inhale, trying to compose himself, but Bokuto wasn’t about to let that happen.
He wanted more.
He dragged his hands lower, slipping beneath the hem of Akaashi’s shirt, fingertips tracing along warm skin, feeling the way Akaashi shivered under his touch.
Akaashi’s voice was slightly ragged.
- Bo- Koutarou—
- You’re so sensitive. Bokuto murmured, sliding his hands higher, palms splaying against Akaashi’s ribs, thumbs just barely brushing over his nipples.
Akaashi sucked in a breath, eyes flickering shut for a brief second—just enough for Bokuto to take advantage. He rolled a thumb over one nipple, then the other—slow, teasing, deliberate.
Akaashi whined. Bokuto swore his brain nearly short-circuited.
- Oh, you like that.
Akaashi gritted his teeth, trying to suppress another noise.
- Sh- shut up.
Bokuto just grinned, circling a fingertip around one nipple before flicking it lightly. Akaashi’s hips jerked. Bokuto’s entire body tensed, heat pooling low in his stomach.
- Oh, fuck—Keiji, you really like this.
Akaashi glared, breathing heavy.
- Shut. Up.
But it was impossible to take him seriously when he was trembling under Bokuto’s hands, when his skin was flushed, when his lips were slightly parted like he needed more.
Bokuto leaned in, lips barely brushing Akaashi’s ear.
- Say please.
Akaashi let out a sharp breath, eyes narrowing.
- I hate you.
Bokuto laughed, teasingly pinching one nipple between his fingers.
Akaashi moaned. Loud, broken, desperate. Bokuto lost it.
His grip tightened, mouth trailing back down Akaashi’s throat, pressing kisses along heated skin.
- Keiji. He breathed, voice rough, head spinning. You sound so good—
Akaashi barely had time to respond before Bokuto’s hands were on him again, teasing, pressing, touching everywhere except where he needed it most. Akaashi’s fingers dug into Bokuto’s shoulders, chest rising and falling rapidly.
- If you—don’t stop teasing—
Bokuto just smirked, lips brushing his collarbone.
- Make me.
And judging by the way Akaashi grabbed his jaw and kissed him senseless, he fully intended to.
*
Akaashi was unraveling.
Bokuto could feel it in the way his breath stuttered, in the way his fingers trembled against his skin, in the way his body arched into every teasing touch despite himself. And Bokuto—who had spent months, years following Akaashi’s careful, calculated strategies—had never been more thrilled to watch him lose control. Akaashi’s grip tightened on his jaw, dragging him into another kiss—desperate, deep, all the restraint he usually held stripped away. Bokuto groaned into it, letting Akaashi take, letting him press forward until his back hit the counter, hands fisting in Bokuto’s hoodie like he needed something to hold onto. It was rare, seeing him like this—needing, wanting so obviously. And it was making Bokuto dizzy.
He grinned against Akaashi’s lips, just barely pulling away to murmur.
- Didn’t take you for the impatient type.
Akaashi bit his lower lip in retaliation.
Bokuto shuddered, a broken laugh escaping him.
- Oh my God, Keiji—
And then his hands were back under Akaashi’s shirt, fingers dragging over warm skin, teasing at the edges of his waistband.
Akaashi was breathing hard, trying to suppress every reaction, trying to keep even the slightest grip on his composure.
So Bokuto didn’t let him. He slipped a hand higher, fingers grazing over a nipple again, this time deliberately rolling it between his fingers—pinching, twisting, teasing—
Akaashi moaned again. His head tipped back, throat exposed, breath ragged. Bokuto swore his entire body caught fire.
- Holy shit. He muttered, completely wrecked. You’re so sensitive—
Akaashi let out something close to a whimper, hands gripping Bokuto’s hoodie like it was the only thing keeping him upright. Bokuto nearly lost his mind. He leaned in, mouth trailing down the side of Akaashi’s neck, teeth scraping over the same spot behind his ear—where he had already learned he was weakest. Akaashi shivered, a sharp inhale breaking into another moan. Bokuto groaned against his skin, grinding against him, completely undone.
- Fuck, Keiji, you’re gonna kill me—
Akaashi’s response was barely a breath.
- Then—stop teasing.
Bokuto grinned, breathless, pressing one last kiss against the hollow of Akaashi’s throat before whispering :
- Not a chance.
And then he grabbed him by the waist, lifted him onto the counter, and ruined him completely. Akaashi had lost his shirt somewhere between Bokuto’s teasing hands and the frantic pace of their kisses. He barely remembered when it happened, only that he was suddenly burning, his skin flush against Bokuto’s hoodie, against his calloused hands, against everything Bokuto gave him without hesitation.
His head tipped back against the counter as Bokuto dragged his lips lower, over his collarbone, down the middle of his chest.
Bokuto groaned, almost in frustration.
- You’re so fucking gorgeous.
Akaashi shivered, feeling the heat of Bokuto’s breath as he trailed lower, hands gripping his waist like he was memorizing every inch of him.
Then—another teasing roll of his nipple between Bokuto’s fingers. Akaashi’s breath hitched, his hips twitching involuntarily. Bokuto grinned, flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud just to see what he could get out of him.
Akaashi moaned, his fingers threading through Bokuto’s hair, tugging—not hard enough to push him away, but enough to say, I am going to kill you.
Bokuto just hummed, smug.
- See? I knew you’d love this.
Akaashi let out a ragged exhale, fingers tightening.
- Bokuto.
Bokuto looked up at him, grinning like he had just won another podium.
- Yeah?
Akaashi glared, breathless, and gestured down at himself—shirtless, flushed, thoroughly teased—then at Bokuto, still fully dressed in his hoodie and sweatpants. His voice was sharp despite the wrecked edge of it.
- Why am I the only one with nothing on?
Bokuto blinked.
Then, with absolutely zero hesitation, he grabbed Akaashi by the thighs, lifted him off the counter, and started walking.
Akaashi stiffened slightly, caught off guard.
- What are you—
Bokuto grinned.
- Taking you to your bedroom.
Akaashi scowled, wrapping his arms around Bokuto’s shoulders to steady himself.
- I could have walked.
Bokuto just laughed, his grip steady.
- I’m making sure you don’t escape.
Akaashi scoffed.
- I wasn’t planning on it.
Bokuto’s voice dropped, warm against Akaashi’s ear as he kicked the bedroom door open.
- Good.
And then they hit the mattress, and Bokuto finally let him take everything from him. The moment Bokuto hit the mattress with Akaashi, he was already reaching for the hem of his hoodie. Akaashi was still catching his breath, still flushed, but there was something undeniably focused in the way he sat up, straddling Bokuto’s waist, hands slipping beneath the fabric.
Bokuto inhaled sharply at the feeling of cool fingertips against his stomach, and Akaashi noted it—how Bokuto twitched under the touch, how his breathing went uneven for the first time that night. Akaashi’s lips curved, fingers sliding higher.
- You’re sensitive too.
Bokuto swallowed hard, his hands tightening around Akaashi’s waist.
- Not fair.
Akaashi tilted his head slightly, slow and deliberate as he dragged his palms over Bokuto’s chest, watching his expression shift beneath him.
- I seem to recall you not playing fair either.
Bokuto let out a short, breathless laugh.
- Oh, shit.
And then Akaashi grabbed the hoodie and tugged it up. Bokuto barely had time to react before it was off, thrown somewhere behind them, leaving him just as bare as Akaashi. The younger one took a second to look at him—at the sculpted definition of his shoulders, the faint scars from crashes past, the way his chest rose and fell a little too quickly.
For once, Bokuto was the one completely undone beneath him. And Akaashi liked it.
He leaned down, lips grazing along Bokuto’s collarbone.
- Better?
Bokuto groaned, hands sliding up Akaashi’s back, pressing their bodies flush together.
- Fuck—come here.
Akaashi didn’t argue, letting Bokuto roll them over, pinning him against the mattress, pressing kisses down his chest, over the same sensitive spots he had teased before.
Only this time, there were no more distractions. No clothes. No restraint. Just them, completely exposed, finally willing to take everything. Akaashi had wanted this. Had wanted Bokuto like this—breathless beneath him, skin burning, muscles tensed as he tried to hold himself together.
And for once, Akaashi didn’t hold back. He ran his hands down Bokuto’s chest, feeling the sharp rise and fall of his breathing, the tremor in his stomach as Akaashi dragged his lips down, down, until he reached his nipples.
Bokuto’s grip on his waist tightened.
- Oh, fuck—
Akaashi flicked his tongue over one, slow and deliberate, before sucking lightly.
Bokuto shuddered, his head tipping back against the pillows.
- Keiji—
Akaashi hummed against his skin, teasing, savoring, flicking over the bud again just to see Bokuto twitch. It was rare to see him like this—wrecked, completely at Akaashi’s mercy. But Akaashi knew Bokuto. And he knew this wouldn’t last long. Sure enough, before he could tease him further, Bokuto growled, grabbing Akaashi’s wrists and flipping them over in one smooth motion.
He barely had time to react before Bokuto had him pinned, his mouth already trailing down his chest, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along his ribs, his stomach—
Akaashi sucked in a sharp breath.
- You—
Bokuto grinned against his skin.
- My turn.
Akaashi barely noticed when his pants were gone.
Maybe it was the way Bokuto kissed him senseless, leaving him breathless against the sheets. Maybe it was how his lips traced down his chest, savoring every inch of his skin like he’d been craving this for years.
Or maybe it was the way Bokuto’s mouth latched onto his nipple, sucking and teasing, fingers pressing against his hips to keep him still when his body jerked in response.
Akaashi let out a sharp breath, his back arching slightly off the bed.
- Koutarou—
Bokuto hummed against his skin, flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud, then grazing it lightly with his teeth.
Akaashi’s grip tightened in Bokuto’s hair.
- Ah! You—damn it—
Bokuto grinned against him.
- Still trying to act composed?
Akaashi glared, but the effect was ruined when Bokuto rolled the other nipple between his fingers, teasing it until Akaashi’s breath hitched, his thighs trembling slightly around Bokuto’s waist.
Bokuto pressed a slow, teasing kiss lower, lips trailing down Akaashi’s stomach.
- I told you. He murmured, voice rough. It’s my turn.
And then Akaashi’s breath stopped—because Bokuto’s fingers were there, pressing against his entrance without hesitation.
Akaashi inhaled sharply.
- You—fuck—
Bokuto exhaled slowly, watching him.
- Relax, Keiji.
But Akaashi could feel him—pressing in, stretching him open without any buildup, making Akaashi’s body burn at the sudden intrusion.
A sharp, choked moan escaped his lips, his hands tightening in the sheets.
- Koutarou—ah—
Bokuto groaned, breath shuddering.
- Shit, you’re tight—
Akaashi’s nails dug into Bokuto’s shoulders as he adjusted, his body tensing from the intensity of it.
- I—I swear to God—
Bokuto leaned down, pressing a soothing kiss to his collarbone.
- You can take it.
Akaashi exhaled shakily, trying to breathe, trying to regain control—
And then—Bokuto moved.
Akaashi screamed.
His entire body jerked, his vision whiting out as Bokuto’s fingers brushed something deep inside him, something that sent a shockwave of pleasure through his spine so intense he almost couldn’t breathe.
Bokuto froze, his eyes widening.
- Oh, fuck, that was—
Akaashi whimpered, his fingers trembling against Bokuto’s skin, his chest heaving, his face flushed red.
Bokuto’s breath came out shaky.
- That was it, wasn’t it?
Akaashi barely had the composure to glare at him.
- D-Don’t—
Bokuto grinned.
And then he pressed against the spot again.
Akaashi screamed, his back arching, his entire body trembling, his thighs clamping around Bokuto’s waist.
- Koutarou!
Bokuto groaned at the sound, at the way Akaashi twisted beneath him, so completely undone.
- Oh, fuck, Keiji, you sound so good—
He curled his fingers, pressing deeper.
Akaashi’s breath hitched into another helpless, broken moan. Bokuto was losing his mind. He leaned down, voice rough against Akaashi’s ear.
- I’m gonna ruin you.
And before Akaashi could even recover, Bokuto was lining himself up—no more teasing, no more patience.
Just him, completely claiming Akaashi, giving him everything they had both been waiting for.
Akaashi barely had time to catch his breath before Bokuto pushed in.
His body stretched, burned, ached—but then—
- Oh, fuck—
Bokuto groaned above him, his grip tight on Akaashi’s hips, his breathing uneven as he sank in fully.
- You—shit, you’re squeezing me so tight—
Akaashi whimpered, his head falling back against the pillow, hands trembling as they dug into Bokuto’s shoulders.
- Koutarou- ah- aaah!
Bokuto exhaled shakily, his forehead pressing against Akaashi’s.
- Tell me if it’s too much.
Akaashi’s breath hitched, adjusting to the fullness, his thighs tightening around Bokuto’s waist.
- Just—move.
Bokuto let out a rough curse before pulling back slightly, then pressing in again—slow at first, controlled—until he found that same spot that had Akaashi screaming just moments before. Akaashi’s entire body arched, a sharp gasp breaking from his lips.
- Ah—!
Bokuto grinned, his breath warm against Akaashi’s ear.
- Right there, huh?
And then he slammed into it.
Akaashi screamed, his nails raking down Bokuto’s back, his entire body trembling at the relentless pleasure surging through him.
- KOUTA—
Bokuto growled, pace quickening, hitting deep with every thrust, watching Akaashi’s composure shatter beneath him.
- Fuck, Keiji— His voice was rough, desperate, full of something hungry. You’re so fucking perfect like this.
Akaashi whimpered, every nerve burning, pleasure overwhelming as Bokuto pounded into him, hitting his sweet spot with precision, over and over—
His body was shaking, his breath coming out ragged and uneven.
- I—I can’t—
Bokuto groaned, his grip tightening, pulling Akaashi closer, his voice dropping to something almost commanding.
- Yes, you can.
Akaashi let out a choked moan, his back arching.
Bokuto pressed a hand against Akaashi’s stomach, feeling the way he tensed under him, how completely wrecked he was.
- You’re gonna come for me, Keiji.
Akaashi whined, his body trembling, pleasure winding so tightly inside him that he thought he might break.
Bokuto leaned down, voice dark against his ear.
- Be good for me.
Akaashi shattered.
His body jerked, pleasure crashing through him in violent waves, his mouth falling open in a helpless, broken moan—Bokuto’s name slipping from his lips, over and over, as he came completely undone.
Bokuto groaned at the sight, at the feeling of Akaashi tightening around him.
- Oh, God—Keiji—
And then he was following right after, burying himself deep, groaning as he spilled inside Akaashi, his entire body shuddering with pleasure.
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
Just heavy breathing, lingering heat, the feeling of their bodies still pressed together. Then, after a while, Bokuto let out a rough, breathless laugh, pressing a lazy kiss to Akaashi’s temple.
- Holy shit.
Akaashi couldn’t move.
His body was completely spent, his breathing still uneven, his limbs still trembling slightly from the absolute wrecking Bokuto had just given him. And Bokuto—smug bastard—was still hovering over him, pressing soft, lazy kisses to his temple, his cheek, his jaw—like he wasn’t the reason Akaashi was completely ruined.
Akaashi exhaled slowly, willing his heartbeat to steady. Bokuto leaned down and caught his lips in a slow, deep kiss.
It was different now—no urgency, no teasing, just warm, lingering affection. Akaashi felt himself melt, even as he tried to pretend he wasn’t affected.
Bokuto pulled back just enough to murmur against his lips.
- You okay?
Akaashi sighed, his hands finally moving—one threading through Bokuto’s damp hair, the other resting lightly on his back.
- You’re supposed to ask that before you break me.
Bokuto chuckled, pressing another kiss to his cheek.
- I did ask.
Akaashi just hummed, too tired to argue.
For a while, neither of them spoke. Just the quiet sound of their breathing, the warmth of their bodies pressed together, the slow, lazy way Bokuto traced patterns against Akaashi’s waist. Then—Bokuto finally shifted, pulling out with a low groan. Akaashi winced slightly, a small noise of discomfort slipping out before he could stop it. Bokuto froze, his expression immediately shifting to concern.
- Shit—sorry, are you—
Akaashi gave him a tired glare.
- I’m fine.
Bokuto still looked guilty, but before he could start fussing, Akaashi rolled onto his side, tucking himself against Bokuto’s chest. Bokuto’s breath hitched slightly, surprised—then completely melted, wrapping an arm around Akaashi’s waist and pressing a kiss to his hair.
- …You’re too cute.
Akaashi huffed against his chest.
- Shut up.
Bokuto just laughed, holding him closer.
For a while, they just existed—wrapped up in each other, warm and sated, the exhaustion finally settling into their bones.
Then—
- I love you, Keiji.
Akaashi’s breath caught for a split second. Then he exhaled, something warm settling in his chest.
- …Love you too.
And with that, he finally let himself drift off, completely safe in Bokuto’s arms.
*
Akaashi was starting to regret everything.
The moment he woke up and tried to move, he knew he was screwed. His muscles ached in places he didn’t even know could ache, his legs felt like they weren’t entirely functional, and worst of all—he could already hear Bokuto humming happily in the kitchen.
It was unfair.
He forced himself to sit up, biting back a groan as his body protested. His thighs burned, his back sore, and—God, he was never letting Bokuto get that carried away again. (That was a lie. He absolutely would.)
With a deep breath, he braced himself, slowly standing up—only for his knees to give out the second he put weight on them.
- Fuck.
Akaashi grabbed the edge of his dresser to steady himself, glaring at the floor like it had personally offended him.
And then—
- You okay, Keiji?
Akaashi froze.
Slowly, painfully, he turned his head—only to find Bokuto leaning against the doorway, grinning like a damn idiot. He was so smug. So, so smug. Akaashi straightened his posture immediately, ignoring the way his legs trembled.
- I’m fine.
Bokuto raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it.
- You sure?
Akaashi’s eye twitched.
- Yes.
Bokuto grinned wider.
- Because you’re kinda walking like a baby deer.
Akaashi inhaled sharply, his face heating instantly.
- Bokuto.
Bokuto only laughed, walking over and wrapping his arms around Akaashi’s waist.
- You’re cute when you’re sore.
Akaashi scowled, pushing at his chest.
- This is your fault.
Bokuto smirked, voice dropping just enough to make Akaashi’s stomach flip.
- I know.
Akaashi flushed deeper, shoving him harder. He glared, biting back another groan as he took antoher step forward. Bokuto followed behind him, watching—and when Akaashi nearly stumbled again, he let out a low whistle.
- Damn, I really did a number on you.
Akaashi turned bright red.
- Shut up.
Bokuto snickered, pressing a kiss to the back of Akaashi’s neck.
- Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.
Akaashi exhaled sharply, trying desperately to maintain his composure. It was going to be a long day. Akaashi stumbled again and before Bokuto could catch him, he fell again onto the floor. He had accepted many things in his life. That Bokuto was fast—both on the track and in life. That he was loud, affectionate, and absolutely incapable of filtering his thoughts. That he wouldn’t stop smirking at him like that.
What he did not accept, however, was the way Bokuto suddenly bent down and scooped him up bridal style.
Akaashi let out a sharp gasp, immediately gripping onto Bokuto’s shoulders.
- Put me down!
Bokuto just laughed, effortlessly carrying him out of the bedroom.
- Nope.
Akaashi glared at him, face already burning.
- I can walk.
Bokuto snorted.
- Keiji, you almost collapsed two seconds ago.
Akaashi clenched his jaw.
- That’s beside the point.
Bokuto grinned down at him, eyes filled with mischief.
- Aw, don’t be shy~
Akaashi buried his face in Bokuto’s shoulder, voice muffled.
- I hate you.
Bokuto beamed, tightening his hold as he carried him effortlessly into the kitchen.
- Love you too, baby~
Akaashi groaned, but he didn’t resist when Bokuto set him down gently on one of the kitchen chairs, his hands lingering at Akaashi’s waist for a second longer than necessary.
Bokuto pulled back just enough to look at him—taking in the way Akaashi’s face was still flushed, the way his lips were slightly pursed in frustration, the way he was so obviously struggling to keep his composure.
Bokuto grinned.
- You’re really cute when you’re embarrassed.
Akaashi picked up the nearest spoon and smacked him with it. Bokuto just laughed, stealing a quick kiss before turning to make breakfast. Akaashi crossed his arms, glaring at the counter.
…He was never getting up again.
Despite being absolutely unbearable, Bokuto had his moments.
Akaashi still wasn’t entirely over the humiliation of being carried to the kitchen like some helpless damsel, but at the very least, Bokuto had stopped teasing him long enough to actually do something useful.
Which was why, as Akaashi sat at the counter, he found himself blinking in mild surprise when Bokuto suddenly placed a warm heating pad against his lower back.
Akaashi raised an eyebrow, glancing up at him.
- I didn't have one.
Bokuto grinned, stirring the eggs he was cooking.
- Yeah I know. I searched for one when I got up but didn't find one, so I bought this.
Akaashi sighed, taking the heating pad from his back and pressing the warmth against his sore thighs.
- Thank you.
- See? I take care of you.
Akaashi hummed, pretending not to be pleased.
- Debatable.
Bokuto just grinned wider, flipping the eggs with a little unnecessary flair. By the time breakfast was ready, the warmth of the heating pad had helped ease some of Akaashi’s stiffness, but he was still sore enough that the idea of standing for too long didn’t sound great.
Bokuto, of course, made sure he didn’t have to. He plated everything for him, set the table, even went as far as to refill his tea before Akaashi could reach for it. It was all very sweet, which made it even more annoying because it meant Akaashi couldn’t be properly mad at him anymore.
After breakfast, Bokuto clapped his hands together.
- Alright! Time for the second part of my master plan.
Akaashi gave him a wary look.
- That sounds ominous.
Bokuto winked.
- You’ll love it.
And before Akaashi could ask what, Bokuto was already heading for the bathroom. Akaashi heard the sound of running water, followed by Bokuto’s delighted hums as he—apparently—ran a bath. He sighed, shaking his head as he slowly stood up, still wincing slightly at the ache in his legs.
Bokuto popped his head out of the bathroom door, beaming.
- Come here, baby.
Akaashi glared.
- Don't call me that.
Bokuto just laughed, grabbing Akaashi’s hand and pulling him inside.
The bath was already filled, steam rising from the water, the scent of eucalyptus and mint filling the room.
Akaashi blinked in mild surprise.
- Where did you get bath salts?
Bokuto grinned.
- At the same time as the heating pad.
Akaashi gave him a long, unreadable stare before sighing.
- I don’t know why I’m even surprised anymore.
Bokuto kissed his temple.
- Go on, get in.
Akaashi rolled his eyes but slowly lowered himself into the tub, inhaling deeply as the warm water immediately soothed his sore muscles.
His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, the tension in his body easing.
- …Okay. You were right.
Bokuto beamed proudly, crouching next to the tub.
- Told you I take care of you.
Akaashi exhaled, letting his head rest against the edge of the tub.
- …I guess I’ll keep you around.
Bokuto gasped dramatically.
- Only guess?
Akaashi smirked, cracking one eye open.
- I don’t know. You did completely ruin me last night.
Bokuto grinned, leaning closer.
- And I’d do it again.
Akaashi promptly splashed water in his face.
Bokuto yelped, but his laughter echoed through the bathroom as he wiped his face, his eyes shining with pure adoration.
And Akaashi—despite himself—smiled. The bathwater was warm, soothing the ache in Akaashi’s muscles, and he was content to let the heat work its magic. Bokuto, of course, couldn’t just leave him to relax in peace. Kneeling beside the tub, Bokuto rested his chin on the edge, watching Akaashi with a soft, lazy grin that made Akaashi’s heart flutter despite his best efforts to not be affected.
- You look so good like this. Bokuto murmured, his voice low.
Akaashi opened one eye, fixing him with a tired glare.
- I’m in a bath. I don’t think anyone has ever looked particularly remarkable sitting in a tub of water.
Bokuto laughed quietly, reaching out to brush a strand of damp hair from Akaashi’s forehead.
- You’d be surprised.
The soft intimacy of the gesture made Akaashi’s cheeks heat, and he sank a little lower into the water to hide his face.
- You’re ridiculous.
Bokuto leaned closer, his grin turning teasing.
- But you like me anyway.
Akaashi sighed dramatically. Bokuto chuckled, letting his hand trail down from Akaashi’s temple, along his cheek, then down to his jaw. His fingers lingered there, tilting Akaashi’s face slightly toward him.
- I mean it. Bokuto said softly, his amber eyes warm as they met Akaashi’s gaze. You’re so beautiful, Keiji.
Akaashi’s breath caught, his heart skipping a beat.
- You’re shameless.
Bokuto smiled, pressing a kiss to the corner of Akaashi’s mouth.
- Only with you.
Akaashi swallowed hard, his lips parting slightly as Bokuto tilted his head just enough to kiss him fully—slow and deep, the kind of kiss that left Akaashi feeling weightless despite the warm water around him. Bokuto’s hand moved from Akaashi’s jaw to cup the back of his neck, holding him close as he deepened the kiss, his thumb brushing against the sensitive skin just behind Akaashi’s ear.
Akaashi let out a quiet, involuntary noise at the sensation, and Bokuto smiled against his lips.
- There’s that sound again. He whispered, his voice dropping an octave.
Akaashi flushed, breaking the kiss just enough to glare at him.
- Don’t get used to it.
Bokuto laughed, leaning back slightly but still keeping his hand on Akaashi’s neck.
- No promises.
Then, with a teasing glint in his eye, Bokuto dipped his hand into the water, letting his fingers trail over Akaashi’s shoulder, down his arm, and then lower still—tracing patterns along Akaashi’s thigh under the water. Akaashi’s breath hitched, his body tensing slightly as Bokuto’s touch grew bolder.
- Relax. Bokuto murmured, pressing another kiss to his temple. You’re supposed to be unwinding, remember?
- You’re not helping. Akaashi muttered, though his voice was softer now, his resolve slowly crumbling under Bokuto’s attentions.
Bokuto grinned, shifting closer.
- I think I am.
His fingers brushed higher, and Akaashi let out a quiet gasp, his head tilting back against the edge of the tub.
- See? Bokuto whispered, his lips grazing the shell of Akaashi’s ear. You’re perfect like this, Keiji. Let me handle this.
And this time, Akaashi didn’t argue. His breath came in shallow pants, his body sinking deeper into the warmth of the bath as Bokuto’s fingers continued their slow, torturous teasing. Bokuto was kneeling beside the tub, one hand braced on the rim while the other traced idle patterns over Akaashi’s stomach, his fingertips barely skimming the surface of the water. The heat of his palm was a stark contrast to the warmth surrounding Akaashi, each touch sending small ripples across his skin.
His lips pressed against the sensitive spot behind Akaashi’s ear, slow and deliberate. Akaashi exhaled sharply, Bokuto’s hand dipped lower, skimming over his hipbone, then the inside of his thigh, his fingers brushing just barely where Akaashi needed him most. A tremor ran through Akaashi’s body, his fingers gripping the edge of the tub. Bokuto smiled against his skin. And then—finally—his hand wrapped around him.
Akaashi sucked in a sharp breath, his body jerking slightly at the first stroke. It was slow, measured, a lazy drag from base to tip before sliding back down with the same unbearable patience. The heat pooling in his stomach coiled tighter with each pass, the deliberate slowness making every nerve in his body stand on edge. Bokuto was taking his time, watching closely, his gaze dark and heavy-lidded as he studied every tiny reaction.
Akaashi clenched his jaw, forcing himself to keep quiet, but it was impossible to ignore the way Bokuto’s grip tightened slightly, his thumb pressing teasingly over the slit before continuing his slow rhythm.
A low whimper slipped from Akaashi’s throat before he could stop it.
Bokuto hummed in approval.
- There it is.
He picked up the pace—just a little. Not enough to be overwhelming, but enough to send a sharp pulse of pleasure through Akaashi’s core.
The shift in rhythm made Akaashi’s breath stutter, his fingers tightening around the tub’s edge as heat burned beneath his skin. His body ached, but the way Bokuto touched him—so deliberate, so focused—made him forget everything else.
Faster now.
The slow, careful strokes turned into something more insistent, more demanding. The sound of the water lapping against the porcelain mixed with the quiet, breathy sounds slipping past Akaashi’s lips, his chest rising and falling unevenly. Bokuto’s lips dragged down the side of his neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses against damp skin as his strokes became relentless. Akaashi’s body trembled, his thighs tightening as the pleasure became unbearable, the coil in his stomach pulling impossibly tight.
- Kouta—
Bokuto only hushed him softly, pressing his lips against his temple, his grip never faltering.
And then—one last perfect stroke, his thumb swiping over the head just right—
Akaashi tensed, his back arching, his breath shattering into a moan as he came. Bokuto kept his movements steady, coaxing him through it, his hand slowing only when Akaashi finally slumped back against the tub, his chest heaving. He let his eyes slip shut, exhausted, the aftershocks still tingling through his body as Bokuto cleaned him up with quiet patience.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
Then, Bokuto leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to his temple, his thumb brushing over Akaashi’s cheek in a slow, soothing motion.
And just like that, Akaashi melted into him. Bokuto never rushed him, never asked for anything in return. He only stayed close, his presence warm and grounding, the quiet weight of his touch more comforting than any words could ever be. Akaashi sighed, tilting his head slightly, just enough to press into the touch. And Bokuto—without teasing, without laughing—only smiled.
Bokuto helped Akaashi out of the bath, his strong hands steady as he wrapped a towel around Akaashi’s body, his movements slow and deliberate. Akaashi, still a little unsteady from the aftershocks of pleasure, leaned into Bokuto’s side, his head resting on his shoulder as they shuffled to the bathroom's edge. Bokuto’s fingers brushed through Akaashi's wet hair, combing through the damp strands with care.
- Let’s get you dried off. Bokuto murmured softly, his voice low and reassuring.
Akaashi hummed in response, eyes fluttering closed as Bokuto carefully dried him off, gently patting his skin, never rushing. Bokuto’s touch was careful, as though he feared breaking the delicate moment between them. Once Akaashi was dry, Bokuto helped him into a soft, loose t-shirt, pulling it over his head with ease, each movement tender, as if Akaashi were fragile, and that thought alone made Bokuto’s chest tighten.
- Comfortable? Bokuto asked quietly, his thumb smoothing over the collar of the shirt.
Akaashi nodded, his eyes half-lidded.
- Yeah... just... tired. He muttered, his voice thick with exhaustion.
With a gentle hand on Akaashi’s back, Bokuto guided him out of the bathroom and into the living room, settling him down on the couch. The room was warm, the soft glow of the evening light filtering through the curtains. Bokuto arranged a blanket around them, tucking it around Akaashi’s body before he settled beside him. Akaashi, still drowsy, shifted slightly, curling into Bokuto's side, his head finding the crook of Bokuto’s shoulder.
Bokuto’s arm wrapped around Akaashi’s waist, pulling him closer, feeling the weight of his warmth. Akaashi’s breath was soft against his skin, and his eyelids fluttered closed as he nuzzled deeper into the embrace.
- You don’t have to do anything. Bokuto murmured. Just rest.
Akaashi sighed, the sound content and peaceful as he let go, his body sinking into Bokuto’s warmth. There was no need for words, no need for anything more than the quiet connection they shared in that moment. With a soft hum, Akaashi drifted into sleep, his breathing evening out as the gentle rise and fall of his chest became a steady rhythm against Bokuto’s.
Bokuto smiled softly, his thumb stroking Akaashi’s hair, just listening to the peaceful silence around them, letting it wrap them both in comfort. In this moment, there was only the warmth of each other, the softness of the quiet, and the simple, perfect reassurance of knowing they were both exactly where they needed to be.