Archive of Our Own ^beta

Kiyoomi dozed off almost instantly after takeoff. He’s often made fun of for how easily he falls asleep everywhere. What is he supposed to do? Not fall asleep? 

He blinks a few times as he tries adjusting to the sunlight coming from Atsumu’s seat. He never shuts the blinds on flights, and it pisses him off until he falls asleep. He tried talking to him about it, but he’s so stubborn that it ended up with Kiyoomi switching seats with Bokuto. 

Two beefy men sitting next to each other on a 6-hour flight, good luck. 

He looks to the side to ask Atsumu to at least lower the blinds halfway when his mouth runs dry. 

He’s dead asleep, head lolled to the side, right against the window. He’s wearing a tank top, and Kiyoomi wonders if he’s not freezing to death from how hard the AC is blasting; it even makes his hair move a little. What made him freeze in the first place wasn’t how beautiful, breathtaking, and peaceful Atsumu looked. It’s his thighs. 

He’s wearing those loose shorts that are meant to be worn at home, not on a commercial flight. His thighs are a little (a lot) bigger than average, so when Atsumu moves around in his sleep and the shorts ride up, giving him a small glimpse of Atsumu’s tattoo, it makes his mouth water. 

They have this thing they did once, promised they would never do it again, and clearly have been doing it ever since. But it was an honest, drunken mistake. Except they weren’t that drunk, and Kiyoomi remembers every little thing: from how Atsumu kisses to the face he makes when he finishes. 

“Omi?” Atsumu’s voice is hoarse, and it makes Kiyoomi’s lower stomach warm. 

His eyes are still fixed on Atsumu’s thighs, and he looks up to answer. “What?” 

“You’re looking at me like you want to kill me,” Atsumu whispers, and his brows furrow together. Kiyoomi notices thick fingers playing with the hem of the shorts and pulling them a little further up Kiyoomi’s sure he could die. 

“Oh, fuck me.” Kiyoomi rolls his eyes and looks away. Immediately, Atsumu’s hand grabs his face. 

“I’m trying to.” Atsumu makes him look into his eyes, and Kiyoomi’s blush creeps up. 

“You were awake this whole time, weren’t you?” Kiyoomi asks, and Atsumu lets out a giggle.

“Sorry, you were so entertained with my thighs, I didn’t wanna bother ya.” Their voices are low and hushed; the rest of the team is dead asleep. Thanks, Bokuto, for your melatonin gummies!

“I was not entertained, trust me.” Kiyoomi moves Atsumu’s hand from his face. 

When he’s about to turn to the aisle, Atsumu is insanely quick and brushes their lips together. Kiyoomi stills and turns to look at him again. “I’ll fuck you when we get to the hotel,” Atsumu winks. 

“We’re not rooming together,” Kiyoomi says. “And we’re not fucking either.” He crosses his arms over his chest, and Atsumu laughs. 

“Come on, you said that it was going to be the last time and then you came into my apartment practically begging me to fuck you,” Kiyoomi remembers, and he can’t stop the blush from creeping up to his hairline. 

“I didn’t beg.” Atsumu smiles at him, and he looks down at his lips. “Stop.” 

“‘M not doing anythin’,” Atsumu shrugs, tapping on his phone. “Did you see where we’re staying?” Atsumu elbows him and rests his head on Kiyoomi’s shoulder. “Massive rooms, with these great views. It has a balcony and all.” Kiyoomi hums, uninterested. “Could fuck you here,” Atsumu taps on his phone. “Or here, even here.” Kiyoomi gets the warm feeling again, and he breathes in through his nose. “Jez, relax, Omi. We’re not even doin’ anything.” 

“Can you be quiet?” Kiyoomi closes his eyes, and Atsumu mumbles something. 

And he does stay quiet for a very long time, a time that Kiyoomi would’ve preferred for him to talk because his mind started wandering and he ended up remembering every single thing they did the last time they fucked. How he’d gotten to his apartment with the lie of using his hair dryer. He has a hair dryer. 

Atsumu, sweet and kind Atsumu, clearly said yes. One thing led to another, and they ended up fucking on his couch and moved to his bed right after. 

It’s not Kiyoomi’s fault that Atsumu is pretty good at fucking. And good with his fingers, and his tongue. Even his eyes make him squirm in place. Fuck Atsumu, really. 

“You okay?” Atsumu whispers a bit too close to his ear. His warm breath, the low tone. The look he must have, it’s all too overwhelming. “You seem a little…” 

“I’m fine.” He clears his throat and gets up. “I have to go to the bathroom.” He can feel how hard he is. 

God, he’s really pathetic. How is he this hard at remembering things he did a few nights back? He’s such a loser. 

He looks at Atsumu, who’s clearly looking at his gray sweatpants and… yeah, cool. His boner could poke an eye, actually. 

They make eye contact and Kiyoomi knows what he's asking. He shakes his head, and Atsumu makes those irresistible puppy eyes that make him weak on the knees. “Fine,” Kiyoomi grits out, and Atsumu bites his lower lip. 

“I’ll go right after you,” he says, and Kiyoomi walks to the bathroom. 

Traveling in first class means fewer passengers, and having a big team means all first class is filled with them. Plus, this is a relatively smaller plane. 

Kiyoomi closes the door right behind him, sits on the lid of the toilet, and waits. He scrolls through his phone for a bit and takes a selfie in the mirror. He fixes his hair, checks his face, and then, there’s a knock. 

“It’s me,” Atsumu’s voice makes him shiver, and he feels extremely pathetic. He knocks back, and Atsumu pushes the door open. 

It’s small. It’s a little bigger than the bathroom in economy, but it’s still small for two athletes. Or Kiyoomi and Atsumu’s thighs. Whatever works best. 

“Tight.” Atsumu whistles. “Just what I like.”

“You’re disgusting.” Kiyoomi turns to look at him, and Atsumu has this smirk that makes his stomach loop. 

“Am I? You’re the one who got hard for god-knows-what and now we’re here.” He kisses him softly, in between words. 

Atsumu’s hands are calloused and thick. He reaches for Kiyoomi’s waist and brings them closer. “I’ll fuck you good, ya know?” Atsumu kisses him, tongue briefly brushing his bottom lip and making him whimper in response. “You’re cute.” He smiles against his cheek as he kisses and bites his jaw, moving down to his neck. 

Kiyoomi’s hand travels down between them, and Atsumu sighs when he touches him over the shorts. “Eager?” Atsumu whispers against his ear and softly bites his earlobe.

“Could you stop running your mouth so much? You’re so a–Ah!” Kiyoomi gasps out loud when Atsumu stuffs his hand inside Kiyoomi’s pants, pulling them down with his free hand. 

Atsumu’s eyes darken, and the sight makes Kiyoomi’s hips buckle. He feels the bead of precum drop to the floor, and it makes him squirm. “I’m what?” Atsumu asks him, talking over his mouth. “You’re so bossy, you know? But then all this,” he looks him up and down. “Falls the moment I put a finger on you, see?” Atsumu twists his wrist, and it makes Kiyoomi moan a little too loudly. “Shhh, remember we’re on a plane. Public space, people could hear you. The team,” Kiyoomi blushes, and Atsumu chuckles. “You’re such a whore.” He lets go of Kiyoomi’s cock, only to spit on the same hand. 

Kiyoomi stares at Atsumu’s movements and how he strokes his dick a few times. It looks heavy and pink and… it makes his mouth water. “I can do it for you,” Kiyoomi says, eyes fixed on Atsumu’s crotch. 

“I know you can, baby. But we don’t really have the time right now.” Atsumu keeps one hand on his cock and another on Kiyoomi’s cheek. “I would love to come in your mouth, you have no idea.” Kiyoomi’s eyes glisten with excitement, and Atsumu chuckles again. “C’mon.” He manhandles him on top of the plastic sink, and Kiyoomi scrunches his nose. 

“I’m ready,” he admits, and Atsumu arches a brow. “Are you gonna make me say it?” 

“Mhm.” Atsumu nods. This is all Kiyoomi’s fault. 

“I… fingered myself this morning, before leaving the apartment complex.” He feels his heart thumping against his ribcage. 

“And why is that?” Atsumu steps between Kiyoomi’s legs, opening them. He licks his index finger and pushes it in, making them both hiss.

It always feels like this: it feels like they’re under this spell, inside a bubble. Atsumu can do whatever he wants, and Kiyoomi would let him. He asks questions and gets honest responses, he licks and Kiyoomi licks back, it’s always too good. 

“In case you wanted to fuck me,” Kiyoomi whispers against Atsumu’s mouth and gasps when two fingers pad inside him. 

“Really?” Atsumu licks his mouth. “Thank you, you’re so good.” Kiyoomi moans again, loud.

Atsumu works his fingers inside Kiyoomi, who keeps moaning and cursing under his breath. His thighs tremble; he tries to close them at times, but Atsumu keeps his hips in between. “Atsumu,” Kiyoomi gasps. “I’m gonna come,” his eyes roll to the back of his head, and Atsumu smirks. 

“That’s okay, baby.” Kiyoomi can see Atsumu’s cock and how hard he is. He can see how slow Atsumu moves his hand and how his tongue brushes the top of his lip. “Ya can come,” he nods. 

“No,” he shakes his head, and Atsumu stops his fingers. 

“No?” Kiyoomi whimpers at the loss and shakes his head even harder. 

“I want you to fuck me, please.” Atsumu smiles at the plea. 

Kiyoomi feels dizzy when Atsumu picks him up, and there’s a quick whiff of his cologne. He always smells clean and delicious, which makes Kiyoomi’s heart skip a beat. 

His mouth works on its own when his arms are thrown around Atsumu’s neck: he starts by kissing him and sucking bruises on his neck. Then his lips go up to kiss his chin, and his jaw that’s raspy with stubble. He’s about to kiss him properly when Atsumu looks away, making Kiyoomi rest against his cheek. He spits on his palm and strokes himself a few times. Kiyoomi can barely register that he’s being carried with one arm while the other works Atsumu’s cock inside him. 

The slight, delicious burn is there, and Kiyoomi’s eyes fill with tears from the pleasure. He knows he’s always been needy, but ever since he and Atsumu started this thing, he can’t get enough of him. 

“Fuck,” Atsumu whispers against his hair. “You’re so…” he trails off, and Kiyoomi bites his shoulder.

And the whole situation screams desperate: how Atsumu’s thighs shake while he thrusts into Kiyoomi, how he claws onto Atsumu’s shoulders. The fact that they’re doing this 30,000 feet up in the air. Kiyoomi moans, and Atsumu has to put a hand over his mouth and shush him. 

“You’re my best fuck, you know that?” Kiyoomi’s eyes roll back as he breathes in from his nose. “The fact that I can’t wait to fuck you… god, Kiyoomi.” His full name, coming from Atsumu’s mouth, does something to him. 

His thrusts are fast and erratic, which makes Kiyoomi whine and cry out his name. The sound of skin slapping, the tight feeling, the beads of sweat dripping down their bodies. It’s too much, it’s too good. 

“F-fuck, Atsumu!” Kiyoomi is way too noisy. “I’m close,” he hisses out, and Atsumu picks up the pace. 

He’s fucking exhausted, don’t get him wrong. This tiny ass bathroom with two six-foot athletes, plus he’s carrying Kiyoomi, and his legs are gonna be fucking sore when he’s done. But he’s still horny, he still wants to hear Kiyoomi moan his name and throw his head back. He wants to feel Kiyoomi’s nails on his back, the mouthwatering sting that makes his cock pulsate. 

“‘M close, too.” He kisses him again. He’s obsessed with his lips, and Kiyoomi lets him. He swallows all of Kiyoomi’s cursing and moaning; all the different intonations for his names are music to Atsumu’s ears. 

Atsumu’s hips stutter, and he almost slips out, reacting immediately and slamming Kiyoomi down on his cock. “Oh, shit.” Kiyoomi runs a hand through Atsumu’s hair. 

“Kiyoomi,” his nose makes Kiyoomi look into his eyes. “I’m very close, m’ gonna pull out.” 

“No,” he shakes his head. “Don’t.” Atsumu almost drops him. 

Kiyoomi opens his mouth and throws his head back, moaning already loud enough. Hot come spurts out of his cock as he tightens around Atsumu’s dick. Atsumu is sent over the edge with a beautiful view: Kiyoomi’s cheeks flushed, his mouth agape, brows furrowed together. Sweat running down his nose. Atsumu stills, and Kiyoomi moans against his mouth as he comes inside him. The warm feeling fills Kiyoomi up, and it makes him look sorta high. 

Kiyoomi hugs Atsumu closer and untangles his legs from Atsumu’s torso. “That thing you asked me to do,” Atsumu kisses him on the cheek. “It’s gonna be a little troublesome for ya.” 

“Whatever,” Kiyoomi smiles at him and hops down, feet back on the floor. He’s quick at putting his clothes back on, and he breathes in and then talks. “You go out first,” 

“I have to pee,” Atsumu says, still naked from the bottom half of his body. 

“Fine,” Kiyoomi nods and fixes his hair. He feels the soreness in his legs and smiles to himself. 

He leaves the bathroom quietly, slowly, and painfully, making his way to his seat, when he finds a pair of eyes looking at him. 

“What? He whispers to Hinata. 

“You look a little floppy,” he hides a smile, and Bokuto snorts. 

“I don’t.” He blushes from his neck up to his forehead. 

“You came limping from the bathroom,” Bokuto whispers back. “And we pretty much heard the whole thing, too.” 

“You–you what?!” Kiyoomi sits, ass hurting a little. 

Atsumu steps into frame at that point. 

“Hey, look who it is.” Hinata laughs at them. 

“I’m not even sorry,” Atsumu winks at Kiyoomi and makes him stand up so he can go to his seat. “Are you rooming with me, Omi?” He whispers once they’re both seated. 

“No,” he shakes his head. Atsumu sighs and smiles. “I’ll go to your room later.” His smile grows wider, and Kiyoomi smacks him on the arm.