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Tetsurou’s suspicions begin when he’s spending time with Taketora. He’s in the Kanagawa prefecture for work and decides to stop by the volleyball club there. It’s one of the perks of working closely with nearly all division 1 league teams.
“Kuroo!” Taketora calls. “It’s nice to see you.” It’s easy for Taketora and Kuroo to keep in contact with each other given the overlap in their professions.
“How’s it going?” Tetsurou walks over to where Taketora seems to be cooling down, if the layer of sweat on his brow is anything to go by. He bends over to sit next to him, frowning a bit as his dress pants take up the dust of the floor. At least he ditched his button up shirt in the car, trading it for a Bouncing Ball zip-up.
“Good.” Taketora pulls one leg over the other, twists his torso in a stretch. “The new athletic trainer is a demon. I’ve played professionally for four years now, but I think I’m getting new muscles.”
“Sounds rough.”
“She’s brutal,” he agrees.
“So, naturally you’re in love with her.”
“Hey, I don’t fall in love with every girl I meet. Anymore.” Taketora stretches the other way. He’s quiet for a moment before adding, “But yes, I’m in love with her.”
Tetsurou laughs. “Good luck with that.”
“You know I’ll need it.” He stands, shakes out his limbs. Tetsurou follows so they’re at the same height. “Oh, nice jacket.”
Tetsurou looks down to his own attire as if he needs a reminder of what he’s wearing. “Yeah, they’re nice, eh?”
“How much is Kenma selling those for now?”
Tetsurou shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s the one Kenma sent us when he launched their spring stuff.”
“Kenma sent those out? To who? Who’s us?”
“All the guys, I thought.”
Taketora frowns. “I didn’t get one. Is he mad at me?”
“Nah, I’m sure he’s not. I just figured he sent them to everyone.” He doesn’t know why he assumed that. Kenma had drawn a small cat in the card that accompanied the jacket, which to him meant Nekoma, so he never thought to ask about it. “Maybe he forgot.”
Taketora walks over to his duffle bag at the side of the gym, pulls out his phone. “I’m texting him. If he’s mad at me, he should tell me. It’s not manly to hide your emotions.”
Tetsurou is sure Kenma will be annoyed by a text like that. “Hey, wait.” He is half a heartbeat away from slapping the phone from Taketora’s hand. “Let me ask him what’s up. You know how he can be…” Tetsurou’s not sure what he means by that, but he’s fairly certain Taketora will fill in whatever adjective he wants to, anyway.
“He needs to be more honest with his feelings.” Taketora taps Tetsurou on the chest with the corner of his phone. “Tell him to talk to me and we can figure it out.”
“If he’s mad,” Tetsurou reminds him.
“Oh, right.” He throws his phone back into his bag. “If he’s not, tell him to send me a jacket too.”
“Will do.” Tetsurou laughs at the easy shift in Taketora’s mood. “Want to grab dinner?”
“Yeah! You’re paying, right?”
■□■
It largely leaves his mind after that. Taketora easily distracts him the rest of the day and life makes him forget. He’s currently signing contracts with one of the JVA’s donors. After going over their agreement one final time, Tetsurou takes out his glasses to sign. Which is a horrifying new addition to his complaints of getting old – finally admitting he needs glasses.
He’s signing his name on the line for the JVA representative when his business partner speaks. “Huh.” He chuckles. “It’s good to know they’re paying you well at the JVA.”
“Excuse me?” Tetsurou’s not quite following.
“Your glasses – Cartier.” He motions to the gold frames sitting on Tetsurou’s nose. “Good taste. My wife has a pair from them as well.”
“Oh. Yes. Thank you.” He slides the paper across the desk, turns it for the man to sign.
Tetsurou sits behind the wheel in the parking lot, stares somewhere in the middle distance. Kenma had given him these glasses shortly after he admitted he can’t exactly read a lot of the road signs when he drives. Kenma said it was good timing since he had just gotten an offer to advertise an online glasses retailer, but was going to turn it down since he doesn’t need glasses.
(An extra annoying fact, considering Kenma has spent most of his life staring at screens all day.)
Instead, he gave Tetsurou the frames and then could comfortably endorse the product, since Tetsurou complimented and enjoyed his new glasses. Or at least that’s what he’d told Tetsurou. Tetsurou hadn’t even bothered to ask what the company was. And when he offered to pay Kenma back for them, Kenma shooed him away, saying they were free anyway.
He pulls his phone out from his breast pocket, opens a search engine. He has no idea what style his glasses are, but he’s curious about how expensive the average Cartier frame is. Tetsurou’s eyebrows raise – 120, 000-yen. Right. He falls asleep in these sometimes. What if he broke 120, 000-yen glasses? He doesn’t even know where the case is. He should definitely be keeping them safe in a case when he’s not wearing them, right?
He knows advertisers try to buy influencers and their opinions, but still. Wow. Kenma should have let him do something in return.
■□■
He doesn’t actually think to text Kenma about it – his sister does. His sister has always cared more about the quality and price of things than Tetsurou has. Not because of any ridiculous assumption that Ayaka likes things because she’s a woman and women like shopping, but because she is a put together and successful woman and he…is…well, he’d argue he’s relatively successful, at least.
“What are you doing?” Ayaka waves her hand in his direction. “What. Are. You. Doing?”
Tetsurou had been aggressively pulling at the tie around his neck. “Taking off my tie?”
“Be gentle!” Ayaka admonishes. She’s brought over dinner at the end of the week. “You have to take care of the things you buy.”
He slides the skinny end of his tie more gently through the knot at his neck. “I didn’t buy it.”
“Oh, someone just gave you a 35, 000-yen tie, did they?”
“Uh, yeah, I guess.” He holds the tie closer to his eye to inspect it. “35, 000-yen?”
“It’s Hermes! And silk! 35, 000 is a conservative estimate.” She finishes pulling their take-out containers from the plastic bag she carried them in. “If you didn’t buy it, who gave it to you?”
“Kenma.”
She snorts into the can of beer she’s just opened. “I can’t believe Kenma is your sugar daddy.”
“What? He’s not. He got it for some promo or something and didn’t want it. You know he wears sweatpants ninety percent of the time.”
“I don’t know that.” She mixes the noodles in her container. “I don’t actually make it a habit to keep track of Kenma’s clothing choices.”
“Well, now you know. I don’t think he even knows how to tie a tie.”
“Then why would a company give him a Hermes tie in a swag bag?”
Tetsurou shrugs, shoving a large bite of dinner into his mouth to give him time to weigh his answer. "No idea.”
“Ask him. I’m curious now.”
“He’s streaming soon. I’ll ask him later.” Which isn’t exactly a lie. The definition of “soon” is all subjective anyway.
“Fine. What movie do you want to watch?”
“Anything that won’t make me cry.”
“That really narrows down the options.”
■□■
He texts Kai about it before he gets around to asking Kenma. Not that he’s avoiding asking Kenma about it…for any specific…reason. Right.
Tetsurou:
Hey, does Kenma send you Bouncing Ball stuff when they have new releases?
He sits staring at his phone. Maybe Kai isn’t the best to ask, he and Kenma were never that close. Honestly, if any of them were going to get free merch, he’d assume it’d be Taketora, but he already knows the answer to that one. He sends the same text to Yaku, Hinata, and Fukunaga, just to cover his bases.
All of them reply in the negative. (With Yaku also demanding free stuff if Tetsurou gets free stuff, the tacky bastard.)
Tetsurou heads to his closet, his dresser, every other spot he can think of, and pulls out item after item that Kenma has given him over the years. He sets them all on his bed, spread out so he can assess the situation. There are a few more ties, a small mountain of Bouncing Ball stuff, the glasses, sunglasses, even a pair of shoes. Before Tetsurou realises it, practically the whole bed is covered with very expensive things Kenma has paid for.
He runs a hand through his hair. How long has this been going on for? He doesn’t remember when it started. For the longest time he was the one that would pay for Kenma, since he was the older of the two. He guesses it was probably sometime around Kenma’s astounding success with the stock market, around when he bought his house.
Tetsurou had just changed career paths, which pissed off his dad, which annoyed him. He wasn’t sure how this JVA stuff would shake out, so he was looking for every possible way to save money. But he still doesn’t remember Kenma just giving him so much.
He thinks of what he told Taketora, what he told Ayaka, his business contact. Every single item Kenma had given to him had some kind of excuse attached to it, some kind of reason for Kenma not to want it and Tetsurou to have it instead. Had he been lying to Tetsurou? Because he what? Pitied him? He frowns, pulls out his phone.
Tetsurou:
Want to come over for drinks or something tonight?
Kenma:
Sure.
Everything okay?
Tetsurou:
Yeah, of course!
He’s not lying. There’s nothing really wrong. He’s just confused. He’ll figure it out tonight though – he’ll ask Kenma tonight.
He sits on the floor with his back against the bed. Does he mind Kenma buying him things? Not really. Some of it he absolutely loves having. Any time he’s in his Bouncing Ball gear at the gym and someone compliments his outfit, he can’t help but brag about how he knows the guy that owns the company.
Really, any excuse to brag about Kenma is fun for him. Partly because he knows it would embarrass the hell out of Kenma, and partly because he’s proud of Kenma. Wait, that wasn’t what he was thinking about? He distracted himself by thinking about Kenma.
Which, is maybe something he should think about in itself.
His heart beats loudly in his ears, his fingers tingle where they sit curled around his knees. He and Kenma have become experts at ignoring whatever weird space their relationship occupies. It requires precise and accurate avoidance. Thinking about the bed full of gifts above him, Tetsurou can’t help but think that some things might be more obvious than he realised.
■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■
Kuroo opens the door for Kenma a couple hours later. “Hey.” Kenma steps in, takes off his shoes and slips on the house slippers Kuroo keeps in the genkan specifically for him. It’s cute. Kenma never asked Kuroo to do that. They just showed up one day, his size, with cat ears on them. Kenma had put them on without making a big deal of it. Because that’s what they do – dance around each other without ever owning up to what any of it means.
“How was your week?” Kuroo leads Kenma through his apartment to the living room. There are already two cans of beer on the coffee table in front of the sofa, beads of condensation on their surfaces.
Kenma shrugs. “It’s been fine.” He sits beside Kuroo on the sofa, closer than ordinary friends would, but far enough away that they don’t have to talk about it. “We started advertising the charity livestream I’m doing at the end of the month, so I’ve been fielding a lot of questions about that.”
Kuroo nods. “Nice. Can I donate in advance or do you want me to wait until the night?”
“Whatever. If it’s from the JVA I’ll include it in the official sponsors list; if it’s from you, send it whenever you want.”
Kuroo stretches back on the couch, his long legs stretching out to rest his feet on the table in front of them, his arm reaching across to not quite lie along Kenma’s shoulders. Kenma takes a moment to feel the fissure of tension in his muscles before he forces himself to relax.
His eyes track up Kuroo’s body, stall on the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows his beer. He follows suit, taking a large drink of his own. “Is there a reason you texted?” he asks when he’s done.
Kuroo shakes his head, his mouth pulling down in obvious denial. “Nah. Just haven’t seen you in a while.”
“We had lunch last weekend.”
“Can’t I miss my best friend?”
Kenma turns to him, hand placed on his thigh for balance, as he leans forward to stare into Kuroo’s eyes. It seems like he might be holding his breath. “Of course, you can miss me. But I think there’s something else.”
“It’s…uh…” Kuroo drags a hand down his face, scrubs it through his hair. It’s left in even more disarray after the motion. “Tora likes the new Bouncing Ball hoodies,” Kuroo finally gets out after his little display of frustration.
“Tora? What?”
“I was in Kanagawa the other day and he complimented it.”
“Oh, okay.” Kenma’s eyebrows pull together. “That’s…nice?”
“Yeah, uh…” He takes another drink, a deep pull like he needs the courage. “I got a compliment on my glasses the other day too.”
Kenma’s not really following the conversation, isn’t sure if there’s a point. “I’m happy that so many people like the way you look, Kuro.” It’s clear there’s something that Kuroo’s not saying, but Kenma’s almost nervous to figure out what.
Kuroo's leaning even further into the couch now, summoning a nonchalance that doesn’t read in his face. “My sister – about my tie, too.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, so can you just tell me?” Kenma huffs out the words. Kuroo needs to just come out with whatever is bothering him. He’s so –
“Do you only buy me things?” Kuroo’s words cut into Kenma’s thoughts.
“No?” Kenma is sitting upright, still too close to Kuroo.
“Oh. Right, cool. Right.” Kuroo straightens himself out, shakes his head as if that can dislodge the blush on his face.
“What do you mean?” His hand is back on Kuroo’s leg, hoping to force him to stop his movements and look at Kenma.
“Uh…” Kuroo’s thigh is thick and strong beneath his palm. “Let me show you, I guess.” He stands and walks to his bedroom at the back of his apartment, Kenma following behind. As Kuroo opens the door and turns on the light, Kenma sees a huge pile of stuff on Kuroo’s bed. It takes a breath or two for him to figure out what they all have in common – all of them bought for and given to Kuroo. By Kenma.
His heart beats loudly in his ears.
“Do you only buy me things?” Kuroo asks again.
Kenma’s eyes are stuck on the evidence accumulated on Kuroo’s bed. “Yes.”
Kuroo nods. “Okay.” He fidgets with his hands, wipes them along the worn denim of his pants, tucks them under his arms. “Uh, why?”
Kenma words get stuck in his throat.
Because you deserve it.
Because I like dressing you up.
Because I want you to have nice things.
Because it makes you look like you’re mine.
Because I want you to be mine.
He shrugs. “You’ve always done a lot for me. Since forever.” He reaches out a hand, slides a silk tie between his fingers. “It didn’t seem fair. So, I wanted to do something for you too.”
It’s not really the truth, but not a lie either. That is why he likes it, in the nicest and purest sense of it. But there’s another part to it. Something darker and needier and so far past all the light touches and just-too-friendly gestures they dance around. He wants Kuroo, wants to claim him and mark him so everyone else knows. He can’t do that with bite marks. He can’t do that with bruises. Instead, he puts him in pretty ties and expensive glasses, and it settles that hunger just a bit.
“You know you don’t have to.”
Kenma looks to Kuroo. He’s so good, so kind, so lovely and supportive and giving. “I know I don’t have to. I want to, though. So, can I keep doing it?”
Kuroo blushes then, looks a bit surprised by Kenma’s admission, or maybe by his request. He nods. “Yeah, okay.”
“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.” Kenma’s brain feels like static, anxiety making it hard to process what he’s hearing. “If you don’t like it, I can stop.”
“It’s fine,” Kuroo cuts in. “I’m not uncomfortable. I – I like it.”
■□■
The rest of their night together is uneventful. They watch a movie. Drink a few more beers. And don’t talk about how much Kenma enjoys buying Kuroo things.
There was a thrilling mixture of guilt, embarrassment, and desire that curled in Kenma’s stomach when he looked at just how many things he has given Kuroo over the years – spread out and on display all together.
He thought Kuroo was going to tell him to stop, tell him that he was acting weird, that he didn’t like it. Instead, he said it was fine, told Kenma he could keep going. It feels like a lot of freedom. Not having to lie or pretend.
A new kind of thrill sits in Kenma’s veins now, pushes out to tingle at the nerve endings of his skin. Kuroo knows. He knows. And because of that, every time he wears something, every time he’s dressed himself in Kenma’s gifts, he’s acknowledging it. It’s like he’s saying he wants it, likes it.
When they’re together and he wears a tie or a sweatshirt, or puts on his glasses to see the TV at the end of the night when his eyes are too tired for contacts, it’s like he’s saying I know that you bought me this. Do you see that I’m wearing it?
Kenma has to calm down, to control his desire to decorate every centimeter of Kuroo’s body. He takes a deep breath, opens a new window on his phone, and starts shopping.
■□■
When they meet for dinner, Kenma pushes a box into Tetsurou’s hand. He keeps a pleased smile at bay when Kuroo immediately goes to open the gift before they’re even sat at a table. He very much likes it when Kuroo is so obviously excited and pleased to be given something.
Kuroo’s eyebrows raise as he takes in the contents of the box. He whistles low under his breath. “Wow.” He undoes the buttons of his shirt at his wrist before pulling the heavy metal watch from its velvet pillowed box. “How much was this one?” Rolling his shirtsleeve a few times, he slips his hand into the watch.
Kenma shrugs. He’s barely paying attention to how the linked band of gold looks against Kuroo’s tanned skin, instead being distracted by the muscled forearm now on display. He vaguely remembers being asked a question. “350, 000 yen?”
“What? Kenma!”
“That’s how much TAG Heuer watches cost.”
“Why?” Kuroo closes the clasp at the back. It fits perfectly. Kenma watches how the weight shifts on his wrist, how it makes his arm hang just a little differently knowing that it’s there.
“It was the first watch brand in space.”
“Was this watch specifically in space? Because that’s the only way you could justify that price.”
Kuroo finally settles into his seat, the new shine of his latest gift sitting snugly on his wrist. Kenma’s eyes stay locked on the watch for a while before looking up to meet Kuroo’s eye. “Do you like it?”
Kuroo smiles. “Very much. Thank you.”
Kenma nods his head and goes back to his menu. Which seems to be the trend. Kenma will give him something because he saw it or because I wanted to or because if suited you and Kuroo will put it on. He’s not quite gotten used to the hungry way Kuroo looks at him for the first few moments after he puts on whatever shiny accessory Kenma’s just given him.
And then the switch will flip, and both of them will pretend that nothing out of the ordinary is happening. They are friends eating dinner. They are friends out for a movie. They are friends getting drinks. The tingle of more stays ignored.
■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■
Tetsurou can’t be sure if he’s being gifted things more frequently since the conversation he had with Kenma about it. That would have meant he had any clue it was happening in the first place. But now that he’s aware of it, it sure seems to be happening a lot. Which he guesses is good, since it means that Kenma no longer feels like he has to couch his gifts in excuses.
He doesn’t like the idea that Kenma felt like he had to lie, about, what? His generosity?
No, that doesn’t make sense.
The tie he had worn that day to work is sitting on his bed, thrown there after he’d gotten home and changed into something more comfortable. It’s smooth, soft, almost liquid in its decadence. Tetsurou never really thought about it, but it is clear that the things Kenma buys him are much more extravagant than anything he ever buys himself.
He thinks about that fact – that Kenma gives him nice things, that Kenma wants him to look nice. He lets the tie fall from between his fingers back to the bed. Maybe Kenma wants him to look pretty. Does Kenma think about this too? Is that why he was embarrassed by it?
The idea of Kenma dressing him up to look good for Kenma makes Tetsurou’s stomach spark and light up with want. He changes into his pajamas, gets settled in bed. His heart is pounding with something that feels like nerves as he reaches for the tie to wrap around his hand.
He’s thought about Kenma while masturbating before. They spend a significant amount of time together and Kenma is attractive, so of course he has. But never quite like this, never with the thought of the power and control Kenma has. What would it be like to have that control over him?
It’s easy to forget when you’ve grown up with someone, when you’ve been with them since childhood, how capable and impressive they actually are. Not to mention Kenma, in his sweatpants and hoodies, who carries himself like a broke college student and not like someone who bought a house before twenty-five.
He pushes his boxers down below his balls, sets a hand on his hardening cock. He takes a deep breath as he closes his fist and begins to stroke.
Kenma is the CEO of his own company, he trades stocks and commands an audience of millions. He is a powerful and wealthy man, and Tetsurou wants Kenma to look at him like he covets him. He wants to feel like he’s on display, is intoxicated by the thought of it.
Tetsurou lets out a deep grumble of a sigh as his cock begins to leak. He rubs his thumb across the slit, drags the pre-come down his shaft. His other hand squeezes and massages his balls, drags a finger across the sensitive skin of his perineum.
What would it be like to have the full, unfiltered attention of Kenma’s control on him? He wants Kenma to give it to him through pretty neckties and golden accessories. He wants to feel taken care of and claimed and paid for.
The hand he has wrapped in silk comes to slide against the sensitive inside of his thighs. He scratches his nails along the skin until it’s raised and red, then soothes it with the soft fabric.
Tetsurou’s back arches at that thought. There’s something about the degradation of it all – that Kenma can and should do whatever he wants with Tetsurou. If he gives Tetsurou lovely little gifts, then Tetsurou should of course do anything he wants for him in return.
He pumps his cock faster, twists and fists along his length with efficiency. His fingers graze the thick vein along the bottom, his thumb rubbing against the glands and across the head. He thinks of it as a performance, letting himself whine and jerk and keen for the audience of one he pretends is there.
It’s like that, twisted in the sheets, his mouth hanging open and breathing heavy, feet pushed into the bed below him, fingers clutching the silk tie Kenma gave him, that he comes all over himself. Thick ropes of come splash up and hit his stomach and chest as his cock twitches in his fingers.
His chest moves up and down with deep breaths as he regains his senses. He looks down at the white drops on his stomach. Taking the tie, he wipes down the mess he made, staining and ruining the expensive tie Kenma bought just for him. It makes his mouth fill with spit.
He really hopes Kenma feels the same way about all of this.
■□■
Tetsurou throws himself face first on Kenma’s bed. He groans loudly. “Interviews are the worst.”
Kenma is sitting at the head of bed, his PSP in his hands. “Is this the same job where you said if you didn’t get an interview you’d quit?”
“Yes. Your point?”
“No point, just making sure I’m following. “
It’s a lateral move in the JVA – from promotions to their outreach and assistance division. It’s a much smaller branch of the company, and Tetsurou will be working closely with a small team that would be all his own. He misses leading a team; so much of his job right now is done independently, then presented to those in charge.
“I’ve worked there six years now. I wish that my experience held a little more weight, that’s all, but they’re making me interview same as everyone.”
“I can see why you’re frustrated.”
He looks up at Kenma, pouts. “I am. I hate being judged.”
“That is kind of the point of interviews.”
“Which is why they’re the worst!”
Kenma’s quiet for a while. He puts down his PSP and pulls out his phone, typing on the screen quickly. “Are you free any afternoon this week?”
“I could probably take a long lunch on Wednesday or Thursday. Why?”
“Make it Thursday. I’ll come grab you from your office.”
■□■
Kenma meets him in the lobby of his office building on Thursday at lunch. He’s dressed in his usual hoodie and sweatpants, a small backpack over his shoulders. “What time do you have to be back?”
“We’ve got two hours. Three if I decide to stay late tonight.”
“Alright.” Kenma heads for the subway and Tetsurou follows.
“Where are you taking me?”
“You need something to wear to the interview.”
“I have things to wear to the interview. I’m wearing something right now that I could wear to the interview.”
Kenma turns to him in their subway car, looking up as his head tilts. Tetsurou wonders if any of the other travellers think it’s weird that they’re standing as close to each other as they are. Kenma’s voice is quiet, a secret kept between them in this public space. “I want to buy you something to wear.”
Tetsurou swallows. “Okay.”
■□■
Kenma leads them to a boutique that Tetsurou would ordinarily walk past, too afraid to step inside when it’s obvious he can’t afford a thing. Tetsurou eyes the extravagant items on display. “No wonder there’s no one else in here. This place looks ridiculously expensive.”
“Hmm?”
“It’s just me and you in here. Generally, stores need customers to be successful.”
“Oh. They go by appointment here.” Kenma walks to the counter where a sales associate is waiting. “Kuroo. Tetsurou.” Kenma says his name to the woman who types it in to the computer at her station.
“Of course. We have you until one.”
Kenma nods. “I get most of your ties from here. Except that volleyball one. I got that online because I thought it looked ridiculous.”
“Hey, I like that tie.”
“I know you do.” Kenma’s smile is full of such fondness.
“Let me go get your personal shopper.” The woman leaves them at the counter.
“I’ll have them put my card on file. If you ever want anything else from here, they’ll know to authorise purchases from you.”
“That seems dangerous,” Tetsurou teases. “Think you can trust me with that kind of thing?”
The authority of Kenma’s focus on Tetsurou tingles along his skin. “I know you’ll be good. Won’t you?”
Tetsurou lets out a small chuckle as he tries to keep up the teasing tone of just before. His head swims with the demand from Kenma – be good. He nods. “I will.”
Tetsurou watches as Kenma pulls out his wallet, a black credit card being placed on the countertop. He half listens as the sales associate explains their fabric options, style options, brand options. He doesn’t really care – too distracted by the bored look on Kenma’s face as the woman behind the counter swipes his card.
Tetsurou is startled into conversation when he hears the sales associate with him say sir with an increased volume. “Oh, sorry. I, uh, I missed that, can you repeat?”
In the end they load Tetsurou up with two different cuts of suit coat, a few pairs of slacks and number of crisp dress shirts. All of the items have been brought back to a dressing room for Tetsurou to try on and then be fitted by the in-house tailor.
“What, don’t want to throw in the socks and underwear too?”
“I could if you want me to.”
“I was kidding. This is already way too much.”
Kenma shrugs up a shoulder. “I don’t have to hold myself back anymore.”
“You were holding yourself back?” They’re close again, the foggy line between them pushed and twisted and hard to read. Neither of the workers in the store are paying them any mind. Which makes sense, he’s sure the commission they’ll earn off of Kenma is worth looking the other way for.
“You have no idea,” Kenma says with a challenge in his eye.
“Tell me, then. If I don’t have any idea, tell me.”
“You haven’t figured it out?” His eyes shift down to Tetsurou’s chest. “I’ll do whatever you ask.”
“Kenma…” The line is gone, blown away by an exhale shared between the two of them.
“We only have until one.” Kenma walks past Tetsurou, back to the changing room.
Tetsurou takes a deep breath and thinks later.
■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■
They don’t find time to get together until the following weekend.
Kuroo:
Interview went well.
Kenma:
Knew it would.
Kuroo:
Let’s celebrate.
Do I deserve something nice?
Kenma:
Come over tonight.
There’s no doubt in Kenma’s mind that they both know what they’re doing, what’s being implied with every message between them. Kenma changes his bedsheets, takes an extra long shower to get ready.
■□■
“I have a couple of working hypotheses.” Kuroo is all smirks and lidded eyes today. It’s like since their day at the boutique, he’s had enough time to process what’s happening between them. He sits now with more confidence, a self-assuredness that he’s going to get exactly what he wants, in the way he wants. Kenma takes another swallow of wine. He’s not wrong, Kenma is desperate to give him every little thing he asks for.
“And what are they?”
“First, if I wear something you gave me, then you become much more possessive.”
There’s a fire in Kenma’s stomach at Kuroo’s words, at having it laid out so blatantly. “Your conclusion?”
“I think I’m right. When we’re out and someone pretty or handsome talks to me, you like to state your claim.”
Kenma shrugs. “I don’t like having to talk to people. It could just be my very sunny disposition and not jealousy at all.”
“Hmm. Maybe. Except it’s not.” He sits up then, puts his elbows on his knees as he leans closer. “You always make sure to touch me when someone talks to me. Not anything obscene. You’ll touch my wrist or grab on to my jacket.”
“So?”
“It’s like you’re annoyed that they haven’t figured it out.” Kuroo’s so pleased with himself and his analysis. Kenma rolls his eyes, even though he’s not wrong.
“Haven’t figured what out?”
“That I’m yours.” His other hand moves to smooth over the watch sitting on his wrist. “That I’m clearly marked up by you.”
“I don’t like sharing,” is all Kenma says. Kuroo laughs deep in his throat and Kenma drinks it in, velvet and heady. Maybe he’s had too much to drink. Except that’s not true. They’re barely through a bottle between the two of them. It’s the honesty of the night – he’s fucked up on sincerity. “Is that all? Or was there more to your scientific process?”
Kuroo swirls his wine, takes another drink. “If Kenma is possessive of me, then he wants me to fuck him.”
Kenma’s breathing feels shallow and short. “Is that the second hypothesis?”
Kuroo nods. “I haven’t tested it yet.”
“Why not?”
“Waiting for the right experimental conditions.” Kuroo licks along his plump bottom lip. He takes his wine glass and very deliberately sets it down on the small table beside the couch. Watching him carefully, Kenma does the same.
He leans toward Kenma, his large hand curving around Kenma’s jaw, and kisses him. It’s slow, exploratory. As if Kuroo still wants to check in with Kenma that he wants this, as if it’s not wildly clear. Kenma pushes forward into Kuroo’s mouth, tongue licking in and tasting. He bites at Kuroo’s lip, follows the movement with his tongue. Kuroo meets his intensity, fingers moving from his jaw to the base of Kenma’s head to grip his hair.
The kiss ends and Kenma turns off the TV and moves toward the hallway that will lead to his room. “Are you coming?”
When they get to his room, Kenma takes off his shirt, his socks, leaves his soft pants sitting low on his hips. He can already feel the fabric pull and tent as his cock hardens. He swallows. There are so many centimeters of Kuroo’s skin that Kenma hasn’t ever touched. His fingers tingle in anticipation.
“You first,” he challenges Kuroo. He wants to see if Kuroo is just as desperate as he is, wants to see his cock hard and leaking between his legs.
Kuroo nods, the perfect display of obedience. “Okay.” Every bit of Kuroo’s body is beautiful. All smooth skin and defined muscle. Kenma feels too pale and unimpressive beside him. He’s about to let his thoughts spiral and drag him away when Kuroo pulls down his boxers.
Kenma’s breath catches as he takes in the sight. Kuroo’s cock is more perfect than he imagined. The foreskin is already pulled back and showing the pretty pink glans at the tip, the stiff shaft deliciously long and thick. He feels a new deep ache inside as he thinks about Kuroo fucking him with it.
Kuroo lays on the bed for him, naked and waiting and so beautiful. Kenma grabs lube from the side table, places it by Kuroo’s hips before taking off his last layer and sitting on Kuroo’s thighs. He bites his lip as their cocks line up, the difference in their size and length fizzing down his spine.
He rubs his hands up Kuroo’s body, notes the way his skin pimples and shivers. “Mmmm.” He shifts his hips forward, the length of his cock rubbing lightly against Kuroo’s.
Kuroo sighs along with him, a smile on his face. “Like it slow, do you?”
Kenma keeps his movements controlled, delicate. “Not particularly.” It’s maddening, the barely there friction between them. Kuroo’s hands grip at Kenma’s thighs as he lazily moves, the pressure of Kuroo’s fingers digging into his body and leaving divots.
Kenma leans forward to kiss Kuroo again. He briefly thinks of grabbing Kuroo’s cock and sitting on it without any prep, just a too fast push into his needy body. It would be too much, overwhelming and maybe painful, but fuck it would be perfect too. He controls himself as Kuroo’s tongue pushes into his mouth; Kenma sucks on it in response.
“Can I give you more things to wear?” He leans back, adds some lube to his hands before he starts to fist both of their cocks, still infuriatingly gentle with his movements.
Kuroo lets out a groan. “Yeah.”
Kenma smirks, leaning down to suck a deep red bruise to his chest, right beside his nipple. Kuroo whines even louder as Kenma sucks. When he pulls back to look at his work, his head swims with the feeling of yes, finally. This is it. This is what he wanted. He fucks against Kuroo’s cock harder, hips stuttering against his fist. “Fuck.”
Kuroo’s fingers take over the task of working their cocks, his large hands so much better at jacking them together. He goes back to giving Kuroo more marks. He bruises him along his collarbone, bites the space behind his ear, licks and sucks and marks every bit of Kuroo’s chest he can. His ribs, the column of his throat, his pecs all become mottled and red. Kenma whines, high and needy. “You look so fucking good, Kuro.”
Kuroo’s been rocking the entire time, little pushes up and against Kenma’s body. Kuroo sounds so needy when he speaks between shivered breaths, so clearly desperate for control. “Yeah?”
He moves his hands to Kenma’s body, begins pulling Kenma bodily against him, hips thrusting to increase the force and friction between them. “Fuck, Kenma, can I – to you too?” He leans up to attach his lips to Kenma’s chest and Kenma pushes him back.
“Not there.” He sits up and grabs Kuroo by the wrist and forces his hand to Kenma’s crease. “Here.” Kuroo catches on quickly, rubbing the pads of his fingers along the tight rim of Kenma’s hole. Kenma’s back arches, pushes into the feel of his fingers. “Mark me – mark me here. Fuck me so deep and wide I can’t walk without feeling it.” He grabs the lube, does his best to drip it into the space between his cheeks.
“Fuck. Yeah.” Kuroo spreads the lube round his rim, rubs it into his skin. There’s more than there needs to be, making it slippery and wet and messy. One of Kuroo’s fingers enters him deep in one push and Kenma moans. He rocks forward, fucks their cocks together, his mouth by Kuroo’s ear as he continues to whimper. Kuroo’s fingers reach so far into Kenma’s body, twist until he hits Kenma’s prostate.
“There you go.” Kuroo’s voice drips into Kenma’s ear. “Fucking ride it.” He slides in two fingers this time, pulling Kenma apart as Kenma bounces up and down on his hand. Kenma feels it, the spring coiling in the base of his stomach. He could come, rutting against Kuroo’s cock with just a couple fingers pulling him apart.
Kenma bites on Kuroo’s shoulder, gets him to hiss at the sting of it. “Stop. Don’t want to come like this.” Kuroo’s fingers pull out of him; a warm rush of excess lube slides out of Kenma’s loosened hole. Kenma flips himself over, lies on his back with knees wide. “Fuck me, Kuro. Please.”
Kuroo looks stunned as he runs a single finger down Kenma’s cock, softly over his perineum, down to his hole. He growls something primal and demanding, pulls at Kenma’s leg, just under the knee, and drags him across the bed until he’s situated right at Kuroo’s hips. “Tell me if it’s too much,” is the warning he gives before the head of his cock pushes past the tight rim of Kenma’s hole and all the way into his greedy body.
Kenma tenses at the intrusion, lets out a high gasp at how fucking stuffed full he feels. Kuroo’s cock feels big and demanding inside his body. He grabs at Kuroo’s shoulders, scrapes his nails down Kuroo’s back, holding him close. He wonders if he can make Kuroo’s back as red and angry as his front.
Kuroo takes deep breaths in the slope of Kenma’s neck, bottomed out and balls flush against Kenma’s ass. “Holy shit. You’re so tight.” He’s still holding up Kenma’s leg, bending him in half to push in deeper.
Kenma tries to catch his breath, tries to clear his mind. The intimacy of the moment rushes through him. Every nerve in him is singing with the knowledge that Kuroo is inside of him right now. It’s happening, it’s real. “Feels good,” he agrees.
“I have to move, Kenma. I have to. ” He’s holding himself above Kenma now, his face pulled in pained control. “I have to fuck you.”
“Do it.” Kenma clenches down on Kuroo’s cock, making him swear again. “Give me all of it.”
Kuroo starts with long, deep thrusts in and out of Kenma. Kenma feels every dizzying drag of Kuroo against his insides, feels the way the head of Kuroo’s cock snags on Kenma’s rim, like Kenma’s body is keeping him inside, demanding he stay close.
He feels delirious with how stretched he feels, how good it is. His head lolls to the side, an uncontrollable smile sitting on his face. “Big.”
Kuroo smirks, a laugh almost pushing through on his next panted breath. “Flatterer.”
Kenma lets a happy hum out in response, too hazy to form any thoughts. He keeps his fingers gripped to the sheets, scratching along Kuroo’s scalp, anything to keep himself from fisting his own prick. He doesn’t want to come yet, wants to feel Kuroo using him for as long as he needs.
This is what it’s always been about. Kuroo and Kenma taking care of each other. Kuroo and Kenma giving each other what they need. Thinking of the other first and letting them take.
“Tetsurou.” Kenma pulls him down, clicks their teeth together in the rush to kiss. It’s sloppy and uncoordinated but so perfect as Kuroo keeps fucking into him, keeps using and using him and in turn giving him exactly what he wants. “Yes.”
“Ken – Kenma. You’re made for this – made to be fucked.” Kuroo’s pushing faster, his thrusts becoming erratic as he rushes toward his orgasm. “Gonna come, fuck – gonna – ” He groans then his hips fuck forward, his tight balls flush to Kenma’s body as he shoots deep inside Kenma.
“Yes, fucking yes.” Kenma’s eyes roll back, he gasps at the feel. “Give it all to me.” Kuroo rocks like that, still pressed so tightly against him, as his twitching cock spurts more and more come.
Kenma feels a comforting claustrophobia as Kuroo slumps over him, his large frame and strong arms keeping Kenma so wonderfully enclosed. He can hear Kuroo’s heavy breathing in his ear as his body comes down from the high of orgasm. Kuroo’s low and rough voice whispers, “Hold on,” as he pulls out from Kenma’s body.
Kenma feels his body twitch and clench at nothing, feeling bereft at the loss of Kuroo’s length. He whines, squirms in place. “Kuro.” He pushes his hips up, and drags his cock against the smooth surface of Kuroo’s stomach.
Kuroo sits back on his heels, looks down at the mess he’s made of Kenma. Kenma feels the warm glide of come dripping out of him. “Oh God, Kenma.” Kuroo’s voice is reverent as he scoops up the come with a finger, pushes it back in to Kenma’s body. He works the mess in and out of Kenma, the movements easier now. “Look at you taking it now. You’re so loose and wet.”
Kenma whimpers and arches. He loves this – loves the look on Kuroo’s face, loves his undivided attention, his praise. “Make me come, Tetsurou – please, please make me come.” He has one hand brought to his mouth, sucks on his fingers to help him feel full again.
“Yeah. I will. I got you.” He pushes in three fingers, not quite the stretch of his cock, but so, so good inside him. He lowers his mouth to Kenma’s length, licks along the shaft, before taking the whole thing down to his throat.
“Ah – you’re. Fuck – that’s good.” Kenma drags his hand through Kuroo’s hair, pulls at it in encouragement. There’s so much to keep track of – the sight of Kuroo’s wet, hot mouth sucking him off, the sound of squelching come as Kuroo’s fingers pump in and out of his spent hole, the feel of it all, consuming and overwhelming and everything, everything.
It settles deep in his gut, pulls out in every direction until Kenma can’t hold on anymore. He starts bucking into Kuroo’s mouth, fucking back onto Kuroo’s fingers, wanting it all and more and now. He starts coming, filling Kuroo’s mouth with viscous bitter liquid. Kuroo stays on him the entire time, milking him through the orgasm until he’s finally empty.
They end up curled together in bed, showered and clean. Kenma’s body feels exhausted, his muscles loose and soft. He runs his fingertips up and down Kuroo’s bicep, watches the way the skin goosepimples under his touch.
“I’m not good at saying what I feel or what I think. I always – ” He stops, takes a deep breath as he organises his thoughts. “I think so much that things get lost when I try to get them out. When I give you something, when you wear it, it’s like we don’t need words. I can buy you things and take care of you and you can cook us dinner and clean and it’s enough.”
“Careful Kenma, that’s almost romantic.”
“And that would be bad?” He swallows, half afraid of the answer. “If I was being romantic?”
Kuroo studies him for a torturously long moment. “It wouldn’t be bad. In fact, I would like that very much.”
Kenma sits up enough so that he’s able to kiss Kuroo, soft and easy on the lips. “Go out with me. Sleep here tonight and we can go out for breakfast.”
“That’s a bit backwards, isn’t it?” Kuroo chuckles but his eyes betray him, watery in their happiness. “Sex before the first date.”
Kenma shrugs. “I fell in love with you before the first date too. So, backwards seems fitting.”
Kuroo’s face is slack with surprise. “Yeah. Fitting.”