“Cara mia, close your eyes. I have a gift for you.” 

         “If you drop a screw in my hand again and say you found it behind my ear, I’m going to throw it at you!” 

         His laugh rumbles deep in his chest, but you close your eyes to humor him. Without wasting a moment, he takes your hand and presses a cold, circular object into your palm. “You can look now.” 

         Your eyes flutter open, but you don’t know what to say. “A pocket watch? Did you steal this from Arthur?!” 

         “No.” He pulls the lid back to reveal a much more complicated interior. You take a moment to admire the fine engravings around the edge of the disk before your eyes graze over the centre of the object: an oblong piece of metal resembling the hands of a clock stretch across the diameter, overlapping the intricate second layer that sits atop what looks like a miniature map of the world. It is a deep copper color, and you immediately think of his eyes. They are nearly the same shade of amber, so deep and intoxicating that you wonder if he made it like this on purpose. “It is an astrolabe.” 

         “Well, it looks like you took a watch and a compass and made some… strange hybrid. What does it do?” 

         When he cups his hand over yours, your breath catches in the back of your throat. His hands are so large and warm. “It’s used to calculate the position of the Sun and other stars in the sky. Here, I’ll show you.” Now, his fingers lace with yours, the astrolabe pressed between your palms. It fits there perfectly, as if it were made to be held by your hand and his. 

         The two of you step over the incredible mess that has accumulated over the past week. No matter how hard you try, this place always remains a mess. It is no use to scold him for it now, for he has something set in his mind – nothing you say or do will be able to draw his attention away from showing you what this strange device is capable of doing. 

         He allows you to climb up the winding staircase first. 

         What a gentleman. 

         Then again, it’s the perfect opportunity for him to place his free hand on your waist. To ensure you don’t fall, he explains with the slyest of smirks. 

         Upon reaching the roof of the building, he leads you to the large telescope pointing towards the night sky. A breeze ruffles through your clothes, so he pushes you between the device and his body.  Warmth radiates from his chest, so you lean against him slightly as he explains what he is doing. 

         “This telescope is completely uncalibrated, alright? Cara mia, are you paying attention? Look inside. You’ll see that it is not pointing at anything memorable.” 

         You smile to yourself. He always is so passionate about his work. To humor him, you take a peek through the lense. There is only darkness. 

         “I see.” 

         “Now, if you’ll give me a moment…” Lifting the astrolabe to the sky, he fiddles with it, mutters to himself, and then changes a few settings on the telescope. It swings around to point at a seemingly equal void in the sky – you cannot see anything of importance against the night sky, but he nudges you slightly, prompting you to look through the lense once more. 

         “Is… is that Venus?” 

         “It is!” 

         You lean back and squint, trying hard to see a flicker of green against the black. However, your eyes are too weak to spot anything. “That’s very impressive.” 

         “Oh, but that’s not all!” He side steps around an open box of art supplies and turns over a large piece of paper. It is obviously a flying contraption, but it looks so strange… like it is straight out of a steampunk novel. And is that gold on the sails? How is this thing supposed to fly? 

         Raising an eyebrow, you take a seat on the small stool next to the lamp resting on the ground. “What is it for?” 

         A grin captures his lips. “I’m taking you to the stars. No more sitting around on Earth. I’m tired of this place. When we wed, I promised you a life of adventure. We left the mansion, and now we’re living in the closet of a train station. This isn’t the glamorous life you should have.” 

         “I think it’s pretty fancy, actually–”

         He shakes his head with a laugh, and his dark brown hair falls over his forehead. “We’re going to fly amidst the galaxies that make up the vast universe. How tiny we are, compared to them.” He whips around. “Imagine, reaching your hand out and catching a handful of dust from the time of creation. How amazing that would be…” 

         You laugh, but don’t correct him. Instead, you take his hands between yours again and kiss his calloused knuckles. “Where would you like to go first?” 

         He leans his head against yours and points at the horizon. “Sirius. It is one of the brightest stars in the night sky.” Turning to meet your gaze, he brushes his thumb against your cold cheek. “There is only one star that rivals its beauty. Would you like to know which one?” 

         “Of course.” 

         “A moment, if you please.” 

         Taking a dramatic step backwards, he plays around with the astrolabe until it clicks into place. The long hand is pointing directly at you. 

         “I don’t understand,” you tell him. 

         “Cara mia, you are the brightest star here tonight. You will always be the most beautiful star as well. Trust in that.” 

         You flush at his words, and it is hard to contain your smile. “You’re such a smooth talker, why can’t you put some of that effort into cleaning your room! I swear, it looks worse than it did when I first arrived here. Remember that time I found a mouse amongst your things?!” 

         “Don’t bring Lorenzo into this, he’s done nothing wrong!” 

         The two of you break into a fit of laughter, and that’s when he puts the astrolabe in your palm once more. “This is yours though.” He’s looking at you again with those pools of ochre mischief. “In the case that we are separated before we can reach the stars, use this to find me. Go towards Sirius, and I will meet you there. I’ll wait for you.” 

The white noise of the museum filters into your mind as your eyes flutter open, and you ease back into reality. Tears roll down your cheeks, but you do not move to wipe them. 

         Looking at the astrolabe again, you see the tender scratches against the metal: his initials coupled with yours. An impressive layer of grime dulls the shine of the device, making it less impressive than how it looks in its natural state. 

         A week after he showed you his plans, a tank of a train exploded, plunging the east side of the station in flames. As the fire grew, it stretched to the opposite side, where the hotel was. You had begged him to escape before the roof collapsed, but he insisted on returning for the astrolabe and his telescope, because he had been using it to calculate stars the night before. 

         As you had expected, the wooden beams were not strong enough to withstand the fire but, by some stroke of luck, he managed to thrust you to safety before everything collapsed. 

         Neither him nor the damned astrolabe made it through. 

         A painful hatred for the device burns in your lungs, so you turn away from it and nearly run into someone. Tossing an apology into the air, you hurry forward and move past the rest of the salvaged artworks without paying them much attention. Guilt tugs at your heartstrings and weighs your feet down, retarding your motions. 

         Despite the tears blurring your vision, you throw your head back and glances back at the astrolabe. You don’t know if it is taunting you or trying to tell you something. And yet, your eyes follow the long hand forward, just beyond where you’re standing, until you realize that it is pointing directly at the final, most impressive display of them all. 

         It towers over your head, stretching up the entire length of the wall. Pieces of blueprints, canvases, loose papers, wood, and more are all arranged to create a larger than life depiction of– you. 

         The eyes.. Her nose.. That beauty spot on her cheek that you hate… it is all there. He had to have reproduced it all from memory because you don’t remember him taking any photographs or sketches of her. 

         In the bottom corner, you see a plaque: 

         Believed to be a portrait of his lover, our favourite artist would have had to spend years creating this piece: in fact, our experts needed months to put the pieces together in order to reveal a face! In the left margin of the paper with her eye, the phrase ‘my star’ is written, so we have named her ‘Étoile’ for reference. Who was this woman? It was thought that this was lost to a massive fire in the nearly five decades ago, but the recent excavation proved fruitful in its treasures among the basement of the Gare d'Orsay when preparations for the museum began...

         You hear his voice loud and clear in your mind. 

         Cara mia, I am waiting for you, but do not rush. When you are ready, join me, so that we may explore the world beyond this one together. 

         Unable to contain your emotions anymore, you break into sobs. The sadness ebs from your broken heart and stretches through your body, making your legs click in place. You lose your balance and fall to the polished tiles, clutching your chest in an attempt to relieve the pressure. Other guests swarm to your side, offering you help or to call for someone, but you ignore them all. 

         Even overwhelmed with memories, you can feel the warmth of his promise, just as if he were standing beside her. 

         I’ll meet you again, Leonardo. 

    Oikawa’s shorts and boxers drop in record time, falling to his ankles where they won’t get in the way. He pins you against the cold cement wall with his hips and flashes you the most shit eating grin you’ve ever seen. Even in the poor lighting of the gym supply closet, you catch the glint on his canines. 

    He’s ready, are you? 

    “C’mon baby, spread your legs for me like you did last night…” You have no choice but to oblige really. (Defying him would only ensure that he’d wreck you worse than he already has planned. Although this is a tempting offer, Oikawa has practice in less than ten minutes– but that notion has been pushed to the back of his mind now.) 

    Obeying your boyfriend, you swallow hard and slide your left foot outwards more. Happy with your compliance, Oikawa clamps his large hand against your thigh to hold you in place. This is more than enough for what he has planned. 

    Oikawa palms his cock with his free hand before inserting himself just between your thighs. With his nose nestling in his favorite spot below your jaw, he moans softly and bucks his hips back and forth. He drinks in every soft sound you make, whether it is intentional or not. 

    “Hmm…” he hums against your skin. Oikawa’s finger tips dig into the supple flesh of your thighs just like you’ve seen him do to a volleyball before serving. Is the wetness between your legs from his cock or from you? This is a very important question, but you don’t have enough braincells to properly process it because of how good it feels. All coherent thoughts have melted out of your ears and are replaced with the melodious moans Oikawa makes. 

    “Are you not going to fuck me?” 

    Your boyfriend peels back and tips his head to the side. “I am fucking you.” 

    “You’re fucking my thighs.” 

    “Is your hole jealous~? Is it pulsating and begging for my cock?”  

    You should have known better than to say anything to Oikawa, because he immediately found a weak spot to poke at. This masochistic ability makes him an absolute tease, so there is no winning in sight. Oikawa takes handfuls of the backs of your thighs and lifts you into the air slightly. With your back pressed against the wall, you’re not escaping any time soon. 

    The friction is dangerous and makes your breath leave your lungs just about as fast as your soul departs when someone opens the door to the closet. 

    “Who’s going to help me put up the net?” Iwaizumi asks. 

    For a second, you think he’s asking you or Oikawa, but the two of you are hidden just out of view. The corner of the storage racks provides enough coverage that Iwaizumi can’t see you… nor does he suspect anything. 

    Suddenly, your heart is thundering and you’re squirming out of Oikawa’s grip. 

    “Shh…” Oikawa keeps you in places, but cups a hand over your mouth. He’s still wearing that fucking smirk of his, and continues rolling his body. “Behave, angel.” 

    “Make Kentarou do it!” someone else responds. 

    The doors close after Iwaizumi leaves with the cart of volleyballs. Had he looked over his shoulder at any time, he would have surely caught you and Oikawa in the act. 

    You’re about to ask how the two of you will leave now that the team has gathered, but Oikawa nips your skin below your ear. He nurses on the skin there, ensuring that a bruise blossoms for him. The wet sounds are so loud, you don’t know how no one has caught the two of you. 

    “Toru...” you whine, draping your arms over his shoulders. 

    He tips his head up to smile and kiss you. “Are you going to cum just from me fucking your thighs?”

    There he goes using your words against you. 

    “Yes…” 

    “Well good, because so am I–” 

    Iwaizumi holds you in his lap, directly in front of the tall mirror. You’re sitting in the middle of his strong legs, positioned in such a way that his cock fits snugly between your thighs. You can feel the solid muscles of his chest against your back. Every time Iwaizumi moves slightly – shifting to rest his chin on your shoulder, running a large hand across your side, tilting his hips upwards so his cock grinds against you in the most perfect way – he flexes against your bare skin and it feels delicious.

    His lips flutter along your skin, following the curve of your neck as his fingers press down against the bruises speckled across your sides. It’s almost like he’s playing the piano on you, but he’s not that delicate– no, it’s more like Iwaizumi is preparing to spike and is testing the limits of the ball. 

    But, you’re the ball in this metaphor. 

    Small compared to Iwazuimi and completely at his mercy. 

    “Was that a moan I heard?” 

    “Y-Yes…” 

    Iwaizumi takes your wrists in a hand, pulling your arms out of the way. He wants full access to your body without any interruptions. Squirming wouldn’t do, so your boyfriend scoots you closer to the mirror. “Watch this–” 

    He thrusts slowly this time, making sure that the tip of his cock peeks out from in between your thighs. It’s mesmerizing: you watch with a flushed expression as his blushing slit leaks precum before it disappears for a moment. This earns a low moan from the back of your throat as you try to arch your back and grind against his cock. 

    “Are you watching, baby?” 

    You only hum in response. 

    His free hand falls to your crotch, but instead of directly pleasuring you, Iwaizumi rubs his fingers against the slit. He coaxes moans out of himself as you’re frozen watching his beautiful expressions. This is a real treat honestly, seeing as he rarely indulges in such lewd sounds and faces. You’re almost not even mad that he’s only giving you half the attention you want. The heel of his palm stimulates you, but it’s really not enough. 

    Iwa snaps his head forward, and tongue falls from his lips. Breathless, you lock eyes with his as he peers at you from over your shoulder. He makes a point of dragging his tongue across your skin before finding the perfect place to leave another hickey. At this rate, you’ll surely look like a dalmatian when the two of you are done. 

    Another hard thrust and you’re reminded that he’s fucking your thighs. How is he not numb at this point? The man has so much patience, which is both a virtue and a curse. Iwaizumi loves edging you past the point of no return, and today is no exception. Not to say that you don’t enjoy it– but you would be much happier if he just let you cum. 

    “Iwa-channn~”     “What is it, baby? You’re so cute like this, really.” 

    “I wanna see you cum…” 

    His eyes flash open, as if you’ve suddenly slapped him across the face. And he might as well have because Iwaizumi takes this as a challenge, subconsciously puffing his chest out in a dominant display of strength. He pulls your arms over your head, making you stretch and sit up slightly. 

    With a shaky breath, Iwaizumi tenses his muscles and bucks back and forth, bringing himself closer and closer to an orgasm. Your eyes are plastered to the mirror as you watch and let him do whatever he has to in order to cum. 

    It’s beautiful the way he rolls and grinds almost desperately. The next moment, Iwaizumi has your left nipple caught between his pointer and middle finger. You reward each sharp tug with a drawn out moan. 

    “Hajime!”

    He buries his face against the back of your neck as he cums, white painting your thighs and the mirror…

    Kyoutani usually likes to see you with your legs spread for him, but this is one of the rare instances where he’s decided to make you beg for him. Every powerful thrust of his sends you further and further into the mattress, but he’s not fucking you the way you want. 

    He’s throbbing and hard and it feels so good, but you know that the both of you would be much happier if he inserted himself inside of you… There are patches of dry semen on your thighs and fresh precum coating the upper insides of your thighs, but you suspect he’s done this on purpose to annoy you. 

    “Look at me, doll.” 

    Tipping your head back, Kyoutani curls his calloused fingers under your jaw. His dark eyes meet yours, and in a sudden moment of clarity, your boyfriend leans down to kiss you. It’s hot and needy, the way he pushes his tongue past your lips in an attempt to steal your breath. Now, Kyoutani rolls his hips, fucking your thighs at a slower pace than before. 

    This does nothing for the tingling sensation – your skin has long gone numb there, the only thing reminding you that he’s there are the occasional nervous twitch of his cock as it spurts out more cum. The sheets beneath you are drenched at this point, though you doubt it’s entirely wet from just him. He always has this effect on you: making you weak at the knees and aroused in moments. 

    “Hey, pretty, are you going to moan? Or do I have to squeeze it out of you…” Kyoutani’s hand creeps down until he presses the soft curve between his thumb and his pointer finger against your throat just enough to remind you who you belong to. 

    You let out a low moan-mangled version of his name, which he seems to like because he applies a bit more pressure while keeping his eyes on your expression. He’s got his own little slut to try things on, and Kyoutani has an almost unhealthy obsession with hearing you call his name. Something about how you say it so breathlessly… 

    He must have gotten carried away, because you have to tap his forearm. There’s a flicker of sympathy in Kyoutani’s eyes as he removes his hand from your throat. Instead, he lets his fingers trail up your cheek until he laces his fingers in your hair. His hips slow down from the brutal pace, and it’s just enough of a moment for you to arch yourself upwards and kiss him. 

    Kyoutani hums happily. “Baby you’re so beautiful, you know that?” 

    Your heart swells, thinking this might be the moment he decides to properly fuck you. No more of this thigh-job bullshit that’s driving you insane! 

    “Kenta~” you mewl, rocking your hips sideways, “Don’t you want to fuck me?” 

    “Well of course I do.” He gives your hair a sharp tug and with that reclaims dominance over you. “But not yet. I want you horny and at the edge before I take you. You’re also my slut. Remember that.” 

    And back he goes, fucking your thighs like his life depends on it. This time, Kyoutani does more with his hands to keep you entertained: he’s tugging on your hair, pulling you up slightly. It’s a silent demand that you watch as his cock disappears between the flesh of your thighs. Now, you don’t need to be properly told this, because you love the sight of his thick cock and would do anything to see it. 

    He’s not paying attention to your arms anymore, so you drape your arms over his shoulders. “Do my thighs feel good, Kenta?” 

    “Hmm.. yes…” 

    “Are you gonna cum?” 

    He grunts and tries to shake your grip off when he realizes that you’re playing with his hair. It always sends goosebumps down his spine, and as if on cue, Kyoutani shivers. 

    “Fuck– stop doing that–

    “Why? I thought you liked it!” 

    Kyoutani manages to swat your hands away, but not before you leave a lasting impression on him. Heat pools between your thighs again as he groans and lets his head hang. Kyoutani presses his forehead to your chest and inhales slowly to catch his breath. 

    “Well done, doll.” 

    Yamaguchi quickly lost the confidence that momentarily flooded his body. One second, the two of you were lounging on the carpet at the base of his bed, but now he’s got you pressed against the edge. You’re still on your knees though and your back is flush against his mattress. Yamaguchi’s got hands on either side of you, and he’s not entirely sure what to do. 

    He’s a stuttering mess until you place a hand on his chest to calm him. 

    Cupping his face, you whisper: “Shh.. it’s okay. I’ll show you.” 

    Then, dropping your hand slowly, you lace your fingers with his. He takes a slow breath, following your motions carefully. With your free hand, you pull his cock from his shorts and guide him carefully until he’s between your thighs. 

    “Now roll your hips, Tadashi.” 

    “But…” 

    Instead of saying something, you nod your head encouragingly. Yamaguchi listens, letting his body grind against yours. His cock rubs against you, wetting your skin with arousal. He got hard and horny just from seeing your naked form, which was really a compliment. 

    Timid Yamaguchi looks to you for more instructions, tightening his grip on your hand. When you say nothing, he takes the chance to be bold: he palms your ass, bringing you closer to his person. This allows him to buck his hips harder and find more delicious friction. It surprises you, and you’re thrust forward without so much as a warning. 

    It’s such an awkward position: you leaning slightly forward and away from the bed while Yamaguchi is doing his best to balance himself and fuck the space between your thighs. Still, his expressions are beautiful, and they make up for his lack of experience. 

    Despite having turned a bright shade of cherry red, you can clearly count every freckle across his cheeks and down his chest. You want to suck on his skin and leave a hickey there, just a testament to how much you love him. 

    Yamaguchi is faster than you though, and he starts pawing at your ass– pulling your cheeks apart playfully before letting go. Every time he does it, his touch is gentle but you understand well enough that he means business. He’s being rougher than you expected, almost like he’s been holding this in and finally let go once prompted. 

    Was this a secret wildcard he had been hiding in his sleeve? As a pinch server, his job was to catch the opponent off guard. (Not to say that you are in any way his opponent now– Yamaguchi loves you very much, but you can’t help but make the connection now that he’s actually decided to dominate you in some way. Whether it’s out of need and desperation to cum, or some other primal instinct ignited by seeing your body, you’re not really sure. Does it matter? Again, not really.) 

    You can feel his fingertips pressing down into the flesh of your side and the edge of his nails in your skin. Yamaguchi tips his chin down, to kiss along your collarbone. He wants to nip you, but he’s hesitating again. 

    This time, you push his head against your skin, silently prompting him to do it as you roll your hips and award your boyfriend with more pleasure. His teeth graze you gently, but when you squeeze your thighs together tightly, Yamaguchi moans. He spills all over the backs of your thighs, and you’re sure that the sheets will have to be washed after this.

    The two of you are sweating profusely, and Yamaguchi finally lets his hands fall to his side. This gives you the chance to turn and lock your arms around his neck and cling to him, rising with the steady swell of his chest as he catches his breath. 

     Ushijima slips his hand under your shirt, pressing his hand against your torso to keep you close. He’s still warm and wet from his post-practice shower, and conveniently naked– meaning you can feel every rigid muscle of his abdomen. Every body roll is a blessing because his biceps go taunt and you can almost trace the veins in his arms. 

    It’s a shame he won’t let you turn around though because you would love to cup his face and egg him on while he fucks your thighs. Dirty ideas of what to say fill your mind: how big he is and the fact that his tip keeps poking out from between your thighs, how beautiful his grunts and moans are despite his attempts to be quiet– the list goes on, but suddenly his cock slides between your folds. 

    He’s bucking his hips against your ass and keeping you in place, but then readjusts himself back between your thighs. When you give your boyfriend a sad wine, his free hand snakes around to catch your wrist. 

    “Waka-!” 

    Now, he’s thrusting slower than before, as if he doesn’t want to make the same mistake again. 

    “Hm?” he hums in acknowledgement. Ushijima nestles his chin in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent momentarily before kissing your temple. “You said you were too sore from earlier. Has something changed?”

    “What’s changed is that you got hard again, and I can’t resist your moans!” 

    When he laughs, Ushijima’s entire chest vibrates like the absolute unit he is. His hand moves from your chest down to your navel. (They cover so much real estate that it makes you laugh most times, but now the roughness of his fingertips makes you even more aroused despite having recently quite literally had your fill of Wakatoshi Ushijima.) 

    “You have nice thighs…” 

    “Don’t try to sweet talk me now!” 

    The truth is, Ushijima could be an absolute angel, but you know the truth that he’s an absolute sinner that fucks better than the devil. You’re sure that he’ll have you crying his name in no time. 

    With a huff, you press your fingers at your thighs and rub his tip when it peeks through. The first time you do this, Ushijima exhales sharply, obviously surprised by the new stimulation. His shaft might be going numb, but the cold sensation of your fingers spreading the precum across his skin makes him absolutely giddy. 

    His grip begins to tighten, a telltale sign that he’s really close to unravelling. The moan is hanging in the back of his throat, you can even hear the build up–

    Therefore, it’s the perfect time to lift your thigh and ruin his orgasm. 

    Droplets of white dribble down your inner leg, but it’s not nearly as much as usual. The man trembles for a moment before clamping his hand down on your leg and pushing it down quickly. He’s back to fucking your thighs, but this time keeps them in place to ensure he’ll finish. 

    “Don’t be a brat,” Ushijima whispers against the curve of your ear. 

    The words raise goosebumps across your skin, but you don’t regret it in the slightest. “What if I did it again?”