#bokuto.thing

The upstairs bathroom at Bokuto’s parent’s house was probably not the best place to have sex. Nevertheless, the two of you were going at it like you weren’t expected downstairs for dinner in the next 30 minutes. “That’s totally enough time for a quickie!”, he’d said to you just minutes ago.

He was pressing into you slowly now, hands nearly bruising where they grabbed at your hips. The slow stretch has you panting, quiet breaths mixing with Bokuto’s as he filled you out. 

“Oh fuck, Kou,” you whimpered, the thick head of his cock pressing into a particularly sensitive spot.

He murmured back, “You gotta be quiet, baby,” pressing a finger to your lips. Out of muscle memory more than anything, you part them and pop the tip of his finger into your mouth. This quiets you both - you in a kind of embarrassed shock and Bokuto from the sudden sensation.

Well. Might as well keep going.

You suck it deeper into your mouth, down to the third knuckle, slicking it with spit. Bokuto grunts softly and pushes into you, pulling a groan from deep in your chest and vibrating around his finger. Gasping a little, you close around it again and swallow, the sensation making him shiver lightly. Bokuto presses a second one to join the first, the blunt digit pulling your lips wider apart as you press your hot tongue against them. The slick, wet heat has him thrusting his hips on instinct, eyes glued to where his fingers were disappearing. 

He’s stuck in some kind of stimulus feedback - he can see how well your pretty little mouth is taking them, distending around his thick fingers, but he’s imagining your mouth wrapped around something else. There’s no reason for him to do so - He's got you clenched tight around his cock, buried as deep as he can go- but all he can think about is your mouth. He’s mindless, thrusting shallowly, thoughts occupied by only the image of his spit-soaked digits slipping through puffy lips. How his enormous fingers have you so full you can barely close around them when he adds a third. The shine of saliva dripping from the sides of your mouth as you close around them, unable to talk. Unable to do anything but look at him and take it.

When you jerk your hips and clench around him, humming a request he can’t decipher, he comes back to earth a little. The one-handed grip on your hips tightens as he pounds a little harder, more mindful of the angle you need. 

He really wears his heart on his sleeve. The thought flits through your mind as you close the refrigerator door and head back to the chopping board. Bokuto just needs to reframe his mindset before he gets too worked up and starts video calling Akaashi, though; He's got a deadline approaching and doesn't need an injured Koutaro to weigh on his mind as well.

"Still doing okay, Bo?" You call through the kitchen entrance.

You hear something from the couch. It's not really a sentence so much as a sound effect. A slightly muffled "'M fine," follows, though, so you know he's not too deep in his head.

His eyes light up when you walk into the living room, plate in hand. "Whazzat?" He manages through the awkward press of his jaw to his chest. The cushions ruffle as he works his shoulders up and out of the corner he'd dug himself into.

"Something to make you feel better."

He's sitting up by the time you make it to the back of the couch, placing the cool plate of cut fruit into his lap. Bokuto gleefully picks up an orange slices, biting into it and pulling it from the peel with his teeth. He's smiling around the rind as you ruffle his hair, tangling your fingers into the roots and avoiding the gelled tips.

"This stuff's full of Vitamins and electrolytes. Super good for you. Definitely going to make you feel better."

He's already halfway there, face unclouded and the slight pout having disappeared, lips wrapped around a pear slice instead. He chews thoughtfully before responding.

"Like the stuff in gatorade?"

You snort, pressing his head down lightly. "Yeah, babe." He smiles, thoughts successfully turned towards something positive. "But I think this is better than getting them from a bottle, though."

"For sure." He picks up an orange slice and hands it towards you. "Can't beat something made with love."

He's grinning at you bright enough that you almost have to look away. You don't, though, leaning over the back of the couch to bump your forehead into his gently.

You’ve got it so bad for your best friend that it’s almost funny, if it wasn’t also completely pathetic. It's only recently that you realized you liked him as more than a friend- but now that you’re reminiscing with him, the signs were very, very obvious. To you, at least. 

The pair of you are moving from the eye-piercing light of the storefront and over to the far side of the parking lot. The plan? To loiter, just like you did in high school when volleyball practice got out. Usually, you'd have 3 or 4 of his teammates with you, eating garbage snack food and joking around on the curb until the manager would chase you away. 

You can see in your mind how you would gravitate towards Bokuto on those nights, sitting next to him in the parking lot, bumping your foot or your knee into his while you talked. How you laughed at his jokes and would ask for his jacket when it got cold. His presence was magnetic, and you got pulled in deep. It wasn’t until after you both had graduated and started down separate paths that you were able to really see what you had. What you missed so deeply. 

It's just the two of you tonight, Bokuto fresh out of practice and talking excitedly about his teammates' antics, just like he used to. The only things that are different now are the names of the players. He’s telling you a story about his germophobic friend, Sasuke? You think? Bokuto talks so fast sometimes he doesn’t really annunciate well - and you sigh at the familiarity of it all. Maybe this would turn out alright; maybe you had been avoiding meeting up with Bokuto for no reason? 

You had thought that seeing him in person again, not just on a grainy phone screen, would be disastrous. It was hard enough to try and keep your feelings inside over video calls and text messages, but having him in front of you? You knew you’d do something to tip him off on how you felt toward him, and even though you knew he would never stop being your friend, the fear of your love being unrequited held you back. 

He'd been asking for weeks to meet up, and you had been successfully blaming college on your schedules not working - until he offered you to meet him late night on Friday, just like you used to. With no excuse and an irrationally heavy heart, you agreed to meet up.

Perhaps it was just a crush? Maybe you sought him out between classes and waited for hours after school just so see him because you just…. Liked him. And you had halfway convinced yourself that's all it was, until he had smiled at you brightly and reminded you just how dull things were without him in your life. 

He’s sitting now on a parking block with his back against a bollard, slapping the spot next to him invitingly. Bokuto whoops when you drop down next to him, slush flying from his cup as he whips it excitedly. "You gotta see this!"

He scoots closer to you, phone in hand. There's a paused youtube video onscreen: a highlight reel someone had made of his spikes. He hits play as soon as you lean in a little, grinning wildly and giving a play by play commentary as you watch. The outside of his thigh presses into yours warmly.

Here's hoping he can’t somehow feel the heat creeping up your neck.

He beams at you from over the phone, looking at you expectantly as the video ends. “Wasn’t I great?” 

You feel like you’ve run a mile and all he did was press his leg to yours. He’s too great. “Yes, Bokuto, you were amazing.”

He’s really grinning now, eyes crinkling shut. “You’ve gotta come to one of my games and see me in action! I promise, it’s waaaay better in person! You could even,” he pauses for a moment, thinking, “bring one of the guys you’ve been seeing? Watching me win would be an awesome date.”

Oh god, your dates. You had tried going on a few recently, another attempt to distance yourself from your best friend. Nothing serious - just coffee shop conversations, but they easily lost a competition they weren't even aware they were in. None of them could even begin to make you feel the way Bokuto did. And the thought of taking one of them to see your best friend and unrequited crush in his element? There’s no way that wouldn't find a way to blow up in your face.

“That’s a great idea, man,” you lie. “I’m not seeing anyone right now though.” Bokuto’s giving you a spectacular double eyebrow raise above his cup. “Oh ho?”

You flick his arm gently. “Don’t be mean, Bo. I’ll just come to a game and hang out in the stands with your date instead.”

Why did you say that. Why did you say that. Why did you say that. 

The eyebrows come down. He’s smiling, but it’s not quite reaching his eyes, which aren’t meeting your own. “Nah, you can’t do that. We broke up.”

You feel terrible for the little thrill that sends through you.

“Oh, Bokuto, I’m sorry.” You are. He’s your best friend. The cruel joy you feel does not go away. 

His eyes flicker to you momentarily. “Nah, it’s fine. They weren’t the one, you know?”

Who is? You want to ask. What comes out instead is, “How did you know?”

Bokuto hums inquisitively. “Know what?”

“That they weren’t the one. How did you know?”

He’s still not looking at you when he replies, “I just know.”

Silence falls. You use the quiet moment as an excuse to turn away as well. This is really unlike him. Had he changed that much in the time since you last saw him? Nothing else about Bokuto seems different - maybe the issue was just you?

Stop it. Don’t think things like that. 

The silence drags on. You pull the straw of your drink into your mouth and chew, trying to think of something not romance-related to talk about. Nothing is coming to mind - Bokuto has been all you can think about for a solid week, and being next to him is NOT helping. It’s just the two of you, alone together in silence. It’s late enough that there aren’t any pedestrians on walks to distract you, the night quiet and dark outside of the strangely illuminated parking lot. Desperate to think of anything else, you look up at the hazy summer sky.

It’s hard to see stars through the light pollution, but you can make out Vega, you think. Some stars were bright enough to see even in the middle of the city. The straw pops out of your mouth as you point it out loudly, getting Bokuto’s attention.

“Check it out Bo, you can see part of Lyra. That star’s got to be Vega. You remember?”

Bokuto jerks slightly before he turns to face you, looking startled. His gaze follows your finger up, mouth still pursed around the straw in his mouth. His smile returns as he tilts his head to peer up at the sky with you. “You told me about that one once! It’s a summer constellation, right?”

You drop your hand as Bokuto starts pointing out the faint other stars of the summer triangle. It may be hard to see stars in the city, but with Bokuto shining next to you, it’s hard to see anything else at all. The weird fluorescence of the parking lot light should have washed him out, but somehow he was aglow, soft shadows instead of harsh lines shading him lightly. He really was a star, and he burned the brightest out of any that you could see tonight.

You were staring at him again. 

It’s no surprise when he catches you this time, golden eyes meeting yours and matching your gaze. The delight is still present on his face but it’s sobering, turning serious. Your heart is racing as Bokuto continues to stare you down in silence. His eyebrows draw together as he raises his hand slowly, reaching for your face.

A finger grazes your cheek. You might have stopped breathing. He opens his mouth.

“You had some slush on your face.” His finger remains there, rubbing at the stuck on sugar.

...

Okay. Something has to change. There’s only so much your heart can take.

You reach up and cup your hand over his, holding it in place. Bokuto stills at the sudden contact, bewildered. You aren’t sure what you are doing, much less how to say what you want, but you hope that somehow he understands. No sound escapes your mouth as you maintain eye contact and slot your fingers together. Bokuto stares, still uncharacteristically silent - but he’s not just looking anymore. His eyes are searching, gaze sharp and analytical. You couldn’t look away from them if you wanted to.

Bokuto blinks first, eyes flitting over to your joined hands as you press your cheek into the heat of his palm. His thumb drags lightly over to your skin, meeting your bottom lip and tracing along the curve of it. He watches, entranced, as they part slightly from the touch. 

Even if this doesn’t work out. Even then. Just having this moment would be enough. Your eyes close as you huff out the breath you had been holding. The hot coil of anxiety snaking through your stomach makes you hesitant to open them again. When Bokuto’s thumb moves from your mouth to pad at your cheek, you steel yourself and open them again. 

You shouldn't have worried. There’s nothing in his golden eyes but understanding when you finally dare to open them again. Bokuto’s remaining hand is impossibly gentle as he places it on your shoulder, leaning into your space. His shoulders shake minutely with barely contained excitement from the breakthrough he’s just had - you like him, just as much as he likes you. There’s no way he can’t feel the heat in your skin rising now as your pulse skyrockets. 

“Kou…”, you whisper into the shrinking space between you.

Bokuto doesn’t bother with a response. His lips are a little chapped when they capture yours, but they're warm and eager and pressing in with the weight of half a decade of unconfessed feelings.

You know immediately what he meant earlier about knowing ‘the one’. No kiss from any of your dates was ever this electric. None of them made you feel like time was stopping when their lips met yours, or made your heart beat like it was about to fly from your chest. None of them made you feel like you were finally home, held in strong arms and with a familiar hand gently running along your cheek. 

There really was no one like Bokuto, and you were so glad there was no one else for him but you right now. 

You push forward until you chests are touching, desperate for closer contact now that you know you’re allowed to get it. The back of his head is cradled in your free hand, fingers tangling in the short spikes at the nape of his neck. Bokuto hums against your mouth, tongue slipping out to trace where his thumb had been earlier. He starts backward slightly as you meet it with the tip of yours, breaking away with a gasp.

“Woah! Not on the first date!”

“You used tongue first.” Your deadpan expression doesn't faze him. He wraps a heavy arm around your shoulders and pulls you close to his side, laughing. 

Wait a minute.

“Did you say date? Is this a date?”

Bokuto freezes. He glances at you side-eyed and inquires quietly, “Do you... want it to be one?”

It’s much easier to be truthful when you’ve had his tongue in your mouth. “I’d love it to be one.”

Bokuto whoops loudly, the exclamation echoing in the empty lot.

First dates usually sucked. This one, however, was going to stick with you for a long time. You run your tongue over your lips as you bump your head to his shoulder. Who knew slurpees tasted even better on someone else's mouth?

“Y'know, If we don’t leave soon,” you tease, “the manager might chase us away again.”

He hums dismissively and bends to press a kiss to your temple.