#dj!au

The week of unintentional teasing certainly served its purpose, [name] mused somewhere between the lines. It had worked out better than she’d ever dreamed of, and those were often recurring wet dreams, no less.

She had always pictured Keishin to be a rough lover but she’d never expected him to be as filthy as this. The bare man behind her had her face pressing into a pillow as he rammed into her sensitive hole, unabashedly howling his own salacious fantasies. There was not a single curse word in any collective lexicon that hadn’t left his mouth tonight and goddammit it was the sexiest thing she’d ever heard.

“Oh, fuck yeah, you’re taking me so well kid,” he grits out, giving a particularly hard thrust because he wants to keep hearing her scream every time his dick drags along her walls, “this everything you’ve been dreaming about, kid? Been dreaming about my fucking cock stuffing your pussy?”

The dirty talk sends electrical pulses from her ears down [name]’s spine—who knew that words alone could bring her so close to orgasm? But she can’t find words of her own at the moment. The only comprehensible sounds coming to her mind are throaty moans and pants and weak screams as Keishin grabs her by the wrists to force her hips to meet with his. But it’s not enough that he’s all but reaming her, no. He yanks her back even further until her chest is sticking out and her head is thrown back unintentionally to look up at him as he pounds her.

She’s beautiful, he muses internally, even with her eyes nearly shut in depravity and drool running down the corner of her mouth and repeated, mindless babble of approval of the way he was fucking her. She was so goddamn beautiful and he was going to make her his in every sense of the word.

Overwhelmed with the sight, Keishin adjusts his grip so that one of his hands holds her in place while the other cups her jaw and gingerly brings her closer to kiss her.

He loves kissing her, he learned rather quickly.

Even the smallest shift in their position cause Ukai to prod at different spot within her core, forcing [name] to clamp down on his length. “Ooh, right there, baby?” But she can only nod when he makes it a point to make sure he’s hitting that same area over and over. “Yeah? You’re squeezing me so fucking hard, you’re gonna make me cum. You want my cum, princess?”

Good god, [name] could just listen to him talk and she could get off.

She can’t help her clenching core, not with the way Keishin is smacking his hips into hers like a piston or the way his cock starts twitching as he falls over the dam of his own orgasm. “Oh fuck yeah, princess. Take my cum like a good girl, baby, fuck.” His words stifle and give way to his labored breathing until he physically can’t even let out a sound—a telltale sign that he should probably slow down before he passes out.

[name] collapses chest down onto the bed as soon as Ukai lets go of her wrists; her back rising and falling as she attempts to catch her own breath. Ukai is doing much of the same, though he’s sitting on his haunches while staring out the window as the morning sun filters in. What time was it anyway?

As soon as he feels like his legs aren’t numb anymore, he hovers over the side of the bed in search of his cell phone before moving to rest his back against his headboard—it was only seven right now, meaning the store wouldn’t open for another two hours. Momentarily Ukai is grateful it’s as early as it is because that means his mother wasn’t downstairs listening to him essentially impregnate someone. But even more so, he’s grateful to see the way the rising sun reflects the sheen of sweat on [name]’s back. It made her glow even more than the glitter she wore on her cheeks when she was out for the night or disco lights shining off her pearly whites.

She’s so fucking beautiful, he thinks again, and he doesn’t realize he’s staring at her until he deciphers the [eye color]ed orbs staring back at him. A part of her wants to say something, probably the reason she was opening and closing her mouth, but words just don’t come out. What would she even say if she had a voice right now? She can’t say she loves him because that’s just weird and too clingy, nor can she say thank you because that’s even weirder—

“C’mere.” Ukai murmurs softly, patting at his bare chest. [name] quirks a brow, which prompts the former to give a roll of his honey brown eyes, before reaching for one of her wrists and hoisting her up to rest on him. When her head nestles along his collar bone, he wraps one arm tightly around her waist and presses a chaste kiss into her sweaty hair. It’s a delicate, wholesome moment that Ukai thought he’d never get the chance to share with anyone for awhile, let alone with a club patron or an ex of one of his club members.

It’s a tender, loving moment in which he takes advantage of the opportunity to ask the questions that had been gnawing at him for the last several days.

“Cardboard Swords,” he says as gently and as firmly as he’s holding her.

“Huh?”

“I wanted to ask you earlier, but it kinda didn’t seem appropriate at the time.” It’s not a full question by any means, but she understands the syntax well enough.

“And you think after emptying a second load in me is more appropriate?” She jokes, causing the man that’s holding her to groan because he knows. He doesn’t fall for bullshit and he knows that question was just [name] deflecting. “Fine, fine. Um, Flannel was mine and Suga’s break up song. I figured you could tell that much.” She concedes temporarily, shifting uncomfortably in his arms. Why does he even want to know this, she wonders. But she remembers clear as day him asking what Sugawara did to make her be the dull person she was back in high school, versus the firecracker on the Fourth of July that she was now. She figured she at least owed him some form of reprieve considering he satiated her high school and current fantasies.

Well, one of them anyway.

And while she remained quiet, Keishin’s analytical mind is hard at work recounting the memory of her lips moving along to every line. The thing that the DJ loves the most about music is that he can tell when a beat or a line hits close to home by how loud their expression is. His mind starts piecing things together based off of context and evidence and [name] can tell by the way his breathing begins to quicken that he just might be onto something.

“It’s fine. We went our separate ways after graduating. He did his thing, I did my thing.” She says to quell his steadily rising anxiety. Though she was unsure why it was beginning to crest, considering he hadn’t vocalized his personal deductions. Part of her wondered if he got it right, part of her doesn’t even care because Sugawara doesn’t matter to her anymore.

“And your thing is hanging out at a dingy club every night?”

“Hey, don’t call my aunt’s club dingy.”

“Your what?! Family friend, my ass!” This girl was going to be the death of him, he decides. Because now it made so much more sense of how she vaguely knew of his schedule (not that it was necessarily damning evidence), or why she was there in the first place and as often, or why she knew where Bevelle lived off the back of her hand. But shit, that just means he slept with his boss’s niece who is eight years his junior and—

“Dude, relax,” [name] stresses the command, pinching the nipple closest to her to pull Ukai from his reverie. “How do you think you got the job in the first place, coach? Though, aunt ‘Velle only showed me your application—she made the initial decision to offer you the job. I didn’t realize it was you that took the name Spira.” His mind is piecing more things together and he’s starting to learn to hate that his mind does that.

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Hey, I didn’t know you were gonna fuck me—“ Ukai lets out a noise, a hybrid noise between annoyance and embarrassment before rolling over to trap [name] between his bed and himself. He doesn’t want to talk about this anymore, doesn’t want to think about it because the more he does, the deeper hole he digs for himself.

“I’d do it again, too. If you’ll let me.” Regardless of the strange sense of shame and irritation he felt, Keishin’s voice came out rather soft. Probably because he knew were it not for [name]’s meddling and the string of circumstances, she wouldn’t be here with him right now. In a weird sense, he’s grateful—grateful for the way she answers with her arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him flush against her, bringing his lips to hers once again.

“Will you, though?” She asks after they break for a breather. [name] can’t help the question from leaving her lungs as much as she doesn’t want to think about what comes after this. And Keishin understands the query that’s hidden in between the lines and he’s unsure if he’s ready to verbalize his answer. So rather than putting it into words, his lips cover hers once again.

It’s much sweeter than the others—it’s gingerly and warm, softer than powdered sugar, and for a moment the two of them are enveloped in their moment together. But it’s not enough for Ukai, not in the slightest. Not with the way he’s overwhelmed with the need to chase this profound sense of urgency to stake his claim.

It’s not enough even with his mouth meandering further down her jaw and her neck, leaving little bites and bruises in his wake. It’s not enough in the way his tongue parts her labia and massages the inner walls of her core or suckles down her clit until she’s screaming once again. It’s not enough even when he slides his dick in one more time and is welcomed with the warmth of home.

Ukai is torn with the dichotomy of wanting to be rough with [name], wanting to smack his hips and drive his cock far enough in her that she has bruises around her opening and on her uterus, and absolutely letting every truth fly off his tongue. But his body decides for him in the way he lurches over her bucking body, one hand cradling her jaw with his thumb brushing over her bruised lips.

“Keishin...” [name] calls out in a strangled song, “h-harder, please!”

Her cries break his final thread of sanity.

“Yeah, you want more princess?” He grits out. His free hand traces patterns down her stomach before honing in on her clit, frantically circling at the bundle of nerves and driving his length in her cunt to match. [name] gave an innate squeeze at the sudden added stimulation, ready for her orgasm to wash over her once again. “You’re squeezing me so fucking good, baby. You want my cum?”

“P-please, cum inside me.” The subtle pleas shred every fiber of his control. Keishin releases his grip on both her clit and her jaw, hands scooping under her hips to angle her upward to find her pressure point once again. Leave it to this guy to be able to find it with ease after only one trial run. “Oh fuck, Keishin!”

“Fuck yes, baby, you want my cum? Want me to fill you up again? You’re just begging me to fuck a baby into you, aren’t you?” [name] clenched with a death grip, her subconscious going into overload. She’d never admit out loud that she’d fantasized about marrying the DJ and having a family with him maybe once or twice. Or every other week. She’d take that secret to the grave.

And while Keishin didn’t necessarily mean for his words to come out the way they did, he found himself unbothered by it all. Because he wants to know more, wants to have more than this one night with [name]. It only made it a thousand times better knowing she was getting off to his private kink, swallowing his cock whole to coax his seed to spill. “Aw, fuck yeah, gonna breed you like my own little whore,” he grits out, hips stuttering as his dick twitches, spurting his cum within her walls once again.

“Fuck a baby into me, huh?” [name] laughs after Keishin collapses on top of her, panting heavily to catch his breath.

“Sorry, was that too much?” She only laughs once more in response.

“Nah, that was perfect.”

Perfect was the only way to describe the way Keishin felt about [name], even a year later after their first night together. Sex aside, because that was perfection in its own right, the relationship that had bloomed between the two of them was everything the coach had been waiting for. The envy he had once felt for his fellow DJs for seizing the opportunity to sleep with other club patrons had subsided entirely considering Ukai had gotten the creme de la creme.

[name] now owned the club.

Bevelle, her aunt and the woman that initially hired Keishin a few years back, had been prepping and grooming [name] since she graduated high school to take over her business so that Bevelle could move on to new ventures. The night she started learning the ins and outs of running the club was the very same night Ukai had come in as a guest with the neighborhood association.

Apparently offering him a job was supposed to be a joke, but Bevelle knew something was strange with the way her niece was hyper-fixated on the blonde volleyball coach. Nobody knew things were going to turn out as well as they did.

Ukai finally stopped tending to the farm after five years of dedication and, instead, began helping [name] at the club on nights he wasn’t Spira. It was a weird sense of pride that surged within his center to know that the two of them both had their own businesses and both were relatively successful—it made Ukai feel powerful.

Like it wasn’t entirely wrong that the two of them were together despite the eight year gap.

And, in their world, it wasn’t. [name], while she rarely showed it, suffered a lot of heartbreak during and after her relationship with Sugawara Koushi—one that left her with a lot of metaphorical scars that mentally aged her by at least five years. It took years for her to heal, to feel content in her solidarity, and that aged her even more. In a sense, however, these also drove her ambition to be successful, her true, fun-loving self, and to share the love she wished she had received back then.

It took a few months for Keishin to unearth just how badly Suga had hurt her. After hearing how manipulative he was of her and everyone around her, it was no wonder she made it a point to love loudly and overtly—something Ukai seemed to thrive off of. While their relationship may have appeared strange to those on the outside looking in, it was nobody’s business but theirs.

It was even more peculiar from an outsider perspective considering the couple had just welcomed their son barely three months ago. “You literally fucked a baby into me!” [name] had been a cross between flustered, angry, and overjoyed when she found out of her pregnancy. Keishin’s mind was a mile a minute when she told him, but he couldn’t deny the sense of pride and lust and desire he felt.

If anything, it only made those feelings worse—like he wanted to do it again and again because goddamn it, it meant that [name] was entirely his, carrying their baby and all. But she knew her partner well enough to know when Keishin got that dangerous, nearly predatory, glint in his honey brown eyes, he was aiming for kid number two. “Thank god I’m on birth control.” She often mutters between catching her breath whenever the mood struck the volleyball coach.

“So you don’t mind if I keep trying then, right?”

“Keishin, no—“

“Oh, so you don’t mind?”

“Keishin!”

On Monday’s practice, Ukai Keishin’s mind is flooding and drowning in memories of his first year as the volleyball club’s coach. It was as if his mind was coercing him to attempt to reach out to the girl that plagued his mind for the last forty-eight hours or so. Though, he had no way of contacting her. Instead, with every step along the wooden floors, he can remember the way she would walk Suga to practice, almost physically seeing her standing in the doorway to kiss the third-year setter goodbye. As if he could see her sitting underneath the third window from the left, quietly doing homework and exchanging small talk and airy laughter with Kiyoko and Daichi. As if he could see the same sunny smile she gave in the audience from Saturday night at the club between the lines of the woodwork in the floorboards.

It was a repeating pattern day in and day out that was beginning to make Ukai question his sanity.

“Hey, man,” his assistant coach and fellow Karasuno alumni, Tsukishima Akiteru, places a hand on his shoulder and looks at him in worry. “Are you okay? You’ve been out of it all week.” In what world did a week translate into three days, the older blonde coach didn’t know.

“I’m fine, just tired,” Keishin all but bites back. He didn’t want to admit his conscious had been running rampant with thoughts of a girl he’d briefly met at a club. It felt almost as disturbing and perverted as it sounded in his mind.

“The team’s worried about you. Why don’t you take an early weekend and get some rest? We’ll see you back on Monday, yeah?” Normally, Ukai would have vehemently refused. However, his circumstances were far from normal and he was gracious for an assistant coach he trusted wholeheartedly to do the work that needed to be done. And so, Ukai heeded Akiteru’s advice and went home before practice even began on Thursday afternoon.

It was slightly disorienting for him to go home and nap, but he was incredibly thankful for the gift. Waking up just before he was technically supposed to start his shift at the shop, Keishin jumps into a cold shower to bring him to life before heading downstairs. A bellowing yawn passes his lips through his teeth as he starts his evening. Maybe his team was right—he really did need a break. Thankfully, he knew that the second the doors to the Sakanoshita were locked, he was done for the evening and wouldn’t need to reawaken until three the following morning. Just a few more hours until then, he thought.

With it being a slower evening as well, Ukai was able to kick his feet up on the counter as he always did, pull open the newspaper from earlier in the morning and casually flip through. Briefly, he considers giving up one of his four jobs because this was something he missed doing. But consideration aside, he was far too in love with the cash flow and the thought of paying off his mortgage to entertain the thought for long. Maybe one day, he would finally sell the Sakanoshita store or quit helping on the farm—

“You still work here?” Huh. Her voice sounds different when it isn’t drowning under the speakers of a nightclub.

“I do own this place, you know.” Ukai snarks at the woman who’d been consuming his brain for the last week. She looks different without glitter reflecting off of her unreal cheekbones or the heavy layers of foundation and eyeshadow. Even more than before, Keishin definitely recognized [name] now. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“Shopping,” she snorts as if it were the most obvious thing, “why else would I be at a store?”

“Dunno, maybe you’re just here to see me.” Ukai responds without skipping a beat, turning the page of the paper to play into his guise that he wasn’t the slightest bit surprised at [name]’s presence.

“Uh...actually...” her voice is quiet, prompting the coach to quirk a brow and fold up the paper he was now pretending to read. It wasn’t like he could focus on anything right now outside of the woman standing before him, spearated only by a thin counter. Without talking again, his brown eyes lock with hers, silently goading for her to continue speaking. “I-I just...I don’t know. It was just really weird to see you at the club and then to find out that you’re Spira on top of that. I haven’t seen anyone from Karasuno since I graduated and—“

“Woah, kid, breathe.” Ukai interrupts her before she can continue spewing word vomit at a hundred miles an hour. “So what if I’m Spira? Though, you better not tell anyone that. My stage name is a secret between us, alright?” For a moment she’s quiet, gears turning in her head. The secrecy didn’t make sense to her because, if anything, he should be proud of the fact that he’s rather well known in the underground electronica scene. Or at least, she was in his stead, because [name] would have been proud of Ukai regardless of whatever occupation he held.

She supposed it came with the territory of having an unrequited crush on the coach years ago, that continued well beyond high school and even university, back when she was still dating Sugawara Koushi. It was the reason she had even bothered to come sit in on his practices and partially the reason she would come to his tournaments and matches. Not that she didn’t want to be supportive of her then-boyfriend—it would have been a fight had she not—but seeing the hot older coach was definitely a bonus in her book. “But why?” She offers, not wanting conversation to end despite her not having actually bought anything.

“If the school ever caught wind of me doing that, I could lose my position as the coach. Some shit about Karasuno’s image or whatever.” [name] gives a small nod, fidgeting subconsciously, as an attempt to shake her nerves and anxiety, by sifting through various candy bars that were in front of her before grabbing her favorite. Without a second thought, she peels the wrapper before placing the candy between her lips, the puffy pink skin greatly contrasting the chocolate coating. “Ya gonna pay for that, kid?” Ukai irks, his honey brown eyes steeling over in irritation. The nickname she’s given hits the final nail on the coffin and seals away [name]’s trepidation. Instead, her own sass comes out to join the fun.

“Nah,” she hums playfully, the chocolate-covered wafer cookie crunching between her teeth. “Quit calling me kid, coach. I’m a lady,” the irony isn’t lost on either of them as she speaks with her mouth full.

“Still a kid, kid. And quit calling me coach, I’m not your damn coach.” The familiar, grumpy attitude of his brings [name] back to the Ukai she knew back in high school. In a mix of nostalgia, warmth washes over her as the haughty tone in his voice sent shivers down her spine like it did a few years back.

“Sure thing, coach,” she teases again before tossing the wrapper of the stolen candy bar into the nearest bin. “You’re at the club tomorrow, right?” The question adds a bit of context and confirmation to Ukai—it seems she knew when Spira was performing, meaning she must have been a patron for a decent amount of time. Part of him wonders how she never realized who he was before, another part wonders how he’s never noticed her considering she could make all traffic stop if she stood in the middle of a freeway. At least, that’s what looking at her did to his heart.

“Yeah?”

“Maybe this time, you’ll join us at the after party.” Without another word, [name] pushes herself away from the counter she’d been leaning on while talking to the blonde man. With Akiteru giving him the weekend off, he actually entertained the thought of attending this time. Even if her invitation was rather blasé and indirect, he didn’t see the opportunity of him attending one presenting itself any time soon. He may be old, by his own standard, but there was a unknown allure to the thought of showing up to a wild party with a woman that was so adamant of his attendance.

Or rather, adamant in his mind. Whether she actually wanted his company remained to be seen, but the curiosity was gnawing at him, and was something he would have to unearth sooner rather than later.

Having an entire night, or a day’s worth, of rest was a rather disorienting, yet pleasant feeling for Ukai. After tending to crops and returning home in the early hours of the morning, the blonde coach was able to catch a solid nine hours of sleep before his shift at the Sakanoshita store with another chance to nap before he needed to head to the club. Despite knowing he had the ability to do so before another restless night, his mind felt the need to keep him awake and alert. Even after showering and styling his blonde tresses into their usual mane—mundane acts that usually came to him automatically—he was hyper aware of the slightest unruly flyaways.

Ukai Keishin was nervous.

He didn’t know what to wear or if there was a dress code or if anything he typically wore would be deemed worthy of an after party. A part of him wanted to leave it alone and let him sport his usual white track pants and tight, maroon muscle tank, but that part of him immediately drowns in the ocean of his anxiety. Another string in his brain prompted him to dress up just a little bit to help him look the part—it had nothing to do with impressing a certain club patron, no—he tried to convince himself. A miserable attempt, but still one nonetheless.

Eventually, he settled on crisp, dark-washed jeans that hugged his muscular legs without being suffocating, paired with a vibrant, crimson muscle tee that hugged his biceps all the same. Ukai still felt a little out of place in the attire, as he often had back when he first assumed the alias Spira, but headed out the door of his apartment before his conscious could dispute it.

He was early again, even more so than normal. Desperate for a drink to calm his nerves and replace his blood with liquid courage, Ukai worms his way around to the bar, signaling the attendant for his usual. Rum and coke in hand, the DJ stands off to the side, hiding like a wallflower, while he studied the sweaty, dancing bodies. Did he know why he was looking for her—no. Maybe partially to tell her she owed him for the candy bar, maybe to tell her he was joining in on the after party this time around.

Maybe to just see her.

Keishin banishes the last thought with a shake of his head before skulking off to the attached patio to smoke. Pulling a cigarette from his pack and a lighter from his pocket, the flame torches the end of the filter at the same time the blonde inhales. Forcefully pushing the smoke out past his lips, Ukai takes a hearty sip of his drink until it’s nearly gone. He was going to need something stronger tonight.

“Is it that time already?” The older man’s head snaps to the voice that had been haunting him subconsciously.

Part of him wishes he didn’t look.

As if to play into her question, [name] checks the large, rose gold watch on her right wrist—an incredibly stark contrast to her outfit for the evening. Maybe it was a hunch when Ukai felt that he had been underdressed, as if his intuition knew that she was going to be dressed to the nines in a black skater dress. Even with a modest neckline, the lace cut out detailing on the sides of the dress accentuated her curves impeccably, playing well with the volume of the skirt, while the open back she was sporting dipped dangerously low.

It took everything in Ukai to not throw every milliliter of restraint and inhibition out the window and fuck her right then and there.

Taking a lengthy drag of his cigarette to hold himself back, Keishin inhales deeply, the smoke billowing past his lips emerging densely and grey in color. “I’m a little early—needed an extra drink today.” The man manages to choke out, downing whatever is left in his little plastic cup for added emphasis.

“Need another?” [name] chirps politely; almost too politely as if to deliberately dispute the salacious thoughts flooding the coaches mind.

“I can get—“

“I owe you anyway,” she reminds him, alluding to the candy bar she had eaten without paying for from the previous night. “Pick your poison.”

“Double rum and coke.” He concedes. [name]’s lips twitch upward slightly at the corner before she plucks the empty cup from Ukai’s hand. He doesn’t miss the way the shellac on her nails grazes against his skin, leaving the whispers of contact to run warm. Immediately, the blonde man uses the nearly dead cigarette between his teeth to light a fresh one—heaven or hell knows he needed the nicotine right now.

Given the silence, Keishin takes the opportunity to absorb his surroundings. From the general direction that [name] initially came from, she wasn’t around any of her friends or really anyone that he knew. That was good at least; there wasn’t anybody else that knew of his presence. [name] returns, two clear plastic cups in her hands and surrenders the darker of the two to the man awaiting. “Hold mine for a sec?” Without thinking, Keishin holds his cigarette between his left index and middle fingers, his drink in the same hand, while taking hers. To his surprise, she pulls out her own pack of menthols and a torch lighter, setting the leaves ablaze before taking her obvious vodka cranberry back.

“You took up smoking?” The older of the two asks in surprise, noting the way her lipstick leaves the slightest bit of residue along the brown filter. [name] gives a shrug.

“Surprised you didn’t notice it sooner, coach. I’ve been smoking since second year.” Ukai gives a roll of his eyes at the use of this strange pet name he’s been dubbed by her. But he thinks about it, thinks about how Suga must have felt probably knowing that she did. Thinks how it just added to this strange, sassy yet happy, wild and free exterior she now had. And [name] notices instantly the very same look Ukai had in his face when he was trying to strategize, trying to figure out a way to navigate a conversation with his team about becoming better—she knows what’s coming next. “Yeah, yeah, I know I should quit or whatever. Suga lost that argument a long time ago.”

“Can’t really tell you what to do when I’m just as guilty.” Ukai gives a laugh—one that is embedded with bitterness and envy at the mention of the third-year setter—yet is just as vivacious as he is. A sound entirely different than she’d ever heard leave his lungs before. She likes it.

After finishing his smoke, Keishin gulps down a hefty swig of his drink before patting [name] on the shoulder before announcing his departure. “I’ll see you inside,” the girl, woman, calls out thoughtfully as she gives a small wave with her cigarette filter between her fingers. Ukai doesn’t verbalize the same sentiment. He doesn’t want to slip up and admit he’ll be looking for her.

But it’s painfully obvious that he is when he takes over the booth. Unable to hide the fact that with every chance that he looks into the audience, he’s searching for that black skater dress that hugs her all too perfectly, [hair color] locks swaying as she moves in the crowd. Ukai can’t hide it at all—not behind the turn table or new remixes meant to get the crowd moving.

He can’t hide the urgency he feels to find her outside in the crisp evening air, smoking on the back patio of the club after his set. [name] is talking and laughing with her friends while thin grey smoke billows from her open mouth before her eyes land on him. Some of her friends take notice to the tension and their shared gazes, some of them whispering his alias in excitement. But [name] just smiles knowingly, if not a little cocky, because she can see that urgency, that desperation, that Ukai was trying to hide. “Wait, [name], do you know Spira?” A bystander asked. Clearly, they weren’t present the last time this was brought up.

“Yeah, I may have met him once or twice,” the woman in question snickers as she strides over closer and closer to the aforementioned DJ.

“Cute,” Ukai sneers teasingly at her jab before instinctively reaching for the half-gone cigarette she pulls to her stained lips. At first, she thought he was going to put it out, considering their little conversation from a few hours ago. Instead, the volleyball coach puts the filter to his own lips, noting the damp fabric probably from her freshly applied lipgloss, and takes a drag. It tasted like watermelons and mint.

“Cheeky,” [name] returns, plucking her cancer stick back from the blonde man. While her friends are still behind her murmuring about the familiarity between the two of them, Keishin and [name] are lost in their own little world. “So since your set is over, and considering you’re still here, I’m assuming you’re joining me for the after party? Or do you have to go to work again?”

“I told them I’d be out of town this weekend,” Ukai tries to play it off as nonchalantly as he could, ties to swallow it down his nerves with rum and nicotine. It proves rather difficult considering the coy smile on [name]’s face is wearing and cracking through his resolve rather quickly. But at least, to him, he could confirm his mind was not playing tricks on him and [name] was just as adamant about his attendance as he initially thought. Even more so with her next statement.

“Cool. Your car or mine?” It took him a minute to process her words even—lust thickening and constricting the flow to his brain at the vague question. Ukai was getting far too ahead of himself, but goddammit how could he focus when the fabric of her skirt hit her mid-thigh and framed her like a Venetian goddess—“I don’t mind driving there.” She adds to coax him away from his silence.

“Nah, I got it. We’ll take mine.”

“Lead the way,” [name] chimes sweetly as she wraps an arm around the coach’s forearm. The physical touch is everything he’s been fantasizing about for the last few days—hellfire and brimstone and sunlight and goddammit why did he wear jeans that were only getting tighter and tighter?

Ukai opens the passenger door to his SUV, supporting the woman as she clambered in cautiously so as not to stumble from her heels. Getting settled in, the coach surrenders his unlocked phone to allow her the entirety of his music library. The irony of the DJ surrendering DJ rights to the passenger was not lost on either of them. Much to his surprise, [name] put on soft acoustic punk as he usually did on his way home from the club. The kind of softness one would turn on to accompany the fragile pitter-patter of rain against the windshield. “Cardboard Swords?” Ukai asks in surprise, more than familiar with the band.

“Flannel is a favorite of mine. I’m kind of surprised it’s in your library.” She adds after she begins directing him to this evening’s party location. From the corner of his eyes, he can see the way her full lips are moving along each word with expertise. He sees the way her [eye color] orbs soften slightly and he can tell this song hits home for her.

She’ll never say why—she’ll never tell him this was the song that helped her move on from Sugawara Koushi while restoring her inner peace.

But Keishin is no fool. He can tell that this is physically hurting her—crushing her soul into the leather seat of his car and, instinctually, he wraps a large hand around hers that’s resting in her lap. “I came out tonight to have fun with you, so don’t you go getting sad on me.” He means each word with innocent intent, yet he cannot ignore the almost hidden, salacious drip to each syllable and neither can she. How could she when his touch sent volts of electricity through her skin?

“Right, right,” she says in a conceding tone, switching the audio to something much more upbeat and a little flirty. “Why did you agree to go out tonight?” If Ukai had an answer, then it died on his lips as he let go of [name]’s hand to reach for another cigarette. The process of lighting the tube, inhaling, and exhaling bought him an extra minute to come up with an excuse; her doing the same giving him another thirty seconds.

“I don’t know.” It’s a blatant lie—a lie that [name] believes all too easily—but Ukai can’t bring himself to admit the truth. He can’t admit out loud that she’s the only thing that’s been on his mind all week or that he jumped at the opportunity, created one even, to be able to have a one-on-one moment with her. Keishin can’t admit that he can tell there are intricate webs spun in her mind and that all he wants to do is untangle them one by one.

And he certainly can’t tell her that even the mere sight of her sends his brain into overdrive and all he wants to do is repeatedly fill her over and over with his seed until she is entirely his, inside and out in mind, body, and soul. There was no way in the nine circles of hell that Ukai Keishin was going to admit to his sinful thoughts.

“It’s just up here.” [name] points with gaunt fingers, cigarette between them as her voice is half choked from inhaling her own smoke. Mirroring the man’s actions earlier, she indulged in her own nicotine habit to quell the budding disappointment from Ukai’s lackluster response. They drove up a slight winding hill and as the trees pass by, the itch for her truth and her history was gnawing at him. He wanted to know why this rambunctious party girl invited him all week to these elusive after parties. Why Flannel ate away at her insides like it did his. Why did her and Sugawara breakup?

But he decides against it for the moment.

“Where are we?” Ukai asks. There’s cars all lining the sides of the road of varying worth—he felt even more out of place than normal with his older SUV, even if it was an upgrade for him, considering the large number of luxury vehicles.

“Bevelle’s house.” [name] says simply, pointing to an empty space in the streets as she throws the butt of her cigarette into the road. The casual way she name drops the owner of the club makes him gawk, catching flies in his mouth had there been any at the hour. With a satisfied, cheesy grin, she hops out of her seat and walks in the grass to meet Ukai on the other side as he clambers out of the vehicle as well. In familiarity, she grips into his forearm once again as they walk towards the forest mansion.

Keishin wasn’t sure what to expect when the two of them walked in, but a home full of people screaming his pseudonym and her name was not on that list. Younger hordes had surrounded [name], greeting her warmly and telling her how glad they were to see her again for the evening. Others were approaching Ukai, telling them how rare and a momentous occasion that the infamous artist Spira was amongst their midst.

“Glad to see you could join us, Spira.” His boss and club owner, Bevelle, approaches the mismatched couple. Bevelle was an alias used by the middle aged woman, her real name unknown to those that didn’t know her know her, and was once upon a time her stage name. While she had chosen a quiet location in the Miyagi prefecture, Bevelle was quite known in the underground scene. Granted, Ukai didn’t know any of that when he’d taken the job. If anything, it was all thanks to her that he was able to learn for his own success as well as granting him the opportunity to learn in the first place. “Good to see you too, trouble.” Bevelle affectionately goes to muss at [name]’s hair, to which she only replies with a cheeky grin.

“How do you know Bevelle?” Ukai presses his lips towards the ear of the woman still hanging onto him as she expertly leads the way to the kitchen. The car ride left her feeling slightly uncomfortable, ashamed even though she would never admit to that, and she knew she definitely needed a drink after it. Part of her was heavily rebuking herself for trying to pry into his mind by asking why he came along, even more so when she put on the one song that shattered her heart every time she heard it. It just excited her that he had it in his library, that he even knew who The Cardboard Swords were, and that he enjoyed the same obscure taste in music as much as she did.

“She’s a close family friend!” The chirp that [name] gives isn’t entirely convincing, like she isn’t telling the truth. Regardless, Ukai washes down his doubt with the beer he was handed, figuring she probably had her reasons. And as soon as the plastic is in each of their hands, [name] downs the contents immediately, hoping to drown out the nerves ebbing from her stomach with vodka. She should have been ecstatic—her old high school crush, her unrequited crush, was here with her, drinking side by side but she can’t help but feel the tension between them—sexual or otherwise.

Just as the two of them down their second round, a piercing voice cuts through the thicket of the masses, calling out her name and capturing her attention. “It’s your song! Come on!” A shrug and a smile crosses [name]’s features as she’s all but dragged away to a different part of the mansion. Much to his surprise, she grabbed onto Keishin to drag him along as well.

The two of them are presented with a myriad of sweaty, rolling bodies—much more gone than Ukai had ever seen at the club itself. It was oddly...sensual, if it could be called that, to see the fluid movements between party goers. Sensual, intimate, strange—all of them could be used interchangeably at this moment.

[name] is dancing with another woman, mouthing all of the words to the current pop song while bobbing and jumping around excitedly before her eyes lock on his. She’s in her element now. All sunshine and smiles like Ukai had seen from on occasion from years ago or most recently at the club, but they’re directed at him for once as she pulls him closer onto the dance floor. The taunting beats and repetitive call of “come on” and the way [name] loosely wraps her arms around his neck as she dances brings Ukai to the realization that this was the end of the line.

The end of the line, because Keishin can’t hold himself back anymore.

Not with the way her hips are grinding against is and she’s laughing warmly and heartily at his slight discomfort and her teeth are glittering off the lights in the dark room like stars in the night sky. Not with the way her head is thrown back and her dress drops low enough to flaunt the expanse of bare skin of her neck and collar bones that are just begging him to sink his teeth in. Not with the way her [eye color]ed orbs are locked with his as she sings along with the music, oddly enough alluding to some form of confession of her feelings.

He can’t fucking take it anymore.

The large hands he has on her hips move just under her arms to hoist her up, [name] instinctively wrapping her legs around his waist to keep her balance. Their eyes are locked, honed in on each other with the rest of the party melting into the background. With her deepest, most wild high school fantasy driving her actions, she grins. “Hi,” is all she says before Ukai cranes his neck back to cover her lips with his.

His kiss is everything she imagined it would be after years of pining. The smell and taste of smoke and wood floods her senses as his tongue laps at the watermelon lip gloss on her bottom lip before seeking refuge within her mouth. His hands, now wrapped around her thighs give intermittent squeezes, either to keep them grounded in reality or just because he needs something to clutch at—she’s unsure of which. In response, her manicured fingernails tangle into his messy blonde locks. Their kiss pours out their desperation, laying it all out on the table for the both of them to see clear as day.

The only thing that prompts them to break apart is the ending of the song.

“You wanna get out of here?” Ukai asks as he tenderly puts [name] back on the ground. As if he weren’t just making out with her moments ago, the motion is delicate and gingerly and almost loving.

“Not yet,” there’s a knowing, smug lilt in her voice as she turns on her heel and throw herself back into the throng of party people. Or rather, attempts. While she’s attempting to flee, Keishin snatches her wrist, pulling her closer until their chests are flush against each other.

“Nuh uh,” the blonde man tuts, “you’ve been asking me to join you at a party all week, now here I am. The hell makes you think you’re leaving my side tonight?” [name]’s grin only grows wider.

“I’ve waited for years for this opportunity, coach, so if you think I’m not gonna have fun with it, you’re dead wrong.” The word ‘years’ constricts the man’s heart—forces his pupils to blow into dilation with her modest, yet blunt confession.

“Years?”

“Years,” she repeats, “ever since that first practice you stumbled into the Karasuno gym as the temporary coach. Why do you think I came to every single exhibition match and tournament? Or came to study and do homework while you guys had practice?” This girl was grinding at every steel line of self-control that was left in Ukai’s body because every word spilling past her lips added an additional ten volts to the sexual tension between them.

“We’re leaving.” He bites out despite the delicate tone. Wrapping his hand around hers once again, Keishin tugs her along time dodge the party goers that threw the two of them curious glances, wondering why they were quick to leave shortly after their arrival. Just to tease him further, [name] almost wants to offer a rebuttal and tell him that they should stay longer and enjoy the show. However, she knows she’s done enough waiting and if he was taking her home, she wasn’t going to argue.

While urgency and desperation was their game, Keishin didn’t cut corners when it came to presenting himself as a gentleman as he helped [name] back into the car. Hormones be damned—he was still going to help a lady into the passengers seat. “You never did tell me why you finally agreed to come out tonight.” She says quietly, as if the two of them hadn’t been making out and dry humping a few minutes prior. “And it’s clearly not because you knew I had a crush on you all throughout third year—“

“Don’t act like you’re the only one with feelings in this.” Ukai grits out, speeding much faster back home than he did on the way to Bevelle’s house. Paying that no mind, [name]’s ears perk up at his own wayward confession. When she asked for clarity, a rumbling groan shakes his chest as he patted down his pockets in search for his nicotine sticks. “I didn’t recognize you the first night at the club because you look different now. Happiness looks good on you.”

“Happiness?” She echos confusedly, turning to face Ukai fully after lighting her own cigarette.

“You used to always look content back then—just barely content and nothing more. And I can’t stop thinking back to those days because you’re this ball of sunshine, kid, and I can’t stop wondering what the hell Suga did to you to dim your shine that badly. I haven’t stopped thinking about you all week.”

[name] is quiet for a moment at his own rendition, his own version, of a confession and she’s stunned. And she can’t tell if she wants to cry or kiss him because this is not that way she ever fantasized this conversation going. It was going better than she dreamed. Better, because the words that Ukai is saying adds an entirely new layer to his amped up personality—he wasn’t just the sexy volleyball coach that she used to pine over. He was a person with deep rooted feelings for justice in the sense of wanting to understand how someone could inflict damage to the innocent and he wanted to rectify said injustices. He wanted to know how someone like Suga could try to dampen her sunlight instead of allowing her to thrive and bloom.

She wants to kiss him, she decides, but since he’s driving, she settles for placing a chaste one on the corner of his mouth. “Serves you right,” she jokes when she pulls away, “it’s been a long four years for me. It’s your turn to suffer.”

“Trust me, this car ride is torture enough.”