「 untold feelings 」━━━ sakuatsu

─ six

Volleyball practice felt like an old memory.

The young man breathed in, inhaling that particular scent that always filled the gym. It had been a while since he last came here. Mikasa balls slapped against the wooden floor, beads of sweat dripping from sharp jaws, and that mere sight was enough for Sakusa to realize how much he'd actually missed this. He hadn't put his towel and water bottle on the bench yet that his eyes, glimmering with the loveliest burst of fallen stars, had already betrayed his composure. Before him stood, in its whole height and splendour, a graceful and muscular-built figure painted, sculpted by the heavenly hands of Apollo himself, blurred lines of pride and cockiness falling onto every right place from the edges of his broad shoulders to a signature smile. He stared, the curve of his lips breaking into arrogance as he spoke.

"Good evening, Sakusa."

Something like anger twisted the young man's face in a dull wince. He hated this. Cordial appellations had somehow been a constant ever since the two young men had gotten to know each other, but something in the gleam of Atsumu's bright eyes reflected a fierce sparkle of yearn, not to forsake said pride to indulging in games outside of Sakusa's bedroom yet unable to conceal the clear purpose that lied, mischevious and shameless, beneath the sultry tone of his words. It wasn't an easy thing to infuriate Sakusa, or at least to make the slightest bit of anger bleed through him, but when it came to Atsumu losing control just felt too quick and too right, like slipping ever so perfectly down a sand drift.

And Atsumu smiled wider because he knew it.

"C'mon Sakusa, get ready," the latter chuckled, throwing a wordless but meaningful face at him. "Want me to toss for ya today?"

"Shut the fuck up," Sakusa whispered as he walked past, searing heat coursing beneath Atsumu's under skin like liquid courage. "Or would you want me to make you? I don't remember you taking me for a complete stranger when you were crying out my name last night."

Sakusa made a sound like a laugh, ringing through his ears and sending shocks to the core of his bones and throughout his bloodstream as the gloom of Sakusa's pupils pierced into his soul. He reveled in it like a masterpiece, plainly noting that he might jerk off to those words someday. He was — nay , they were — turned on, though there was no way Atsumu would let his partner drag him into his little games during volleyball practice.

Yet when the wild flame of their fantasies bloomed on his benign lips like a shower of pretty thorned roses not succumbing to his vices suddenly seemed a little ambitious.

"Omi, ya should stop sayin' such things out loud here," Atsu mu murmured, recovering a semblance of wisdom he did not know he had.

"And you should stop being flustered like a virgin that's never been touched," Sakusa retorted as he leaned his face over the young man's ear, purposefully breathing against his skin. Sakusa murmured through gritted teeth, feral, "It makes me want to take you right now."

"Bastard," Atsumu smirked, as like seeking some kind of revenge, five clever fingers finding their way up to the hem of the taller man's jersey, discretely searching for skin to stroke. "Perhaps you could so."

His fingers went up to his partner's chest slowly, drawing trails of lust on his porcelain skin as though he was the erotic painter this time. Sakusa's eyes flashed, bright and lethal, and his strong hand grabbed a fistful of the shorter man's forearm. Atsumu would never be the one in control. The two young men were face to face, looking straight into each other's eye, breathing against each other's lips, burning with unspoken desires stretching beyond hate with difficulty.

Anger tickled Sakusa's nose, blood rushing down in between his thighs. Something about wrath was disgustingly arousing.

A pained wince plastered on Atsumu's cocky face allowed a moan to slip between lips of wet silk when Sakusa dug his nails deeper into the soft flesh of his arm. It was somehow pleasing to put him in his place.

You keep thinkin' yer the one in control, don'tcha ?

Sakusa's grip went tighter. Atsumu smirked, ignoring the pain, laughing at the everlasting irony.

That's it, Omi. Keep givin' it t'me.

Blood painfully flowed in Sakusa's phalanges again as he let go of Atsumu's whitened wrist, looking around him to make sure no one had witnessed.

"Somethin' wrong, Omi?" Atsumu chuckled. He massaged his wrist to try and soothe the tingling, smirking at the taller man. "Ya look quite upset tonight."

Sakusa huffed. He hated to admit it, but his cock was throbbing, and he most likely already knew where this conversation was going. As the devil cunningly painted lust all over the canvas of his face, he sighed, forcing a few words out of his tightened airway.

"You have something in your mind, don't you?"

He needed to hear the words he'd been wanting to hear from the young man's ungodly lips like butter pouring along the sides of his manic grin, lethal and charming. In the end, if one ever occurred, Atsumu was winning everything. The setter looked up to face his prey, odiously grinning in anticipation of his own request. He was so eager, almost delirious at the thought of being so close to get what he'd been longing for ever since Sakusa stepped into the gym, that the words spilled out of his mouth like deadly magic spells before he could even think of the demand.

"Let's do it in the showers."