Tsukishima could once again feel the cheeky hands grope over his buttocks, but this time he did not protest. It felt good – it had always felt good, he had to be honest about that.
They were holding each other, as simple as that, and every time Kuroo tried to reach out and turn the water off, far too upset by this monstrous waste, he grumbled in his neck:
- Don't move.
- Don't go.
- Don't, just don't.
- Not now, motherfucker!
- No, don't go.
- No, don't let go.
Quite amazed, Tetsurō was a little lost as to how to react to this childish behavior, but the moment was far too important to ruin it, and he obeyed, smirking a little.
He felt good too – to be holding him so close. Tsuki was sinking in his embrace, shy now, hiding, mumbling in his chest, or in his neck, not looking at him at all.
He endured it, uncomfortable as it was, hungry as he was – these last years had taught him patience.
But finally, he huffed:
- You are hungry. I am sure of it. And I promise you – I won't be paying the bill for the warm water this month!
This was absolutely enough to scare Tsukishima, and he glared at him now, quickly grabbing the soap yet again – to finish the washing and scrubbing of his soaking body within 5 minutes or less.
- Asshole! – he hissed at Kuroo now maliciously, just making him laugh.
- Hmm, speaking of which...
When Kuroo grabbed the soap out of his hand, Tsukishima could only bite his lips and be hopeful. And yes, too soon the big hands were gliding all over his skin, smearing the soap evenly, everywhere, slowly, taking their time – washing every part of him meticulously well. He was looking away, ashamed, suddenly too aware just how manhandled he was, how exposed he was – had been, this whole time.
But Tetsurō never even noticed that blush. He was far too focused to enjoy the blissful minutes, in which there was silence in the steamy bathroom, and the soft, pliable body next to him that was obeying, unresisting.
- My dream... My love... - he was murmuring, lost in his love.
Back almost pressed against the wall again, seeking for some support during the overwhelming pleasure of this eager touch, Tsukishima was gasping, not daring to speak, not bold enough to raise his eyes and stare at his senpai's hungry eyes. The big palms were sliding over him, caressing over all the sticking bones, lingering over his nipples, unwilling to move away from soaping and rinsing his hard-on, multiple times over.
- You... - he protested breathlessly. – You do realize that... this... this... uhhh... This is a... it's a... Fuck!... It's a... handjob... right...
Tetsurō ignored him, far too focused and fascinated by the way the delicate body arched, aiming to be closer to him now, wordlessly begging for more of the same. He grabbed the bony hips, and pulled the tall blonde closer to himself, underneath the shower water that was washing it all away, all the time.
The fire, the desire – would it be all gone with the soap?
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