It’s comical how fast he slips back into his blasé demeanor, acting as if he didn’t just beg to get his throat fucked.

“It was the compression sleeves, wasn’t it?”

Kiyoomi scoffs, throwing his gym bag over his shoulder. Maybe Atsumu should “join the club” after all.

Kiyoomi squeezes Atsumu’s free hand. The blond takes it as unspoken permission.

Tear-stained eyes roll back as Atsumu shoots into Kiyoomi’s mouth. Sparks of bliss linger in his bones even as Kiyoomi stands back up, sighing gently.

“What was that, Omi?”

“We should get home.”

Soon, Atsumu is hitting the back of Kiyoomi’s throat with each thrust. To his sick delight, his boyfriend moans and drools, preening in the rough treatment.

“Who knew you were so filthy, Omi-Omi? Are you gonna swallow my cum, right here? Where anyone could walk in?”

“More,” Omi gasps before he continues, hollowing his cheeks in a way that makes Atsumu’s toes curl.

Atsumu fucks into his mouth, gentle at first. Kiyoomi takes him as far as possible, his jet black eyes hazy and blissed out.

He looks gorgeous with a cock in his mouth.

Atsumu doesn’t dare argue. He watches in awe as his oh so proper boyfriend gets on his knees and grabs hold of his cock.

Kiyoomi moans as he wraps his lips around Atsumu. The vibrations combined with the warmth of Omi’s mouth, makes Atsumu’s hips jump involuntarily.

“Sorry-“

Omi’s eyes are blown and his lips are swollen.

“Here? Are you sure?”

This is not something Kiyoomi has ever done before. In fact, it’s something he’s expressed disdain for. Having sex in public places— it’s unsanitary.

“Please,” Kiyoomi whines, “I need you in my mouth.”

“Wha-“
Any form of thought threatens to fizzle away as Kiyoomi trails sloppy kisses down his chest, creeping closer and closer to the edge of his pants.

“Please, need you right now.”

Atsumu dares to look down and let’s a humiliating sound slip.

Atsumu doesn’t even have time to process before Omi’s tongue is in his mouth and a leg slips between his thighs to push against his crotch.

Blessedly, he gets to breathe as Kiyoomi moves to his throat, sucking mercilessly. It’s bizarrely out of character.

“Om-“

“Need you.”

“Uh, okay then.”
Slowly the team begins trickling out of the locker room. As Bokuto and Hinata finally make their exit, Atsumu is about to grab his bag when he’s suddenly shoved into the lockers.

“OW! Om-“
He’s cut off with the most frantic, almost violent kiss of his life.

“Don’t stay out too late. We have early practice. Especially you four!” Meian points at the monster generation.

“Don’t lump me in with them!” Kiyoomi snaps.

“Don’t worry! Me and Sho are just going for ramen. Wanna come you guys?”

“No, go ahead,” Omi is all too quick to say.

Case in point, Atsumu cringes as he slips the black skin tight fabric off of his thighs. They’re drenched.

“That’s fair. It’s not like you really need em’ as a setter Tsum-Tsum!” Bokuto bellows.

Out of the corner of his eye, Atsumu notices his boyfriend frown ever so slightly.

As he slides down the door, frazzled and unnerved, he comes to a realization. Something he really should have known sooner.
Miya Atsumu will be his downfall.

With every bit of strength he has, Kiyoomi forces himself to move. He rushes for the door, holding his breath. He shuts the door behind him with a bit too much force. A powerful waft of peach nearly burns his throat as he finally allows himself to breathe.

But it never happens. Atsumu stays asleep. No words leave the prince’s lips, only little gasps and groans.
A different kind of panic flourishes then. Is Atsumu…is he?
‘claim him’
“O-omi…”
‘claim him. claim, claim, claim.’

“Omi-“
Dark eyes widen comically wide, the high of smelling and tasting and seeing Atsumu like this crashing as soon as his name leaves the prince’s lips.
Kiyoomi searches frantically for an excuse for his presence. He fully expects to be reprimanded for this. He should be.

It’s as if his feet are planted firmly into the floor, keeping him right here. It’s blissful torture. He’s panting now, nearly tasting Atsumu on his tongue. His fangs have escaped the confines of his gums, begging to claim, claim, claim.
He shouldn’t be here. He can’t be here.

Atsumu whimpers again, louder this time. It’s the most beautiful sound Kiyoomi has ever heard. Then, he smells it. Slick.
“Atsumu,” he whines, pained and breathless.
He should leave. He shouldn’t be here.
But the alpha doesn’t move. He can’t.

As if in a trance, the alpha cards his fingers through Atsumu’s hair. The air grows even thicker with the smell of peach, as well as the slightest hint of Kiyoomi’s own clove scent.
A faint whimper brings the alpha out of it just a little. Kiyoomi blinks dumbly.