Archive of Our Own

Kiyoomi's never had an orgasm outside of the occasional wet dream that he can't even remember. When his interest in sex bloomed in his teens he'd try masturbating, but was always too much in his own head to actually finish and so he eventually pretty much gave up on the concept. When he got older and finally trusted another person enough to let them into his bed, that person repaid the trust by getting annoyed at Kiyoomi's nervousness and the fact that said nervousness wouldn't let him orgasm. After they got theirs they slung a thinly-veiled insult his way and left. Kiyoomi curled up on his bed and cried himself to sleep.

It took almost a year before he dared to try again, but this time he felt the pressure from the start. He knew he should be able to come, that was the whole point of having sex, and his partner kept trying and trying and looking at him expectantly and huffing impatiently when it didn't happen. Kiyoomi felt guilty and ashamed and broken, and his partner left without a word.

He almost swore off sex completely after that, but one night he got drunk and ended up in a stranger's bed. He thought the alcohol might help loosen him up and not think too much, but the stranger simply used him for their own pleasure and then kicked him out without caring if Kiyoomi enjoyed it or not.

After that, sex was decidedly not something Kiyoomi wanted anymore. He didn't seek out new partners, didn't masturbate, and aside from the occasional morning with sticky boxers he didn't think much about it.

Except sometimes he did, late at night staring at the ceiling, tears gathering in his eyelashes as he wondered what was wrong with him. The shame and guilt of not being 'normal' and being able to enjoy sex and experience release almost ate him alive.

And then Atsumu happened.

Atsumu, who came into Kiyoomi's life like the most beautiful sunrise and who was direct and gentle at the same time. His softer side paired with his irrepressible joy for life and a smile brighter than every star in the sky made Kiyoomi fall fast, helplessly, irrevocably.

Atsumu never pushed, he never pressured, he never assumed. They went for months with just kissing, hands in hair and on waists as they learned every millimeter of each others' mouths and faces. Atsumu placed feather-light kisses on Kiyoomi's forehead, nose, cheeks, eyelids. Kiyoomi felt worshiped, precious, and loved. He did the same to Atsumu, cradling him with all the care and reverence he had when they kissed, relishing in Atsumu's flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes when they pulled apart.

But eventually, it wasn't enough. Kiyoomi wanted more, he wanted to show Atsumu how he felt in every way he could. And that thought terrified him. Would it be the same with Atsumu once they were naked together? Would Atsumu suddenly become impatient, pressure Kiyoomi, use him like a ragdoll in search of his own release? Kiyoomi didn't think he would, this magnificent man who read him so well and never went beyond what Kiyoomi was comfortable with, but the fear was there regardless. He loved Atsumu and he didn't want what they had to be ruined by sex, again. Kiyoomi was broken, he just had to accept that, and live his life being content with just kissing Atsumu.

Except of course it all eventually came to a head, and Kiyoomi wasn't prepared at all.

"Hey, Omi?" Atsumu breathes, pulling away slightly and caressing Kiyoomi's cheek with his thumb. "Can I ask ya somethin'?"

"Mmm," Kiyoomi hums, leaning forward to kiss a line along his boyfriend's jaw.

Atsumu giggles, lifting both hands to cradle Kiyoomi's face and push him away slightly. "Hey, look at me."

There's a seriousness in his eyes that immediately has Kiyoomi on edge. What's wrong? Did he do something he shouldn't have?

"Omi," Atsumu begins slowly, as if he's unsure of how to phrase his question. "Are ya... y'know, asexual?"

Kiyoomi is so taken aback he just stares. Asexual? He's heard the term, researched it even, but he's fairly certain he's not. He experiences sexual attraction and desire, towards strangers in the past and definitely towards Atsumu right now. He's just... terrified.

"It's not a problem if ya are!" Atsumu blurts out, seemingly taking Kiyoomi's silence as confirmation. "I love ya, 'm happy to be with ya in any way yer comfortable with, and maybe I shoulda asked sooner, but I-"

"No, I'm-" Kiyoomi begins, pausing to take a deep breath. "I'm not. I want... you know. But I'm..."

He trails off, lowering his gaze. Atsumu tilts his chin back up. "Yer what, Omi? Ya don't have to tell me but if there's anythin' I can do-"

"I'm broken," Kiyoomi says, his voice short and clipped. Atsumu's eyebrows shoot up. "I'm not like other people. I can't..."

He trails off again and he hates that he can't get the words out. He trusts Atsumu more than anyone and knows he would never hurt him, so why can't he say it?

Atsumu still looks both shocked and sad, but his voice is gentle. "What is it ya can't do, Omi?"

There's a long pause. Kiyoomi's voice is barely a whisper when he finally answers. "Come. I can't come."

Atsumu somehow looks even more surprised. "Ya mean... like, ever?"

Kiyoomi nods silently before taking another deep breath and feeling himself blush. "Not outside of, you know... those kinds of dreams. Never when I've been awake."

"Omi," Atsumu says slowly, and he sounds so sad it breaks Kiyoomi's heart. "Have ya ever talked to a doctor about this?"

Kiyoomi shakes his head. He'd always been way too embarrassed to tell anyone, much less a stranger. "You're the first person I've ever told."

"Ya been dealin' with this all on yer own until now?" Atsumu sounds as heartbroken as Kiyoomi feels.

"Like I said, I'm broken," Kiyoomi shrugs, feeling exhaustion creep into his mind. "I've accepted it."

"But ya said it's still somethin' ya want, right?"

"I do want it," Kiyoomi admits, somewhat reluctantly. "But I gave up long ago. Alone or with partners, it just doesn't happen. I feel nervous, or pressured, or too much inside my own head. I can't do it."

Atsumu is quiet for a moment, seemingly deep in thought. When he finally speaks again, each word is calculated and deliberate. "Omi, I love ya. Ya know I would never pressure ya into doin' somethin' ya don't want. But if this is somethin' ya do want, I'll be with ya every step of the way for as long as you want me."

Kiyoomi feels tears gather in his eyes, and Atsumu wipes them away with a small smile. "There's help to be found for these things, Omi. If ya want to try it, I'll help in whatever way ya need. 'M not goin' anywhere, sex or no sex. Yer everythin' to me, Omi, and I want ya to be as happy and comfortable as ya can be."

It takes a month for Kiyoomi to work up the courage to go to the doctor. Atsumu is there with him the entire time, a comforting presence in the harsh clinical environment. It doesn't take long for the doctor to conclude that this is most likely a psychological issue, and that therapy would be the best option for Kiyoomi. Atsumu squeezes his hand as they walk out to the parking lot, and when they get into the car they just sit in silence for a few moments.

Atsumu is the one who finally breaks it. "D'ya want to try it? Therapy?"

"I don't know," Kiyoomi admits, adrenaline rushing through his system at the thought of having to share all his fears and insecurities with a stranger. "What if it doesn't work?"

"Won't know until ya try," Atsumu says simply, reaching out to grab Kiyoomi's hand across the middle console. "I'll go with ya, if ya want."

It takes another six weeks for Kiyoomi to work up the courage to get in touch with a therapist. Atsumu goes with him to their initial session, but they decide that it's best if Kiyoomi goes on his own from now on. The issue isn't with Atsumu, or with their relationship. Kiyoomi is the one who needs help, and so he'll go to therapy on his own. The thought is terrifying, but Atsumu squeezes his hand and kisses his cheek and whispers how proud he is of Kiyoomi. It helps calm his frantic thoughts.

He goes every week for months and months. It takes a while for him to open up, but his therapist assures him that's completely normal. Eventually, the heavy and scary stuff starts to show through the cracks in Kiyoomi's carefully constructed walls. He talks about shame and guilt, the pressure he felt with past partners, and how he accepted that he wouldn't ever orgasm. That he's simply broken and can't be fixed. His therapist listens, and takes notes, and helps him slowly unravel the thought loops he's been stuck in for so long. It takes time, and it's painful, and he cries during every session for a solid two months. Atsumu is there to pick him up after every single one, holding him tight in the waiting room until Kiyoomi is comfortable enough to step outside.

At home, they take it slow. They still mostly kiss, but as Kiyoomi's psyche slowly starts to heal he occasionally gives an inch. Atsumu takes it but never goes any further, the literal perfect image of respect and love as Kiyoomi slowly learns how to let him in.

First, they take their shirts off when they kiss. A few weeks later, Kiyoomi dares venture down Atsumu's neck and collarbone with his kisses and Atsumu breathily asks for permission before returning the favour. Not long after, fingers find nipples and tongues follow in their wake. Kiyoomi loses himself in the feeling and the complete trust he has in Atsumu, but there's still a cold fear in his gut every time his hands venture close to the waistband of Atsumu’s jeans. The 'what if' sits like lead in his stomach and acid in his throat.

Atsumu still never pushes, never takes more than Kiyoomi willingly gives him. Slowly but surely, with the unending patience and love from his partner and the professional help of his therapist, Kiyoomi finally starts feeling like maybe, just maybe, this can work.

"Atsumu," Kiyoomi says one night when they're shirtless and tangled up on the couch, lips red and swollen from kissing. "Is it okay if we... move to the bed?"

Atsumu immediately stills and looks at him with wide eyes. Keeping their making out on the couch has been another way for Kiyoomi to feel safer and more comfortable, because the couch doesn’t have the same label of 'sex-territory' that the bed does. Atsumu has, as with everything else, been nothing but understanding and accommodating.

"The bed?" Atsumu says, sounding breathless. "Are ya sure?"

Kiyoomi nods; he is. He's waited weeks to ask just to be absolutely sure that he's sure. "Yes."

"Okay," Atsumu breathes, slowly getting up and offering Kiyoomi a hand. "Okay, Omi."

They enter the bedroom together, hands clasped tightly between them. Kiyoomi looks at the bed and then at Atsumu, his heart racing. Atsumu looks flushed and happy and cautious all at once.

"Ya know we don't have to do anythin' more just cause we're on the bed, yeah?" Atsumu says, still breathless. "'M not gonna expect anythin' and I don't want ya to think I will."

Kiyoomi turns and kisses him, soft and gentle, with a hand on his jaw. "I know. I love you, Atsumu."

"And I love ya, Kiyoomi."

They settle on the bed on their sides, kissing lazily as Atsumu's hands drift up and down Kiyoomi's back. The light touch is sensual and thrilling and gives Kiyoomi pleasant goosebumps. He pulls back for a moment to look into his boyfriend's eyes and is met with so much love, lust, and unending devotion that it takes his breath away. He's never felt this loved, this cared for, this safe.

Who would it be, if not this man before him, who's given him so much and continues to do so every day? Who else in this world could he trust with his love, his body, his pleasure?

"Atsumu," Kiyoomi says quietly, keeping their gazes locked and his voice as steady as he can. "Undress me, please?"

Atsumu almost chokes on air as he stares at Kiyoomi with wonder written all over his face. Kiyoomi stares back, keeping his expression steady, because he needs Atsumu to know that he's serious, and he's sure. So, so sure.

After a long moment, Atsumu nods. "Okay, Omi. Tell me if ya need me to stop, yeah?"

Kiyoomi hums in agreement and his heart is in his throat when Atsumu reaches for the button on his jeans. Atsumu is watching his face carefully for any sign of discomfort and Kiyoomi loves him more than life itself. He can do this, he wants Atsumu to be the one.

Atsumu looks down as he unzips Kiyoomi's fly, revealing his black boxers and the outline of his half-hard cock. Kiyoomi hisses as the zipper presses against his erection, gripping Atsumu's shoulders. Atsumu immediately stops and looks back up at him, and Kiyoomi quickly nods his consent to keep going.

Atsumu removes his jeans like he's unwrapping the most beautiful and expensive gift, smoothing his hands down Kiyoomi's legs and gently pulling the fabric off his feet. His soft, caring touches send shivers through Kiyoomi's entire body and he just barely suppresses a gasp. He's not comfortable making sounds either, feeling ashamed for his own pleasure. But he hopes, god he hopes, that Atsumu can coax at least one willing moan out from behind his walls. He wants to feel safe enough to let go.

Atsumu trails a line of kisses up Kiyoomi's right leg from his ankle to just above his knee, respectfully stopping a good distance away from his crotch. Kiyoomi feels himself twitch in his boxers, but he doesn't say anything. Not yet.

"Can I?" Atsumu asks breathily, his fingertips barely touching the waistband of Kiyoomi's boxers.

Kiyoomi nods. "Yeah, yes, please."

Atsumu surges up and kisses him, slow and deep and utterly breathtaking. "You're so beautiful. My Omi, so fucking gorgeous."

A tear falls onto Kiyoomi's cheek and he feels himself smile through it.

"Please," he says again, feeling like it's the only word left in his vocabulary.

Atsumu plants one more chaste kiss on his lips before shuffling back down, hooking his fingers under Kiyoomi's boxers and reverently pulling them down. Kiyoomi lifts his hips slightly to help, trying to ignore the frantic beating of his heart in his throat. When his cock is freed, Atsumu sucks in a breath and looks up at him with dark eyes swimming with devotion.

"Omi," he whispers, pausing before cracking a small smile. "I hope it's okay to say this, but ya got the prettiest cock I've ever seen."

Feeling himself turn a deep crimson, Kiyoomi brings up his hands to cover his face. "Oh my god, Atsu."

"What?" Atsumu quips, and Kiyoomi can still hear the smile in his voice. "Just tellin' ya the truth. Yer gorgeous, Omi."

"Oh my god," Kiyoomi repeats, smiling despite the embarrassed flush on his face. He removes his hands and looks down, meeting Atsumu's gaze. "Do you... want to touch me?"

Atsumu's eyes widen. "Fuck yeah, but only if ya want me to."

There's a beat, and then Kiyoomi nods. "Touch me, Atsu."

Cursing under his breath, Atsumu quickly pulls Kiyoomi's boxers all the way off and tosses them aside. He settles on his front in between Kiyoomi's spread legs, hands resting on his hips and eyes fixed on his face. When Atsumu's hand moves Kiyoomi grips the sheets in anticipation, and when a warm, calloused hand wraps around his cock he forgets how to breathe.

"Oh god," he chokes out, unable to tear his eyes away from the scene before him. He briefly worries that he might pass out from his frantic heartbeat.

"Okay?" Atsumu asks, keeping his hand still as he searches Kiyoomi's face. Kiyoomi just nods, unable to think, unable to speak.

Still carefully watching his face, Atsumu starts slowly moving his hand. It's a little dry, but the movements are very slow and gentle, mostly just testing the waters. After a few slow strokes, Atsumu brings his hand to the tip and gathers some precome to help the slide. On the next stroke, Kiyoomi has to slap a hand over his mouth to stop a soft moan from escaping him. From the glance Atsumu gives him, he notices, but he doesn't say anything. Kiyoomi is grateful.

Atsumu keeps stroking him with a slow but steady pace for a few minutes and Kiyoomi feels himself leaking, providing more slick to ease the strokes. It feels so good, he'd forgotten how incredible it can feel to have someone else's hands on you. Unfortunately, that line of thinking also brings back unpleasant memories. Rough hands, unkind voices, hurtful words and actions. Kiyoomi doesn't realise he's gone stiff as a board until he feels Atsumu slow and then completely stop his movements.

"Omi," he says softly, his free hand rubbing soothing circles into Kiyoomi's hip. "D'ya need me to stop? Yer really tense, and I don't want ya to be uncomfortable."

Kiyoomi shakes his head and feels a single tear slide down his cheek. "Don't stop. It's just... bad memories."

There's a beat before Atsumu speaks again. "Omi, I need ya to understand somethin'. If all ye wanted me to do was stroke ya for an hour, just like this, not even worryin' about makin' ya come, I'd happily do it. If it helps make ya more comfortable, I'll do anythin'."

Kiyoomi is somewhat taken aback by the intense sincerity of the words, and he feels another tear roll down his cheek as he looks down at his boyfriend. "Are you sure?"

"'M so sure," Atsumu replies, a soft grin on his face. "I'd do anythin' for ya, to help ya be happy. Never forget that, my Omi."

Kiyoomi is actually crying now, but they're happy tears that gather in the corners of his smile. "I won't ever forget it."

"Good," Atsumu smiles, kissing Kiyoomis hip and gently tightening his grip. "Should I keep goin'?"

"Mhm, y-yeah," Kiyoomi gasps softly, nodding.

Atsumu does just that, keeping the same steady pace as before, gently working Kiyoomi up to full hardness again. He feels himself twitch in his boyfriend's hand, unaccustomed to touch that isn't his own. Atsumu's hand feels incredible, and Kiyoomi can't help but wonder... 

"Can you... use your mouth?" he chokes out, interrupted by a soft gasp when Atsumu twists his palm around the head. Atsumu dips his head to kiss Kiyoomi's hip again, groaning gently into his skin.

"Yer wish is my command, Omi."

Atsumu's tongue is warm and wet, everything a tongue should be, and yet it's a staggering difference to Kiyoomi's previous experience with blowjobs. He doesn't have much experience with them, but the few he's had were either full of teeth or felt way too rushed.

Atsumu's mouth doesn't feel like that at all. It's soft and hot and perfect, enveloping Kiyoomi's cock and making him grip the sheets as raw pleasure floods through his body. Is this what he's been missing out on for so long? This indescribable feeling of a hot mouth on his cock, working him over slowly and willingly, giving him pleasure without impatience and a demand for him to come?

"I love you," Kiyoomi chokes out because he needs to say something and he can't think of anything else. Atsumu just hums around his cock and takes him deeper, making Kiyoomi curse under his breath and throw his head back against the pillows. He feels like he's melting and floating and flying all at once.

Just like he did with his hand, Atsumu keeps up a slow but steady pace with his mouth, pausing here and there to swirl his talented tongue around in a way that makes Kiyoomi gasp. One hand is gripping around the base of Kiyoomi's cock and another drifts down to gently cup his balls, rolling them back and forth with the most delicate touch. This is also a new sensation for Kiyoomi - none of his past partners had been invested enough in foreplay to bother paying attention to his balls. He loves it.

Atsumu pulls off his cock and licks a stripe up the shaft, making Kiyoomi squirm. "Tell me if there's anythin' else ya want me to do."

He dives back down before Kiyoomi can reply, and any higher brain function he might have had access to for that brief moment is immediately obliterated in the delicious heat of Atsumu's mouth. Kiyoomi wants to stay here forever.

And yet, he knows his body wants to come. It's starting to prickle at the corners of his mind, coiling gently in his abdomen. He's not close yet, but he could be pretty soon. He feels relaxed and safe and his body is responding better to Atsumu's touch than anyone else's, possibly including Kiyoomi's own. It's a dizzying thought.

Kiyoomi tries to think through the haze of pleasure; what does he need? What would help Atsumu make him feel even better?

He's not even aware of the fact that his body is responding for him until he feels Atsumu pull off him again. He makes a small noise of protest and looks down, surprised to see Atsumu staring up at him with wide eyes.

"Um, Omi, yer spreadin' yer legs," he says carefully, and the flush on his cheeks makes him look even more beautiful. "D'ya... d'ya want me to..."

Oh. Does Kiyoomi want him to? They have lube, and he knows Atsumu has talented hands. None of his past partners ever bothered to find his prostate when they fingered him open, they simply did it out of necessity and often not well enough, causing an uncomfortable stretch. But Atsumu wouldn't do that. Kiyoomi knows this with absolute certainty. Atsumu would make him feel good.

"Yeah," he whispers, feeling small and almost ashamed of his request. Atsumu's eyes darken even more and he scrambles up to kiss Kiyoomi, their heavy breaths mingling in the charged air between them.

"Fuck, Omi, Kiyoomi," Atsumu breathes against his lips, cupping his jaw with his dry hand. "Thank ya for trusting me. I'll do everythin' I can to make ya feel good, I promise. And I know we don't have to have sex just cause I finger ya, but I'm still so happy that yer lettin' me do this-"

"Atsumu," Kiyoomi says, cutting him off with another kiss. "You're rambling."

Atsumu's grin is like the sun. "Ya have that effect on me, darlin'."

Kiyoomi blushes deeply at the pet name and watches with excitement and anticipation as Atsumu retrieves the lube from the nightstand. He shuffles back down and gives Kiyoomi's cock another few strokes before lubing up his fingers and looking up at Kiyoomi.

"Ya ready? Remember, anytime ya want me to stop just say the word. I'll never be upset with ya for that, I promise."

Warmth and affection floods Kiyoomi's chest as he takes in the sincere look on Atsumu's face. Love.

"I know," he says, taking a deep breath. "I'm ready."

The slick feeling of lube between his cheeks is a bit startling at first, but Kiyoomi quickly calms down by reminding himself who the slick fingers belong to. This isn't going to be some perfunctory prep before a rough fuck that Kiyoomi won't enjoy - Atsumu is going to take care of him. Always.

A lubed finger slowly circles his tight entrance and Kiyoomi gasps. Atsumu keeps up the same movement, gentle and somewhat teasing, constantly watching Kiyoomi's face.

"It's been a while," Kiyoomi says, trying and failing to not sound breathless.

"I know, Omi, there's no rush," Atsumu hums, shifting a little on the bed as he continues his movements. "Are ya able to lift one of yer legs out of the way for me? It'll be easier to reach that way."

Kiyoomi nods silently and lifts his left leg, bending it back towards his chest and grabbing the back of his knee with his left hand to hold it in place. Atsumu grins up at him and places a kiss on his inner thigh before applying gentle pressure to Kiyoomi's entrance. He gasps and feels himself clench.

"Are ya okay?" Atsumu asks, immediately stopping his movements. Kiyoomi takes a deep breath, and then another. He's safe, he's fine, he's taken care of. Atsumu loves him. Atsumu would never hurt him.

"I'm okay," he says, pushing a few stray curls from his sweaty forehead. "Could you... touch my cock at the same time? It might make it easier to relax a bit."

Embarrassment floods Kiyoomi at the request he just made, but Atsumu immediately grips his wet cock with his other hand, stroking in a slow rhythm. Kiyoomi wants to cry from gratitude. Atsumu keeps stroking him and massaging his rim, and after a few minutes Kiyoomi feels himself relax a little. The gentle and pleasurable touch of someone he loves and trusts is sending licks of heat along his spine and makes his brain feel full of fluffy clouds. Atsumu must notice his more pliable state too, because soon there's a smidge more pressure at Kiyoomi's entrance, and half a breath later Atsumu's slick finger has breached him.

"Oh," Kiyoomi chokes out, his hips twitching slightly at the pressure inside of him. "Oh, god."

"Yeah?" Atsumu asks, only moving the hand of Kiyoomi's cock now.

"Yeah," Kiyoomi echoes, taking slow breaths to help his body relax. "Keep going."

Atsumu obliges, pushing his lubed-up finger further in and gently massaging his walls. Kiyoomi squirms, breaths coming faster now, anticipation building in him. He knows his sweet spot is in there, he's felt something there in the past while getting fucked, and he wants, he wants-

A shuddering peak of pleasure suddenly rips through his trembling body and makes him shout, his back arching as he pushes against Atsumu's finger. There, there!

"Found it," Atsumu hums, the smirk in his voice sending a thrill down Kiyoomi's spine. "God, that was hot."

Kiyoomi only vaguely registers what Atsumu's saying as the finger inside him continues to massage his prostate, sending white-hot sparks of pleasure and electricity through his entire body. He bites down on his fist to muffle the sounds that helplessly spill out of him, his hips moving on their own to further chase the intense pleasure.

"Omi," Atsumu breathes, sounding almost as wrecked as Kiyoomi feels. "Lemme hear ya, please?"

Kiyoomi hesitates but eventually moves his fist from his mouth, letting it fall to grip the sheets once again. Atsumu's face splits into another wide grin as he curls his finger, making Kiyoomi choke on air and arch his back again.

"Oh god, oh my god," he groans, his head thrashing from side to side as he's assaulted with this new kind of pleasure. He feels like he's coming apart at the seams.

"Can I put another finger in, Omi?" Atsumu asks, stilling his movements. "It'll feel even better with two."

"Mhm, yeah, please," Kiyoomi pants, not even sure what he's saying but knowing that he needs more of this feeling. Atsumu hums and soon there's another finger at Kiyoomi's entrance, gently pushing before sliding in right alongside the first one.

This time, the pleasure from having his prostate massaged is somehow increased. Kiyoomi didn't think that was possible, and he stares down at a smirking Atsumu who's still slowly stroking Kiyoomi's aching cock.

"I- I don't- I've never-" Kiyoomi tries to get out, but his own helpless sounds of pleasure keep interrupting him.

Atsumu stills. "What was that, love?"

With the pleasure momentarily paused, Kiyoomi manages to gather at least a shred of coherent thought. "No one's ever touched me like this, fuck, Atsu. Please don't stop."

Atsumu's face fills with pride and love, but there's a hint of sadness there as well. "God, ya must've had some shitty partners in the past. I'm sorry ya had to go through that, Omi."

"It's okay," Kiyoomi whispers, his chest aching with the amount of love he feels for this man. "I've got you now."

"That ya do," Atsumu smirks, starting up his movements again and making Kiyoomi gasp. "And 'm never gonna do anythin' to hurt ya."

Atsumu keeps going with two fingers inside Kiyoomi, alternating between teasing his walls and massaging his prostate. Kiyoomi has long passed beyond the realm of coherent thought and his only focus is the pleasure Atsumu's hands are bringing him. But something is missing.

"Atsu, fuck," he manages to get out, rolling his hips as Atsumu's fingers find his sweet spot again. "Mouth, your mouth, please."

Atsumu wastes no time, immediately enveloping Kiyoomi in the wet heat of his mouth, drawing another broken moan from Kiyoomi's throat. Fuck, this feels amazing.

The coil in his abdomen is tighter now. He's felt traces of it before, mostly when he was younger and tried to climax from masturbation, but it's... different, now. Stronger. More insistent, more demanding of attention. Kiyoomi's body is chasing something foreign to him, something primal and incandescent.

Fuck. Fuck. Could he actually be...?

"Atsu," he gasps, and shudders when Atsumu hums around his cock in response. "I think I'm... I think I might-"

Atsumu pauses for the briefest of seconds to glance up at him, eyes wild and dark with desire, before redoubling his efforts. The pattern is the same but it's faster, harder, better. Kiyoomi can't hold back any sounds anymore, moaning on each exhale as the pleasure draws tighter within him. Heat starts to gather at the base of his dick and he stares down at Atsumu who's working him tirelessly, like the most important thing in this world is making Kiyoomi feel good.

Is he going to come? Is this what it feels like?

Kiyoomi feels his balls tighten and new, tingling sparks of pleasure shoot through his abdomen. Oh fuck, is this it? Kiyoomi doesn't know for sure but his body does, chasing release with frantic desperation, driving him towards the peak that's eluded him for so long.

Kiyoomi feels something build. Something new, enormous, indescribable.

"Something's - ah - happening," he chokes out, helplessly rolling his hips into Atsumu's willing mouth, chasing something he cannot yet name. Atsumu doesn't stop for even a single second and Kiyoomi feels the pleasure building, and building, and building. Kiyoomi doesn't even register that he's speaking until the words have already left his mouth, his voice hoarse and desperate. "I'm going to come, Atsu, I'm coming, I'm coming!"

It's like an explosion. Like a firework, a gunshot, the snap of a rubber band. The pleasure builds until it's almost unbearable and then suddenly, Kiyoomi's entire body jerks as white-hot pleasure floods his system. He feels his cock kick in Atsumu's mouth, feels Atsumu hum around him and suck even harder, and Kiyoomi barely has time to breathe before he has to scream from how intense it is. He's short of breath so his screams are short and clipped, but each exhale brings another one as the merciless waves of release crash into him. He's never felt anything like this, not even close. He briefly wonders if he might die.

Kiyoomi's body gently twitches and spasms as his first conscious orgasm finally starts to subside, leaving exhaustion and an entirely new feeling of satisfaction in its wake. Kiyoomi can't move. His limbs feel like lead and his mouth is dry. He's pretty sure his brain is melting out through his ears.

A vaguely unpleasant sensation somewhat draws his attention - Atsumu is removing his fingers from Kiyoomi's ass and cleaning them. Kiyoomi feels like he's floating, and hums contentedly when he feels Atsumu's warm body settle in beside him and pull him in for a hug.

"Holy shit," is the first thing Atsumu says, his voice filled with wonder. Kiyoomi can't help but giggle, even if it takes a lot of effort right now.

"Yeah," he says, because there's no energy for any more words than that. Something damp rolls down his cheek and Atsumu's hand is immediately on it.

"Omi, yer cryin'," he says, concern seeping into his voice. "Are ya okay? Did I hurt ya? Say somethin', please."

"I am?" Kiyoomi is surprised, slowly bringing his own hand up to touch his face. There's the damp of sweat, but also the unmistakable feeling of tears leaving tracks along his cheeks. "Oh. I... don't know why. I'm okay."

Atsumu heaves what sounds like a sigh of relief and pulls Kiyoomi closer. "Okay, ya scared me there for a second. I'd never be able to forgive myself if I hurt ya."

"You were... amazing," Kiyoomi says, pausing to let his brain remember bigger words before turning his head to look at Atsumu. "That was... I can't even begin to..."

Atsumu grins at him. "Yeah, I know. It's pretty damn awesome, isn't it? I'm so happy for ya, Omi. My Omi."

"Thank you," Kiyoomi says, hoping that his tired voice can still communicate all the sincerity and love behind the words. "You've done so much for me, Atsu, 'thank you' doesn't feel like nearly enough."

"Omi," Atsumu begins, raising a hand to Kiyoomi's face and cradling his jaw. "Ya don't need to thank me, darlin'. I help ya because I love ya, and because I want ya to have these experiences. And I want to have them with ya."

Kiyoomi can't do anything but nod, a fresh wave of tears streaming down his face as he pulls Atsumu in for a kiss. It's sweaty and salty and a little messy, and still absolutely perfect.

"So," Kiyoomi begins when they pull apart, feeling a smirk spread across his face. "You said you want to have these experiences with me. Does that mean more orgasms?"

Atsumu huffs out a laugh and then his eyes darken as he surges forward for another kiss, this one deep and full of promise.

"Absolutely, darlin'. As often as ya want and as many as ya can take."