A/N: This fic is many firsts for me: my first explicit story, first BokuAka fic and my first time writing in this fandom. Any feedback you have for me, particularly on characterisation, dynamic and/or the explicit parts or even just if you enjoyed it, is very much appreciated.
Thanks for reading and I hope you will enjoy~
"Yooshaaaaaaaa!" The Great Horned Owl's thundering voice pounds the gymnasium walls following the ball's collision with the polished court floor. If the toss had been any lower, the point wouldn't have counted; not that this is a match anyway... Aaaand... -Not that that lessens the owl's inner self-cheerleader any.
Slim, well-lashed, grey-green pupils follow his captain to his landing. The golden eyed owl meets his gaze, and the love-struck setter feels something stick in his throat.
"Hey! Hey! Akaashi! Did'ja see that?!"
A stiff nod to his captain. Flat words. "I did, Bokuto-san."
"Hey hey hey! Toss me another!" Face wide with a grin, the third year does a half-victory-dance, half-pleading gesture, eyes shut tight with self-praise.
"Um, Bokuto-san." A twisting feeling builds in his gut as nervousness overcomes him though his plain outward demeanour remains for the most part the same. The air is thick; hard to swallow.
"Huuuh? What is it, Akaashi?" The level of perplexity in his voice, in his demeanour is of a level Akaashi could never comprehend; leaning forward, hands on his hips, one high-arched eyebrow raised far above the other, a pensive pooch to his lips.
At this point in the evening, they're the last ones left at practice, as they often are. Somehow, poor Akaashi Keiji gets wrangled into practicing with his captain some hours past when their teammates usually take their leave.
The flattest of expressions, as the setter flits slim, almond eyes to his ace's groin. Amidst the slick uniform fabric -lines and patches of yellow, white and black- lies a rather obvious growth.
Yes, again, Bokuto Kōtarō has an erection.
As the situation dawns on the young ace, hands reach his hair line, shouting aloud, though entirely to himself. "Ah! Shit! Not again!" His ever-boisterous voice pounds the gym despite them being its only two inhabitants.
How many times has it been now? Certainly too many to count. Though the actual number is 13. This is the 13th night this semester since they've started practising so heavily and extensively like this that his captain has developed an erection.
Long-lashed lids lower, olive-grey orbs following the ace's form to the locker room where the great horned owl will relieve himself. Before any of this ever happened, Akaashi had heard of such a thing; unintentional erections from extended bouts of physical activity or from things as simple as changes in temperature or humidity. However, it's one of those things you usually just hear about, right? No. Nothing's like that since having met Bokuto-san; loud-mouthed, strong-willed, boisterous, headstrong Bokuto-san with a pounding voice, golden eyes and a laugh like the sun; a sometimes irritating sun. Though his captain may prove irritating, he's grown on Akaashi; in a way for which there's no words to describe. At least, there's none in his vocabulary for doing so. It's not enough to say the ace makes his heart flutter, his gut churn with knots, or that his gaze is often painful to bear.
The slight warmth in his cheeks fades with time, standing amidst these empty, silent walls; he needs to go change uniform himself, but knows it's best he wait. His captain sometimes ... takes a while. Too many times; no, actually, every time thus far, he's entered the room whilst the white owl's still at it; ending in a more than awkward situation for the olive-eyed setter.
His feelings for his idiot-genius senpai are difficult to describe. He's never really harbored anything of this sort for anyone else before. But Bokuto... was his first in many ways. The first person he's met to find it appropriate to send him weird texts in the middle of the night, to show up at his house on New Year's Eve without discussing plans prior, the first to assume Akaashi wants to eat whatever he wants to eat so he always buys more than one of everything and then he usually just has to eat both of whatever it is. The first person to cause such excitement in Keiji's life. Yes, every moment with Bokuto Kōtarō was exciting; his ups-and-downs, his passion for life, his naive self-indulgence and kind heart.
Oh, and of course, the first man to ejaculate in front of him. Not that that's really worth mentioning.
Warmth rushes to his cheeks as the moment's called to memory. In his opinion, the sensation lingers far too long.
The screech of the locker room door rasps his ear drums, further forcing his diaphragm to tighten. Olive eyes beneath stark raven lashes scan the room with caution; the low lit fluorescent bulbs reveal 3 sets of palely illuminated lockers, two slatted benches and the hall to the shower room but no captain; no Bokuto. For the first time, he's waited long enough for the great horned owl to complete his business. 14th time's the charm.
Heart still aflutter from the thought that's plagued his mind: the heated sensation to his senpai's cheekbones, his gasps and grunts, the sheer look of pleasure found in half-closed golden eyes beneath broken brow. His member; erect and reddened, firm and slick with pre-cum.
The young setter shakes it off, unzipping the bag in front of his locker, and removing his gym shoes. The uniform top, though removed from his form, brings no relief to his lungs, makes it no easier to breath, though much of the warmth tingeing the setter's cheeks has faded. Olive-grey eyes raise to the gap between the lockers before him, to find his captain in silent pleasured gasp, perched atop the bench on the other side of the alcove. Golden eyes refuse to shut amidst the pleasure so as to hold the setter's gaze. Akaashi fills with red; smooth cheekbones highlighted in rouge which he can feel rise from his diaphragm.
"B-Bokuto-san." Muttered words are brought to struggled lips. Backing from the gap, he makes quick work of the room, heading for the door, only to hear his captain call out in erotic agony for his underclassman.
"A-akaashi." Panting amidst the sticky sliding sound. "Don-don't go - Akaashi!"
The setter remembers the last time he walked in on Bokuto finishing his business and how post event, on the way home, despite his attempts to speak as little as possible, Bokuto had proceeded to ask him a plethora of questions regarding, basically, his kinks.
"How do you usually get it off?" Words spoken as if nothing were strange in such a question; one eyebrow raised above the other in genuine inquiry.
He'd felt the red burn his face in that moment; chest tight, widened almond eyes. He'd tried not to respond, to avoid the subject.
...
There's no avoiding Bokuto-san.
"Isn't it easier if someone watches you?"
The question about killed the poor boy. Gaze averted and thankful his face was masked thickly in scarf, he answered flatly, attempting to end the discussion. "I." A pause. "I don't know, Bokuto-san."
"It's hard for me if no one is."
This enflamed the young setter's cheeks further. He'd seen his captain ejaculate, twice. It was thanks to Akaashi that his partner had been able to get it off? The thought built a pale heat in his groin and sent his heart aflutter.
"No one's ever watched me, Bokuto-san." Though Keiji wouldn't describe himself as voyeuristic.
Luckily, they'd reached his house before any further awkward questions could pour from the idiot's lips.
That night, for the first time in a very long time, the young setter experienced the urge to masturbate.
The current situation feels like déjà vu, though it isn't exactly. His senpai's never requested he stay before, usually climaxing just as they lock gazes or just shortly after Akaashi's apologised, excused himself and exited in a hurry; though every time he feels his heart could burst.
The owl's request both terrifies and excites him, though he has no manner of explaining the latter. He knows this isn't normal, but nothing about Bokuto-san is normal; has ever been normal since the day he first met his rather quirky senpai.
A sick nervousness mixed with excitement drops to his gut, and when the owl calls again... inexplicably... he complies. His captain calls him over, almost pleadingly, and the pleasured, needing tone of his normally boisterous voice sends Akaashi's mind straight to the gutter, his heart to his stomach & a warm knot to his groin.
"It helps if you watch me."
The words brings a flickering sensation to his stomach. For the sole person who makes his heart flutter, his chest tighten, his groin need; to want his involvement in such an intimate process in too much to bear.
He can feel the cool, backless bench grip the skin of his thighs as he shakily straddles it from across his ace, slight shivers crawling his spine though he's uncomfortably warm at the moment. The lone moment long-lashed olive orbs wander to the scene before him is enough to make him want to run, though outwardly his discomfort only shows in the warmth of his face, his upturned thick brow line and the way his gaze so fleetingly avoids the peering golden eyes before him. His body fidgets lightly in discomfort and sparks fill his abdomen; his entire form quavers ever so slightly.
Seconds feel like minutes, and minutes feel like hours as the ace works at himself, olive-eyes averted all the while. The young setter's fidgeting worsens with time; ever-less capable of ignoring the grunting noises of his captain; the schlick of skin on skin, the huffing- and it grows even further difficult when the ace calls his name.
"A- a-" "Akaa-shii" "Akaaashi." Struggled, pleasured words amidst gaps of needed breaths and pale moans, all of which only brings the setter to fidget further in his straddled position before his exposed captain; his own chest bare, fingers fiddling, his mouth ever so slightly agape as his throat shuts tight, his cheeks warm with flush. He knows what Bokuto wants, what he wants, what his captain needs though the idea is too uncomfortable to bear. Keiji's back arches further in his sexual nervousness, hesitation and frustration, lips, bushy brow and olive eyes hesitant as he finally connects their gazes, which he struggles to hold; long lashes fleeting.
The sight before him sends further sparks to his crotch, forces his body to contort slightly further, his hands to clench and his throat to seal off; the captain is spread before him in seated position, propped upright against the flat bench with one powerful arm, the other grasping his reddened member, his eyes pleading in pleasure and mouth agape as he huffs at his setter. The sliding motion of square digits over his erection slowly calls a bulge to Akaashi's gym shorts; trapped beneath confines of white, grey and yellow; louder and louder with each passing second.
Akaashi longs to avert his gaze, struggles to break from the scene before him; not for lack of want, oh no, but out of some desperate cling to morals and politeness. Though he's sitting, each moment he endures seems to dig a deeper hole in his emotional stability and sense of awkwardness, as if he'd fall were he standing. Yes, he inexplicably enjoys being watched by his captain, called for by his captain, needed by his captain. He's never longed for sexual intimacy with men, nor really with women for that matter; truly, never with anyone. Not until Bokuto Kōtarō. But in this moment, and in so many moments recently, he's guiltily craved it. To hell with definitions.
He draws in a shallow, less than steady breath, almond eyes narrowing further as his brow breaks; green-grey irises only palely visible from between a net of heavy lashes. His form is stiff in a mix of desire and discomfort, feeling all too strongly now the call from deep in his groin; warm and pleading. Yes, his form is stiff; like his captain's cock, which is also sticky; slick with pre-cum. Bokuto's steady palm, working so fervently at his member nearly forces an incriminating sound from the young setter's mouth. There's an inexplicable air of control about his captain in the moment; despite being so exposed, despite his panting and broken gasps, he's steady and persistent. A thumb stops at his head, making swirling motions that leave guiding lines in his pre-cum whilst his fingers grasp and slide at his shaft from below, and Akaashi's mind slips precariously, wondering what those ridges must feel like, wondering if only he grants his partner this sort of pleasure, if only he, with his long-lashed olive gaze can help his captain to the brink. This almost isn't real; like one of those dreams where you realise you're dreaming; fictitious, artificial. But this time, he doesn't want to wake up. The fire in those golden eyes seems to flicker in unison with the sparks that ignite Akaashi's groin as his captain's fervor returns his hand to a sliding, jerking motion. An ombre orb winced with pleasure, the ace spills messily into his grasp.
"A-akaashi." As the liquid slides between square digits, dredging the wooden slats in streams of white.
He never once touched his ace, never once felt the branding heat of skin on skin, never said a word through his captain's performance, but his partner's called his name. How does Bokuto not realise what he's done to the young setter?
Unstable need forces words to Keiji's lips. "B-Bokuto-san." Cheeks aflame and olive orbs glossed with pleasure, hands clenching in desire and discomfort at his sides, he finally averts his gaze from his captain- with his golden eyes; both hungry and pleased, lips agape in pale pant & a broken silver brow.
Akaashi's rarely ever experienced such urges, though there's no denying it now; his own cock pleads for freedom from amongst mesh nylon confines.
Half-choked words join Bokuto's pleasured grin. "Thanks, Akaashi. You really helped."
Damn this voyeuristic idiot. Damn his strangely sexy yet total turn-off hairstyle, oddly inspiring personality, powerful voice and weird knee-pad leggings. Damn his domineering golden eyes, goofy smirks and toned abdomen. Damn all the excitement he's forced into the young setter's life... in all its forms.
