#SakuAtsu ? | thunderstorm | rated E Cw: shower sex, bottsumu ___ Kiyoomi has never been caught in a thunderstorm before. No one’s ever told him about the way the air feels charged, about the jitters that start in fingertips and invade the rest of the body.

His breaths fog the cold air as the rain starts in tentative droplets, and then at once, the skies flash blue and split open. Atsumu ??????. Kiyoomi is not mesmerised often, but when he looks at him,

at the way his face tips back to let rain water stream down the planes of his cheeks, he loses all the air in his lungs. “Talk about luck, eh Omi?” Atsumu says with complete disregard for the way the downpour is soaking through their clothes.

Atsumu had brought him flowers for their date. Kiyoomi clutches them now, an entire bouquet of sunflowers happily soaking in the rain. Atsumu turns to him with a small grin, smile always so radiant to give him a sheepish look. “Hey Omi—have ya ever kissed someone in the rain?”

No. He hadn’t thought he would want to either. Atsumu steps in close, hands on Kiyoomi’s hips. “Surely someone has wanted to kiss you like this,” is what Atsumu says as his hand slides across Kiyoomi’s cheek, the other spanning his middle. His mouth is warm and wet,

his kiss full, covering Kiyoomi’s whole mouth as Atsumu twists his body, and with a swoop, Kiyoomi finds himself dipped low and kissed like no one’s ever kissed him before. Miya Atsumu has always been a little intense—some people call him too blunt, too hardheaded, too ????—

and here, it translates so starkly with the way his mouth moves. Kiyoomi gasps, overpowered and overtaken by a ferocious kiss. He’s reeled in as close as their bodies will allow, teeth nipping at his lips, a slick tongue prodding into his mouth.

The cold rain is a shock to his system that’s quickly replaced by the heat Atsumu pours into him so effortlessly. He doesn’t know if this was Atsumu’s intention, but the kiss morphs and evolves until they’re clutching at each other with desperation. “Hey, Omi,”

Atsumu rasps as Kiyoomi curls his fingers in his hair and takes and takes and takes. “Home,” Kiyoomi murmurs urgently, though the last thing he wants is to separate their lips. “Take me home.” Home is down the street.

A five minute walk that stretches to fifteen as Atsumu and Kiyoomi lose battle after battle with self-control, dragging each other under awnings, and into alleyways, to trade breaths even as the skies soak them to the bone. “Is it like the movies promised?”

Kiyoomi pants into Atsumu’s hungry mouth, fingers sliding wetly across his cheeks. Atsumu pins him to the brick wall with his body, open heat against open heat in the midst of all the trembling cold. Kiyoomi gasps as fierce want twists through his body,

and claws his fingers into Atsumu’s shoulders, trying to take even more. “Better,” Atsumu murmurs, claiming his mouth again as his hands slip lower and grip onto Kiyoomi’s body with enough strength to make his knees weak. “Oh god, so much better.”

Fingers dig in Kiyoomi’s rear and they roll together, and if they don’t catch their deaths first then this, this very touch, this very kiss, is going to kill him. “Home,” he tries again, thoughts barely coherent. “Fuck,” Atsumu murmurs as he bruises his lips.

“I would have you right here if you let me.” Kiyoomi is dangerously close to letting him. “Home, now, Atsumu.” Atsumu peels himself away with self-control Kiyoomi genuinely doesn’t possess in that moment of time.

He’s dragged the rest of the way with strong hands and an anchoring hold on his wrists, quickly and clumsily through puddles, until they’re moving at a near sprint. They almost barrel into their door in Atsumu’s haste to get him inside.

They fumble the keys with cold, shaking hands, almost dropping them twice. The lock unlatches, and they pour into their hallway dripping wet. Kiyoomi is pinned to the closed door first, to have his breath stolen by expert kisses. He reels from the sensations of it,

mouth throbbing and fingers shaking as he pulls and pushes greedily at clothes. He pins Atsumu to the floor next. It’s inelegant, maybe even a little painful as they tumble backwards, falling in stages until he has Atsumu sprawled beneath him. “This is what your kisses get us,”

Kiyoomi accuses as he dives for his lips. Doesn’t Atsumu understand that every spark between them is a wildfire waiting to happen? “Fuck, Atsumu.” Atsumu arches as his wrists are secured over his head and he’s kissed messily, with too much tongue, with barely any grace.

He shamelessly whines into it, moves his body in search for friction that Kiyoomi readily provides. They slot together, both of them visibly straining through their trousers, and is this all it takes? Kiyoomi wonders hazily,

as he buries his face in Atsumu’s throat and lavishes his skin with scalding kisses. The more he takes, the hungrier he feels. He releases Atsumu’s wrists to rip into his clothes, each button giving little to no resistance as his hands seek skin, followed by his mouth—

his mouth that steals kisses and gasps from Atsumu as though he’s been starving. “Shit, shit,” Atsumu says, body trembling as Kiyoomi’s hands greedily paw at him, as one shamelessly sinks between his legs. “???.” Kiyoomi has never been a modest man a day in his life,

he thinks, and he doesn’t plan to start now. His mouth descends with unrestrained desire as he fumbles to get Atsumu out of his pants. He’s going to have him now, here, everything be damned. “Up,” he demands roughly as he pushes impatiently at Atsumu’s pants.

Atsumu’s hips jerk clumsily, rising off the floor to help him along, his feet kicking the garments off. Kiyoomi doesn’t wait to see if he succeeded in freeing himself, he’s already diving for the newly exposed skin, face burying shamelessly in Atsumu’s crotch.

A tremble crests through Atsumu’s body as his hands find Kiyoomi to sift through his hair. “Omi, are you sure—????, ????.” Kiyoomi takes him in his mouth, slackens his jaw to swallow him down. Here everything smells and tastes like Atsumu and no he’s not sure,

he’s past that, he’s somewhere in the doomed category, overeating without care for the inevitable stomach ache. Atsumu claws at his shoulders as he’s buried deep in Kiyoomi’s throat. He writhes, summoning Kiyoomi’s hands to his hips.

He pins him down with vicious satisfaction as he quenches himself on his taste. Atsumu makes desperate, garbled pleas: “please don’t make me cum yet, please don’t make me cum yet,” he chants desperately as Kiyoomi works him mercilessly.

It tempts Kiyoomi endlessly as his throat constricts around the shape of him, choking Atsumu down until his eyes are stinging with tears. “???, ???, ???—!” Kiyoomi draws back with a cough,

curling a quelling hand around the base where one of Atsumu’s hands shoot in a panic to stave off his own release. Atsumu pants raggedly, eyes squeezed shut, chest rising and falling with aborted, shaky breaths. If Atsumu was a drink, Kiyoomi would be an alcoholic,

savagely drowning himself in it. He feels dizzy. Since Atsumu, Kiyoomi has ceased recognising himself. His desires suddenly spill over, his control vanishes. He’s treading unsteady, dangerous grounds, wanting to take anything and everything like it might kill him not to.

“Shower,” Kiyoomi demands next, once Atsumu’s honey eyes crack open, filled with unbridled want. They almost don’t make it there as their bodies brush together in a rush, and they kiss again, and Kiyoomi forgets why he needs to get to the bathroom in the first place.

They’re shivering now, both of them, from the cold. Or is it from the heat? The contrast of autumn and the fire kindling low in his gut is overwhelming. Once in the cubicle, still not entirely unclothed, Kiyoomi reaches for the hot dial of their shower and cranks it.

For one heart-stopping moment they’re hit by a barrage of freezing water. Atsumu kisses him through it, shudders and all. Then it warms, until hot water pours down their heads. “Do you want to stop?” Atsumu asks when Kiyoomi takes a moment to shut his eyes and soak it in.

“No,” Kiyoomi says, because—he might die, he thinks irrationally, if he doesn’t bury himself in Atsumu ???. He reaches for the small drawers on their sink, fumbles with two before he remembers that he keeps the lube in the third one.

Atsumu extracts it out of his hands in the next breath, pouring it over his fingers. “Kiss me,” he demands breathlessly as he reaches back to work himself open. Kiyoomi slides his hands down his slick body, slots their mouths together. Atsumu moans into it,

breaths trembling on every exhale, inhaling in Kiyoomi and his fervent, heated breaths and exhaling soft nosies that travel straight to his loins. “Next time,” Kiyoomi says when they part for air, and as he watches Atsumu’s eyes flutter shut as his fingers twist deeper inside.

“Remember it always ends like this.” He reaches back to pry Atsumu’s cheeks apart, until both his hands are obscenely full. He grinds them together, hot skin rubbing hot skin until he’s growling obscenities into Atsumu’s hair. “Can’t help it,” Atsumu whines,

fingers moving clumsily behind him. “You drive me crazy, Omi-omi.” Kiyoomi spins him around, pins his cheek to the cold tiles to watch the way his hole greedily gobbles up three of his fingers. “Shit,” he growls, egged on by the sight. “You’re so perfect.”

Atsumu’s back arches shamelessly as his fingers snap deeper, offering himself to Kiyoomi’s ravishing gaze. Kiyoomi drinks him in, with his eyes, with his hands, with his lips. “C’mon, c’mon I’m ready,” Atsumu slurs, plucking his fingers out to pull urgently at Kiyoomi.

Kiyoomi has half a mind to reach for a condom. He rips it open with his teeth when his minutely shaking fingers fail to, and this is a familiar dance now: foil rips, latex shapes around him, and then heat encases him. Kiyoomi hisses between his teeth, and Atsumu drawles,

head falling back against Kiyoomi’s shoulder, back arching. He’s a sight for the sore eyes, taking Kiyoomi like a dream. “Look at you,” Kiyoomi marvels as his hands settle on Atsumu’s hips. “I’m giving you everything and your body is still trying to take more.”

Atsumu chokes back moans, hands slipping on wet tiles as Kiyoomi bottoms out, as Atsumu’s hips curve more into it, trying to bury him as deep as he can go. Kiyoomi grinds into it, both of them huffing hot, desperate breaths into the steaming air. “C’mon,” Atsumu urges again,

clenching deliciously around him. Kiyoomi sees stars for a moment, his hips moving thoughtlessly to slide out and then bury his cock inside Atsumu once more. “Fuck, ???, c’mon Omi.” Atsumu has never learned to stay still in his life, but especially not here.

His energy and impatience overflow. His hips surge back hard, chasing Kiyoomi’s, impaling himself with every thrust. He whines for it as their hips smack together, and groans low in his throat every time Kiyoomi’s hips angle and slam home.

Kiyoomi digs his fingers in his broad shoulders, his eyes blatantly roaming every inch, taking in everything. From the way Atsumu’s muscles shift and recoil under his skin, to the way Kiyoomi’s pale hands look clutching at sun-kissed shoulders,

to the elegant curve of Atsumu’s back as he moves back against him without a shred of self-consciousness. Lower still, to the way his cock spreads Atsumu open inch by glorious inch, until Kiyoomi disappears inside him. He fucks him harder,

each slap of their hips resounding loudly in the room. Once, while getting ready, Kiyoomi heard their next door neighbours arguing through the thins walls—discovered that the bathroom tiles are the thinnest, barely sound-proofed.

He wonders if anyone is home to hear Atsumu’s desperate cries, Kiyoomi’s own grunts of pleasure, the way their skin meets again and again and again like they’ll never get enough. He’s so close his head swims with it. His arms spans Atsumu’s middle to hug them tightly together,

dripping skin to dripping skin, grinds deeper into him as he dips his head to mesh their mouths in a messy kiss. He drinks the whimpers from Atsumu’s lips, soothes each needy huff with his tongue. “I’ve got you,” he rambles incoherently between every kiss. “I’ve got you—shit,

????, I love you—“ Atsumu’s kiss loses all rhythm. He abandons Kiyoomi’s mouth to toss his head back and cry out. He spurts all over the wall, aided by Kiyoomi’s rough hand jerking him to completion. “Ahh—nghhh, ???????, fuck, oh fuck.”

Kiyoomi nuzzles the back of his neck just as he finds his own release. It rocks through him like a mini earthquake and if it weren’t for the loud gush of the shower, he would be embarrassed by the animalistic noises pouring out of his mouth.

Atsumu reaches back to clutch him through it, until they’re a pair of tangled limbs and shivering muscles. Kiyoomi comes down from it slowly to find Atsumu’s cheek lolled against the wall, eyes dipped shut and breaths puffing out unsteadily. He looks spent. Possessed, even now,

Kiyoomi kisses the satisfied part of his pink lips, stealing what little breaths remain. Atsumu kisses back lazily, slowly spinning in Kiyoomi’s arms to bring them chest to chest. “I love you too,” he murmurs quietly as they trade breaths.

His hands slide up Kiyoomi’s biceps and across his shoulders. They collapse together against the tiles for a while, held there by each other’s anchoring grips, kissing and kissing and kissing even here, under manmade rain.

Atsumu’s hands roam like everything that transpired hadn’t been enough. They slip and slide down the contours of Kiyoomi’s back, fingers tangling in his wet hair as he runs his mouth everywhere it can reach. If Kiyoomi’s body was physically capable of it, he’d take him again.

He tips Atsumu’s chin back, enjoys every brush of lips as if they haven’t exchanged hundreds upon hundreds of kisses before, like his mouth isn’t going numb with it. “Let’s go to bed,” he says now, resolving himself to changing the sheets, to showering properly at some point.

“I want to kiss you everywhere.” Atsumu’s shiver is deeply satisfying, down to the way Kiyoomi can see his toes curl. “Are you sure?” “Bed, Atsumu,” he repeats in a velvety whisper, hands still roaming. “I haven’t had my fill yet.”

“Okay,” Atsumu chokes out and allows Kiyoomi to guide him out of the shower. Kiyoomi has a hunch they won’t be returning to it before evening fall at all.

// whoa that was longer than expected! But I hope it was an enjoyable read ? Virtual Tip Jar ?✨