Chapter Text
“Hey, Omi, have ya ever had hate sex before?”
Kiyoomi blinks, glass pausing halfway on the way to his mouth. This isn’t how he expected this night to go. They’d lost against the Adlers by the skin of their teeth, the last set ending 26:24 after Atsumu’s jump float serve hit the net. The team has taken refuge in their favourite bar and resorted to drinking their sorrows away. Bokuto and Hinata are sprawled over each other at the other end of the booth, eyes misty and mumbling vague anecdotes about spikes and receives. Meian, Barnes and Tomas have set up shop at the bar and Inunaki is nowhere to be found.
And Kiyoomi is here, cornered in the booth by Atsumu who is a little drunk both off of shots and despair, and who is asking him… what did he ask him?
“Could you repeat that?” Kiyoomi asks, taking a sip of his third drink and trying to decide whether to actually look at Atsumu or not. Everything is a little fuzzy at the edges.
“I said,” Atsumu begins, shuffling even closer and watching Kiyoomi like a hawk. “Have ya ever had hate sex?”
“I haven’t,” Kiyoomi answers truthfully, because he hasn’t. What would be the point of having sex with someone he hates? He finds the question ridiculous.
“Would ya like to?” Atsumu asks, and Kiyoomi finally looks at him. He’s not slurring his words but his eyes are definitely slightly unfocused. They’re also dark, darker than Kiyoomi has ever seen them. It makes his stomach do funny things.
By some grace of an unknown god, Kiyoomi manages to keep his voice even. “Is this a proposition, Miya?”
There’s a sudden flash of nerves across Atsumu’s face, gone just as quickly as it appeared. “Would ya like it to be?”
“Oh my god,” Kiyoomi sighs, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Don’t do that. It’ll be so much faster if you just tell me what you want.”
“Okay, Omi,” Atsumu says, straightening his back a little and fixing his stare on Kiyoomi. “I want ya to fuck me like ya hate me.”
Atsumu’s words make Kiyoomi’s insides perform some sort of complicated gymnastics routine. He takes a deep breath. “And why would you want that?”
“Cause ‘m horny and miserable and I want someone to be rough with me right now,” Atsumu sighs, surprising Kiyoomi with his straightforwardness. “But I don’t trust a stranger to do it.”
“But you trust me to do it?” Kiyoomi says slowly, disbelief creeping into his mind as he thinks about how his night could end.
Atsumu rolls his eyes as if the question is stupid. “Yeah, Omi, ‘course I trust ya. I know yer not my biggest fan, and if ya say no I promise I’ll never bring it up again. But I’ve been told ’m a good lay.”
There’s a smirk on Atsumu’s face at the last words, and the golden lights of the bar reflect in his eyes and make them shine like honey under a warm afternoon sun. His cheeks are flushed a pretty pink and his hair is disheveled from running his hands through it too many times. Kiyoomi stares at his plush lips and feels hungry.
Fuck me like you hate me.
Kiyoomi doesn’t hate him. Maybe he did a little, way back when they first met and he’d bristle around Atsumu, the blatantly loud and obnoxious setter. But Kiyoomi doesn’t think of him like that anymore. Now, he’s Atsumu who always makes sure to sanitise his hands before touching Kiyoomi, Atsumu who helps Kiyoomi tape up his fingers before every game in the most gentle way, Atsumu who flashes him a grin bright enough to rival the sun every time Kiyoomi spikes his perfect sets like a dream. Atsumu who, despite Kiyoomi’s outward prickliness and dislike of people, unknowingly nestled his way right under Kiyoomi’s ribs and made a home for himself in his shriveled heart. Atsumu.
Fuck me like you hate me.
How many times has he imagined what it would be like to sleep with the man before him? How many times has he climaxed with Atsumu’s name on his lips, muffling his moans into a pillow with his hand frantic on his dick? How many times has he wished that he could have him, to know what it was like, even just once? Kiyoomi can’t count the times anymore than he can count the stars in the sky, the same stars that seem to appear in Atsumu’s eyes every time he smiles. How much and how long has he wanted this?
Fuck me like you hate me.
Can he do this? Should he? Kiyoomi doesn’t know. He wants to say yes, god he wants to say yes with his entire being, but he’s tipsy, and Atsumu is emotional and even more tipsy, and this might end up being a horrible mistake-
“Omi,” Atsumu’s breathes, his soft voice snapping him out of his thought spiral and throws his heart up into his throat as Kiyoomi realises how close he suddenly is. “‘S up to ya, yes or no, but I want this and ‘m serious.”
Kiyoomi allows himself to drown in Atsumu’s eyes for a moment, dilated pupils outlined by the most beautiful amber, and gives in. “Yes.”
The taxi ride home is quiet. They’ve wordlessly agreed to go to Atsumu’s place, because Kiyoomi has told him how much he hates letting other people into his space and Atsumu apparently remembers. Kiyoomi falls a bit more in love as he watches the street lights illuminate Atsumu’s profile through the car window. He’s beautiful, so beautiful, and Kiyoomi’s heart aches with everything he wants to say.
Instead, he stays quiet.
Atsumu’s apartment is small but reasonably clean. Kiyoomi knows this because he’s been here a handful of times before, although it’s always been with other people present. Now they’re alone, breathing in the dark of the hallway after taking their shoes and coats off. Kiyoomi’s doesn’t know if he should say anything or make the first move. His heart is so loud in his chest that he’s sure Atsumu can hear it. The buzz from frantically downing his last drink has finally hit him and he wants and wants and wants.
“Omi,” Atsumu whispers in the dark, his hand coming up to cup Kiyoomi’s jaw. “I want ya to be mean to me.”
Liquid courage flashes through Kiyoomi’s system as he closes the gap and stops thinking. The kiss is hard and messy and mostly teeth but Atsumu is moaning into his mouth and it’s the most beautiful sound Kiyoomi has ever heard. They keep kissing as Atsumu fists his hands in Kiyoomi’s shirt and walks backwards, dragging them both towards the bedroom. Atsumu kicks the door open behind them and pulls away for just a moment, watching Kiyoomi with nothing but desire in his eyes.
“Take me, Omi, please.”
How can he say no? How can he resist, even though the small rational part of his brain that’s still operating knows that this might be a bad idea? Atsumu’s voice is husky with arousal and he’s here and warm and hard and willing and there is nothing in Kiyoomi’s brain but want. He’ll do anything, everything, for the man before him. Kiyoomi will take him, and he’ll give him everything he has. His hands, his mouth, his dick, his heart. It’s all for Atsumu to claim as his own if he so wishes.
Their shirts come off somehow, and Kiyoomi is fumbling with their belts when Atsumu breaks the kiss.
“Be rough with me, promise me, Omi, need it so bad.”
Kiyoomi’s head is swimming and the adrenaline has squashed all of his rational thought processes. “I promise, Atsumu, I promise.”
Atsumu moans and throws his head back at the use of his given name, and Kiyoomi takes the opportunity to latch onto his neck. Atsumu doesn’t protest so Kiyoomi sucks harder, eager to leave a mark on the man he so desperately wishes he could call his. After what feels like an eternity Kiyoomi finally gets Atsumu’s jeans and boxers off and he almost sinks to his knees right then and there.
I want you to be mean to me.
Kiyoomi freezes for a second and takes a steadying breath. This is fairly new territory for him, but if it’s what Atsumu wants then he’s going to deliver. He can’t stand the idea of leaving Atsumu unsatisfied or disappointed with Kiyoomi’s performance. Maybe, if he fucks him well enough, Atsumu will want him for real.
Finding courage somewhere, he grabs Atsumu’s jaw with strong fingers. “Promise you’ll tell me if I’m doing something you don’t want?”
Atsumu nods as best he can, his hot breath ghosting over Kiyoomi’s skin. Kiyoomi closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and opens them again.
“Get on the bed, hands and knees.”
Atsumu scrambles to obey, and as he gets settled Kiyoomi sheds his own jeans and underwear. Once they’re discarded on the floor, something Kiyoomi usually can’t stand but right now he absolutely doesn’t care, he takes a moment to admire the sight before him. Atsumu is on his hands and knees, facing the headboard and breathing heavily. His perfect ass is on display, calling to Kiyoomi like a siren. God, he needs to be inside him.
“Condoms and lube?” Kiyoomi asks as he gets up onto the bed, settling on his knees behind Atsumu. A hand gestures towards the bedside table and Kiyoomi fishes out a plastic bottle and a strip of condoms.
“Omi,” Atsumu whines and the sound goes straight to Kiyoomi’s aching dick. “Hurry, c’mon, please.”
That pretty begging is going to be the end of him. Kiyoomi quickly opens a condom and rolls it over his fingers before squeezing some lube onto them as well. He shuffles closer, his clean hand stroking the expanse of Atsumu’s tanned back down towards the delicious curve of his ass. A thought occurs to him and he lifts his hand before gently bringing it down on the left cheek. Atsumu jerks and whimpers, pushing his ass back even further. Encouraged, Kiyoomi does it again on the other cheek, a little harder.
“Fuck, more, please,” Atsumu pants, sinking onto his forearms and fisting his hands into the sheets as Kiyoomi brings down another slap on his left cheek. “Harder, ya can go harder, I won’t break, Omi, fuck fuck fuck.”
The way Atsumu takes it so well stirs something primal within Kiyoomi that he’s almost scared of, but it also makes his cock throb with interest so he keeps going. As he alternates spanking the left and right cheek he lets his lube-and-condom covered fingers gently glide over Atsumu’s entrance. Atsumu moans and pushes back, and Kiyoomi pulls his hand away.
“Stay still,” he growls, surprising himself at how commanding he sounds. Atsumu whimpers and stills, his head hanging down between his arms.
Be rough with me.
Kiyoomi stops teasing and pushes a finger in, almost immediately followed by a second one. Atsumu wails and clenches around him, and Kiyoomi gasps as he imagines how amazing that tight hole will feel around his cock. He wastes no time, wanting to indulge both Atsumu’s wishes and his own impatience. He knows he should wait a bit longer before adding the third finger, but Atsumu moans so prettily and makes no move to stop him when he pushes it in. Kiyoomi resumes the spanking and Atsumu spasms deliciously around his fingers every time, whimpering desperately into the sheets. Kiyoomi’s own cock is leaking, he can feel it run down his shaft. Fuck, he’s so turned on.
When he crooks his fingers just right, Atsumu moans brokenly and starts babbling. “Fuck, oh fuck, talk to me Omi, tell me what ya wanna do to me.”
“I want to fuck you so bad,” Kiyoomi breathes, dizzy with lust, plunging his fingers deeper into Atsumu and thrusting roughly. “Can’t wait to feel you around my cock.”
“Yes, fuck, yes,” Atsumu whines, his hands pulling at the sheets. “‘M only good for this, ‘m a slut, fuck, please tell me ‘m only good for getting fucked, Omi.”
Kiyoomi freezes, unable to stop the groan that escapes him as his arousal is suddenly turned up to eleven. Oh, fuck.
I want you to be mean to me.
“Yeah, you like being a slut?” he says, breathless. This is new territory for him but the words make him impossibly harder as he fucks Atsumu’s ass with his fingers. “Are you going to be good for me and let me fuck your slutty hole?”
Kiyoomi’s not even sure what he’s saying or where the words are coming from, but Atsumu is moaning desperately and bucking his hips against the fingers inside him. “Please, please, please fuck me…”
Kiyoomi can’t wait a second longer. He pulls his fingers out and tosses the used condom aside, ripping off a new one from the strip. With deft hands he rolls it over his aching cock and slicks himself up with some more lube before getting into position. Atsumu is whimpering under him, rolling his hips in small, desperate motions, and Kiyoomi is obsessed.
“Tell me you want my cock,” he says, drunk on arousal, punctuating the words with a hard spank. “You’re only good for getting fucked so beg me for it, you fucking slut.”
“Want it, want it so bad,” Atsumu whines, tilting his head to look back at Kiyoomi. The look in his eyes is downright sinful. “Give me yer cock, fuck me, please.”
How could he ever resist such pretty begging? Kiyoomi grips Atsumu’s hips and slides into the tight heat in one smooth stroke. They both moan, pausing to breathe together as Kiyoomi bottoms out. He knows he needs to take a minute before moving or this’ll be over way too fast, so he uses the time to gently stroke Atsumu’s back again.
“Atsumu?” he says, voice softer than it has been.
Atsumu turns his head and almost glares at him. “Fuck me, use me, ‘m here to be used so fuckin’ do it , please Omi.”
Be rough with me.
It’s like Atsumu is taken straight from every dark fantasy Kiyoomi didn’t even know he had. He slides his hand forward over Atsumu’s back until it’s on the nape of his neck, forcing him down until his chest hits the bed. “I’m going to fuck you until you scream, you hear that? You won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”
Atsumu just moans and clenches around him and Kiyoomi pulls all the way out before slamming back in. He sets a relentless pace, spurred on by the desperate sounds spilling from Atsumu’s lips. Kiyoomi throws in a spanking here and there, relishing in how Atsumu helplessly spasms around his cock at the impact. His mouth starts to run away with him again and he’s helpless to stop it.
“You’re so fucking tight Atsumu, such a needy slut for my cock,” he groans as he rolls his hips harder, ignoring the burning in his legs as he chases his pleasure. “I can’t wait to feel your greedy hole clench around me when you come all over yourself.”
“Fuck, Omi, don’t stop, don’t stop,” Atsumu whimpers breathlessly, his head resting sideways on the pillow with drool and tears running down his face. “So good, yer so good, fuckin' take me.”
Kiyoomi growls and speeds up, panting as he feels sweat run down his face. Atsumu feels incredible, tighter and hotter than Kiyoomi could ever have imagined, and the sounds and words that spill out of him are driving Kiyoomi towards the edge dangerously fast. He slows down slightly, wanting to drag this out a bit more, and spanks Atsumu when he whines in protest at the reduced pace.
“I want you to come on my cock, Atsumu,” he grits out, leaning over to nip at Atsumu’s exposed neck. “Just like a good slut should.”
“Yes, yes, I will, fuck,” Atsumu groans, his face a vision, fucked out and looking so, so close to the edge.
“Then do it,” Kiyoomi growls, biting down on Atsumu’s shoulder as he slams home over and over. “Come for me, that’s all you’re good for right? Getting fucked and coming all over yourself like a fucking whore.”
The last word slips out before he can stop it and for just a second, cold panic grips Kiyoomi’s heart. Then Atsumu wails and pushes back into his thrusts desperately, chasing his release.
“Fuck, yes, ’m a whore, ‘m gonna come, don’t stop, gonna come,” he whimpers, getting even tighter around Kiyoomi’s cock as his release draws closer. “‘M a whore, Omi, ‘m yer whore, yer slut, fuck, fuck, fuck!”
Atsumu bites the pillow and screams into it as he comes, spasming relentlessly and drawing helpless sounds of pleasure from Kiyoomi’s lips as he nears his peak.
I’m your whore, your slut.
“Fuck!” he shouts, biting down hard on Atsumu’s shoulder as the wave crests, hips bucking erratically as he spills into the condom. The orgasm is intense and feels never ending, and Kiyoomi rides the wave of pleasure as he holds Atsumu’s hips in a vice grip.
He comes down slowly as he feels Atsumu collapse under him, Kiyoomi’s softening cock slipping out of him. Kiyoomi maneuvers himself to Atsumu’s side and lets himself collapse as well, their heavy breathing mingling in the suddenly very quiet room. Kiyoomi feels utterly sated, but something’s still pricking at the edges of his fuzzy mind. Atsumu. He needs to make sure Atsumu is okay.
“Hey,” Kiyoomi gets out, voice lazy and hoarse as he turns to face Atsumu. “Hey, are you-”
The words die on his lips as he sees Atsumu turn away from him, curling up into a ball and dragging the duvet over himself. He’s shaking.
Kiyoomi suddenly feels very cold and reaches out a hand. “Atsumu?”
“Don’t,” Atsumu grits out, and Kiyoomi’s hand freezes on its way to his covered shoulder. “Just leave.”
Kiyoomi’s heart drops into his stomach. “Why?”
“Cause this is my house and I want ya to leave,” Atsumu spits, voice cold and raspy. “I asked for somethin’, I got it, now fuck off.”
“Atsumu,” Kiyoomi tries, feeling desperate, but the tears in his voice cannot be hidden. “I don’t think I should-”
“Just fuckin’ leave!” Atsumu nearly shouts, grabbing his pillow and throwing it in Kiyoomi’s face. It’s wet with tears and drool. Kiyoomi feels his heart break and shatter all over the bedroom floor.
“Okay,” he says in a small voice, gingerly getting up and disposing of the condom. This is wrong, he knows it is, he shouldn’t leave like this after the kind of sex they just had. But if he stays, if he tries to fight even more, he’s going to start crying for real and I can’t deal with Atsumu seeing that. He’ll go home, shower, and try to forget. Even though he knows with absolute certainty that he’ll never, ever be able to forget this.
Kiyoomi moves almost robotically as he gathers up his clothes and gets dressed. It feels gross to put clothes on his sweaty skin, but he’s not about to ask Atsumu if he can borrow his shower. The lump on the bed is unmoving and silent, and Kiyoomi wants to scream. Somewhere, a small part of him knew this would happen. Knew this would be an unmitigated disaster for them both. But he did it anyway, for a chance to be close to Atsumu. Just once, and then never again.
He will never have Atsumu again.
When Kiyoomi finally escapes outside, he only makes it half a block before he hunches over and throws up.