Selenocentric

Kageyama didn’t know a lot of things, only that he loves milk and volleyball. He drinks milk every day and plays volleyball everyday and he’s happy; he lives a simple life. Most people think Kageyama is stupid and they’re right. It’s a selective stupidity though, one that can easily be disproven if Kageyama applies himself-if he applies his formidable memorization skills. His professors cry at the thought of wasted potential, Kageyama cries at the thought of missing a practice. Almost nothing in the world feels as right as the ball in his hands. Kageyama is the setter, the conductor the game. He might be a King, but he’s not a tyrant. At least that’s what Tsukishima said.

 

But then again, Tsukishima says a lot of things. Tsukishima tells him how his expressions tell exactly how he’s feeling. How his stupidity will be the death of him and what would he do without Tsukishima? How his milk infatuation is cute and how the intense attentions he gives his passions is alarming.

 

Tsukishima is one of those passions.

 

~

 

Kageyama revels in teasing Tsukishima, for all that the blond boy throws at him during the day, he repays him back at night. He delights in dragging Tsukishima so close, so close to the precipice and one move could tip him over the edge, but he pulls back and refuses to let him spill. It’s so worth it though. When he finally lets Tsukishima break, finally lets him come apart in his arms, under his hands, voice and breath indistinguishable from each other as they’re pushed out from a clenched jaw.

 

Falling is like a waterfall, rushing towards the edge only to fall over just as fast, fire burning through his veins, combusting, the products of the reactions being released into the air with wet gasps. Kageyama relishes in running his calloused hands over smooth expanse of Tsukishima’s skin, gets intoxicated from the way he arches up against him, back bowed.

 

He gets a thrill from descending down to drop trails of hot, sloppy kisses on the rise of Tsukishima’s collar, open-mouthed kisses along the bend of his spine, tracing the ridges of vertebrae with his tongue. He moves Tsukishima’s hands from his mouth, holds them above his head, hugs their fingers tightly together, drowning himself in Tsukishima’s breathless moans, in the way he rolls Kageyama’s name off his tongue-hot and sweet like caramel.

 

Kageyama told him that he’s never heard his name said like that before. Not like that. Not the way Tsukishima says it.

 

Tsukishima realizes he has power over Kageyama too. He knows he does when Kageyama bends over him, angling himself so that he can whisper all the things he wants to do to Tsukishima along his jaw, his harsh whispers drifting into Tsukishima’s ears like smoke and getting him high off of the fumes. Kageyama murmurs he wants to destroy Tsukishima, tear him down and bring him back up, only to repeat. Kageyama hungers for an incoherent, quivering, trembling Tsukishima that throbs around him as he gasps and writhes and moans. So Kageyama goes and goes and goes. Again and again and again. Tsukishima is left raw, left aching, left wanting, needing, longing.

 

Tsukishima doesn’t wait long. Kageyama satisfies all his promises.

 

Kageyama fucks him as ardently as he pleases, as fiercely and fervently as he wishes and Tsukishima lets him.

 

“Say it.”

 

“Always yours, King.”

--

 

haha wtf is this. i'm am so sorry. it'sreally probably ooc. should have been studying last night but this happened. lol no regrets XD