captainbirdbrain | [LOG] Bird boys

[LOG] Bird boys

WHO: Bokuto and Tsukishima
WHERE: Shinzen High School
WHEN: Summer training camp
WARNINGS: Weird genitals, eggs

BACKGROUND:

AU where humans adopt characteristics of their school mascots upon entering high school. People can assume slightly more animalistic forms under certain conditions (eg cat ears, bird wings) and also have genitals more akin to that of animals. Bokuto usually has reflective eyes (and consequently great night vision) even when in his most 'human' shape.

Most people (of any gender) are able to lay eggs, which are normally unfertilized and can be safely sold or disposed of.

In this scenario, the summer training camp lasts maybe 1.5 or 2 weeks, rather than five days.

Bokuto doesn't get the stuff Kuroo and Akaashi say sometimes. What do they mean, he's got all the tact of a bag of hammers? All he did was ask Megane-kun if he'd laid an egg before, a perfectly reasonable question from one avian to another, and definitely not the sort of thing for Skinny to get all flustered and run off about. Besides, you can use hammers to nail down tacks, Bokuto is pretty sure that is a thing.

Kuroo and Akaashi didn't seem to accept that explanation, though, so here Bokuto is, wandering around the outside walkways looking to see where Tsukishima had skulked off to. The first year had made some excuse about it being "late" and how he "would like to have dinner" but that was a pretty sucky reason not to block his spikes for another hour, so Bokuto didn't really believe it.

"Oi! Tsukki!" Bokuto calls into the evening air, sounding more than a little like a fledgling that's fallen prematurely out of the nest. "Come back and block the ball more! I'm not tired yet!"

(Akaashi had said something about Bokuto needing to apologize to Tsukishima but honestly the Fukurodani captain hadn't understood that part either.)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Bold words -- and a bolder response -- for someone who could have just had a face full of rake handle, Bokuto thinks. Still, he's not too fussed. He has the skinny blond twisting in his embrace and bumping noses with him now, lips connecting awkwardly with Bokuto's own with such conviction that it's charming.

It reminds him of Akaashi, actually, although not in a way that might make any sense to a third party. Akaashi is effortlessly graceful and precise, whereas Tsukishima clearly has some growing to do in that area... but a bit of confidence goes a long way when it comes to fumbling in a dark tool shed, in Bokuto's experience.

Bokuto makes an agreeable noise against Tsukki's mouth, tilting his head to avoid another jab from his glasses while aligning their lips for a better kiss. Not that he's actually some Casanova when it comes to kissing either -- Bokuto likes to lick and nibble and suck, his tongue lapping over Tsukishima's neat front row of teeth in eager fascination.

He loosens the arms he has wrapped around the first year's waist and moves to grabbing him by his hips instead, pushing him back just-so to shove his ass against the edge of the workbench. His thumbs run over lean muscle and the corners of the blond's pelvis, enjoying how the bone juts against his skin. Sure, in general Bokuto enjoys partners with more meat on their bones, but Tsukki here feels pretty nice the way every part of his frame is so perfectly outlined and easy to touch.

"Mmh--" Bokuto parts the kiss to lick his lips, a dark glint in his eyes Tsukishima likely can't make out. "If you're that pent up, all you gotta do is ask, Tsukki~"

He punctuates this by giving the first year's narrow hips another squeeze, urging his weight onto the workbench behind them so he can get a knee between Tsukishima's legs again. Beside them, there's a high dragging noise as the rake leaned precariously against the ledge they're leaning on tips over and falls to the floor with a sharp clatter. See, Tsukki? He was watching out for you.

"What d'you say? Want me to eat you out?"

The extra squeeze at Tsukki's hips says this was going to be Bokuto's next item on the agenda anyway, but best to hear it out of the blond himself.

Tsukishima doesn't know what to do with his hands. Or the rest of his body, for that matter. The kisses he had before this were chaste and fumbling - over after a brief touch of lips against lips. They were nothing like this. He doesn't feel as though he has enough working brain cells right now to determine whether this kiss is good or bad - the only conclusion he can come to is that it's intense.

He makes a surprised sound when he feels Bokuto's tongue in his mouth and shyly, clumsily swipes his own against it. (That is what he's supposed to do, right?)

Then, all of a sudden, he's being moved. For a moment he thinks he's going to fall, so he grips Bokuto's shoulders, panicking, resisting Bokuto's motions instead of moving along with him until he feels something solid behind him. He leans against it gratefully.

He has to re-play Bokuto's words in his head once or twice before he can derive any meaning from them. Bokuto's wide, solid hands feel good against him - that and the kissing is almost dizzying.

"I'm n-not pent up," is his brilliant comeback. It falls flat - his voice comes out rough and unsteady instead of biting, and he's already breathing heavily.

It's not an answer to Bokuto's question, he's aware. Merely hearing Bokuto ask that - so frankly, too - makes him shudder pleasantly in Bokuto's grasp. When Bokuto had propositioned him, Tsukishima had imagined that he'd want Tsukishima to do things for him, or at least want something a little more mutual than what he's offering.

He swallows.

"Yeah," he says quietly. "Yes, I want that."

It's only then he realizes that he's been looking ahead this entire time, and that Bokuto - with his superior eyesight - can probably see every expression flitting across his face, while Tsukishima can see absolutely nothing.

Screw this darkness thing, honestly.

Poor kid. Tsukishima's eyes will adjust eventually, though, and in the meantime Bokuto doesn't mind seeing a bit of the first year unguarded like this. Even disadvantaged as he is in the dark, Tsukki hardly emotes at all -- so a delicate little twitch or flicker at his lips feels like some kind of perverse, private show Bokuto's not even sure he's paid the right admission for.

Yeah. This blond's a lot like Akaashi, he decides. But maybe not quite as resistant to being taken apart...

"Good," Bokuto hums, hands venturing around to give Tsukishima's backside a little grope. "Get more of your ass onto this shelf thing -- s'easier if you aren't holding yourself up."

Also easier if he can keep Tsukki's legs nice and spread, which Bokuto supposes ought to go without saying. Instead he lets his fingers trail back up to the elastic bands of the first year's shorts and starts easing them down his hips. Not all the way, just enough for Tsukishima's bare ass to meet the workbench ledge and leave things easier to slip off once he's seated.

Tsukishima's question is no longer "is Bokuto into boys" but rather "how many boys has Bokuto done this with", considering how confident the third year is and how he seems to know just what to do.

He squirms at Bokuto's touch but obliges, shifting so that he's half-sitting on the counter. He hooks a thumb in the waistband of his shorts and slides them the rest of the way down his legs, letting them fall unceremoniously to the floor. The feeling of the fabric unsticking from his damp cloaca highlights just how turned on he his already.

Bokuto's knee is still situated between his legs, unmoving, and Tsukishima shuffles his feet, spreading his legs a little. He feels exposed like this, even though Bokuto probably can't see much from this angle, but in a few moments Bokuto is going to be kneeling and putting his mouth on Tsukishima's-- on his-- yeah.

He wonders who else Bokuto has hooked up with like this. His team's setter, maybe? They seem very close, but Tsukishima had assumed it was only platonic. Now, though, he's not so sure. Maybe they'd stolen away for surreptitious trysts before, too, although Tsukishima can't picture Fukurodani's calm, poised setter agreeing to doing it in a place like this.

Since he's so curious, he finally gives in and asks.

"Have you done this a lot?"

It's only after the question's already out that he realizes what it sounds like he's implying. Nice, Tsukki.

It's quite possible -- actually, pretty likely -- that Bokuto and Tsukishima hold vastly different standards for what sex is for and who should be having it. The way Tsukki phrases that, Bokuto guesses he thinks of sex as a pretty intimate affair, one that requires the 'right' setting and a big helping of mood lighting. Whereas in Bokuto's mind, sex is just another form of communication: way easier than finding words for things, a lot of the time, and great for a post-practice cooldown.

To that end, Akaashi has proved a hell of a partner, sure -- so have some of the other guys on his team. And from some of the other teams here at the practice camp. And a few members of the girls' team back at Fukurodani. It's not like he's doing it all the time or with everyone, or even doing the same things with a significant swath of people. It's just, you know. He's a few months shy of 18 and horny, and that's how it is.

Anyway he wouldn't have expected Tsukishima to just toss his shorts to the floor, he had been planning to do a little bit of that foreplay thing... But Bokuto shrugs mentally and rolls with it, taking that as an invitation to start kneeling down, palms balanced on the first year's thighs.

"You worried?" he counters, a huff of hot breath brushing over pale, pale skin. It's a pain that they practice almost exclusively indoors, because Tsukki's milky-white legs would look so good with some tanlines. Bokuto places his lips just above the inner part of his right thigh, glancing up to catch the kid's reaction. "Relax. I got you."

That is far from a direct answer, Bokuto knows. But who says he can't play just a little coy when it counts? Even he knows better than to kiss and tell.

...Sorta.

...Okay, he's definitely bragging about this to Kuroo next time he sees him, but only because the cat bastard's been horndogging over Tsukki since the start of the training camp. Apart from him, Bokuto's got a handle on this discretion thing. Most of the time.

"You smell nice," he murmurs against his skin, breathing in deep as he noses closer to that place between Tsukishima's legs. All guys sweat when they play volleyball and after a full day's practice anyone would stink, and Bokuto likes bodies like that, of course -- but even then, Tsukki smells different. Lighter. Not flowery or anything, just... tasty.

Which is why, hardly able to resist anymore, Bokuto's tongue dips out between his lips and licks a long, slow stripe up along the first year's inner thigh.

Bokuto's assessment of Tsukishima's attitude towards sex would be correct. At least in the sense that it's not something you do willy-nilly, which is more due to personal preference than any sense of propriety. Sleeping with people - and looking for suitable people to sleep with - had always seemed like more trouble than it was worth. You'd think that would lead to plenty of alone time, instead, but he didn't do much of that, either. It's not like he hadn't tried. He just never seemed to be able to bridge that gap between the desire thrumming at the back of his brain and the physical parts that were supposed to release it. So he'd been content to just let the desire sit and simmer.

Now, though, he has Bokuto. Who hasn't answered his question, but Tsukishima doesn't press.

He fidgets a little when he feels Bokuto's breath against his skin. But then Bokuto doesn't do anything, he just keeps talking - spouting reassurances that Tsukishima is almost-- quite positively-- no, definitely sure he doesn't need. He isn't impatient for it, exactly, it's just that he has this weird sense that he has to prove himself; show that he can handle this. As if it isn't obvious already how inexperienced he is, even to someone as clueless as Bokuto.

He's being ridiculous. It's not like he cares what Bokuto thinks of him, so his impression shouldn't be important.

And then Bokuto is commenting on his... scent.

"Do I," he mutters, looking down at the top of Bokuto's head. He probably just smells like sweat - exactly like Bokuto does.

He isn't expecting it when he feels Bokuto's tongue against his thigh. It tickles, making him shudder again, but he stiffens up even further rather than relaxing, his breath caught in his throat and his fingers curling over the edge of the workbench.

He can still feel Bokuto's breath on his skin. It's so, so warm, even in the humid summer air.

"Mm," Bokuto answers, possibly a confirmation but more likely just a hum for its own sake, as he laps along ticklish skin to the crease of Tsukishima's leg, close to his crotch. It's more than the taste of dried sweat, of course -- there's the sticky stuff pearling on the outer lips of the first year's slit, clinging to his sparse, pale pubic hairs like beads of dew, or however the author of Tsukki's bodice-ripper poetry book would describe it.

That's the real source of his scent, rich and musky, with a bittersweet edge almost like biting into the meat of an overripe fruit... It gets Bokuto's mouth watering before he even presses his lips to Tsukki's outer folds, giving his cloaca a 'chaste' little kiss before going any further.

"Wet, too," he chuckles, words muffled as he noses against Tsukishima's mound above his slit, wet and sticky from where the shorts had smeared his juices around earlier. Bokuto's known virgins who were practically dry when he first went down on them, so part of him almost wants to praise Tsukki for being ahead of the game in that regard -- if only he weren't pretty sure the blond would fail to take the compliment as intended. Better stick to teasing, and giving Tsukishima's slit a little flick of his tongue. "So cute, Tsukki..."

He is cute. Bokuto may have all the artistic refinement of a caveman but he has seen enough naughty bits to say with some confidence that the megane-kun's parts are downright adorable, so petite with their neat little patch of pubic hair and pink lips barely darker than the skin surrounding them. He traces over those lips again with another light flick before dipping his tongue inside, helping himself to a better taste.

Tsukishima doesn't think of himself as cute at all. Which is kind of missing the point, but it's not like he can compare his junk's appearance to anybody else's; he doesn't even know what his own looks like, having never bothered to fuck around with hand mirrors or the like.

That Bokuto is talking into his junk is more than a little awkward, though.

"Stop talking to my-- mmmph."

He slaps his hand over his mouth to muffle his moan when Bokuto's tongue breaches him, but even muffled the noise sounds disproportionately loud in the silent, empty space, seemingly echoing off the walls. His hips twitch forwards in an unconscious, aborted movement against Bokuto's mouth.

Tsukishima had tried dipping his fingers into the shallow channel inside of him before, but it had been underwhelming - not like this, nothing like this. All Bokuto had done was lick him a little but every touch of his hot, wet tongue against Tsukishima's folds felt so intense that he's aching already. He spreads his legs a little wider. More of that sticky, slick fluid coats the insides of his thighs and leaks onto Bokuto's tongue, the cloying scent of him filling the room.

What was that one line in the poem? Something about roiling heat? Tsukishima had never really gotten it before, but now he thinks he might. He thinks about how Bokuto's tongue had slid and twisted in his mouth when they kissed, and - he wants more, he wants Bokuto's tongue in him, he wants it so badly. He considers pulling Bokuto closer, but he holds himself back, turning over the hand against his mouth so he can bite down on his knuckle, the nails of his other hand scratching against the wood of the workbench as he grips the edge of it, hard.

Bokuto can tell even from the little jerk of Tsukki's hips that he's doing something right. He grins smugly in response, face still buried between the first year's legs as his tongue goes to work inside him, eagerly lapping up whatever Tsukishima's body puts out. He tastes even stronger now; headier -- more like precome, and the blond's putting out a lot of it too.

Tsukki wants to spread his legs more, and Bokuto, gentleman that he is, is more than happy to oblige. He moves the hands he's had braced atop Tsukishima's thighs to slip underneath them, supporting the weight of each leg as Tsukishima instinctively moves his hips forward. The first year's doing an adorable job of trying to shove his crotch into Bokuto's face, all while pretending he's remaining as still as possible.

It sounds like he's about to hurt himself trying to stifle those moans of his, though. Bokuto hopes this next part will encourage him to stop bothering. Who else would be out on this side of campus besides them, and what would that person think except that whoever's making that noise is a very lucky individual?

This is Bokuto's faultless logic and it's probably why he's not allowed around unchaperoned most of the time.

He's not letting up with his tongue, at any rate. Tsukki can bite his own hand till he bleeds, but as long as he's feeling it and isn't telling Bokuto to stop, the Fukurodani captain intends to keep going. Tsukishima's really starting to swell up and tighten now, and that is definite precome intermingled with his other juices now. Bird cloacas are really only superficially similar to mammal parts, but the biggest difference is how they manage their stamina. Or, in plain terms, how quickly and how often they can get off.

For instance, Bokuto's pretty sure that he needs only plunge his tongue in a little deeper, stroking in and out of Tsukishima's tight, quivering hole, to start coaxing the blond toward a few noises he can't possibly manage to muffle.

Ever since they'd started, Tsukishima hasn't stopped feeling like he's falling. It's more pronounced, now - even with the workbench and the wide, solid shapes of Bokuto's hands supporting him, he feels almost weightless. His finds his resolve weakening with every lap of Bokuto's dexterous tongue. Who cares about keeping up appearances when his hole is clenching and fluttering, yearning for more of Bokuto's touch?

It's when the third year begins plunging his tongue into him that any semblance of control Tsukishima might have finally starts ebbing away. He lets the hand he was biting drop down to Bokuto's head, threading his fingers through Bokuto's ridiculous, overly-gelled hair. Now that his mouth is uncovered there's nothing to hide his noises - little moans and whimpers and hitching breaths whenever Bokuto's tongue pushes inside him.

He still wants more. But the more he gets - the more the other boy gives him - the worse the craving grows. The warm, tight sensation deep in his belly builds and builds to such intensity that it's like all the blood in his veins has turned into molten metal; like his body is going to collapse into itself if he continues.

He doesn't want Bokuto to stop.

"Ah-- Bokuto-san--"

He has the vague idea that he should warn Bokuto about what's happening, but his words just garble together into more moans. The way his hips jerk in tiny, involuntary gyrations and the way more fluids gush out of him onto Bokuto's lips and tongue are probably warning enough, though; if Bokuto keeps going, Tsukishima is going to--

Skinny as Tsukishima is, this is still actually a lot of weight to be putting onto Bokuto's neck. If he wakes up with a crick tomorrow, Akaashi's probably going to say something -- but nevermind that for now. Tsukki is close and tastes excellent, bitter and rich and dribbling past Bokuto's lips down his chin. He squeezes Tsukki's thighs encouragingly, hoisting them up onto his shoulders both to offer a little more stability and to make sure his face stays buried right against his drenched and swollen cunt.

To think, only a few minutes ago Tsukishima was giving him some scandalized look at the mere suggestion that they fool around. Now he's squirming and moaning like such a natural-born slut that even Kuroo would be impressed. This is part of why Bokuto loves doing it with fellow birds. No slow burn waiting around for parts to become sensitive, no fussing about with speed and careful tempo, just wham, as Hinata might say.

What a cute, honest little hole. If only the rest of Tsukki were this honest, sometimes.

"Uh-huh," is Bokuto's reply, drawling and muffled. He happily presses his lips around Tsukishima's slit to catch as much of his come as possible, as his tongue works on coaxing him over the edge.

Tsukishima moves his legs at Bokuto's urging, draping them over the third year's shoulders gladly and digging a heel into his back. He can't care about how desperate he might look, now - all he can think about is chasing the pleasure that Bokuto's giving him and finding the sweet, sweet release that's promised at the end of it.

He gives in to the temptation to twist his fingers in Bokuto's hair, pushing him even closer. Maybe if this wasn't his first time getting eaten out, he'd be more considerate, but. Well. It is. Forget getting a crick in his neck - with the way Tsukishima's thighs are squeezing around Bokuto's head, the Fukurodani captain should probably be more worried about being smothered.

Or drowned. It only takes a few more licks from Bokuto's tongue for Tsukishima to seize, his quiet sounds giving way to a loud, sharp cry as his orgasm thunders through him, white-hot and blinding. His thighs quiver as pulse after pulse of come spill into Bokuto's waiting mouth and down his chin, some of it even splattering on the floor. If Bokuto and the workbench weren't supporting him, Tsukishima would probably sink to the ground like a stone, too.

There's a lot about this situation that he would typically analyse and evaluate; overthink and regret. Instead, he finds himself oddly pliant - content to soak up this feeling of bliss while he still can.

Picking this all apart can be future Tsukishima's problem.

Future Tsukishima better be full of praise for the excellent treatment he's getting, because present Bokuto is in heaven lapping up a faceful of come. It dribbles down his chin and sticks to the collar of his shirt, cooling against the air as he drinks and sucks and swirls his around inside Tsukki's tightly clenching hole to savor every last drop.

He doesn't even realize how lost in it he's gotten until his fingers start to feel sore, and he notices he's been subconsciously digging his nails into the other man's thighs.

"Had a lot built up in there, Tsukki," Bokuto teases with a breathless laugh, tongue swiping over his own lips to catch the mess of juices and spunk smeared around his mouth. Ideally he'd wipe it with the back of his hand, but he's too busy carefully easing more of Tsukishima's weight back onto the workbench, before either of them falls and breaks something. "Don't tell me you don't even play with yourself."

That's a tantalizing prospect, if Tsukki hasn't. So virginal, he's never even gotten himself off! But that'd be too good, even for Bokuto's saucy imagination. Still, if Tsukishima enjoyed his tongue that much, he can't wait to show him what a couple fingers can do.

Bokuto lapping at him like that is just a little on the wrong side of "too much". He's sensitive after coming that hard, and yet the bordering-on-unbearable rawness of it combined with Bokuto's nails digging hard into his skin is pleasant, almost. He whimpers weakly and wiggles his hips in a way that doesn't make it clear whether he's trying to get away from Bokuto's mouth or push himself closer, again, but before he can decide whether he actually likes the sensation or not, Bokuto is pulling away.

Tsukishima is panting to get his breath back. He can feel sweat beading at his forehead. He doesn't even want to think about what his face must look like right now. He probably looks a mess. He definitely feels like it.

Bokuto's question goes unanswered. Tsukishima isn't going to admit that Bokuto is almost right, nor that the handful of underwhelming, barely-worth-the-effort orgasms he's managed to give himself pale in comparison to this. The owl's ego is probably big enough already without the extra praise.

He looks at Bokuto. The other boy looks proud of himself, which was to be expected, but he also looks... satisfied, like he'd gotten off right along with Tsukishima even though that was very much not the case.

Speaking of, Tsukishima should probably offer to return the favor, shouldn't he. He's not sure he wants to go to that effort, at least not right now. Maybe once he's mastered the art of half-leaning against a piece of furniture without his legs shaking.

"W-wow, Bokuto-san. L-looks like your m-mouth is good for something after all~"

Amazing. With how blissed-out and breathless he sounds, that came out more praising than derisive, didn't it? He should have kept his smart mouth shut for once.

Edited 2016-03-06 17:34 (UTC)

The smug grin Bokuto offers in response is positively impish, nose and eyes scrunched up like a schoolchild who's just gotten away with something nasty. Which, Bokuto supposes, he has. Bird he might be, but he's feeling like the cat who got the cream right now.

He swipes his tongue over his lips again, flashing Tsukki another devious smile as he starts picking himself up off his knees. What a stroke of luck that he still had on his kneepads from practice.

"You're a real smartass, aren'tcha," he says, mainly for the sake of filling air, no bite behind his words at all. If anything, he sounds a little fond.

He's still standing in Tsukishima's personal space, between his spread legs so that the first year's crotch is practically brushing against his own, slick and swollen and burning against the fabric of his shorts. Which, Bokuto has to admit, are pretty damp in their own right. He runs his hands over the backs of Tsukki's thighs, nails no longer dragging into the skin, instead trying to create a little friction between their groins.

"Want a taste? You taste pretty good." He fully expects Tsukishima to say no, kissing after oral usually grosses people out the first time, but at the very least he's gotta tease a little. "Or do ya wanna--?"

Bokuto's not actually sure of the technical term for what he's suggesting, with the little roll of his hips. All he knows is it feels great, rubbing against another bird. Especially when they're both swollen up and wet like this~

Tsukishima is still languid - his entire body limp, a far cry from how tense and wound up he was before. His relaxed state is underpinned by a renewed, pronounced sense of want, though, even given how he's still a little sensitive from his first orgasm; his cunt and inner thighs still drenched in come. And it's all because of Bokuto - Bokuto brushing up against him like this and refusing to leave his space. It doesn't help that he can kind of smell his own scent on the other boy's breath.

"If you want to kiss me, just kiss me." His voice is more level, now, deadpan, but not without a hint of flirtatiousness. "You don't have to make up all of this coy nonsense about how I taste good or whatever. Everyone knows that come tastes bad."

(Not like Bokuto was actually trying to be considerate by asking, or that Tsukki knows better about this sort of thing than Bokuto does...)

He slides his hands up Bokuto's back, insinuating his fingers under his shirt, feeling the hard planes of his muscles and pulling him a little closer when Bokuto rolls his hips. Bokuto's shorts rub against his nakedness, making his breath hitch, but he also feels a hint of the dampness and warmth underneath and he's suddenly curious. It's not like he's ever touched another bird like this before. He kind of wants to put his hands down Bokuto's pants, but the third year seems to be suggesting something else?

"What? Do I want to do what?" He pushes Bokuto's shirt up further. "Whatever it is, take your shirt off first. It's not fair that I'm the only one standing here half-naked."

"You're not standing at all, smarty-pants," Bokuto sasses back, not even trying to conceal his brattiness. He's already complying anyway, tugging his T-shirt and undershirt free and allowing them to drop unceremoniously to the dust-covered floor.

"And I'm not making it up," he adds, hands returning to Tsukishima's ass to squeeze their hips together again. It's so, so nice, that bit of friction where the fabric of his shorts cut in and Tsukki's warm juices flooding over everything. If he could get just a slightly better angle to rub his slit against him-- "You taste great. Here."

Eyes falling shut on a whim, he sweeps his lips over Tsukishima's and gathers him into a kiss, wasting no time in plunging his tongue into the other's mouth. The first year might not taste appetizing by like, conventional standards, but he's still much nicer in flavor than most of the come Bokuto's tasted. Lighter, milder, even faintly sweet. Must be the fruit in the kid's diet.

He swirls his tongue around, lapping at Tsukki's own tongue. He wonders if the workbench has room for two, and if it can take their combined weight. Otherwise, Bokuto thinks he saw a stack of insulation blankets folded up in the corner. They're bound to be a bit dirty and uncomfortable, but hey, better than fucking on the floorboards, right?

There. Now he can run his hands over Bokuto's back unimpeded. He doesn't imagine it's as good as touching his thighs, but - considering Bokuto actually wants to continue this - maybe he'll get to do that later?

He'd respond to Bokuto's comments, but having a mouth full of Bokuto's tongue is making that kind of difficult. Good for him, probably, since in this state the best thing he can come up with is "I'm not wearing pants either, dumbass" which is less of a comeback and more just digging himself deeper.

He meets Bokuto's tongue with his own as best he can when Bokuto seems determined to do a replay of what he'd just finished, except with Tsukishima's mouth, instead. He shifts his hips against Bokuto's, swallowing a groan. The friction is starting to feel less overwhelming now and more straight-up delicious.

Tsukishima's movement nudges the counter and sends something on it teetering over with a crash. Tsukishima startles, breaking the kiss; it's surprising they hadn't knocked more over by now, honestly.

His mouth comes away covered in their mingled spit and his own fluids from the kiss. He licks his lips, pulling a face. Not a bad taste, but not particularly nice, either. Maybe Bokuto really does like it, though. Weirdo.

The weight of Bokuto's body and the pressure of his hips, as wonderful as it is, is also shoving Tsukishima's ass against the counter's edge, which is quite a bit less wonderful. He's all for Bokuto's apparent plan of staining his shorts with Tsukishima's come as quickly as possible, but perhaps there's a better place for it--

"Can we move? This is getting uncomfortable."

He looks around, missing the blankets given his position and crappy night vision, and frowns.

"Do you see anywhere. Not the floor," he adds, in case Bokuto was thinking of suggesting that. Like fuck was he doing this on a dirty floor.

Edited 2016-04-06 05:37 (UTC)

"Oh, yeah, you're still blind as a bat there, aren't you," says Bokuto, breaking the contact of their hips for a moment. 'As a bat' probably wasn't fair or accurate, but this didn't stop him from giving Tsukishima a jovial pat on the shoulder as he unstuck himself from between the first year's legs.

"There's some blankets over here. Kinda dirty, but..." He squinted his eyes against the clouds of dust that sprang up as he shook the top one out. Well, no rats or spiders, so it was fine, right? He laid a few of them down, ignoring the little wobble in his knees and the way the fabric of his shorts ground into his slit with a reminder of unfinished business. God, if he could just rub himself off against Tsukki's milky legs a couple times -- or something more than that -- "Here. Take my hand."

The floor between the makeshift bedding and the workbench was a bit precarious, after all, what with all the stuff they've knocked over since coming in here. He extended the arm out to Tsukishima, palm up, without glancing back. He kind of didn't want to see the blond again until he was spread out beneath him, if he could manage that.

Behind Bokuto, Tsukishima rolls his eyes. "As a bat", indeed. He can't be bothered to correct him, though, so he just watches the third year arrange the blankets on the floor, more than content to let him do all the work.

"That sounds acceptable."

His face is still drawn up in a frown. This is heading from spur-of-the-moment-hookup-he-could-blame-on-Bokuto towards something more purposeful.

It occurs to him that he could just leave. Bokuto's already gotten him off, anyway - but, no, he isn't that much of a dick.

...Okay, fine, he is, but he does really want to go again, and he's still curious about being with Bokuto in a more... reciprocal manner. Besides, he's beginning to think he might have been a little harsh on him earlier. Bokuto might be a birdbrain, but aside from calling Tsukishima dumb names and messing with him the way a grade-schooler would, he doesn't seem like he would be willfully malicious.

You can learn a lot about a person after letting them eat you out, it turns out.

So he takes Bokuto's hand and picks his way over the debris littering the floor. Unfortunately, he ruins Bokuto's plan by sitting down on the blankets, his legs shut. He looks up at Bokuto, drinking in what he can see of Bokuto's shoulders and chest in the dimness, wanting to get his hands on him again.

"So are you coming, or not?"

He reaches a hand up to pull Bokuto down with him.

He drops down onto the mound of blankets with one knee instead, grateful again that he's left his kneepads on since it sure is way less padding than he even expected. The fabric feels scratchy against his shin too. How could Tsukishima just go and lie down buck-naked on this?

On a whim, Bokuto reaches over and grabs his discarded T-shirt, draping it over the patch of blanket behind Tsukishima before graciously accepting the younger man's hand, true gent that he is.

"That depends on you, yeah?" Bokuto asks, not knowing when to stop grinning like an idiot. Not like Tsukki could even see him clearly. "Sex should be about your partner! You remember that from sex ed, doncha?"

Although, truth be told, Bokuto isn't too concerned with Tsukishima being skilled enough to get him off. He is a virgin, or was a few minutes ago anyway. Bokuto's pretty confident that he can get off on his own with a bit of friction, but it's not a bad idea to seed the notion into the blond's head that this is technically a reciprocal activity.

"I'm surprised that you remember that, Bokuto-san," Tsukishima says, unable to resist getting a weak dig in even though Bokuto has definitely been behaving according to that statement throughout this entire encounter. A fact that's accentuated by Bokuto graciously providing him with some extra padding in the form of his shirt. He's not sure how much it'll actually help, but it is a nice gesture.

"...Thanks."

The scratchiness of the blanket against his ass is kind of annoying, but he's been too distracted by everything else that's happening to really notice: namely, how Bokuto is now looming over him, grinning down at him like he's a particularly delicious snack.

A little at a loss as to what to do next, he pulls Bokuto into another clumsy kiss. He's more comfortable with the act now than when they first started, but it still seems laughably chaste compared to what they were doing just a few minutes ago. He discreetly pushes his other hand up Bokuto's shorts, feeling the back of his thigh and gently nudging him closer, trying to get him to kneel down properly and get between Tsukishima's legs a little, maybe.

Bokuto hoots appreciatively, perhaps not the most charming noise to make under the circumstances, but it's hard not to get noisy over the blond's enthusiasm. He's a quick study with kissing too, not that Bokuto is in a position to score anyone there -- but whatever, he licks and nibbles and Tsukki gives him back plenty of the same, so that makes him an expert in Bokuto's book.

He likes that hand groping at his ass, too. Bokuto climbs closer, one knee insinuating itself between Tsukishima's thighs while he hooks a hand around the other's hip, urging him to wiggle back onto the provided T-shirt before he starts the whole lying back thing.

His own ass is gonna itch like hell once he gets them into the position he's thinking of, but he'll figure that out in a second. Right now, Bokuto breaks the kiss with another wicked grin, and asks:

"So, you know what scissoring is?"

He's kind of hoping Tsukki doesn't. That would be a wild one to explain to him.

He shuffles back onto the T-shirt, not lying down just yet but taking his hands off of Bokuto so he can lean back on them. He's irritated with himself for how much he wants Bokuto to just close the distance between them already so he can grind up against his knee - the entire point of all this messing around with questionable blankets is so that they can do something more involved than what they were doing earlier. Of course he can be be patient and wait for just a few more minutes to see what the owl boy has planned.

At his next words, though, Tsukishima can't hold back a snicker.

"Yes, I know what that is. Are you proposing that we do that? It sounds like you've been watching too many porn videos, Bokuto-san."

Because clearly this must just be like wall-fucking or having sex in odd gymnastic positions - it's supposed to sound hot but nobody actually does it. Right?

People did so scissor outside of porn! Bokuto's done it plenty of times! At least twice!!

"At least videos aren't all I've got to work from," Bokuto counters, aware it sounds a lot less clever once it's out of his mouth. "C'mere, don't knock it till you try it, all right?"

Easily said, but Bokuto's can't actually negotiate their respective limbs into position without Tsukishima's cooperation here. Fortunately, Bokuto finds his thighs can be very persuasive. He snakes an arm around Tsukki's waist and half-lifts him, sliding one leg beneath his bare ass and folding the other leg over his hip, so that he's in some kind of half-octopus hold, very nearly bumping groins together.

"Try lying back on yer side for me," he urges, because that almost-contact is enough to get him antsy again, thighs squeezing around Tsukki's hip to try to pull their bodies closer together.

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