Kei's cock is so slick between Bokuto's thighs.
He reaches up and kisses the base of Bokuto's spine.
"Jesus," Kei mutters under his breath. He fucks himself between the thick sweaty sheen of Bokuto's thick thick thighs, firm around him, almost like Kei is inside him.
Kei isn't inside him.
Kei is so close to it, though, hot and dripping, the base of his cock teasing at Bokuto's crack. Bokuto is bent forward, whining underneath Kei.
He's really fucking hot.
"Why do you even wear these?" Kei can't help himself from asking. He tucks his fingers into the back of Bokuto's kneepads, and can feel Bokuto's knees sweating. "You're not even a libero."
"Just because I'm a wing spiker doesn't mean I'm going to slack on my receives." Bokuto turns his head to look at Kei. He's grinning.
Kei slips so hot between Bokuto's thighs that Bokuto bucks forward on the mat. He whines, grinding the back of his ass against Kei.
Kei's glasses are sliding off his nose.
He tries to slide them back.
They're fogged up.
Fuck, Bokuto is so hot.
"I didn't know you were -- " Kei pants, even though his dick is lost in the feeling of Bokuto, around him. Bokuto clenches like he's trying to kill Kei.
Kei tries to keep his composure.
"I didn't know you were so needy," he bites out.
Bokuto grins up at him, even though he's sweating so much is ridiculous hair is sticking to the mat.
"I'm needy?" he says.
Kei thrusts between his tight, tight thighs.
Bokuto's mouth falls open.
"You should turn around," Kei suggests.
He wants to see Bokuto's face.
Bokuto scrabbles up immediately, legs falling from around Kei's leaking dick. "Yeah, okay," he says.
Kei watches his precome dripping down Bokuto's thighs.
"Shit," he says, once Bokuto's on his back, legs perfectly parallel, pressed against each other. He doesn't know how this is going to work -- is he going to lie on top of Bokuto like a fucking fish? Grind against him like a horny teenager?
He is a horny teenager.
And Bokuto's body looks so inviting, and his stupid fucking kneepads --
Kei still doesn't get it.
But Bokuto looks really good, angry red dick leaking against his chest, thighs a little red from the pressure before, his black as fuck kneepads riding down to his shins, stark against his skin.
Kei pushes them upward toward Bokuto's thighs.
Bokuto asks, "Are you going to get on with it?"
Fuck, Kei thinks.
"Fuck," he says. "Yeah."
He lies on top of Bokuto. Their cocks are pressed together, and then he slips himself under, focusing on the heat between his thighs.
It's kind of awkward at first.
And then it's not, the way Kei keeps rolling his hips because friction, friction, fucking friction and heat and Bokuto being a whiny, flustered mess underneath him, cheeks so pink and pink and pink and --
Kei is not sure who comes first.
But later, he'll tell anyone who asks that Bokuto did.