terminal curiosity

Part2💙

He's already back at the bedroom door by the time that his brain comes back on line. He shuts the door, nearly body-slamming Hinata when he turns around.

"Uwah!" the redhead exclaims. "Ah! Atsumu-san! Were you waiting to use the bathroom?"

"Nope!" Atsumu says, his voice coming out pitchy and strained.

Atsumu spends the rest of the evening looking anywhere but at Sakusa. He doesn't watch the game, either. He doesn't do much of anything except blink repeatedly at the wall and try to figure out how he's going to live with the knowledge that Sakusa is into kinky sex. Sakusa can never find out that he knows.

He'd never even thought of Sakusa as a sexual being before today. Atsumu always figured physical intimacy would be beneath him, base and disgusting.

Atsumu is so wrapped up in his thoughts that it takes Bokuto waving a hand in front of his face to snap back to the present.

"Eyyyy, Tsum-Tsum! We're headed out. You coming to the station with us?"

Hinata's putting on his coat in the genkan and Sakusa is sitting in one of the armchairs, focused on his phone.

"Ah, I actually drove," Atsumu says.

"Alright, then," Bokuto says, heading over to the genkan to put his shoes on. "See you at practice!"

"Bye, Tsumu-san!" Hinata waves around Bokuto's big body as they head out the door.

Atsumu stands up and realizes he's made a fatal error as soon as the door clicks shut. Why didn't he say he'd walk down with them?! Now he's alone, in an apartment with Sakusa—Sakusa and his leather harnesses.

He nearly chokes on his own spit, rushing towards the door.

"You still have a few drinks in the fridge. I won't drink them so please take them with you," Sakusa says, grabbing the clicker to flip the TV over to the news.

"Right," Atsumu says and abruptly switches directions.

He grabs his two remaining peach teas up and puts them in the convenience store bag he brought them in. He rushes back into the living room. He doesn't quite get to his coat on the hook by the door before Sakusa speaks.

"Hey, Miya—"

"I saw the sex stuff in your bathroom," Atsumu violently blurts against his will.

Time stretches out again, eternal, unending... the void at the beginning and end of all things coming to claim Atsumu as he stands in his borrowed house slippers by Sakusa's door. There's a ringing in his ears, or perhaps it's the laughter of some vengeful god.

Sakusa's expression doesn't outwardly change. His eyes feel like they're drilling holes in Atsumu's head.

"It's not sex stuff. It's bondage gear."

Well. Ok then.

Kiyoomi gets a series of texts later that night. He's just changing into a pair of clean boxer briefs and a white tee shirt in preparation for bed when his phone buzzes on the side table.

From: Miya Atsumu
>> What do you mean it's not sex stuff? I thought bondage gear was sex stuff.

He should probably just ignore the text, but delicacy has never been Kiyoomi's strong suit.

To: Miya Atsumu
>> It can be used in sexual play but BDSM isn't inherently sexual. Do your own research Miya.

Still, Kiyoomi would hate for Atsumu to google some porn site and think he was doing research. Considering the horrors that could be heralded by a free-range Atsumu, Kiyoomi decides to pull up a BDSM 101 article from a trusted source and send the link.

He then decisively turns his phone to do-not-disturb and turns off the lights.

They don't have practice the next day, so by mid morning Atsumu has read through the link that Sakusa sent, as well as three or four of the pages that were hyperlinked in it. As a free-wheeling bisexual who's never had trouble finding a partner, Atsumu considers himself pretty experienced. He's had a girl ask him to smack her on the ass before, and he had a short lived boyfriend who liked to have his wrists held down when they fucked. Even so, he's always had pretty vanilla tastes, he supposes.

Two bodies touching each other has always been pretty much enough to get Atsumu going, either in person or on video.

So, he really just opens the link out of some morbid curiosity. He hadn't even really meant to send that text, but it had just been... eating at him. It may have been a tactical error because, no matter his reasons, Atsumu didn't expect to be fascinated. He had no idea BDSM was so complex. He clicks a link to something called shibari and his eyes go comically wide.

Huh.

He's still having trouble wrapping his head around the idea of this not being a sex thing, though. Especially as he hops in the shower and finds his hand wrapped around his cock, one forearm braced against the tile. The scalding water pounds down on his back as images of rope and kneeling figures run through his head.

Atsumu pants through his open mouth, fingertips pressed into the wall as his pace speeds up against his will. He thinks about studded collars and an ass so red you need to put lotion on it when you're done. He thinks about a pale chest wrapped in a clean, black, leather harness.

"Mmnf-fuck!"

His strangled curse is drowned out by the sound of water against porcelain, and the evidence of Atsumu's sudden obsession disappears down the drain.

About fifteen minutes later, Atsumu is sitting in his kitchen in a pair of sweats with his towel around his neck, perusing an article on different types of doms and subs. Once again he finds his fingers flying over his phone keyboard before he can think better of it.

To: Omi-Omi
>>Omi r ya a dom or a sub?

Atsumu checks the article again, realizing he forgot one of the main ones.

To: Omi-Omi
>>Or a switch?