terminal curiosity

Part3💝

Anyone else would probably tell Atsumu to fuck off, but for all his derision, Sakusa is rarely anything but brutally truthful when asked a direct question. Sure enough, only five minutes later his phone dings.

From: Omi-Omi
>>I primarily dom. Stop texting me about this or I'll tell your mother you entered someone's bedroom without asking.

A few prickles of sweat break out on Atsumu's brow as he's forced to imagine the hell and fury his mother would bring down upon him for being so rude.

Well, he'll have to continue doing any more research on his own.

Kiyoomi should have known better than to believe that would be the end of it. Unfortunately, he wouldn't even get through the end of the week before he's faced with further consequences of trusting his teammates to respect basic boundaries. He'd just needed to sanitize and oil the leather. It needed twenty-four hours to dry. He hadn't planned for anyone to rudely enter his ensuite bathroom.

Damn Miya and his nosiness.

On Friday they have morning practice followed by a few hours of individual skills training. Kiyoomi heads to the locker rooms after most of the veterans have already left the courts. Normally Bokuto and Hinata would have been fixtures in the group that stayed late, but the team had three days off and the pair wanted to make a weekend trip to Tokyo, so there were only a handful of players still practicing quietly.

Kiyoomi showers and then spreads his towel out on a bench to finish getting dressed. He's just about done packing his bag when Atsumu himself walks into the otherwise empty locker room.

"Omi-Omi."

Kiyoomi isn't sure when he stooped pushing back on the nickname. Once Bokuto picked it up, resistance became pretty much futile.

"Miya," he responds with the extra cool warning he's been using all week.

Beyond his texts, Atsumu hasn't mentioned his discovery of Kiyoomi's hobby in person so far. He began to hope that it would fade into irrelevance in Atsumu's mind as he loses interest or the novelty of the discovery fades. That hope is shattered as Atsumu turns towards Kiyoomi, stripping his sweat-stained practice shirt off.

"Hey, Omi," Atsumu says. "I have another question 'bout the BDSM thing."

"I thought I told you to stop talking about that."

"Ya told me to stop textin' ya about it," he says, with the conviction of someone who played the i'm-not-touching-you game far too much as a child.

Kiyoomi doesn't gratify it with a response, but Atsumu is predictably undeterred.

"Anyway, I think I wanna try it," he says.

"Congratulations," Kiyoomi deadpans as he zips his bag up.

"And since yer the only person I know who does it, I think we should do it together," he finishes.

Kiyoomi freezes for just a moment and then slowly raises his head to level a black stare at the setter.

"No," he says, decisively, incontestably.

"Why not?!" Atsumu asks, head tilted to the side in confusion like he couldn't possibly imagine why Kiyoomi wouldn't want to. Like there aren't millions of obvious reasons.

Atsumu puts his hands on his hips as he stands there in just his practice shorts. His wide shoulders, bleach-blonde hair, and heavy, cocksure eyes remind Kiyoomi how well he'd fit in an American fraternity. Which is only one of the many reasons, honestly.

"I have no interest in being at the mercy of an overconfident, wannabe-dom who thinks it would be fun to live out some 50 Shades of Grey fantasy. Just find a partner on one of the dating apps you assuredly use who's willing to have mildly rough sex with you," Kiyoomi says. "I'm sure it won't be difficult for you to find a volunteer."

He then hikes his bag up onto his shoulder and gets ready to leave.

"Harsh, Omi-Omi!" Atsumu says, clutching his chest dramatically. "But I'm not askin' ya to let me dom you. One of the websites said it's good to try subbing first, at least once or twice so ya know what it feels like, and since ya said you dom I thought it might work perfectly."

Kiyoomi hesitates for just a moment. He hadn't expected that—Atsumu being interested in subbing—nor had he expected him to have any sort of fleshed-out thought process behind it. Apparently he has been reading. Still...

"Still no," Kiyoomi says and then heads right out the door.

Atsumu will not be deterred so easily. He can't really blame Sakusa for making assumptions about his intentions and seriousness, so he'll just have to prove him wrong. He tries again next time they're in the locker room alone.

"Omi-kun."

"No," Sakusa starts, which isn't the best sign.

"You don't even know what I was gonna say yet," Atsumu says. "I coulda meant to talk to ya about a new counter attack idea."

Sakusa raises one devastating brow, sending his distinct twin moles towards his hairline.

"Were you?"

"No, but-"

Sakusa sighs deeply through his mask.

"I just really think ya should give me a shot with the whole sub thing," Atsumu says, stretching on a rolled out yoga mat.

"You can create a Fetlife profile and look for a dom there like everyone else," Sakusa says dismissively.

Atsumu scrunches his nose up in disgust at the idea. He tucks his knees up against his chest and tries not to visibly pout.

"I did that! All the profiles are so weird an' intense. I don't want to try stuff like this with a total stranger. What if they're a weirdo? What if someone recognizes me?"

"You're not famous, Miya."

"I'm a public figure!"

Sakusa snorts, extremely rudely in Atsumu's opinion. They're on TV—that's at least famous-ish. Sakusa zips up his MSBY jacket with finality.

"Look, Miya. If you're genuinely interested," he says, with a notable amount of skepticism. "I'll reach out through my network and see if anyone in the area is willing to take on someone who just wants to try kink out. I wouldn't get your hopes up and I won't make any promises."

Atsumu frowns again, running his hand through his hair. It could be better than a random profile on the internet, but it doesn't make him feel good to think about. Sure the articles and porn got him going, but whenever he's been alone, it's always been Sakusa's impassive face looking down on him. He shivers and tries not to let it show on his face. He's imprinted on Sakusa, like a kinky baby duckling.

"But Omi-kun-"

"Goodbye, Miya."