It starts with a fleshlight.
He didn't mean to find it. Really. Kenma was looking through Kuro's closet for one of his sweaters, particularly his old Nekoma hoodie with the kanji of "Kuroo" printed on the back. It didn't help that the sweater was wrapped around an opaque drawstring bag.
Now, Kenma wasn't one to snoop, but he couldn't help his interest in something hidden by his best friend. And besides, they didn't do secrets. Kenma's pretty sure the days of judgement ended long ago. Careful fingers pulled the bag open. He felt like he was 12 again, dipping his fingers into the forbidden cookie jar. Kenma honestly didn't know what he expected. Drugs? Cash? Porn stash? But Kenma could practically feel his mind screech to a halt when he pulled the item out of the bag.
What. The. Fuck.
Staring back at him is a bright pink fleshlight. He almost finds it disturbing the level of detail on the toy, but most shocking is the fact that Kuro owns something like this. It's not that Kenma's a prude, but imagining Kuro groaning and fucking into the faux cunt is almost too much for him to handle. Kenma finds himself scowling. The grip on the toy is unforgiving as he curses it for getting to touch Kuro in a way he can't.
It starts with a fleshlight, because staring at plastic has made Kenma reluctantly register that he's jealous of a fucking sex toy. He feels stupid, but the grip remains tight. Instead, he focuses more of his attention on it. Against his will, his finger reaches to trace the lips, but before he can, the sound of a lock turning shakes him out of his trance.
"Kenma? I'm home!"
Fuck, fuck, FUCK. Pulling the sweater over his head, Kenma stuffs the forbidden toy back in the closet. He has just enough time to sit at the foot of Kuro's bed when the older one stumbles in.
"Hey," he yawns. Shucking his jeans off and walking isn't a good mix, because (much to Kenma's amusement) Kuro almost trips on his way toward his bed. He manages to leave the pants in a pile before flopping on his back, his large frame dwarfing the twin bed. The action is so similar to a cat's that Kenma snorts.
"Rough day?" Kenma watches the way Kuro's biceps flex when he lays an arm across his face, and his eyes ogle the way his t-shirt ever so slightly rides up to expose the downy hairs of his happy trail.
Kuro only hums, making grabby hands at Kenma. Kenma crawls towards him, and at barely an arm's length away Kuro lunges out, wrapping his freakishly long arms around Kenma to yank him in. Kenma shrieks, struggling minimally for the show. He stops after a moment, letting Kuro clutch him tight. He's well versed in Kuro's silent demands to let himself be pulled into an impromptu cuddling session.
Kenma rests his head on one of Kuro's firm tits, listening to him quietly complain about his lectures. Before he knows it, Kenma finds himself smiling. Kuro isn't one to complain freely, rather putting on a smile for everyone he meets. So it's nice to know that Kuro trusts him enough to open up about his complaints.
Kenma replies with quips to Kuro's stories that make his chest rise and fall with laughter. Soon enough the way Kuro nestles his face into his hair soothes Kenma to sleep.
~
When Kenma wakes up the daylight has been stripped away by the hours. He pats around the sheets for warmth but the bed is empty, gone is the ever-present warmth from Kuro's body. He sits up, hearing the sounds of Kuro humming in the kitchen.
When he joins Kuro in their tiny shared kitchen, he watches him push rice in a pan, wearing the familiar bright pink apron with an embroidered 'kiss the chef'. Kenma's heart fills with warmth. It's incredibly domestic, he thinks, to have your best friend cook for you after sleeping together.
