boxer bokuto | doctor akaashi (pt. 10 - FINAL) (cw: suggestive [horny] themes, ✨emotions✨) The world goes silent in the wake of their kiss.

Bokuto's arms tighten, lifting Akaashi off the ground, spinning him. He pulls him closer, closer, closer, deepening the kiss, stealing Akaashi's breath. He pulls away far too soon, smiling far too softly for someone who's just been nearly knocked unconscious.

'Akaashi,' he whispers, and Akaashi's legs tremble. It's as devastating as the kiss, as the press of Bokuto's hands to his waist. So much care, so much tenderness; they've always been there, in the way that Bokuto says his name. He presses their lips together again.

Then a second time, and a third, until Bokuto has to pull back once more to wipe the tears from Akaashi's cheeks. 'Akaashi,' he whispers again, a confession only the two of them understand. 'Let's go home.' -- They walk straight out of the club.

The crowd parts for them, only the very bravest getting a warning from Bokuto to 'back up' whenever they get too close to Akaashi. By the time they make it to the apartment most of the adrenaline has left Akaashi's system, but he doesn't feel drained. He feels alive.

Bokuto's hand hasn't left his, and the slow movement of his fingers across Akaashi's wrist lights up the rest of his body, has him floating. He brushes his own fingers across Bokuto's split knuckles, raises them to his lips to kiss.

He grabs a first aid kit and slowly, methodically, cleans each cut. He follows up every swipe of antisceptic with a gentle puff of air, blowing on the cuts until Bokuto grabs him and pulls him in for another kiss. They take their time, moving from cheek, to lip, to hand.

By the time Bokuto has been patched up, Akaashi's lips are red and swollen, Bokuto's eyes dark and full of promise. 'Should we,' Akaashi says, swallowing against the rush of giddy anticipation. 'Should we go to bed?'

Bokuto's hand is shaking as he leads Akaashi toward the bedroom. They move slowly, going back and forth as they peel off layers. Bokuto treats his body with the exact reverence Akaashi would have expected. Every brush of his fingers is confident, purposeful, entirely devoted.

Bokuto tucks a hand behind Akaashi's neck as he kisses him deeply, licks into his mouth, whispers 'gorgeous' into his skin. He takes care of Akaashi, makes him forget everything outside this moment. Akaashi meets him halfway, opens up for him. Gives him somewhere safe to land.

When Akaashi wakes the next morning, Bokuto is already up. Akaashi stretches, pleasantly sore and perfectly warm, and Bokuto drags him back until they're back to chest. He snuffles at Akaashi's neck, kisses the sensitive skin until Akaashi squirms. 'Good morning, beautiful.'

Akaashi allows himself to be doted on, burrows deeper into the blankets as Bokuto explores his body with singular determination. He's kissing the tips of Akaashi's fingers, just about to press mouth to wrist, when he freezes.

'Akaashi,' he says, voice choked with horror. 'Did I do that?' Akaashi glances at his forearm and sees livid, finger-shaped bruises--a parting gift, from his talk with Kato. Bokuto's face ripples between fear and anger as Akaashi relays the story from last night.

Tears well up as he runs his thumb over Akaashi's bruises, falling on Akaashi's arm as he leans down to press a kiss to the mottled skin. 'He had no right,' Bokuto says, an apologetic note to his voice that has no business being there. 'Akaashi I'm--'

'Hey.' Akaashi leans in, smooths the furrow from his brow. 'Don't even think about it. What happened was Kato's fault. He made the choice, he's responsible for it.' 'You can't go back there.' Bokuto tucks Akaashi into the dip of his shoulder, buries his nose in his hair.

'He's too dangerous, too unpredictable.' Akaashi laughs, biting a little at Bokuto's bare chest. 'Yeah,' he says with a snort, 'I wonder what it feels like to worry that he'll hurt someone you care about.' Bokuto shuffles back, cups Akaashi's face with both hands.

'You're right,' he says, dripping sincerity. 'I'm sorry for putting you through that.' Akaashi flushes, as undone by this genuine contrition as he was by anything the night before. 'What if,' Akaashi says, heart picking up as an idea forms. 'What if neither of us has to?'

It's silent for a long moment--long enough for Akaashi to start to panic--and then Bokuto deflates. 'You're right,' he says, voice small. 'It's probably time for me to move on from fighting.' 'No, Bokuto-san!' Akaashi's voice is loud enough that Bokuto visibly startles.

'I meant, what if there's another option? One that doesn't have you fighting for Kato. One that could you back on the professional track?' Akaashi can admit that he doesn't know anything about boxing. He doesn't know the rules, doesn't know the stats, doesn't know the game.

But he knows Bokuto Koutarou. He's known from the first time he saw him fight that he's something special--something apart. He was born to be a star. 'Akaashi, you can't--I can't just go back. I'm not at that level anymore, I'm--' 'You're amazing,' Akaashi interrupts.

He pulls Bokuto close, looks him right in the eye as he speaks. Watches as he starts to flush--a gorgeous pink that starts on the bridge of his nose and fans outward. He can't help himself--he has to kiss it.

'Koutarou,' he says, tucking a smile behind his teeth as the blush deepens. 'If anyone can come back, it's you. If anyone can put in the work, it's you.' He moves his hands down, threads his fingers through Bokuto's and pushes himself up until he's hovering above him.

'I told you I believe in you,' he breathes, dipping down to rub his nose just under Bokuto's ear. 'And I meant it.' 'Akaashi.' His name comes out as a plea, as supplication. 'It's not just about that. I don't even have an apartment--'

'Keep staying with me,' Akaashi murmurs as he kisses Bokuto's neck, wet and lingering. 'I can't let you go, not now.' Bokuto shifts, his breathing turning erratic. Ragged. 'And the training. The kind of coaches, the gym time--' 'I bet Kenma would sponsor you.'

Akaashi licks a stripe up Bokuto's neck, heat spreading as he feels him shudder. 'That's why I came that first night,' he adds, letting his arms go loose, settling himself against the long lines of Bokuto's body. 'He told me you were 'interesting.''

Bokuto whimpers, says something that might be another strangled 'Akaashi'. Akaashi rolls his hips, biting down on Bokuto's neck as he moves. And he's sure that he has other points to make, other facts to bolster his case, but everything is lost the moment Bokuto gives in.

Akaashi's words, his thoughts, everything dissolves as Bokuto's hands find his hips. As Bokuto's mouth finds his throat. As Bokuto's body moves to meet him. ---

They eat breakfast in bed, Akaashi throwing out rules and any concerns about hygiene the moment that Bokuto's callused fingers push the first pieces of a peeled mandarin between his lips.

They kiss through this too, long and sticky-sweet, each brush of tongue feeling like the very first. When they finally finish Akaashi bullies Bokuto into taking the first shower, then stays in his own until the last of the hot water runs out.

He finds one of Bokuto's sweaters hanging from the back of his door and slips it over his head, shivering a little as he catches his reflection. Despite their relative similarity in height, the fabric swallows him, hiding any proof of the boxers he's wearing underneath.

He imagines how Bokuto might feel seeing him in his clothes. Imagines him slipping a hand underneath the bulky fabric, scraping nails against his warm skin. He makes his way to the living room, only to find Bokuto stretched out on a sofa, reading a book of poetry.