Cut the conversation

As Atsumu palms himself over his briefs, still feeling off, he realizes it's because he still wants it. Him. Sakusa. Even after already having him earlier.

He should probably feel self-conscious, mildly ashamed even, that he's panting 'Omi Omi' into the dark beneath the steady thrum of the AC unit when Sakusa's right down the hall, probably good for it if Atsumu ended up back at his door. Instead, he lays there, writhing and sweaty, alone in his hotel room bed thinking about Sakusa and touching himself.

Afterward, as cum begins to cool on his chest, Atsumu really can't help but face the fact that things may be getting complicated.
Notes:

The title is from "Fascination Street" by The Cure. I received the title as a prompt ages ago for a different fandom fic, but it felt terribly appropriate for this one, so I decided to reuse it. :)
(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:
Sakusa opens the door. He always does.

It's a simple, easy, uncomplicated thing that Atsumu has relied on now for going on six months, and he grins lazily as he straightens up in the now-open doorway. He takes in Sakusa's maskless face, glasses perched lightly on the bridge of his nose, the nearly too-subtle pissed-off line of his mouth.

"Ya knew it was me, didn't ya," Atsumu says smugly, stepping forward. He's not even slurring. He only just tipped into that easy kind of drunken buzz, and it's not at all dulling the heat of anticipation lighting him up at the sight before him as he eyes the low-slung sweats and bare chest, the moles dotting Sakusa's skin.

Frown lines appear between Sakusa's eyebrows as he presses one hand against the doorway to block his advance. "You drunk, Miya?"

"Nah," Atsumu says easily, ducking unsteadily past Sakusa's arm and patting his ass on his way in. "But maybe just drunk enough."

Sakusa steps back to hold the door open as if waiting for a reason to tell Atsumu to leave. "What're you doing here? You smell like shit."

Atsumu sighs, feeling uncharacteristically patient and gracious even as Sakusa acts like his normal asshole self. "Ya know damn well what I'm doin' here. Ya wouldn't have opened the door like this," he gestures with one hand at Sakusa's sleep-ready getup and lack of a fucking amateur Hazmat suit, "if ya didn't want it too. Took yer sweet time lettin' me in though." He thinks Sakusa was probably making him work for it and swallows down his grudging respect.

Sakusa eyes him for another moment before nodding toward the bathroom and closing the door. Atsumu rolls his eyes, but he heads over to take a quick shower to wash away the sweat and spilled booze and perfume coating his skin.

When he walks into the bedroom, Sakusa has a glass of water on the bedside table ready for him and is leaning against the headboard. His glasses already sit next to the glass, and he has his arms crossed like he's been waiting.

Before Atsumu can say a word about it, Sakusa says, "That didn't seem to take long enough. Did you actually wash up, or did you just jack off in there again like last time?"

Atsumu scowls. "That happened once, because I was horny as fuck and ya were bein' a pissy little shit," he replies, but he's making his way over and setting his towel on the bed. As he picks up the glass and gulps down the water, he realizes he's already half hard thinking about where the night's going and how good it'll be. How good it always is.

Sakusa doesn't say anything else as he watches until he puts the glass back down. When Atsumu sets a knee on the bed and moves to straddle him, Sakusa's hands are hot and firm where they land on Atsumu's thighs to guide him down. He must be in a helluva mood too if the strength of his grip is any indication.