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Miya Atsumu had never been to New York Fashion Week. In fact, he had never left Asia. He had gone to some of the other fashion weeks across the continent, but since he had partnered with Sakusa Kiyoomi, their prominence had skyrocketed them not only in the Japanese market but across the globe. He was wanted as a model internationally now and Kiyoomi alongside him as his photographer. 

Walking in multiple shows for the week, the two of them had arrived a little early to their swanky hotel to get settled in and acclimate to the jetlag. What Atsumu hadn’t anticipated was the beautiful view of the city from midway up the building with floor to ceiling windows. 

Pressing up against the glass, he took in the scenery. “I ain’t never seen nothin’ like it, Omi Omi,” Atsumu said in awe as he looked out over the sunset of the city, the sun scattering drops of gold across the concrete jungle.  

“You’ve lived in Tokyo for years now and New York takes your breath away?” Kiyoomi sidled up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist, leaning his chin into the crook of his shoulder. 

“This is different and ya know it!” he huffed. As he looked out, he noticed that the people below him walking on the High Line would occasionally look up at the building… or was it them? “Omi-kun… Is it me or are they lookin’ at us? They can’t see us in here, right?” Atsumu assumed like most hotels, this one would have windows that were tinted. 

Kiyoomi pushed Atsumu up against the glass holding him at the neck, letting a shiver run down the blonde’s spine. He growled into his ear, “They can definitely see you. Why do you think I booked this hotel? I wanted to put on a show for all of New York to see.” 

Atsumu could feel the heat of Kiyoomi’s breath in his ear, making the hairs on his neck stand up. He felt his dick harden against the glass at the implication—no, Kiyoomi wasn’t implying anything. He downright said he wanted people to see them fucking. Atsumu bit his lip and whined. 

“What’s that?” Kiyoomi cocked his head and leaned in close to Atsumu’s face, letting his curls fall over his dark eyes. 

Turning red, Atsumu stuttered out, “I- I- I’ve always wanted someone to watch us.” 

“I know. It’s a special treat for you since you’ve been so good lately,” Kiyoomi removed his hand from Atsumu’s neck and stroked his cheek. Atsumu didn’t move an inch but shuddered. 

“Thank ya,” he whispered, growing harder thinking about what was to come. He pushed up against the window further in hopes of pursuing his pleasure, looking down on the people below him. He knew he couldn’t make a move on Kiyoomi or he’d be denied satisfaction; this was the only way to further his gratification. 

“Tsumu,” Kiyoomi pulled him by the back of the shirt away from the window. “You’re getting a little too comfortable there. Go sit on the bed.” 

“Yes, sir.”

He knew ‘sir’ was Kiyoomi’s preferred way to be addressed. He was pretty loose about using it, switching back to his given name every now and then, but he tried. He knew what it did to his partner. When he was able to drop the sir every once in a while in a photoshoot, that really brought on a blush on Kiyoomi’s face and got Atsumu going. The photos always came out great. But Atsumu knew that there’d be retribution later for using the pet name out of turn. 

Kiyoomi leaned against the window as a pouting Atsumu trudged to the bed. Hunching, he sat on its edge, making his displeasure known. 

“Don’t sulk. Get undressed,” Kiyoomi commanded, crossing his arms as he continued to lean back against the window, taking in the sight of the chiseled body in front of him as the dark orange sun hit its features. 

As quickly as he could, Atsumu jettisoned his clothes, tossing them around the room and then lounged on the bed, filled again with sexual vitality. He laid in his ‘come fuck me’ pose, like a centerfold — splayed out on his side, one arm out behind his head, hard cock twitching on display. He thought he could see a twinge of a smile on Kiyoomi’s face, but it was quickly wiped away as his eyes scanned him from head to toe. 

“I want you to be a good puppy and touch yourself for me.” 

“Omiiii,” Atsumu whined. “I thought we were gonna put on a show for ‘em.” He swung his legs over the edge of the bed sitting up.

“Patience. We will. First, I want a show all for myself.” His eyes looked predatory and piercing as he made eye contact with Atsumu, who slid his hand down to his dick, mumbling yessir under his breath. 

“Good boy,” Kiyoomi praised him, tossing a small bottle of lube to him from his pocket. That perked Atsumu up. 

One hand pumped while the other squeezed a little bit of the lubricant onto his shaft. Atsumu always loved performing for an audience — It’s why he was so good at his job as a model. It was why he wanted people to watch them together. Going at it himself like this, however, was a close second; having Kiyoomi’s eyes on him made him feel hot and bothered. 

He closed his eyes and focused on rubbing himself, thinking about Kiyoomi being turned on by him, imagining his eyes all over him, wondering how hard Omi was right now just from seeing him touch himself. When he looked up and they made eye contact, it was made all the better. A heat in his gut unfurled as those eyes bore into him. Those penetrating eyes ate him up in a way the imagined ones never could. They looked like they wanted to be on him as much as he wanted it. It was agonizing in the most excruciatingly pleasurable way — he wanted to be touched by hands other than his own and Kiyoomi knew it. 

“You look so hot when you do what I tell you to,” Kiyoomi licked his lips.

“Nnngh,” Atsumu groaned as he kept touching himself. “I- I always do what you tell me to, sir .” He put an emphasis on the name. “It’s my job.” He saw how the pet name coursed a little bit of fire in Kiyoomi’s eyes. 

“Not always. Not like this.” Kiyoomi unfolded his arms to adjust his pants, too tight to contain his growing erection. Fuck, Kiyoomi liked it as much as Atsumu did apparently. 

“Omi, ya like what ya see?” Atsumu huffed as he continued to work on his throbbing cock. God, it felt good. It’d feel better if Kiyoomi was helping him. Atsumu imagined what that’d be like and tipped his head back, letting out a moan. 

It’s like Kiyoomi could read his mind. “I’d like it better if you came over here.” His commanding voice left Atsumu scrambling to get to the other side of the hotel room as quickly as possible. 

Atsumu stood in front of the window and his brooding boyfriend, waiting for instruction, heart beating heavily in anticipation, trying to ignore the trickle of people outside who may or may not be able to see him naked from where he stood. 

“On your knees,” Kiyoomi continued. “Keep touching yourself.” Fuck, he was hot when he was demanding. Which was like, always. 

“Yes, sir.” Atsumu drew out the syllables in sir as long as he could without seeming like he was making fun of the name. He liked it. He really did. It made Kiyoomi seem like he was his boss, which he kind of was at times? He told him what to do at work all the time so he might as well be. Atsumu liked that, being bossed around.

As Atsumu positioned himself on the ground in front of the glass for all to see, he stroked his dick, looking up, biting his lip and holding back a groan. Kiyoomi pushed a long, slender finger into the center of Atsumu’s mouth, pulling at his cheek and rubbing his finger across those pouty lips. Atsumu closed his eyes to take it, wrapping his tongue around it when it came back into his mouth, swirling around it, grazing it with his teeth as it slid in and out.

Kiyoomi added in another finger as Atsumu sucked. “Look at me,” he said. Atsumu held his fiery gaze as Kiyoomi pumped his fingers against his wet, plump tongue. He wished they were the real thing, but gave it his all nonetheless. Maybe if he went at it like it was the tastiest lollipop in the shop, he’d be given some candy for real? With the addition of a third finger, Atsumu cocked his head this way and that, taking the fingers deeper, nearly choking, but not backing down.

He felt Kiyoomi slide his fingers out of his mouth, trailing wetly over his lip, and shuddered. As he barely opened his eyes to see a silhouette of a Kiyoomi-like shape in front of him, he felt a wet hand grabbing his dick with a heavy grip and strong strokes. His thoughts were clouded by the sensation of someone else touching him now, finally, muting everything else. His head fell back, eyes closed again, and mouth parted absentmindedly in bliss. When he felt lips on his throat, Atsumu gasped, leaning into the warm, soft feeling. 

An unexpected moan escaped him as Kiyoomi touched him in all the right ways. When he groaned again, he wished he hadn’t. The stroking intensified as if retribution for the noise, as if Kiyoomi wanted to play with him, sadistically overtake him. He wanted this to last longer and the more he let out these noises, the faster Kiyoomi worked. He couldn’t help it. The noises wouldn’t stop. 

Maybe Kiyoomi just wanted to see Atsumu fall apart as fast as possible. Or maybe his strokes were in time with the noises. Atsumu had no fucking idea, all he knew was that his head was spinning and he couldn’t hold back. 

“O-Omi, if you don’t slow, dow—, ah—C-C-Coming!” Before he could stop himself, his vision faded to white and the room disappeared as he orgasmed. Blinking back into existence, Kiyoomi was crouched in front of him, one hand carding through Atsumu’s hair. 

“Sorry,” slipped out of Atsumu’s mouth, face tipped to the ground. He tried to catch his breath. His boyfriend kept stroking his hair. 

“It’s okay, Tsumu. You were so good.” He leaned in and whispered, “I wanted you to come, but we’re not done.” 

The exhaustion of just having come combined with the praise left Atsumu flushed, his eyes droopy, but eager to please. He perked back up from his slump. “What next? How can I please ya?” He put his hands on his knees leaning in close to Kiyoomi’s face. 

“You made quite a mess of me,” Kiyoomi held up his hand with come splattered all over it. “You should clean this up.” He outstretched his palm towards Atsumu who thought for a second maybe he just wanted him to get a towel from the bathroom but then he blanched. 

Of course, he loved sucking Kiyoomi’s cock and drinking his come. It’s not like come tasted amazing, but because it was Kiyoomi’s he’d guzzle it all day, every day. But his own? He didn’t have particularly strong thoughts about it. In fact, he’d never thought about it. 

“Omi…” Atsumu sounded hesitant. He wasn’t really asking him to— was he?

“I thought you were my dirty little slut?” Kiyoomi smirked and his other hand threaded through Atsumu’s hair again and pulled at it a little. “But if you don’t want to…” His smile dropped. “I’ll just have to punish you.” He looked at the window. “And I guess the show will have to be delayed.” He made a move to get up for the bathroom. 

Atsumu grabbed his wrist, the one with the dirty hand. “No! I’ll be good. I want to continue the show.” 

He was already half-hard again thinking about it. The idea of being punished, not being able to continue with the treat he was given, he hated it. Sometimes he wanted to be punished, but today was not that day. If all he had to do was eat his own come, he’d do it. It’s not like he hadn’t tasted it before — he’d kissed Kiyoomi after blowing him or sucked on fingers after slicked with his own pre-come. This was just the next step up, right? 

Before he could allow himself to overthink it, he licked Kiyoomi’s palm. 

“God, you’re disgusting. You’re so dirty,” Kiyoomi taunted above him as Atsumu cleaned the come off his hand. As much as Atsumu liked it when he was being told he was good (which he was being here, now), he really liked it when he was told how dirty he was. It was almost easy to be good in comparison, but being dirty, being a slut? It was a thrill. So to be both good and dirty, following directions and slutty, he was desperate for it. 

He loved being dirty for Kiyoomi. Only for Kiyoomi. 

Without thinking Atsumu pulled back and replied, “Ain’t that why ya love me, Omi?” Instinctually, his eyes widened and he ducked his head to continue licking, focusing on the palm in front of him. 

He decided to take his time cleaning up Kiyoomi’s hand so he could internally freak out over the fact that he said Kiyoomi loved him. Not only did he say he loved him, now Kiyoomi wasn’t saying anything . Maybe he thought it was a joke. Maybe he didn’t hear. Jeez, Atsumu. Get it together. His heart hammered in his chest. 

Having made short work of the mess despite tonguing it with excruciatingly slow licks to give him ample mental recovery time (like he had actually recovered yet), he decided to look up at Kiyoomi. Atsumu’s eyes trailed from Kiyoomi’s hand to his cock up his torso to his face. Atsumu saw that the bulge in his pants was straining. It excited him. Maybe, just maybe there’s hope that he’s not unbelievably turned off by what he said. When his eyes flicked up to Kiyoomi’s face, he saw the hint of a smile there and soft eyes. Atsumu’s chest tightened. 

When their eyes met, Kiyoomi whispered, “Good job.” 

Atsumu released a breath that held the tension in his shoulders. He was worried he had fucked this up. He was used to saying things that got him into trouble. Sometimes he said them on purpose. Usually, Kiyoomi just punished him for them, but this time, he was actually scared that there was no punishment that could reset the mistake he had made. But the tenderness in Kiyoomi’s eyes told him not to worry.   

“Now we get to really enjoy the show.” Kiyoomi reached his hand up, cupping Atsumu’s cheek, turning it towards the window.

Atsumu had nearly forgotten he was naked in front of all of New York. His mouth fell open, the hair on the back of his neck stood high, as Kiyoomi looked down on him, lips curling up — the traces of fondness on his face were replaced by a mischievous smile and dark eyes. 

Atsumu tried to make out whether anyone was looking at him as he sat on his knees naked, Kiyoomi’s thumb stroking his cheek. He honestly couldn’t tell and it excited him. Was he getting that turned on again? After just coming? He felt his dick twitching. God, he thought — he wanted the entire fucking city to see him come. 

Now, he was actually fully hard again just thinking about it as people strolled by below him blissfully unaware of their debauchery.   

“Take off my pants.” At just the right height while on his knees, Atsumu reached up, mumbling yes, sir, and unbuttoned Kiyoomi’s tight black jeans as he was instructed, pulling them and his underwear to the floor. Normally, he wouldn’t stare, but the large cock revealed in front of him was captivating and demanded all of his attention. 

There were people in his peripherals that drew his eye to the window. He couldn’t help but stare, growing the pool of heat in his stomach, increasing his heart rate, causing shallow breaths. 

He turned back up at Kiyoomi who was staring at him with intrigue. “Watch them all you want. Try not to get too distracted.” 

Fingers wrapped into Atsumu’s blonde hair, pulling just enough to create a taught tension, but not enough to hurt… a lot. It was a pain-pleasure kind of feeling. Atsumu loved it. He groaned as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. His hard-on fully coming back as he was pulled into the standing position. They were now staring into each other’s eyes.   

“Omi, I love it when ya tell me what to do,” Atsumu whispered as he closed the distance between them. He enjoyed every moment of the tension between them. Their lingering breaths created an electric atmosphere until he dove in to capture Kiyoomi’s mouth in his. As hard and commanding as he could be, Kiyoomi’s lips were soft and supple. Their kiss was passionate; he chased his sexual desire as he wanted more from Kiyoomi that he wouldn’t give, not now at least. 

Kiyoomi pulled away when Atsumu got too aggressive — when he began tugging on Kiyoomi’s lips with his teeth, something he would have previously never tolerated. Atsumu had noticed that he had allowed little leniencies like these now that they’ve been together for so many months. It seemed like he was letting his guard down.

Atsumu always liked to test his boundaries, push his limits, see what he could get away with. Each time, he felt Kiyoomi crumbling little by little beneath him. And yet, Kiyoomi still tried to keep his bravado intact. If Atsumu said he didn’t like that, he’d be lying. So he kept pushing; sometimes it made Kiyoomi crack and crumble, and at other times, it made him push back. 

Like now. 

He pulled Atsumu away by his hair when he bit at Kiyoomi’s lower lip again. “Atsumu, don’t start being bad.” 

“I just really like kissin’ ya like that.” Atsumu’s eyes shone with a little bit of defiance.  

“Know your place.”

“And where is that?” Atsumu playfully asked. 

Kiyoomi’s fingers slipped from Atsumu’s hair down to his neck as he grabbed his nape and pushed him up against the window. “Where everyone can see what a slut you are.”

The window was cool against Atsumu’s chest, but it didn’t make him any less turned on. In fact, he started to leak pre-come as he looked at all the people walking by. Again he wondered how many of them looked up as they walked. How clear was this glass really? Did they like the show? Were they used to people like us doing things like this? Or were they just as turned on watching and trying not to let anyone notice? 

The whirlwind of thoughts swirled through Atsumu’s head. He was going to be fucked and who knows who would be watching, if anyone could see. It felt like everyone, like the world, would be spying on one of their most intimate moments. His head went fuzzy as Kiyoomi stroked the back of his neck. 

Kiyoomi’s fingers trailed down his back and he shivered as they left his skin. “Enjoy the view. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” 

Atsumu tried his best to focus on the crowd, but he also wanted to know just what Kiyoomi was doing, what he had in store. He heard fabric move and drop to the floor — his shirt? He wanted to remove that himself and lick Kiyoomi’s abs. He held back a whine thinking about tracing those moles with his teeth and getting smacked for it. There was only so much they could do in one session though. He was getting this treat, he reminded himself and pulled his focus back to the outside. 

He noticed someone pointing. Were they pointing at him? What if they took a picture? This could be a career scandal if he was recognized. His heart began to race. 

“Omi, what if—” His voice exuded the anxiety he felt but he still never left the window.

“Shh, I got you. We're ok.” Kiyoomi came up behind him and kissed his neck, stroked his arm. Atsumu melted into his touch, forgetting his anxiety and what-ifs. Only knowing that he was about to get fucked. Maybe in front of the world. That they were here. Together. Who cared what else happened. He wanted to live in the moment. 

Kiyoomi’s hand trailed down his back like before, but this time, he slipped a lubed up finger inside Atsumu. Ah, so that’s what he was up to. It loosened quickly to his ministrations as he added another. 

Atsumu’s mouth slowly opened, trying to remember the faces he made while modeling. If he was going to stand in front of a crowd of people and get fucked, he wanted to look hot while he did it. But Kiyoomi kept opening him up and after a minute, Atsumu didn’t care so much what he looked like anymore. He’s sure whatever face he was making was probably better than any face he had ever made in a photoshoot. Hell, any face he’d made… ever. 

And if not, fuck it. Kiyoomi’s opinion was the only one that really mattered and he would definitely tell him if he was making a dumb face. It wouldn’t be the first time he teased about something like that. But he didn’t this time. 

Kiyoomi continued to slide his fingers into Atsumu’s ass, kissing his neck and whispering into his ear, “I wonder what they think of you, Tsumu. What would everyone think of Miya Atsumu getting his brains fucked out in public? What would they do if they found out the picture-perfect model is actually a dirty fucking slut?” 

Atsumu moaned loudly as Kiyoomi hit that sweet spot, but unlike before, unlike when the moans spurred Kiyoomi on to make Atsumu come, his fingers stopped moving.

“Omi…” Atsumu whined and tried to grind back onto the fingers inside him, move to hit that spot again. It didn't work. “I was so close. I want it.” He bit his lip and looked over his shoulder at Kiyoomi. 

“Don’t look at me. Look at them.” He nodded towards the crowd on the High Line. “Don’t forget who the show is for, Tsumu.” Then he resumed, bringing Atsumu close to the brink of coming again while he watched the people surge during their peak time. 

“Do you think you’re putting on a good show? Do they like what they’re seeing?” Kiyoomi whispered into Atsumu’s ear after stilling his hand again. When all Atsumu could do was whimper a little in response, Kiyoomi nibbled on his ear and continued pulsing. 

Atsumu was now sweating, maybe swearing a little too. He tried to concentrate on the people like Kiyoomi told him to, but with feelings swirling and each time Kiyoomi hit his prostate, his eyes bulged. He was close, so close, and his legs shook. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could last. 

The idea that people were watching him, maybe even filming him, filled him with excitement and terror. It made him want this to last forever, for them to keep watching him. He wanted to hold out for Kiyoomi as long as he could, but when his legs started to shake, that’s when he knew it wouldn’t be much longer. And Omi knew it too. 

He stilled and pulled out. Atsumu sobbed when he felt the emptiness, but was hushed with Kiyoomi’s lips back on his neck and cock slowly pushing inside him. 

“Don’t come without me, okay?” Kiyoomi’s voice was soft and breathy, making it sound like a request but Atsumu knew that it wasn’t one. 

“Yes, sir,” Atsumu panted, trying to brace his hands on the window for what he was about to endure as Kiyoomi gradually bottomed out. 

He slid out, just to the tip and held himself there. Atsumu wondered why, normally he immediately pounded him, but this time, Kiyoomi took his time, slowly entering him and working up speed. It was hard not to come when he did this, Atsumu had prepared for something else entirely. His head spun. When he felt the kisses on his neck, his face became hotter. 

“Fuck, Omi. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Omi. I’m—” 

Kiyoomi pulled out allowing Atsumu to calm down. He slid his hands up and down Atsumu’s thighs. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah.” Atsumu leaned his head on the window. He couldn’t watch the people outside anymore. They excited him too much. He closed his eyes, trying to only focus on this room, on his partner, and breathed deeply. 

Kiyoomi began his pace again, slow, trailing his hand up Atsumu’s leg to rest on his hips, grabbing gently. His pace was never hurried or bruising, not like it was. He continued to progressively pull them into a dream. Kissing up Atsumu's neck — fuck, that felt so good — Kiyoomi made way to Atsumu's ear again, breath hot and tickling, and whispered, “I want everyone out there to know you’re mine, Atsumu.”  

And if that wasn’t the hottest thing Atsumu had ever fucking heard— nnnghhhh. 

There was no holding it back now. Whether his eyes were open or closed, all he saw was Kiyoomi. He felt Kiyoomi too, helping him through his orgasm and it felt harder than any other he’d ever had. Kiyoomi crested with him and they tumbled through the abyss together, sweaty, shaking, buzzing. 

Glass supported Atsumu as he came back to the world out of breath and fuzzy. When he turned around, he saw Kiyoomi through a new lens. With his eyes closed, he stood there holding his head — pink in the face, hair a mess, and there was no other word for it, a blissful expression. Atsumu’s heart did a thing. A flip. Shit. 

Kiyoomi’s eyes fluttered open to see Atsumu staring at him who was biting his thumb trying to control himself from saying something stupid. Kiyoomi’s pink face intensified in color and expression, a little scowl emerging. Cute.  

“What?” He huffed, turning around to get cleaned up. 

Atsumu didn’t want to tell him what he was actually thinking. “Nothin’! It’s just that we’ve never done anything like that before.” He limped after Kiyoomi to the bathroom. 

He couldn’t see Kiyoomi’s face, so it was hard to tell what he was thinking when he responded, “Well, they don’t call it the Meatpacking District for nothing.” It seemed like he was deflecting.

“Omi, ya know that’s not what I meant!” Atsumu paused for a moment, taking in what he said. “Wait, did ya just make a joke? Oh my god.” Laughter bubbled up within Atsumu. He had to clutch the sink while he looked over at his partner who seemed pretty smug.  

“You’re not the only one who’s funny, Tsumu. Get over yourself.” Kiyoomi cleaned himself up and then got a new wet towel to wipe down Atsumu.

Atsumu enjoyed being taken care of, so he let hands wander as the warm washcloth explored his skin. He basked in the feeling. L ooking down, he smiled. As much as he loved being told what to do, being doted on after made it all the better. Each action was filled with such care, so tender, almost like lo—

He shook the thought out of his head. 

“I hear there’s a Fashion Week pre-party on the roof tonight. Wanna go?” 

“Sure, but I wanted to get some pictures of you first before the sun goes down." 

“Work doesn’t start ‘til next week, Omi.” When your boyfriend was a photographer it was hard to tell when it was work or play. 

Kiyoomi finished up on the legs and stood up to face Atsumu. He described the scene he wanted to capture, one that he didn’t want to share with anyone else — Atsumu staring out the window with the sun setting, naked save for a bedsheet. 

The picture he painted sounded beautiful, and Atsumu agreed, but only if Kiyoomi captured another. One with the both of them. Together. 

Kiyoomi said he may need to use a different lens for that.