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The hair isn’t really a surprise. Or at least, it shouldn’t be. He’s seen it so many times over video chat. Watched it grow out with his own two eyes. But, Iwaizumi’s just realized that seeing something through a computer screen and seeing it in real life are two different things.
The bangs no longer fall into Tooru’s eyes, forcing him to flick his head to the side like a newborn foal every few minutes just so that he can see. Rather, given its length, he’s opted to pull all of his hair back into a ponytail. A practical, albeit dangerous, fashion choice because now it perfectly frames his beautiful face and Iwaizumi’s having all sorts of thoughts, none of them appropriate for public transportation.
He swallows as he listens to Tooru chatter on about all the things he’s missed, eyes never straying from his boyfriend’s face as they leave the train station and make towards his apartment.
Well, listening might be a stretch. He’s definitely watching Tooru’s mouth move. His plump and soft lips just begging to be bitten and kissed. Thinking about how it would feel to wrap his hands in that silky smooth hair. Tangle his fingers in it. Tug on it. And—
“Iwa-chan, are you listening?”
His eyes jerk back to Tooru’s face and he blinks stupidly as he realizes that they’re at his front door. Somewhere along the way, he picked up Tooru’s luggage and grabbed his hand and he can’t recall when. The other man is looking at him amusedly, eyes sparkling as if he knows exactly how far down the gutter Iwaizumi’s thoughts have gone. He leans in close, hot breath hitting Iwaizumi’s face, ponytail bobbing like a buoy on the crown of his head, and cocks a brow. “You haven’t heard a word I said, have you?”
“No,” Iwaizumi replies, furrowing his forehead in an attempt to create his signature scowl. Tooru’s breath smells like spearmint and he desperately wants to taste it on his tongue. “I was definitely listening.”
Tooru barks a laugh and leans sideways against the wall as Iwaizumi moves to unlock it, feet crossed at the ankles. “What did I say, then?”
Okay, so he set himself up for that one. Iwaizumi pauses, racking his mind for the last thing he remembers the other saying. The thing about Tooru is that he tends to recount stories over and over again, usually embellishing them with newly recalled (often exaggerated) details. But the premise always remains the same, for the most part. If he could just gather some context, he’d probably be able to connect it back to a story that he’s definitely heard before.
All that would be fine and dandy if his mind wasn’t currently making foghorn noises at the mere sight of Tooru stepping into the genkan and toeing off his shoes with practiced ease. A few shorter strands of hair have escaped the hair tie and are brushing his pink cheeks, making him look even more alluring, and Iwaizumi wants to touch oh, so badly.
Still, he’s never been one to lose. Or admit that Tooru is right. And he isn’t going to start now — not when he has a twenty-five year long record to defend. “You were talking about your spiker.”
It’s a random jab in the dark with a fifty-fifty chance of being correct because a lot of Tooru’s conversations revolve around complaining about his new teammates and comparing them to Iwaizumi, whining about how, “They’re alright, but they aren’t you, Iwa-chan.”
The way Tooru’s eyebrows mischievously rise immediately lets Iwaizumi know that he’s far from the correct answer, but he doesn’t care, too busy stupidly gaping at Tooru like a goldfish or a blind man witnessing the sun for the first time.
Surprisingly, Tooru doesn’t make fun of him. Instead, he rethreads their fingers together and leans in, chewing on his lips before chastely giving Iwaizumi a closed mouth kiss and pulling back with a wide grin.
“Something got you distracted?” he asks cheekily, subtly turning his head left then right so that his ponytail dances behind him and Iwaizumi wants to smack him because he knows that Tooru knows exactly what’s running through his mind. But, instead of coming up with a sarcastic response, the only thing he can think of is how good Tooru would look on his knees, his pink lips wrapped around his cock and full expressions on display because his hair is conveniently pulled back and tied in a way that would allow Iwaizumi to hold onto it like a rein.
Jesus Christ.
There are multiple fire alarms going off in his mind and it’s definitely getting too hot in his apartment. His mouth is dry and he needs to check the air-con, and oh, Tooru is stepping forward and unzipping his jacket and Iwaizumi, he just — he just snaps.
He grabs Tooru by the wrist and yanks him into his bedroom, unceremoniously flinging him onto his bed before falling forward to straddle him, hands slamming down on either sides of Tooru’s head. Tooru squeals in delight as he bounces on the mattress and curls a firm hand behind Iwaizumi’s neck to pull him into a deep kiss, unhesitant in pushing his tongue past his boyfriend’s lips. He makes a surprised noise when Iwaizumi rolls them over so that he’s lying beneath Tooru and drags him up on top of his chest to possessively tangle his fingers in his hair, bunching them at the roots and digging the tips into his skull. In his excitement, he accidentally snaps the elastic and Tooru whines when his hair comes down, curtaining his face.
It’s soft. So soft. Much more than Iwaizumi could have ever imagined, much more than he remembers, and despite the fact that Tooru just got off a twenty-plus hour flight and a train ride during Tokyo rush hour, he smells heavenly. It’s actually unfair.
Iwaizumi leans forward to bury his face against the side of his head, breathing in the sweet scent of sandalwood and musk.
“How do you smell so fucking good?” he mumbles, closing his eyes as Tooru shifts and some of his hair tickles the side of his face.
“Washed up at the airport,” Tooru gasps, readjusting himself so that his hands are clutching Iwaizumi’s shoulders and he’s able to rut against his thigh more comfortably. “Had a feeling this was going to happen.”
Iwaizumi turns his face to nuzzle Tooru’s throat, nipping at his Adam’s apple before leaning back to stare at the other, brow cocked. “You had a feeling?”
“Contrary to popular belief, I know that Iwa-chan’s a pervert who can’t wait to have his filthy old way with me. And besides, I look really good. Who wouldn’t get horny?” Tooru replies nonchalantly, laughing loudly and then indignantly shrieking when Iwaizumi grabs a pillow and brings it down hard on his head. “Oh, I see how it is! I shower in a nasty airport for you and you hit me in return. I’m calling the domestic abuse hotline.”
“Why don’t you shut up and put that big mouth of yours to better use instead?” Iwaizumi suggests. There’s nothing about the way he says it that’s meant to be seductive but Tooru’s eyes immediately darken with want and Iwaizumi swallows a shudder as Tooru licks his lips before pushing himself up on his forearms.
He looms over Iwaizumi like a starving jaguar stalks its prey, fully blanketing him with his silky hair, gliding soft across his face, tickling his lips and nose, before giving his cheek a loud smack. He smells absolutely mouthwatering and Iwaizumi holds the back of his neck still for a second, rubs their noses together and gently pecks Tooru’s lips before allowing him to move.
Tooru immediately slithers off the bed and Iwaizumi’s eyes remain glued to the way his boyfriend delicately kneels on the floor before grabbing him by the ankles and jerking him forward.
Of the two, Iwaizumi is the one who usually does the manhandling so he squawks in surprise when he feels the sheets bunch up beneath him against the slide. Tooru works his hands underneath his thighs and drags him even further to the edge, stopping when Iwaizumi’s feet finally touch the floor.
He sits up on his knees, drums his fingers against the tops of Iwaizumi’s thighs and tilts his head as if he’s in deep thought before crawling forward and nudging the other’s legs open.
Iwaizumi draws in a deep breath as Tooru makes himself comfortable on the ground and leans his head heavily against the inside of his thigh. He tiptoes his pointer and middle finger up Iwaizumi’s leg, presses his face further against it and sighs, “You smell good, too. Always been my favorite.”
He nuzzles the inside of Iwaizumi’s leg, veering dangerously near his groin and preens when his boyfriend sits up and brushes his hair back off his face, stroking and carding his fingers through the soft locks, before wrapping a chunk around his hand and gently tugging, unable to deny himself any longer.
“I knew you’d like it. You’re so dirty,” Tooru cackles boisterously, wagging his brows. His eyes light up with an evil glint and Iwaizumi doesn’t even try to respond because he’s positive that whatever he manages to come up with is going to be ten times more mortifying than anything Tooru could ever imagine. Instead, he lifts his hips when Tooru undoes the top button of his jeans and allows him to pull them down, fingers lingering in their movement. Tooru scoots back and waits for Iwaizumi to kick his jeans and boxers off before settling back down and firmly gripping his cock.
He gives it a few experimental strokes before leaning over to swipe his tongue over the leaking head, giving it an experimental lick and happily humming at the taste.
“Shit,” Iwaizumi groans loudly, hips rising and he slaps a hand over his face. He's unsure if it’s the fact that Tooru looks absolutely ravishing down on his knees, just like he envisioned, or the fact that he hasn’t had a blowjob in close to a year, or the pure and unadulterated joy of being reunited with his best friend, the love of his life, or a strange conglomeration of all three, but he really feels like he’s back in high school, a horny teenage brat about to blow his entire load with a single touch.
Tooru has always wielded that power over him.
He groans again when Tooru kisses the head sweetly, gives it the same gentle pecks he wakes Iwaizumi up with on lazy weekends, before circling his lips and taking half of it into his mouth. Iwaizumi feels heavy on his tongue and he lets it lie motionless in his mouth as he owlishly stares up at his boyfriend and raises his brows, knowing damn well of the effect he’s having on him.
“Tooru,” Iwaizumi gasps, tangling his fingers in his fringe. He brushes them through the thick hair, relishes the silky feeling slipping between his fingers and makes a sound of protest when Tooru smacks his hand away and pulls off with a loud pop.
The sentiment is short-lived, however, and he immediately feels the need to pinch himself to ensure that he isn’t dreaming. Or died and gone to heaven because he’s somehow been granted a coveted front row seat to watch Tooru sloppily drag his tongue down the thick vein on the underside of his cock, kiss it all over before leaning back and gathering his hair in his hands.
He lifts it up, the toned muscles of his pale arms flexing as he ruffles it once, then twice. The action causes the hair to puff up. Volumanize. And Iwaizumi sputters as he watches Tooru pull his fingers from his temple to the bottom of the longest strand over and over again.
He shakes his head as he continues to comb through it and his tank top lifts up to reveal an inch of soft pale skin, right above the band of his boxers. Iwaizumi reaches out to tangle his own fingers in Tooru’s hair once again, only to make a mournful sound when the other leans back and gives him a chastising look.
“You’re going to mess it up, Iwa-chan,” Tooru tuts, voice taking on a reprimanding lilt before he returns to tousling his hair, pursing his lips as he turns his head left then right, putting on a thorough show so that Iwaizumi can see the full extent of his long pale throat.
Ultimately, he grows tired of the performance and leans his head forward, fully exposing the back of his unblemished neck to his boyfriend and shaking the locks out before flipping it back up, hair settling in soft fluffy curtains on either sides of his face. He shuffles closer, gathers it all in his hands once again and pulls it up on his crown. Iwaizumi swallows when the right strap of his tank top falls off his shoulder, exposing a dark and puffy nipple just begging to be sucked on and he’s just so focused on it that it takes multiple loud snaps for him to redirect his attention back to Tooru’s face.
The little shit is repeatedly plucking at one of the multiple colorful hair ties he’s wearing around his wrist and successfully manages to draw Iwaizumi’s attention back to the way his long and thin fingers comb through his hair, smoothing it from all directions.
Iwaizumi feels like a damn marionette, allowing Tooru and his Cheshire cat-like grin to string him along, jerk him in any direction he chooses with the sure confidence that Iwaizumi will follow like a bumbling idiot because he’s long learned better than to try and escape his best friend’s gravitational pull.
Tooru works like he has all the time in the world to preen, slowly turning to the side to stare at himself in the long floor mirror sitting opposite the bed, eyes opening and closing, long lashes seductively brushing against his cheeks. Iwaizumi only owns the mirror at the other’s insistence and he finds his own gaze following Tooru’s line of vision. The inside of his throat feels rough, like sandpaper of the coarsest quality, and he gapes at their joint reflections, at how absolutely mouthwateringly gorgeous and positively ravishing Tooru looks as he continues to fuss with stray strands of hair, taking a lot more care than necessary to guide them into place.
He rests his chin on Iwaizumi’s thigh as he primps, digging the pointy tip into the hard muscle and smirking at the ragged edge Iwaizumi’s breathing takes on before biting down on his bottom lip as he wraps a hot pink elastic around the bunched up hair. He tightens his ponytail and pulls out a few locks to frame his face before turning back to his boyfriend with a prevalent pout and fluttering his eyelashes. “Do I look pretty?”
Fucking hell. Iwaizumi almost goes into cardiac arrest at the question combined with the sight of Tooru’s rouge cheeks, a few long strands of thick light-brown hair sticking to them. He’s at an absolute loss for words and finding them is the last thing on his mind. Instead, he grabs Tooru crudely by the base of his ponytail and roughly shoves his face into his groin, leaving no room for escape.
“Suck,” he orders, at the end of his rope. Thankfully, Tooru doesn’t seem to have any objections against the crass demand. If anything, he’s thoroughly enjoying himself and even makes an enthusiastic sound as he takes Iwaizumi’s entire length down in one go, slackening his jaw until the tip hits the back of his throat. He moans lewdly, like he’s the overeager female lead in the shitty pornos they’d watch with Makki and Mattsun back in high school, loud and unrestrained, brings his fingers up to tweak his swollen nipples through the thin fabric of his tank top, and Iwaizumi curses himself for getting even more turned on at the sound.
He tightens his grip around Tooru’s hair, feels the thick tie dig into his palm as he starts to guide him up and down his cock. His boyfriend raggedly breathes through his nose as he straightens up and balances himself on Iwaizumi’s thighs, thin fingers digging sharply into the corded muscle.
There’s a certain grace to the way Tooru gives head. It’s sloppy and wet and should be gross, but somehow he manages to look so overtly self-satisfied, cheeks tinted a pretty light pink and eyes slightly glossy, as Iwaizumi yanks at his hair like an unwieldy barbarian.
Iwaizumi isn’t sure what he did to deserve this. How he got this lucky, exactly, especially since this is his blabbermouth best friend in question. The same one who wouldn’t be able to stop running his trap even if he were being held at gunpoint and given strict instructions to shut the hell up. Being quiet and demure just isn’t in Tooru’s nature. Yet, whenever he’s pleasuring Iwaizumi, he’s fully content to sit back, look like the culmination of every one of Iwaizumi’s wet dreams since he turned fourteen, and blow his brains out without getting anything in return.
Tooru’s lips are starting to swell and turn bright pink and Iwaizumi pries him off his cock to lean over and give him a messy kiss, right thumb digging into his jaw to pry it open, tongue pressing flat against Tooru’s and swallowing all his lilted whimpers before shoving him back down.
His breathing comes in harsh heaves and guttural moans as he tries to take even more of Iwaizumi into his mouth. The sounds he’s making are downright obscene and thick tears are starting to prickle at the corners of his eyes. He looks so goddamn hot and Iwaizumi chokes on his tongue when Tooru grabs his wrist and pulls off, only to press his cheek against his cock and nuzzle it like a well-loved toy.
“Are you trying to kill me?” Iwaizumi finds himself asking incredulously, though in the back of his mind, he knows it’s a stupid question. He has no doubt that Tooru is doing this on purpose, fanning every ember he can in an attempt to force Iwaizumi over the edge.
“No,” Tooru replies somewhat dreamily, upping his act by pressing his face against the base of Iwaizumi’s groin. He buries himself in the short scratchy hair, gently kisses it over and over again and inhales deeply, moaning at the musky scent. “Iwa-chan’s just so big. I can’t help it.”
Okay, he’s definitely shooting off lines that sound like they belong in a cheesy adult film on purpose. Probably trying to collect fodder to tease Iwaizumi for getting turned on by in the future. Iwaizumi wants to die when, despite knowing all this, his cock honest-to-God twitches and he feels his toes curl thanks to the gentle press of Tooru’s upturned lips. “You are so full of shit.”
“I try my best.” Tooru leans back and winks before once again tightening his ponytail and taking Iwaizumi back into his mouth with renewed gusto. This time, he drags his hand up the shaft along with his lips, the hardened calluses at the tops of his palms providing an additional layer of texture and when he reaches out to delicately fondle Iwaizumi’s balls, Iwaizumi feels a familiar flame burning in the pit of his stomach, less than ten seconds away from exploding into an all-out three-alarm forest fire.
“Tooru, I’m gonna cum,” he warns and the other pulls off with a loud pop and evil glint. He lovingly pecks the dripping head, wiggles his tongue against the slit tenderly before tilting his head back, mouth open and eyes closed. Waiting patiently.
God fucking dammit.
Iwaizumi swears as he releases all over his boyfriend’s face, thick streaks ripping from the head of his cock and landing on his reddened cheeks, in his gorgeous hair, his soft mouth. He feels apologetic for a second, but the emotion quickly dissipates when Tooru sits up on his knees, loudly smacking his lips together, before wrapping a hand around the back of Iwaizumi’s neck and messily kissing him.
He can taste the bitter flavor of his own cum on Tooru’s tongue and it should be disgusting but instead, he pulls the other up onto his lap and draws him closer, desperate to get a better taste and swallow anything Tooru couldn’t. He possessively fists the back of Tooru’s head, takes as much hair hostage as possible, before tilting his head to the side and slotting their lips more comfortably together, generously stroking his sticky cheek.
He makes love to Tooru’s mouth, thorough and passionate, lips sliding open and closed as they press against one another over and over again. They kiss and kiss and kiss some more, Tooru’s breath catching every time Iwaizumi shakily exhales into the back of his throat and he clutches Iwaizumi’s short prickly hair, ruthlessly tugs on it before pushing him down to straddle his waist.
Iwaizumi can feel Tooru growing harder through his joggers, the dark fabric tenting against his stomach and he stands to reposition them, pressing Tooru’s back against his mattress and helping him out of his clothes. He makes quick work of his own shirt, uses it to wipe down Tooru’s face, before rolling him over so that he’s braced up on his forearms.
Tooru curves his stomach downwards, chest pressed against the sheets, and wiggles his ass. He turns his head to leer at Iwaizumi, only to yelp with incredulous surprise when the other brings his hand down on his ass with a loud crack. “Iwa-chan!”
“What? You think you’re the only one who can tease?” Iwaizumi asks, massaging the reddening skin before bringing his palm down again. Sharp and hard like a whip. Tooru’s body jerks and he wails in protest when Iwaizumi reaches around to tweak his swollen nipple, roughly caressing the sensitive skin, fingers dipping between the cheeks of his ass before pulling back out and running them along the wide expanse of his back.
He whimpers as Iwaizumi bites into his ass, leaves a crescent shaped indent and licks over the mark, before fully draping his body over Tooru’s and turning his face to the side to murmur, “I’m gonna fucking ruin you.”
Iwaizumi wraps the ponytail around his palm and viciously tugs his boyfriend’s head back. Tooru’s breath hitches and he moans loudly as he’s forced to tilt his head so far back that Iwaizumi is able to wrap a heavy hand around his throat and seal their lips together in a bruising kiss.
The awkward position, along with Iwaizumi’s relentless touch, has him breathing loudly through his nose, exhaling in harsh ragged puffs that Iwaizumi takes great joy in hearing. He slackens his hold on Tooru’s hair, lets his head dip forward before he grabs his crown and shoves his face right into one of his thick and fluffy pillows.
Tooru cries out as he struggles to breathe, Iwaizumi’s hold heavy and controlling, pressing him flush against the pillow. He turns his head to the side, gasping sharply. His thighs shake as Iwaizumi spanks him again, pulls off to spread him wide open and slowly run the flat of his tongue over his trembling entrance. “Iwa-chan.”
“Hold on, baby,” Iwaizumi replies, delicately kissing Tooru’s throbbing heat before reaching over to pull his nightstand open and grab a bottle of lube. He squeezes a generous amount out on the tips of his fingers and rubs them together to warm the gel up before leaning forward to kiss Tooru’s shoulder-blade.
Tooru keens when the first finger pushes inside, the sensation intensified by Iwaizumi grabbing his ponytail once again and jerking his head back, viciously thrusting his finger in and out of his puckered hole. He curls and straightens it, moves it from side to side and prods at Tooru’s insides from all directions before adding another.
By now, Tooru has started to convulse around his boyfriend’s fingers, shoulders shuddering, Iwaizumi’s grip on his hair the only thing keeping him upright. He shrieks when he feels a soft brush against his sweet spot, a sound that only intensifies when Iwaizumi presses down on it again, this time with more force. His body tilts forward, but Iwaizumi keeps his hold strong and the tugging sensation somehow works to heighten the jolts of pleasure coursing through his body.
He calls Iwaizumi’s name out hoarsely, voice cracking when the other pushes a third finger inside and spreads them all apart, fully taking his time to stretch Tooru out. Iwaizumi folds his fingers, continues to assault Tooru’s prostate and grins widely when his boyfriend ruts forward, desperately trying to pull away from him, alleviate the intensity of some of the shocks running down every one of his nerves. “Too much?”
Tooru wheezes and nods his head. Or at least he tries. The other is holding onto him so tightly that all he can manage is a short jerk and he wails when Iwaizumi drapes himself over his back once more, fingers curling, his full weight pushing down on his quivering body.
“That’s too bad,” Iwaizumi clucks, bored tone suggesting the opposite sentiment. Tooru isn’t the only one who can be theatrical. “Guess you’ll just have to deal with it.”
He pulls his fingers out just as Tooru starts to shake with the initial tremors of an oncoming orgasm and yanks the tie from his soft hair. It all comes down in rivulets, sticks to the flushed skin and Tooru’s face and Iwaizumi slides the elastic down over his own wrist. He leans over to kiss Tooru’s shoulder, unhesitant in sinking his teeth into the corded muscle as he runs his fingers through the locks to brush it out. The pads of his fingers dig deep into Tooru’s scalp as he works and Tooru whimpers, ruts forward, his hair draping over his shoulders in thick, fluffy curtains as he grinds against the mattress looking for some semblance of purchase, only to squeal in surprise when Iwaizumi begins to gracelessly gather all of it into his left hand.
“Your hair’s in the way,” he says monotonously, smirking when Tooru whines and tries to turn his head to the side, only to be rendered motionless in his strong grip. “It’s okay. I can hold it for you.”
He pushes two fingers back inside of Tooru, mercilessly curves them and pushes down hard on his sweet spot before he rips them out again and slicks himself up with the remaining lube. The fingertips of his left hand are digging sharply into Tooru’s skull and he lines himself up to press the fat head of his cock right against Tooru’s twitching entrance before sliding forward and slipping between the damp valleys of his ass instead.
Tooru makes a distressed sound as Iwaizumi begins to rut against him, sliding in and out between his cheeks, never breaching him where he wants to be. He reaches back to grab Iwaizumi’s cock, tries to guide it inside of him, and pathetically whines when Iwaizumi slaps his hand away, jerks him upright using the grip on his hair as an anchor. He curls a hand around the front of Tooru’s neck and leans in close so that his chest presses flush against the other’s trembling back.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Iwaizumi asks in a low voice, grip around Tooru’s throat tightening just right as he pushes his wide palm into Tooru’s Adam’s apple. He yanks his head back a smidge and Tooru wheezes, tears prickling at the corner of his eyes. Iwaizumi quickly laps them up before dragging his teeth down the side of his face, possessive hold around his neck still tight like an agitated and ravenous viper.
Tooru’s entire body heaves as he rocks against Iwaizumi, fingers digging into Iwaizumi’s thighs as he tries to balance himself. Iwaizumi allows him to tremble in his hold, ducks down to bite into his delicate shoulder and leave another indent on the curve, then another, before attacking the rest of his neck with full force. He keeps Tooru’s head pulled back as he gracelessly litters his pale skin with love-bites, taking great delight in the loud whines he receives in response. The hand around Tooru’s throat tightens and loosens with the shivers of his body and Iwaizumi sneaks a soft nuzzle in every now and then, dragging his tongue up the side of his boyfriend’s throat and smiling when Tooru wails and pierces his sharp nails deeper into his thighs.
“I-Iwa—” Tooru gasps, entire body convulsing and threatening to collapse in on itself when Iwaizumi brushes his lips against the shell of his ear, bites down on the helix, and releases the hold on his throat to slide his hand down and pinch one of his hardened nipples instead. He keens loudly at the vicious pinch and jolts once again. “Ah, Iwa—”
Iwaizumi hums but doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he busies himself in combing his right hand through Tooru’s hair, guiding any stray locks back into his left and ensuring that it all lays flat and pretty before violently twisting his palm to give it a wrap.
Tooru shrieks as Iwaizumi’s hand presses hard against his skull, pulls at the roots in a way that causes his every nerve to pound. Iwaizumi supplements the ministration by bringing his other hand back up, curling it around the front of his boyfriend’s neck and pressing down with enough force to draw loud gasps out of the other before dragging it down once again to tug at his swollen nipple. He presses his entire weight over Tooru’s back as he digs his nails into the tender skin, forcing Tooru to fold over and brace himself on his hands and knees, kissing across his damp shoulder-blades the entire time.
Everywhere Iwaizumi’s lips brush feels like a fire has been lighted under his skin. Tooru sobs as he tries to hold them both upright, but Iwaizumi is pure hard muscle and so is he, and their combined weight is too much. His arms buckle and he falls forward onto his forearms, loudly shrieking when Iwaizumi doesn’t allow his head to drop with the rest of his body. Instead, he adjusts his grip so that his knuckles dig into the back of Tooru’s skull, holding the hair in a manner that keeps the delicious sensation of the tug tight and constant while simultaneously ensuring he doesn’t accidentally pull any of it out, before taking his own cock into his hand.
He presses himself against Tooru’s ass, slides his hand up and down the shaft and Tooru can feel every single movement. Iwaizumi is purposely jacking-off so close to him, his rough knuckles rubbing against Tooru’s sensitive skin as he continues to pleasure himself without any regard for what his boyfriend wants.
Finally, after slipping between his ass once more, he takes mercy and presses the head against Tooru’s entrance. Tooru screams hoarsely at the initial breach, the sensation near foreign after so long, and Iwaizumi’s powerful hips pushing completely inside him in one go causes him to almost immediately cum.
Fortunately, he’s saved from the mortification by stilled hips, Iwaizumi’s hand wrapping around the base of his cock to stop the pressure building in his balls from exploding.
“Fuck, baby. You feel so good,” Iwaizumi groans once Tooru comes down, releasing his tight grip on his hair to run his fingers through the silky strands, fully seated inside of him. Tooru can feel him throbbing, hot and fat within him. Even the slightest shift sends a violent shock of pleasure coursing through his entire being and he sobs as Iwaizumi continues to delicately card his hair, ministrations a lot more gentle than they were a few moments ago.
The gentleness doesn’t last very long, however, and soon Iwaizumi is gathering the hair back into his hand — his right this time. His grip is even tighter in his dominant hand and he’s back to digging his knuckles into Tooru’s skull, making his entire vision spin and spot at certain places.
Despite the heightened state of sensitivity he’s in, Tooru can’t help himself from nasally wheezing between sobs, “You have to smooth it from below.”
He can feel some of the hair at the base of his neck twisting uncomfortably, and while he’s quite alright with Iwaizumi’s ruthless ministrations, enjoying the burning licks of fire rushing from his head to his toes at every single graze, he really doesn’t like the sensation of haphazardly rolled hair pressing against his hairline.
“Oh, sorry,” Iwaizumi says and he surprisingly obeys, albeit clumsily. He isn’t as deft at using his left hand and some of the hair continuously slides out of his right as he struggles to gather it all up to Tooru’s satisfaction. Eventually, he does manage to pull it into something that doesn’t look too bad, though he has to admit that Tooru’s much better at it. His ponytails are always slick and smooth, not a hair out of place, and look like they were professionally styled for a magazine shoot, all glistening and soft and just begging to be ruffled beyond belief. “Is this better?”
Tooru nods and Iwaizumi wastes no time slamming his hips forward, concurrently jerking the other’s head back and causing him to nearly black out. Tooru laughs shakily, unable to hold the embarrassing sound from erupting from his lips as he’s assaulted with the most painfully intense sensation of pleasure he’s ever experienced. Iwaizumi managed to hit his sweet spot on his first try and he can see stars glowing hot behind his eyelids as his boyfriend continues to pound into him, thoroughly bruising his throbbing insides.
It’s a searing pull of heat, thrusting in and out of him, filling him to the hilt, so long and thick that he can feel Iwaizumi all the way in his stomach, a wonderful sensation that is almost immediately snatched away from him every time he becomes accustomed to it. He breathlessly laughs once again, biting down on his lip as delirious tears bead at the corners of his eyes, loud groans following close after. His face is blotchy and red and starting to go quite damp and he shakes violently as a particularly brutal thrust causes his legs to go out as well.
This time, Iwaizumi is quicker and he wraps a muscular arm around his boyfriend’s waist, heaves him up so that Tooru is plastered flush against his front and holds him tight with his forearm pressed flat against his chest. He releases his grip on Tooru’s hair, continues to fuck into him as he brushes his bangs off his face, tenderly kissing the side of his throat. It’s a jarring juxtaposition to how ruthlessly he’s treating the rest of Tooru’s body and the other laughs loudly once more as he claws at Iwaizumi’s arm, bites back a high pitched cry.
He can feel his orgasm starting to build again and he puffs harshly through his nose, leans back into Iwaizumi’s hold and starts to slam his own hips back in an attempt to expedite the process. He’s just feeling himself about to topple over the hilt, fingernails digging deep into Iwaizumi’s thigh when the other pulls out, causing Tooru to scream in incoherent frustration. “Oh, sorry. Were you gonna cum?”
“You are so mean!” Tooru cries, grabbing his cock and furiously fisting it in an attempt to catch his falling orgasm, somehow stroke it back to life. But it’s too late, already disappeared without a trace, and his eyes tear up as he continues to fruitlessly jack himself off, balls burning, cock rubbed raw, entrance twitching as it desperately tries to clench around something. Anything.
He shrieks loudly when Iwaizumi roughly gathers him back into his arms and tilts his head back so that it’s resting against his sweaty shoulder before grasping his jaw and pulling him into a brutally intense kiss.
“I’m the mean one?” Iwaizumi asks when they separate, voice dropping as he drags his short nails down Tooru’s throat, across his trembling torso. Everywhere he touches makes Tooru feel like he’s being grazed by a freshly lighted flame, a dry field set to burn, and to make matters worse, Iwaizumi’s returned to rutting himself between his cheeks, taking great pleasure in allowing his hard cock to slide against his boyfriend’s slippery thighs. Tooru whimpers as Iwaizumi starts to slowly snap his hips forward with more purpose, lapping up the thick salty tears that are now generously streaming down Tooru’s throat, hot lips leaving searing marks wherever he brushes them. “Really?”
It’s too much. All of it and everything. Tooru continues to mournfully wail as Iwaizumi possessively tightens his hold around him, proceeds to kiss him over the expanse of his shoulder-blades and neck while he patiently waits for Tooru’s cock to go completely slack.
It does, eventually. And when that happens, Iwaizumi grips his own length, gives it a few strokes, just for show, and pushes back inside. Tooru heaves a shuddering breath and digs his nails into the forearm pressed across his chest, caging him in against Iwaizumi, entire body dipping down and convulsing as he futilely tries to force his boyfriend to do something. Anything that will allow him to get off. “Iwa-chan, please.”
Iwaizumi ignores his pleas, gives a few more thrusts that reduce Tooru into a blubbering mess, force him to press the bases of his palms against his eyes to contain the searing burn clouding behind them. It’s useless and he crumbles into a colossal ocean of tears, crying messily as Iwaizumi bites down on the helix of his ear and kisses his cheek before whispering, “I think you’re the mean one.”
He punctuates his statement with a hard snap of his hips and Tooru wheezes as his entire body rolls forward.
“I even held your hair for you.”
Tooru sobs in return, shoulders heaving violently. He can’t see anything through the hands pressed over his eyes, the thick tears streaming down his cheeks, the stars on the backs of his eyelids. It’s as if the world has stopped spinning and the only thing he can think of is just how desperately he wants his release and how Iwaizumi refuses to give it to him.
“You know damn well what you do to people, but you just can’t help it,” Iwaizumi continues to murmur against his ear. His voice sends trembles down Tooru’s spine, its intrinsic grittiness and stringent poise causing him to squirm like a child caught being naughty. “You just gotta tease until they go insane and then you start crying like a brat when you realize you fucked up.”
His words are starkly contradicted by how he’s holding Tooru, tight and possessive, as if he’s afraid to let go. The way his veins protrude, his biceps bulge under their sturdy press, his lips glide across Tooru’s skin confirms just how much he loves the other.
Tooru wheezes noisily, drops his hands and blinks back his tears as his head droops forward. He shudders, desperately tries to regain his composure, get a grip, but it’s nearly impossible with how Iwaizumi is feeling him up. He softly chastises Tooru for leaning into the touch, criticizes his wanton behavior with lilted disapproving tuts, while simultaneously encouraging him to continue doing so with his burning touch, hand dipping between his thighs, tugging at the soft hair leading to his groin, kisses spread all over his body, pressed to his flushed skin over and over and over and over again until Tooru feels his head spin.
“Do you even know what the hell you’re doing to me, Tooru?” Iwaizumi asks, hips stilling. Tooru can feel him pulsing inside, his heavy balls nestled deep between his damp cheeks and he’s being assaulted by so many sensations in so many different directions and he just can’t stop crying. “You keep doing this shit and I gotta watch because I don’t have any other choice. Because I’m so fucking in love with you.”
He breathes in a shuddering gasp at Iwaizumi’s words, trembles at their intensity. The whole thing is a cathartic experience and he feels like he’s being cleansed of all the pent up frustration he’s harbored in the months passed, held in as he tried to navigate a foreign country to the best of his ability with a constant smile on his face, regardless of how he was actually feeling, the one constant in his life miles and miles away on the other side of a computer screen. So close yet so far. And now he’s here, in Iwaizumi’s room, in Iwaizumi’s arms, back home in Japan and back home with the person he regarded as home before he even knew what the word meant.
To him, Iwaizumi — no, Iwa-chan means safety. It means that he can drop his strong facade, not have to demonstrate the calm and poise of a professional athlete, of someone who constantly feels like he’s holding on by a single strained thread. Someone who, no matter how fast he runs, no matter how hard he trains, keeps on getting surpassed by others who possess the natural talent he so desperately craves. He so desperately deserves. Because he wants it. He wants it all so badly. Bad enough to leave everything else he loves more than life itself behind.
The room is so quiet. So, so quiet. The only sounds are Tooru’s hitched sobs, mixed with the distant honk of a passing car hundreds of feet below the apartment’s high-rise. The sun is dipping, painting the room in its vibrant purple-red tones and Tooru stares hard at Iwaizumi’s muscular arm, how it clenches painfully tight over his stomach, and bites his lip as he presses back against Iwaizumi, tries to goad him to continue breaking him down the way he’s desperately wanted to be over the months passed.
The violet light looks beautiful against Iwaizumi’s dark skin. Really brings out every little detail — the coarse hair, the scar from falling out of a tree when they were five, another from when he accidentally burned himself playing with a matchstick when they were nine, the thick red lines Tooru has freshly scratched into his soft flesh. The hot pink hair tie.
Tooru sniffles as he wraps his hand around Iwaizumi’s wrist, the thick elastic cutting into his palm and offering him some cognizance of reality. He presses harder, further drawing out the fat salty tears that prickle at the edges of his eyes, once again blurring his sight, and grounds himself, heaving in a shallow breath when Iwaizumi continues to speak. “I’m stupid in love with you. It’s actually a joke. You knew damn well of the consequences and still decided to do this nonsense. I think that makes me the nice one.”
He brushes Tooru’s hair back off his face, fingers dragging from his forehead all the way back to his ears. Over and over again.
It’s so quiet.
Tooru whimpers at the loving gesture, stomach churning as Iwaizumi kisses his cheek, oblivious to his internal dilemma — or perhaps he does know, because it’s very rare for them to not be on the same page. Maybe he’s helping Tooru forget by thoroughly drowning him in the overt adoration he feels for his best friend.
Either way, it’s working.
“You know what I think?” Iwaizumi asks, turning his face to kiss behind his ear before biting down on the lobe. “I think you like being treated like a whore.”
Tooru keens at the words, starts to vehemently shake his head in protest. Some of the hair Iwaizumi tucked behind his ear falls out and his boyfriend tuts softly before he starts to brush it back once again. Return it to where he placed it, fingers still gentle. Always gentle. “You like it when I fuck you like one. Put you in your damn place because no one else ever will. You do this on purpose.”
Of course he does it on purpose. They both know this; it’s an innate characteristic of their relationship. Riling the other one up until he breaks and thoroughly enjoying the repercussions. Holding fast and tight, deep into the night, making love both gentle and rough and all shades in between, and drowning in one another’s eyes, names generously falling from their pressed together lips like fresh honey.
However, hearing it out loud, having his intentions voiced to the otherwise hollow silence of the small room causes them both to shake with palpable desire, so clear that it’s near tangible. Their hearts skyrocket in tandem and Tooru tightens his grip on Iwaizumi’s arm, unsure if he wants him to loosen his suffocating hold or press it tighter against his chest and never let go.
He sinks his nail deep into the skin, sniffles, happy that his sobs have finally subsided when Iwaizumi mercilessly thrusts forward once again.
Tooru screams.
It’s hot. It’s hot. It’s so hot. He’s being torched alive from the inside out.
“Admit it,” Iwaizumi orders, voice rising in volume. He jostles his boyfriend, roughly shakes him as he pinches his nipple, digs in his blunt nails and causes Tooru to blubber incoherently. “You like this. Come on, say it.”
Tooru shakes his head. “Iwa—”
“Say it,” Iwaizumi repeats slamming his hips forward once more. He violently twists the nipple and Tooru shrieks as he starts to double over, hips automatically pushing back into Iwaizumi’s groin and driving him further inside.
It’s too much. Everything is too much. And it only gets worse when Iwaizumi starts to brutally fuck into him once again. He brushes the fallen hair back off of Tooru’s face, grips the locks atop his crown and pounds into him like he’s lost his senses. Like he’s gone insane.
Tooru gasps, heart racing far too fast for him to keep up. He can barely breathe and everything feels so, so fucking good. But also too fucking much.
He furiously scratches at Iwaizumi’s arm, tries to tug it off because his thighs are burning from the position they’re locked into and he desperately wants to bend over on all fours, but Iwaizumi refuses to let go. Instead, he tightens his hold, grips Tooru’s bangs and tilts his head back to snarl in his ear. “I told you to do something.”
He’s asking too much of Tooru at this point and knows it. He knows it. Knows that Tooru is too overwhelmed, incapable of making any noises other than the nonsensical whimpers generously dripping from his lips like the sweetest syrup mixed with broken syllables of Iwaizumi’s name. He’s become his entire world. The only thing he knows.
Tooru isn’t going to do what he’s telling him to do. He knows that. But there’s something about holding this amount of power over his best friend, the strongest, most put together person he knows, collapsing into mush beneath his body. Beneath his touch. His words.
He doesn’t care if Tooru obeys. This was never about exerting his control over his boyfriend, but rather, voicing every intrusive thought that’s filled up his head like soaked cotton in the months passed. He needs to let them all out, just like Tooru desperately needs to let out his worries, his anxiety, his desire to feel true pleasure.
He pulls all the way out and slams his hips forward brutally hard once more.
It’s hot. It’s so fucking hot. Everything burns and Tooru has already screamed his throat raw. He shakes his head as he brings a trembling arm up to wrap behind Iwaizumi’s head, tug him forward over his shoulder. Every part of his body aches, flaring and pulsing and throbbing just like it does during a hard practice and he knows that he’s going to love the aftereffect once all of his muscles cool down.
But for now, in this very moment, the only thing he wants to do is kiss Iwaizumi. And so he does.
It’s a little difficult to do given their position, their heightened levels of exhaustion, both from staying up late into the night and their rough ministrations, and the fact that Iwaizumi refuses to lighten up on his thrusts. Their mouths gracelessly slide against one another and it’s all saliva and teeth, messily clacking together.
Iwaizumi releases Tooru’s hair once again, slides his hand down his cheek to grip his chin. He turns his face to the side and kisses him, holds fast when they pull away to breathe and peers into his eyes. “I love you.”
Tooru’s face flushes but he doesn’t have the time or the energy to complain about the other being embarrassing because Iwaizumi slots their mouths together once again, hips snapping into his warm heat at a more controlled pace, matching the slide of his lips. It’s drenched in adoration and Tooru’s finding it hard to breathe and he whimpers when Iwaizumi pulls away to pepper light butterfly kisses down the side of his neck. “I fucking love you so much, baby.”
His head is spinning out of control and he can’t take it much longer. He presses his nails into Iwaizumi’s arm, wails in embarrassment as his boyfriend continues to do the same thing over and over. Shallowly thrusting into Tooru’s heat, his tongue breaching more of his body than his cock due to his unending kisses, and he continues to repeat the same three words again and again and again, as if he’s trying to wire them into his brain, ensure that Tooru never forgets, even after he’s lived a thousand lives.
He can hear Iwaizumi’s ragged breath in his ear. Every brush of his roving lips feels like he’s been dunked in ice water and then set alight. His heart is thudding hard — Tooru can feel it pressed against his sweaty shoulder-blade. He brushes Tooru’s hair over his right shoulder. It takes three attempts to move it all but when he finally manages, he kisses the left side of his pale neck, biting and tugging at the skin. And he keeps on doing it. Keeps on kissing and kissing and kissing Tooru. Over and over and over again. And his head is spinning. And he can’t breathe.
Tooru rocks forward, tilts his hips so that Iwaizumi isn’t directly assaulting his prostate, tries to give his swollen insides a fleeting moment of respite, only to scream when Iwaizumi wraps a strong arm around his waist and pulls him back deep onto his cock in one fluid move.
“Where do you think you’re going, hmm?” he asks, and shit, Tooru’s crying again, his velvety walls burning from being impaled on Iwaizumi’s thick length, pulsing hot and rearranging his insides to make room for its massive girth.
He tries to push off again but Iwaizumi holds tight, buries his face in the back of Tooru’s head and inhales deeply, as if he’s attempting to commit his scent to memory. Tooru shivers when Iwaizumi shakily exhales against his throat, hot breath causing the short hair on the back of his nape to stand. He brings his hands down to twine their fingers together and holds Tooru in place as he continues to kiss his neck, thrusts inside him shallowly before whispering, “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Tooru keens at the praise. Can feel Iwaizumi’s desire burning and red, passing between their bodies from his lips to his skin. The extent of his devotion, his love for Tooru, leaving scalding burns everywhere he touches. His hands clenched so tight, body pulled flush, trying his hardest to press them as close together as physically possible.
Tooru is starting to feel just like he does right before succumbing to heatstroke. Right before he blacks out from a too hard practice. It’s a sensation he’s grown accustomed to over his time in Argentina, but this — this is foreign territory. Everything he’s ever known multiplied tenfold. It’s too much. He’s feeling too much. Everything from everywhere and his body doesn’t know how to handle the multiple ways Iwaizumi is making love to him.
With his cock, fat and swollen and red, better than anything Tooru remembers, twitching at every drag against his warm insides, its leaking head slowly filling himself up one aching second at a time.
With his hands, so strong and warm, dragging over the entirety of his sweat slicked skin. Digging hard and brutal into his scalp. Relentlessly tugging on his beautiful hair, hell-bent on ruffling it beyond belief, but also gently brushing it off his face with tender fingers.
With his arms, muscular and flexed, wrapped tightly around him. Making him feel so safe. And so possessive in their grip, as if anything looser will allow Tooru to slip away. Disappear without a trace.
With his mouth, dipping deep inside of Tooru’s over and over again. Hot presses that leave his lips tingling and their tongues tangled as Iwaizumi excavates every part of Tooru that he’s traversed thousands of times, but continues to ravenously explore. Swallowing down everything Tooru gives him like it is the sweetest ambrosia to ever exist. The divine wine of the gods.
And with his words, purposely chosen to make him melt into a pile of goo. Iwaizumi is so cruel. He knows exactly what to say. Knows exactly what Tooru likes to hear. But the worst part is that he actually means them. Every syllable, every punctuated lilt is saturated in absolute devotion, blanketed by well-voiced lust. Iwaizumi only ever speaks the truth. He loves Tooru in a way that no other being to walk the planet, mortal or otherwise, has ever experienced. In a way no one else ever will, even if they were to search to the edges of the universe. He would die a thousand times for Tooru, follow him to the ends of the world, the ends of the galaxy and it would still never be enough.
He loves him. He loves him. He loves him.
“Iwa-chan, please,” Tooru raggedly gasps, heart viciously thrumming as if it’s about to fly out of his ribcage, once again begging for his release.
And this time, Iwaizumi gives it to him.
He rakes his blunt nails over Tooru’s chest before he leans down and tightly grasps his flushed cock, lips still pressed together. Tooru’s back arches and he screams directly into Iwaizumi’s mouth as the other starts to mercilessly jack him off, face held steady by the hair on the back of his head, hips ruthlessly ramming inside.
Tooru immediately topples over the edge. Cums the longest and hardest he ever has, loud moans and sobs interspersed with garbled syllables of Iwaizumi’s name pouring straight down his throat. Iwaizumi greedily swallows whatever Tooru gives him, keeps his grip tight and consistent on his cock, even after he’s forced out the last drops of cum.
Tooru shrieks in distress when he realizes that Iwaizumi has no intention of stopping there. He grips his boyfriend’s hand and desperately tries to pull it away. “Iwa-cha — stop!’
His entire body is jerking in Iwaizumi’s hold and he shoves weakly at his arm, limbs trembling, wailing loudly when Iwaizumi locks him in tight with a muscular arm around his chest and buries his face in his hair, forehead pressed against the back of Tooru’s head as he furiously searches for his own release. “Iwa-ch — I can’t! It’s too mu — you —”
Tooru frantically claws at the other’s arm, scratches long and angry red lines into Iwaizumi’s forearms as he tries to push him away. Stop the brutal onslaught of pleasure that he’s positive is going to be the end of him.
But he forgets that Iwaizumi’s always been the stronger of the pair, knows how to handle Tooru in a way no one else does, and he holds fast while Tooru wails, legs violently shaking before going numb with the gratification of his dry orgasm.
He slumps over weakly, unable to hold himself up any longer, and feels Iwaizumi finally spill inside of him, chest heaving hard against Tooru’s back as he tries to catch his breath.
They remain this way for god knows how long, hungrily gulping down air, lungs burning and eyes watering as they come down from their highs, achingly slow.
Iwaizumi finally slackens his hold, pulls out and gently lowers them both down onto the mattress on their sides. He watches as Tooru curls in on himself, shoulders still shaking, body twitching, unable to contain the loud overstimulated sobs erupting from his throat.
He leans forward and kisses Tooru’s damp shoulder, the side of his neck, smiling when his boyfriend sucks in a deep breath in response to his fleeting touch and makes a desperate keening sound.
Iwaizumi starts to gently card his fingers through Tooru’s hair, scooting forward so that he can curl his own body around the other’s and offer him a solid sense of warmth to relax against as he continues to cry himself out.
Eventually, when the sobs begin to subside, revert to noisy sniffles and harsh breaths, he starts to nose over the back of Tooru’s neck. His hair is caked in cum from Iwaizumi’s first release and he wholeheartedly stinks of filthy sex, but Iwaizumi doesn’t care, more pleased by the fact that he’s directly responsible for the other’s fucked-out state.
He grins as he lazily drapes an arm around Tooru’s waist, pulls him flush against his groin and buries his face in his nape. Tooru shudders against the press and slides a still trembling hand down to entwine it with Iwaizumi’s before lazily bringing it back to his mouth and pressing his lips against the back of his boyfriend’s knuckles.
They’ve once again returned to the overt and absolute silence, save for the sound of Tooru’s shaky breaths, an occasional hitched sob, and the shrill wail of the smoke alarm going off in the apartment below. Iwaizumi kisses Tooru’s neck once again, tightens his hand in his hold and relaxes his muscles.
He feels so, so sleepy and so, so content. The love of his life is back in his arms once again and he couldn’t be happier. Tooru’s shoulders are still twitching and it’s a few more minutes before he inhales sharply. “Iwa-chan.”
God, his voice. It’s cracking and low and hoarse and Iwaizumi feels a sense of pride coarse through him before he replies. “What’s the matter, baby?”
“Can you—” Tooru starts, voice sandpaper rough and breaking. He grimaces and tries again. “Can you turn me over? I want you to hold me.”
“Come here,” Iwaizumi replies, gently pushing an arm underneath Tooru’s body. He fights back a smile when the other arches at his touch and helps him roll over. Tooru hisses as a stream of cum seeps out of his ass, completely soaking the sheets beneath them and he looks at his boyfriend who only grins and kisses his nose before maneuvering Tooru’s head so that it’s pressed against his throat, right over his pulse point. He wraps an arm around his waist, brings one up to tenderly stroke his hair. “Better?”
Tooru nods, his own arms tightening around Iwaizumi’s torso, nails digging into his skin as he buries his face in Iwaizumi’s sweaty chest and takes a deep breath. His usually pristine and fluffy hair lies flat and disheveled against his head, resembling a badly thrown together bird’s nest.
“So fucking pretty,” Iwaizumi coos, pressing his lips to the top of his boyfriend’s head and carding his fingers through his hair. Tooru grumbles in response, grabs Iwaizumi’s free hand and tangles it with his own before holding it against his cheek.
“You’re such an animal,” he complains, words spoken directly into Iwaizumi’s hand. Iwaizumi grins and Tooru scrunches his nose before continuing. “You’re lucky that I love you.”
Iwaizumi would be hard-pressed to deny that claim so he twines his fingers in Tooru’s hair, gives his swollen lips another kiss, then another instead. Passes many chaste kisses between them and Tooru blinks his eyes tiredly, grin wide, and the last thing Iwaizumi thinks before he drifts off into a deep sleep is how right Tooru is.
He really is lucky and so in love.