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When Hinata stands up off this wall, he’s gonna have the brick’s grain pressed deep into the backs of his thighs. He’s gonna be rust-red there just like it. He already feels a little red everywhere else his skin is exposed, sun beaming down hot enough to threaten a burn if he’s out here much longer. But Kageyama is meeting with Yamaguchi in the club room, and Hinata said he’d wait for him. So Hinata waits for him.
He kicks his legs back and forth, scuffs the backs of his sneakers into the brick. He probably shouldn’t. He’s saving up for his trip to Brazil and he can’t afford new sneakers yet, promised his mother that he’d let these ones last until the end of the school year. It feels both impossibly close and dreadfully far, and Hinata tries to make a moment of this, something still and memorable. Something to look back on when he’s oceans away from his friends and his family and the person who is both of those things to him, and more.
Speak of the devil. When Hinata stops beating the heels of his shoes against the wall, he hears footsteps, recognises the gait attached to them. He looks up to see Kageyama making his unhurried, easy way over, hands in his pockets and sun on his skin. Hinata gets struck with shyness all of a sudden. He doesn’t know whether to watch Kageyama’s approach or look away. He starts kicking the wall again.
“All good?” he says when Kageyama reaches him. Somehow manages to keep all the shyness in his head, away from his voice.
Kageyama leans next to Hinata, back against the brick. He makes a long, lithe line like that. His practice shirt presses against his stomach, his shorts against his thighs. Again, Hinata doesn’t know if he should look at him.
“Yeah,” Kageyama confirms while Hinata is deciding. “We’re going to run drills for longer tomorrow. Communication is getting better but the first years need more practice with reaction time.”
Hinata hums his agreement. He plays with the strap of his bag.
“We talked about you.”
Hinata blinks. His face feels hotter than the sun could ever make it. “That doesn’t sound very productive.”
“About you and volleyball, dumbass,” Kageyama scolds, rolling his eyes. Then he looks at Hinata. All quiet and considering. “About how good you’ve gotten. How good you are.”
See, the way Kageyama says that, it doesn’t sound like he’s talking about Hinata and volleyball at all. It sounds like he’s talking about the very things that make Hinata too shy to look at him nowadays. The things that make the bumps of his abs through that shirt and the swell of his thighs beneath those shorts more distracting than they have any right to be.
“Well, I should hope so!” Hinata exclaims. He knows he’s not keeping the shyness silent this time. “Only been doing this for nearly three years.”
Kageyama’s expression doesn’t change. He just keeps staring like he’s never seen Hinata’s face before, or is finding something new in it. Hinata sobers up under the scrutiny, folding his arms and sulking. What’s he even sulking for, having a hot boyfriend? God, Kageyama is his boyfriend.
Hintata grumbles. “If you’re going to keep staring at me, can we at least do it at your house?”
Kageyama nods once. “Okay.”
All agreeable and conciliatory, like Hinata is offering a compromise, like he isn’t ribbing him. He’s so stupid. He makes Hinata smile. He makes Hinata so, so shy.
Hinata hauls himself off the wall, wincing a little when his thighs unstick from the brick. He can already feel the redness, skin hot just above the underside of his knees where his blood is rushing back. The marks there will be sore a while longer, and Hinata is already sporting aches from today’s drills. Ugh, and Kageyama said he and Yamaguchi agreed to make those drills longer for tomorrow. He really should be more diligent about stretching.
But for now, he’s trying to figure out why he hasn’t moved a step away from the wall yet. He got down from it a couple seconds ago.
“Hinata.” Ah, that’s why. Kageyama has him pressed against it. Holding Hinata’s face, looming over him, bearing down on him. Hinata has to bend more than his neck to look up at him. Kageyama is so close, Hinata has to bend his back, too. Tilt it a little, exaggerate the dip in his spine, nudge his hips forward just to press himself closer to Kageyama, just to accommodate the way Kageyama hulks over him, leaning closer and closer with every second. Hinata does it unthinking, easy as breathing, even though he has no idea what’s happening.
“Wh—”
Kageyama clues him in. Kisses his questions quiet. Cupping Hinata’s cheeks should have been the giveaway, really. That and the way he’d said Hinata’s name, soft and low like he was trying to make sure Hinata was the only person to hear it, even though there’s nobody around. Even the sun’s disappearing. They’re the only people here, yet Kageyama makes his voice and his mouth gentle and covert, bending Hinata into him and pressing him back against the wall as if he wants to hide Hinata from onlookers.
It’s been a few months, but Hinata is still getting used to the fact that Kageyama can kiss him now. That he can kiss Kageyama back. He thinks part of it has to do with the way Kageyama just fucking—jumps him. He’ll stare at Hinata like there isn’t a single thought behind his eyes, then steer him into a kiss so encompassing, it simply had to have been all he was thinking about the entire time. He’s so focused. So one-track. Treats Hinata with the same attention, the same genius, that he applies to the sport he’s been playing his entire life, and he’s only been kissing Hinata since February.
But like always, Hinata keeps up. Lets his mouth melt, goes lax in Kageyama’s hands. A little too lax; Kageyama has to plant his hand to Hinata’s spine to keep him standing, and once he notices the leverage, he uses that same hand to press Hinata even closer against him. Bends him even more.
When Kageyama decides he’s had his fill, he doesn’t tug himself away like Hinata has seen in movies. The kiss ends as softly as it started. Hinata doesn’t even realise Kageyama’s lips have left his own until he feels an early evening breeze brush his wet mouth, chilly after how flushed that kiss got him. Hinata blinks. Kageyama, still looking at him, sets Hinata fully upright and steps away.
Now Hinata really isn’t sure if he should look at him.
He asks, “Why?”
Kageyama answers, “Wanted to.”
And ah, okay, Hinata is understanding that look now. It’s the kind of look that might mean Kageyama is going to fuck him when they get home. Or it means that the kiss could have been enough, and this look is just a reminiscing look. Thinking about how good it was rather than anticipating how good something else might be.
Hinata isn’t sure yet. This side of Kageyama, the one that wants Hinata’s body, is still new, even though Kageyama’s want in general isn’t. Kageyama wants quite frequently and quite openly if you know the signs. Usually (predictably), his want is volleyball-related, and even if it is somehow directed toward Hinata’s body, it’s still volleyball-related. Jump higher or run faster, y’know? This other stuff is uncharted territory so Hinata is still learning what it looks like on Kageyama’s face.
He starts another lesson as they finally head out of school grounds, picking up Hinata’s bike along the way. Discreetly as possible, Hinata throws Kageyama sideways glances until he’s certain Kageyama isn’t going to catch his gaze. Coast clear, he takes in Kageyama’s eyes. Pretty impassive. His cheeks next. Blush-free (unfair: Hinata feels like blushing just standing next to him). Finally, his mouth. A thin, pink line, unpursed, not even too relaxed. Just there. Soft-looking. Maybe a little wet still, from humidity and Hinata’s mouth.
“Ow.”
Hinata walks into a pole. Kageyama stands next to it, looking down at Hinata again, nowhere near as amorously as he has been the past twenty minutes.
“Thanks for the warning, asshole! Didn’t you see it?” Hinata accuses, rubbing his nose.
Kageyama frowns harder. “Didn’t you?”
The shyness again. Why can’t Hinata tell Kageyama that he walked into a pole because he was looking at him, and only him? Why was he even trying to be discreet about it?
“Got distracted,” Hinata mumbles, sulking again.
Kageyama lets it go, probably because he has no right to rib Hinata about being distracted. He steps to the side so Hinata can maneuver his bike around the pole, then they’re quiet again. Walking along the path again. They’ve walked it before, countless times over the years, but only recently have they walked it as boyfriends. Only recently has Hinata been able to attach some pretty embarrassing memories to it. Getting called out by Tsukishima for the bruises Kageyama had left on his neck the one time they’d all decided to walk home together (that’s probably why it has stayed the one time). Getting pressed up against a similar pole further along the way, taking Kageyama’s impromptu kisses until he’d had to let his bike fall just to keep himself from falling. Limping down the cobblestones because Kageyama, with that similar spontaneity, had decided he couldn’t wait until they got to his house and instead fucked Hinata in the club room.
It’s a whole lot different to how the memories of this path from first year look. The most he’d touched Kageyama then was to flick him in the side. The most Kageyama had touched him then was to pull on his hair. So maybe it’s not all that different.
Hinata likes it all. He loves it. He just wishes he knew how to wrap his head around it. He’d thought having the crush alone was overwhelming, but second-year-Hinata Shouyou had no idea what was waiting for him. Nothing’s as overwhelming as reciprocity.
The air’s so thick with reciprocity, even in all this silence. Kageyama is walking up to his front door and unlocking it and letting Hinata inside and he isn’t saying a word, but his love is loud anyway. His want is loud. Hinata has been studying him the entire walk, and now that he knows what to look for (namely, nothing), it’s plain as day and as loud as another human in the room, another voice: Kageyama wants Hinata. Kageyama wants Hinata as much as Hinata wants him, and Hinata wants him badly.
Still shy about that though. Still shy enough to be caught unawares when Kageyama pulls Hinata away from the genkan, tucks him against yet another wall, and kisses him again. He has somehow made this one hungrier, enough for Hinata to know that the look in his eyes from earlier hadn’t been just a reminiscing look.
“We’re—”
Kageyama only lets him get one word out. The disapproving grunt he pushes onto Hinata’s mouth suggests he’d rather Hinata didn’t speak at all. He has to get his fill first, so Hinata lets him. Gasps and kisses back and rises onto his tiptoes when Kageyama paws at his waist. They haven’t even turned the lights on yet.
The way he bites Hinata’s mouth might suggest otherwise, but Kageyama is human. Even super tall, ridiculously athletic, permanently horny volleyball geniuses need to breathe. This time, they do pull apart kinda violently. Kageyama rips himself away from Hinata’s mouth hard, but holds onto Hinata’s hip harder, and Hinata can’t decide which hurts more. The air he heaves down his lungs tastes lush skating over his tongue. He can’t see much of Kageyama in the darkness. He speaks up before Kageyama can silence him again.
“We’re gonna fuck, right?”
Another beat or two of quiet. When Kageyama responds, he sounds like he’s frowning. “Do you want to?”
“I want to if you want to.”
Kageyama says, quite plainly, “I always want to.”
Plainly. Like it’s as normal for him to say as it apparently is for him to think. Like it’s always been true, like that very same part of him, the wanting-Hinata’s-body part, has been obvious the entire time they’ve known each other. And sure, to some extent it has, at least if Hinata listens to any of their friends’ complaints. But Hinata hadn’t known until recently. Hinata had barely known what to do with his dick until recently, refusing to even look at how hard it got whenever he thought about Kageyama until their first kiss (that was a very, very long time to not look at his dick).
But he knows what to do with it now. More importantly, so does Kageyama. And it appears he’s looking for another chance to learn.
Hinata says, “I always want to.”
Maybe it doesn’t sound convincing. It prompts Kageyama to finally turn on the lights, and Hinata’s wince is far too exaggerated for someone who’s just adjusting to the brightness. He realises he’d been hiding in that darkness. Found some comfort in it. Now that Kageyama can see all of him, he feels an irrepressible urge to put his head behind his hands. He wants this so much until he has to be seen wanting it so much.
Kageyama looks down at Hinata. His hair’s messy from Hinata’s fingers and his chest is still rising-falling a little too dramatically, still trying to catch his breath. He is frowning. “Are you sure?”
Hinata plays dumb. “Why wouldn’t I be sure?”
“You get nervous around me when we do this. Sometimes.”
He’s noticed?? Kageyama has grown a lot these past years, in far more ways than physically, but he’s still an idiot about most things. Still dense, still generally unobservant, still obtuse about pretty much everything that isn’t volleyball.
And Hinata.
God. Of course he’s noticed. And Hinata has let him notice. All those times Kageyama stared at him, looking like he was finding something new in Hinata’s face, was that what he’d seen? The shyness? He must’ve felt so confused.
Hinata sighs, poking his dropped school bag with a socked foot. He doesn’t hide behind his hands but he does lower his gaze.
“Yeah, I do. Sometimes. But not because I don’t want this.”
Kageyama waits for him.
“It’s just a lot, y’know? We’ve known each other so long and we were rivals first, then we were best friends, and now we’re… this. And it’s awesome, I like it, and I’ve wanted it for ages, but it’s still so—wah. That you want it this much too.”
Is he making sense? Kageyama’s face suggests he isn’t, though again, there isn’t much that makes sense to Kageyama anyway. Hinata knows by now how to say exactly what Kageyama needs to hear. He’s always known, really. It’s just that it’s gotten harder to do the more they mean to each other. The more they learn.
It takes a good long while for Hinata to finally admit, “I get shy about it.”
But it takes Kageyama barely a second to grin kind of evilly and ask, “I make you shy?”
Hinata baulks and surges forward, fist-first. “Asshole.” Kageyama catches his wrists immediately. Hinata flails about trying to hit something, and only strikes air. He can’t even throw his hands up in frustration. “Whatever!”
Kageyama is laughing at him. He still sounds like he’s never laughed a day in his life, jerky and stilted, almost like it hurts. It makes Hinata laugh too, even as his face is still aflame, and it only gets hotter when Kageyama quiets down and watches him. Again, it’s hard to know what he’s thinking.
“I get shy about it, too.”
Hinata’s jaw drops, lips opening and closing on air. “You never look shy.”
“Because I always remember it’s just you.”
But that’s the problem. It’s because it’s just Kageyama that makes this worse. He’s everything. How could Hinata not get embarrassed when his everything looks at him, touches him, the way Kageyama does?
“Yeah,” Hinata mumbles. “Just you.”
Kageyama pushes his lower lip out, frustrated. He’s still holding Hinata’s wrists aloft, and keeps them there while he thinks. Considers something.
“Have you tried closing your eyes?”
Hinata’s mouth crumples. “Eh?”
“While I fuck you. Would you be less embarrassed if you couldn’t see me?”
Hinata doesn’t know what to say to that. His instinct is to ridicule, because he’s not exactly the pinnacle of maturity but this seems childish even for him. Close his eyes? Like if Hinata can’t see Kageyama, then Kageyama can’t see him? He hasn’t been scared of something in that way since he was five, though he supposes the thinking isn’t so different to what he’d been doing earlier; using the cover of darkness as a shield…
Hm. There would be comfort in this approach, Hinata acquiesces. Probably a lot of comfort. It would be nice to take Kageyama in without the insecurity, the overwhelm of his scrutiny. Still, there’s something about the suggestion that sits like something sour in Hinata’s stomach, something much more bitter than the insinuation of immaturity.
“‘Yama. You think I don’t want to look at you?”
There’s too much implicit in that. It reminds Hinata that Kageyama has noticed every moment of his nervousness. He needs to know that it’s because of him, but not because of him. It’s shyness, not discomfort. It hurts to think that Kageyama wants to rid himself from Hinata’s vision when they’re at their most vulnerable, when they shouldn’t be ridding each other of anything other than clothes. Hurts to think that Hinata got him there.
But Kageyama is shaking head, even more frustrated. Hinata isn’t getting it.
“No,” he clarifies. “I think it might help if you can’t.”
Hinata… still isn’t getting it. Kageyama tightens his grip on Hinata’s wrist before Hinata can ask for further clarification. His thumbs press into the dip beneath Hinata’s palm, that thinnest skin.
“So you can just feel me,” Kageyama finishes.
“Kageyama…”
“Try it now.”
Hinata looks into Kageyama’s eyes until he can’t anymore. The blue there is wickedly encompassing, dark beneath his bangs. Hinata does as he’s told and trades that darkness for the one behind his eyelids, and it’s warmer. It’s comfier. It doesn’t feel lonely like he worried, empty like he worried. He’s not hiding. He’s just feeling.
There’s nothing to do but feel. He hadn’t realised just how distracting Kageyama is to look at while they touch. Temporarily blinded, there’s so much more for Hinata to focus on freely. Like Kageyama’s hands. Their only point of contact. His fingers circle Hinata’s wrists so easily. Makes Hinata’s bones feel birdlike, his chest hollow.
Kageyama loosens his hold, but only to slip his hands up. Still encircling, his fingers stroke up Hinata’s forearms. Hinata’s breath rattles. He can feel every second of this, every inch where Kageyama’s palms touch him, every inch where they don’t. He doesn’t have sensitive arms, at least he thought not, until Kageyama’s fingers reach his elbow, the bones there. Those knobs already poke out, but now they feel like they’re outside his skin. Broke free of it to feel Kageyama’s long fingers.
He still hasn’t stopped. Up, up, up he goes, higher and higher. The inside of Hinata’s elbows (maddening), his upper arms, approaching his armpits (ticklish). Hinata wants to squirm because it feels like Kageyama might go beneath the sleeves of his shirt, and there’s something about that that has him so hard between his legs that he won’t be able to walk to Kageyama’s bedroom whenever they stop this.
He does go beneath Hinata’s shirt, but not the sleeves. Faster than Hinata can try to suck in another breath, Kageyama has removed his hands entirely and fit them instead on Hinata’s lower back. He’s a lot less patient with his ascent this time, and sweeps his palms up either side of Hinata’s spine so quickly that Hinata would fall if Kageyama didn’t cup his shoulder blades and hold him up, pull him closer.
And that’s where he stops. Hinata’s shirt is up around his scapula and Kageyama is cupping him there, and they’re pressed hip to chest. Hip to chest. To chest. Nothing higher. Kageyama’s mouth is so close, Hinata can feel the fucking air around it, how it’s different to the air that whispers out from between Kageyama’s lips.
This is why the blindness is good. If Hinata’s eyes were open even a little, he’d see whatever Kageyama looks like right now, what he looks like when he’s reacting to just how fucking much Hinata wants to be kissed. That look would embarrass him. But there’s nothing to see now. Hinata can want as much as he wants.
“Yeah,” he whispers. “Yeah, okay. This helps. But just this once, okay? I don’t want you to think that I don’t wanna see you when we—when we do stuff like this.”
“I don’t think that.” His voice is immediate, the same colour as Hinata’s dark eyelids.
“I know, just. Please.”
Kageyama hums. “Okay.” It’s a sweet sound, like he’s making a sweet face. Like he appreciates Hinata’s concern. It’s the first time since they started that Hinata wishes he could open his eyes.
“We’re going to my room,” Kageyama says. He doesn’t sound so sweet anymore. “Keep them closed.”
Hinata nods but stumbles when Kageyama moves him. Kageyama has to take a hand off Hinata’s back to steady him, to guide him throughout the house. Keeps his right hand on Hinata’s shoulder blade though. He must like it there, and that’s what gets Hinata thinking about Kageyama’s side of this. He can see everything, sure, but how does Hinata feel against him? Is it overwhelming for him too, the way Hinata’s bones roll into the cup of his palm as they walk? If it is overwhelming, does he like it?
Once Hinata gets his bearings, he manages the stairs just fine, has walked them enough times seeing to walk them perfectly sightless. Kageyama still holds him though. Hinata is so aware of him. He’s shorter than Hinata for a few seconds because he’s one stair behind, but when they’re back on level ground, he looms over Hinata, and Hinata can feel that. It makes him shudder, and that makes Kageyama press even closer, loom even larger.
Almost the second that they cross into Kageyama’s room, Kageyama tucks his hand even higher up Hinata’s shirt. Wants it off. Hinata obliges, lifting his sensitive arms with their pokey elbows so Kageyama can pull his shirt over his head. There’s a lot more comfort in this part, too. Hinata has changed in front of or beside Kageyama endlessly over the years, and even that was tough to get used to in the context of a relationship, but there’s nothing to worry about now. He can’t see Kageyama’s face, just has to trust that Kageyama likes what he sees, and he wouldn’t fuck Hinata the way he does if he didn’t.
It’s easy, too, for Hinata to step out of his shorts and underwear at Kageyama’s coaxing. Easier still to let Kageyama walk him to the bed, to fall on his back atop it. Not so easy is waiting to the rustle of Kageyama’s clothes as he undresses too. Hinata fiddles with his fingers, trying not to close his legs. Very aware of how hard he is, but he can’t see it, so why would he worry? That’s all for Kageyama now.
Yeah. All for Kageyama.
The bed dips. Hinata feels it like a crater. More craters as Kageyama orients himself on the mattress, climbing over Hinata, god, he’s over him. Between his legs, nudging them open. This time, the air between them is hot. The rest of the house isn’t. That’s Kageyama’s body heat, unimpeded by clothes. He’s naked above Hinata and Hinata is naked beneath him, and the space between them feels cavernous, like it couldn’t possibly be crossed with something as simple as leaning in.
And still, Kageyama does. He draws nearer and nearer, that hot air compresses, starts to spill over Hinata’s chest and shoulders. He wants to lean up but he doesn’t want to rush this, doesn’t want to risk touching too soon. He likes not knowing when they’ll meet. He wants Kageyama to come to him.
It’s a slow thing when it happens, that kiss. It feels like the first touch Hinata has had in months, the first kiss they’ve had ever. He is eager and whiny, and immediately dips his tongue out to touch Kageyama’s, and immediately gasps when he finds it. This wet, persuasive thing. His cock kicks off his stomach a little. His fingers twitch on his belly. He hasn’t decided whether or not he wants to use them. That feels like another thing he should wait for Kageyama to guide him on, wants to be touched rather than touch, just this once.
When they break apart, Hinata swallows. “You feel big.”
Kageyama hums. “You look small.”
“Do you like that?”
“I’ve always liked that.”
Hinata doesn’t want to think about how long ‘always’ implies. He’ll come if he thinks about how long ‘always’ implies.
“You don’t mind that I can’t see you?”
“No,” Kageyama answers truthfully. “And I can tell that you don’t either.”
Hinata knows what he’s talking about. Kageyama is kissing his way down to exactly what he’s talking about. Down Hinata’s neck, down his chest. Moving Hinata’s arms out of the way so they’re by his head on the pillow. Sucking the newly uncovered skin of Hinata’s stomach between his teeth. Pressing a wide-palmed, long-fingered hand to Hinata’s chest when he bucks.
“I don’t care as long as I can see you.”
Hinata barely remembers what Kageyama is responding to. Had he asked a question? How many years ago, if he had? The thing about losing sight like this is that everything that happened a second ago ceases to exist. The future, its promise, its potential, matters a little, but nothing matters more than what’s happening right now. Hinata can’t focus on anything that isn’t happening right now, and what’s happening right now is Kageyama’s tongue, that wet-persuasive thing, flicking the head of Hinata’s cock.
It nearly shocks Hinata’s eyes open. He has to squeeze to keep them shut, and that gets tears dotting the corners, but that might also be the immediacy of that pleasure. It’s barely anything. Kageyama has teased him with much less. But Hinata hadn’t seen it coming. He can’t anticipate anything, can’t brace for anything. If Kageyama wants to lick him here, or taste him there, Hinata can only spread his legs wider for it. He definitely can’t be embarrassed about it.
“Kageyama,” he sighs, screwing his face up against the bliss, squirming under Kageyama’s hand, still pinning him to the mattress by his chest.
“Yes?” Kageyama lifts his mouth to ask.
Hinata grasps for coherency and comes up with a couple more whines for his efforts. Kageyama laps a little longer at Hinata’s cock, playing with it, curling his tongue like he might be about to suck Hinata into his mouth, and he never does. Hinata isn’t sure how long Kageyama stays there but it’s long enough to get orgasm creeping along the backs of his parted thighs. He wonders if Kageyama can taste that difference out of him, because he pulls away just as something starts to crest. Hinata pants, wet in his closed eyes and his open mouth.
“This is… this is insane.”
Kageyama huffs a short laugh. The bed is dipping again, a drawer opening and closing, the cap of a bottle clicking. Hinata bunches Kageyama’s pillowcase between his fingers. Releases it. Bunches it again.
When Kageyama touches him once more, it’s Hinata’s thigh he holds. Lifting, pushing, until Hinata’s right leg is bent up and his left is still splayed on the bed. The furthest apart he’s been spread today, and he feels it like fire. Today’s practice burns only a little less hot than arousal.
The lube cools him. It’s thick and cold on Hinata’s exposed rim, smears easily. Kageyama is using two fingers and Hinata feels them rub on him, index finger pressing harder than middle finger, then both pressing hard at once. He massages Hinata soft and pliant and pushable. Hinata’s toes curl.
He is already overfull. Kageyama is ceaseless with how much he makes Hinata take, dipping him again and again into bliss’s well and Hinata is saturated enough. Submerged one more time and he’ll fall apart in Kageyama’s fingers. On them.
So of course Kageyama pushes them inside. It’s barely even a push for how wet Hinata is there now, barely even an intrusion. Kageyama presses and presses and Hinata opens and opens, his hole his mouth, almost his eyes. Kageyama doesn’t wait for Hinata to adjust because he doesn’t need to. Sightless, there is nothing for Hinata to tense up about except pleasure, and Kageyama likes when he gets tight like that anyway, so he’s pumping his fingers immediately. A slow in-out, but an in-out all the same, far more than he’d try this soon if Hinata was sighted and nervous.
Hinata does spare a passing thought to what Kageyama must look like now. He’s too comfortable to chance a glance, but Kageyama’s silence is very telling. Hinata thinks he knows exactly what he’d see.
“Are you—are you staring?” he pants.
Instantly, Kageyama answers, “I like how it looks.”
“...That’s a weird thing to like.”
Hinata can pretty much hear Kageyama tilting his head to the side, frowning. “Is it?”
Hinata thinks about it some more. Thinks about what he likes the look of on Kageyama. The way his abdomen tapers down into a sharp, V-like wedge, leading to his cock. The dark trail of hair on that wedge. The specific shade of red Kageyama’s cock gets when he’s about to come.
“No. No, I guess not.”
Kageyama’s hum isn’t smug. It’s distracted. He must be staring hard. The way he’s tucking his fingers in and out, twisting his wrist, is such a specific kind of exploratory. He’s playing with Hinata’s hole, teasing it open, pressing against Hinata’s rim any way he can just to watch changes in pressure, in shape, in colour. He’s so gross.
“You would like it too, if you could see it. You’re so small and wet, Hinata.”
Fuck. So, so gross. Hinata wants to kick him but doesn’t trust himself to without hitting something important and ruining Kageyama’s dumb, intimidatingly perfect face.
Sensing the urge, maybe, Kageyama refocuses. The movement of his fingers takes on more intention, finds Hinata’s prostate and stays on it, slipping in a third finger to add more pressure, more stretch, when Hinata whines all caught-up and hurt.
“That feels good,” Kageyama says. He’s not asking. He’s telling Hinata it feels good. He knows.
“Yeah,” Hinata gasps anyway. “Yeah, more.”
Kageyama's mouth sweeps Hinata’s skin, back and forth, slowly. He’s shaking his head, and it’s somehow up there as one of the sexiest things he’s done today. “You’ll come if I give you more.”
“Is that—oh—is that not the point?!”
“Not if it means we have to stop. I’m not done yet.”
The admittance is what gets Hinata. How easily Kageyama gives it. He wants to keep making Hinata feel good, but not good enough to come, because he’s not ready to stop. He wants to keep nudging his fingers against Hinata’s prostate because he likes how Hinata’s hole looks when it squeezes on his knuckles. Or something.
“I won’t come, I promise.”
Kageyama looks unconvinced. “Won’t you?” Taps Hinata right there, on the inside, like he’s trying to prove him wrong.
And he might. The way this pleasure comes from darkness, feels like it’s stirred up from nothing, is debilitating. There is nothing else for Hinata to focus on but how it pulls on him, makes him painfully aware of that place deep in his stomach where orgasm starts to coalesce. He’s shaking all over, he’s hard, he’s wet, his throat is raw.
“I lied, I will.”
Kageyama snorts. It’s a jarring noise but still sounds wide, open, like he’s smiling with it. Then Hinata feels something sharp, hard, wet, pinching into his thigh. Kageyama’s teeth, nipping him there, sucking when he pulls away, leaving a kiss before he’s all the way gone.
“Hinata,” he says quietly, the kind of softness that doesn’t want a response, just wants to be heard. As Kageyama pulls his fingers out, Hinata reaches with his own, pawing at the air until Kageyama stills his search, interlocking the fingers on his free hand with Hinata’s.
“Can you come closer?” Hinata asks. He wants that earlier air-compression again, wants to feel small under Kageyama, like he takes up almost no space. Wonders if that would make him feel tighter for Kageyama.
“Hold on,” Kageyama says. “Let me get inside you first.”
Hinata has never needed to see his blush to know how fiercely it takes over his face. That comment sets it alight again. He plays with Kageyama’s hand, draws circles in his palms, while the lube bottle clicks again, while Kageyama strips his dick with what might well be the last of its contents. And that sound. The obscene slick of Kageyama pumping himself, knuckles wet, fist full. Hinata squirms.
“Wish I could look.”
Kageyama snickers. “Heh.” Pumps his cock faster.
“Jerk,” Hinata pouts even though his own cock aches at the tease.
“I am.”
“Kageyama!” Hinata splutters an outraged laugh.
Sometime in the middle of it, the air changes again, that same press and spill. Hinata’s mirth simmers, replaced by want so electric it might be sparking between them if he could see. With the closeness, Kageyama lets go of Hinata’s hand, and another crater in the bed suggests he’s leaning on it next to Hinata’s head. With the closeness comes Kageyama’s cock, pressed blunt and thick against Hinata’s rim. Sometimes, Kageyama will circle him there, wait to push in. It seems tonight, he’s had enough of playing. He feeds Hinata his cock immediately. Hinata feels Kageyama’s knuckles press to his ass, steadying, holding his cock so he can push his hips forward, so he can fill Hinata in one slow, unimpeded surge.
And again, he doesn’t wait, doesn’t tease. He’s fully seated for barely a breath then he’s tugging away, and shoving back in. Shoving quick, punching air from Hinata’s lungs in a moan that rips up his throat. Hinata slaps his hand to Kageyama’s arm. Grips hard, sticks his nails in. It’s the give of Kageyama’s skin and not Kageyama’s grunt that makes Hinata realise just how tightly he’s holding him, just how much it hurts.
“Sorry,” he pants.
“You can hold me,” Kageyama gasps. “Does it help?”
“Yeah,” Hinata says, feeling small and overwhelmed already. “Makes me feel like I can handle it.”
Kageyama hums. “Okay.” He shifts his hips. Tucks his head into Hinata’s neck. “Hold tighter.”
God, Hinata thinks. Then, “Fuck!” he yells as Kageyama does just that. He hasn’t fucked Hinata like this before. Loving and punishing. Forceful curves of his hips, knocking on Hinata deep, making his teeth clack. Such abandon, this barrage that he doesn’t seem to care if Hinata can take. Hinata clings crescents into the skin of Kageyama’s arms, then his back, and tries his best.
He’s so unmoored without his vision. He won’t say it feels better, wouldn’t ever prefer anything other than being able to see his fingers dragging welts into Kageyama’s shoulders, or Kageyama’s face scrunching between the brows with all that sexy, ceaseless effort (or sometimes, if Kageyama feels ruthless enough to lift up and show off, the thin, wet stretch of his body trying to fit Kageyama inside). But there’s something to it. The surrender of it all. He’s simultaneously aware of every space Kageyama touches him, inside and out, and unable to catalogue any of it. The only thing Hinata can say, scream, with certainty, is that it’s good.
“So good,” he sobs, holding tight just like Kageyama told him to, because his large, looming, invisible presence here makes Hinata want to be so good too. “Like it so much.”
All Kageyama can respond with for a moment is a bite. Hooking his teeth into Hinata’s neck, another point of contact for Hinata to be so aware of and so untethered by.
He nails Hinata a little longer that way, keeping Hinata between his teeth and his cock, barely letting him bounce up the bed with those thrusts, truly making him take them all. Only when Hinata is almost certain he has screamed himself hoarse does Kageyama speak, removing his bite but not his mouth. Hinata probably wouldn’t hear him if his eyes were open, if he wasn’t so attuned to everything his ears tell him.
“You like it?” Kageyama asks.
“Yes, fuck, yes.” Where’s the confusion? Are Hinata’s wet cries, his wetter cock, not enough?
“I think you more than like it, Hinata.” Kageyama shifts his hips, starts lifting them higher. He’s making Hinata scrabble, arch up, chase his cock until he’s balancing on his shoulders. Curved up, almost hanging off Kageyama’s cock, and it’s in his guts now, feels like it’s drilling even deeper, down instead of just in.
“Love it,” Hinata whispers in his darkness. “Kageyama, I love it.”
“Kiss me.”
Hinata melts on that cock a little more, has to work extra hard to keep his hips up for it, clinging to Kageyama desperately.
“Where are you?” he pleads, feeling Kageyama so close, leaning over him, he’s right there, can feel Kageyama’s breath on his mouth again. “C’mon, come here…”
“No. Find me.”
Hinata doesn’t start the search immediately because he’s trying not to come at the command. Kageyama likes Hinata like this. It might not be the best for him either, Hinata is certain he misses the eye contact especially in moments like this, but he likes watching Hinata struggle all the same. Likes to watch Hinata chase blind.
Hinata feels desperate, almost hopelessly needy, lips puckered, neck straining, eyes squeezed shut the entire time, getting fucked the entire time. The cords in Kageyama’s neck are shifting ever so slightly under Hinata’s fingers, so that means he’s moving. Taking his mouth out of reach the second Hinata gets close to it. There’s a humiliation to this that burns like orgasm in Hinata’s gut, and he worries he came already, somehow didn’t notice. He lets out a squeaky whine at the prospect, and he sounds so near tears even to his own ears that Kageyama takes pity on him. When Hinata feels Kageyama’s lips brush his own, Kageyama keeps them there. He lets Hinata press forward to fully, finally meet them.
And then he comes. Good to know he could never be oblivious to the orgasms Kageyama gives him. Never too overwhelmed to miss their rush.
Hinata doesn’t scream. Kageyama’s surging, searching kiss keeps his lips and tongue too occupied to make more than these soft, sighing moans as he spills on his stomach. He’s shaking though. He’d been tense down to his toes trying to maintain this position, and orgasm takes hold of his body and wracks it, breaks the structure to pieces until Kageyama has to slow his thrusts to press Hinata back down onto the bed, completely flat. Slow, not stop. He keeps Hinata full with soft little pulses of his hips, using Hinata’s hole gently. It pulls Hinata’s orgasm along interminably, dragging it like a thread through sand so even as it ebbs in one area, it still flows in another. Kageyama keeps Hinata taut like that until he comes too, not quite as quiet but not too loud either. Groaning all manner of curses into Hinata’s mouth, kissing them down Hinata’s gasping throat.
Hinata’s ears are ringing, and that finally makes the darkness too overwhelming. He waits for Kageyama to pull apart from his mouth, to back away enough for Hinata to know he’ll see all of his face when he opens his eyes. Then he does.
The world is in technicolour behind Kageyama’s head, brighter and fuller than Hinata has ever seen it, but he doesn’t have eyes for it. He only has eyes for how fucking blue Kageyama’s are, the ink sweep of his eyelashes over them. The peaks of his face, his nose and cheekbones and chin, how pink with pleasure they are. His hair in disarray, some strands sweat-plastered to his forehead, others mussed off it. His kissed mouth, so much plumper than usual, redder, open to pant. Hinata takes stock of Kageyama and all the many ways he is so, so beautiful, and he doesn’t disparage his earlier shyness. He understands himself completely. But he doesn’t think he can go a moment longer without seeing this face again. Even blinking is a hindrance.
“I missed you.” It’s just you.
Kageyama is still inside him. His cum is seeping out around his cock.
Kageyama says, “I missed you, too,” like he’s promising Hinata the world.
Hinata laughs wetly. “Stupid. You were looking at me the whole time.”
Kageyama stares so, so deeply through Hinata’s open eyes.
“No, I wasn’t.” His gaze is in Hinata’s soul. “Now I am.”
Hinata really did miss him. So much. He doesn’t think he’ll do something like this for some time, shyness be damned. Doesn’t want to go another second without Kageyama as all he can see. But he supposes it was nice to get a feel for it.