Work Text:
The sunset light filters through the windows of the Kitagawa Daiichi hallway, casting long shadows on the school floor and painting the walls orange. Oikawa heads to his locker with a yawn, eager to end this endless day and go home to play video games. He loves Fridays. Not that he dislikes playing volleyball — that sport is literally his entire life —, but ever since he started practicing three times a week, Oikawa has begun to reassess his free time. Not to mention how complicated managing his homework has become. Just thinking about the amount of stuff he must study for next week...
He’s just grabbing the books he needs to take home when he notices light footsteps approaching from behind. He doesn’t care much, at first; it’s probably a student heading to their locker. But when the footsteps slow down next to him, he has a realization.
He raises a corner of his mouth. “Tsk. You really can’t stay away from me, can you?”
Kageyama Tobio. The ‘baby king’, as Oikawa nicknamed him, stands there with his usual stiff, focused expression. But there’s something different today.
“What is it, Tobio-chan?” he asks playfully, raising an eyebrow. “You’re not going to ask me to teach you how to serve, are you? The answer’s always no!”
Kageyama visibly tenses, and Oikawa can’t help but chuckle. Teasing that kid is way too easy, and it will never cease to amuse him.
Kageyama doesn’t respond right away. He seems to struggle to find the right words. After a long pause, while his eyes dart around the hallway, he pulls out a folded piece of paper and hands it to Oikawa with a quick motion.
Oikawa looks at the paper, then at Kageyama, and finally gives him a sly smile. “Is this a love letter? You didn’t have to, Tobio-chan. Everybody knows you love me”
Kageyama blushes furiously, biting his lip and looking at his shoes.
‘He’s not even trying to deny it’ Oikawa thinks, relishing in the satisfaction that it brings him. He doesn’t linger on his own feelings at all. He wouldn’t know how to define them, or maybe he’s scared to. All he knows is that he can’t place Tobio in any category: he’s not a friend — his feelings of esteem and respect for his teammates have nothing to do with what he feels for Tobio — and he’s not an acquaintance — there’s too much history between them to consider him as such. So what is he? Why does the attraction he feels for him differ from the one he had for the girls he dated in the last few months?
Why does he find himself obsessively thinking about Tobio every night before going to bed, and not just to masturbate, but even after that? Why does he catch himself staring at him during practice, and not just to observe his technique or dwell on how naturally talented he is? Why does the cruel pleasure he feels every time he treats him badly get replaced by a crushing sense of guilt after half a second? Why does he fantasize about what it would be like to date him, take him to the movies, to the amusement park, and do everything he did with his ex-girlfriends with Tobio?
Whatever the answer may be, what connects them runs much deeper than mere attraction. But, again, Oikawa isn’t ready to define it. He’s not even ready to acknowledge it. And besides, he has no reason to worry. After all, this is his last year at Kitagawa Daiichi, and whatever this thing is, it will go away once he stops seeing Tobio.
He opens the paper, and when his eyes fall on the content, the playful smile on his face fades. It’s a drawing featuring Oikawa as the main character, captured as he jumps above the net to spike, with his hair flowing in the air and a confident smile. Not a masterpiece, but it’s clear that Kageyama put his whole self into it. Every line, every detail oozes admiration.
“It’s for you,” Kageyama mutters quietly.
Oikawa looks at him: Tobio’s cheeks are crimson, his lips pouting in a shy yet offended manner, and his eyes are fixed to the left. Despite himself, Oikawa starts to waver before his kōhai’s incessant innocence, this this sight of purity and sweetness — and this kid isn’t aware of the effect he has on Oikawa. It makes him soften. He’s not sure if he’s blushing too, but he can’t seem to find the words. And he is never at a loss for words.
Before even thinking about what he’s about to do, he glances behind Kageyama, then scans the hallway to his right and finally looks over his own shoulder. There’s no one. Not a sound. So he shifts his attention back to Tobio and, ignoring the confusion in his eyes, takes his face between his thumb and fingers, leans in, and in response to that childish, disgustingly sweet, ridiculously adorable gesture, he plants a kiss on his lips.
A kiss that, far from being brief, takes its sweet time. Oikawa firmly presses his mouth against Tobio’s with a full, loud smack, making sure the younger boy really feels it, and then gives him another, and another, and another. His lips are as soft as he remembered. It’s been weeks since he last tasted them, and suddenly he realizes just how much he missed them. Kageyama’s shock lasts only a moment before he starts to kiss back – but it’s too late, because Oikawa is already pulling away.
Tobio follows the other’s mouth with eyes closed, but Oikawa keeps him at a distance. He’s seriously worried about how far things could go if they don’t stop now. After all, they’re still in the middle of the school hallway, and soon even the most diligent students, who stayed behind longer, will start to leave. So, he decides to stay at a safe distance from his face, and just to indulge himself a little more, he brings his thumb down to Tobio’s throat and brushes his Adam’s apple. It’s then that Kageyama opens his eyes, dazed and hungry, eager, filthy, his cheeks flushed and his mouth slightly open as he breathes a bit faster than usual.
Oikawa’s legs almost give out. He needs to resort to a series of unlikely yet disgusting scenarios – Iwaizumi and Kindaichi sucking face, coach Yoshikage1 running naked around the gym, and whatever else comes to mind – and to all of his self-discipline to keep his nerves steady and not get an immediate erection. Which, by the way, Oikawa finds himself facing as soon as he lowers his gaze: Kageyama’s developing penis forms a small tent in his pants. He remembers when he held it in his hand, last time at the gym. God, he wants to do it again. The things he wants to do him…
“Careful” he says to him.
Kageyama follows his gaze, and his face instantly transforms into a mask of pure horror. Oikawa basks in the pride of having elicited such a physical reaction from him, while poor Tobio looks around anxiously to make sure no one is watching. Then he starts to adjust himself so that it’s not visible.
Oikawa watches him swallow hard, and suddenly he gets impatient. He thinks about Tobio’s tongue searching for his when they last kissed. Tobio letting himself be pushed against the wall by him. Tobio pulling the towel off him. Tobio’s whimpers in his ears and the dazed, incredulous expression on his face when Oikawa made him come.
He can’t take it anymore. He needs to be alone with Tobio.
“I’m going out with the others, tonight,” Oikawa announces, trying to sound as detached as possible. “But you can come to my house tomorrow afternoon. Bring your homework.”
Kageyama blinks like a newborn deer still trying to figure out what he’s doing in this world.
“Uh… You mean your mother’s house?”
“No, Santa Claus’s. Yeah, my mother’s, silly. Whose house also happens to be mine. She won’t be home tomorrow; she’s in Kyoto for the whole weekend”
Kageyama seems on the verge of exploding with joy, and nods vigorously. God bless the spontaneity and innocence of young kids who still don’t feel the need to play hard to get – unlike him. He pinches Tobio’s cheek.
“Well, see you tomorrow. I’ll be waiting.”
Then he slings his bag over his shoulder and walks away without sparing Tobio another glance. After a couple of steps, his kōhai’s timid, stammering voice reaches his ears.
“S-See you tomorrow.”
Oikawa smiles to himself.
The next day, they find themselves at Oikawa’s desk, each focused on their books. Since he entered his house, Tobio has barely said two words, but Oikawa can read on his face just how excited he is to be there. It probably doesn’t even feel real to him.
Kageyama never voiced it, but anyone who has ever practiced with them for even five minutes knows about the deep admiration — almost obsession — that he has for his senpai. But if there’s one thing no one knows, it’s that said admiration has blossomed into something much deeper and far less innocent, which exploded three weeks earlier in the locker room and continued under the showers. That memory alone is enough to short-circuit Oikawa’s brain. But for now, he tries to shake it off.
He spends a lot of time sneaking glances at Kageyama out of the corner of his eye, while the younger boy diligently completes his exercises without looking up even once. He’s a great student. Everything comes easy to this little fucking genius. School and volleyball. Meanwhile, Kageyama keeps pretending to be oblivious to his senpai’s gaze and finishes his page. Then he puts the pencil down on his notebook.
“I’m done,” he says.
Before he can even reflect on his words and opt for something less offensive, Oikawa chuckles out of annoyance.
“Well, congrats to you, Tobio-chan. Want a round of applause?”
Then he goes back to focusing on his own assignments. However, the guilt for that remark doesn’t take long to settle in, but it only makes him angrier. He can’t seem to stop letting his competitiveness get the better of him. It presents itself as a monster that’s born in his stomach and claws its way up to his mouth, where it explodes into the meanest and most petty phrases possible. He hates it.
But just when he begins to fear he’s hurt Kageyama’s feelings once again, the latter timidly points to a spot on the older boy’s notebook and says, “That’s not the correct result.”
Then he proceeds to write the solution right where Oikawa wrote the wrong one. Oikawa thinks about it. Damn it. He’s right. Of course he’s right.
“Thanks,” he mutters without looking at him. Then, having gathered a bit of courage, he adds, “Come on then, make yourself useful. Come closer.”
Kageyama obeys and scoots his chair next to Oikawa’s. As they finish their homework, Tobio gradually relaxes, letting his knee rest against Oikawa’s. Oikawa trembles but lets it happen. He needs to finish these damn assignments first, otherwise his mother will start nagging him again.
It takes them about half an hour. At that point, Oikawa leans back in his chair and stretches with a relaxed smile on his face. “Phew. Thanks, Tobio-chan. But don’t tell anyone, okay? I don’t want anyone to know that some middle school kid helped me with my homework.”
“You’re in middle school too.”
“Yeah, but I’m older.”
He turns to look at him, maybe expecting a clever or annoyed response, but whatever Kageyama wanted to say doesn’t come. Neither of them speaks. They just look at each other, and in an instant, everything fades. All rationality, the awareness of their surroundings, of what they are to each other. Oikawa rests an arm on Kageyama’s chair and tilts his head toward him, eyes half-lidded. Kageyama gulps, and that sound seems to echo in the deafening silence of the room.
Oikawa kisses him gently, and this time, Tobio is ready; he kisses back immediately and, gaining confidence, he eventually places a hand on Oikawa’s cheek – a shy yet strong hand, like when holds the ball and gets ready to serve.
Oikawa barely smiles against his lips.
He pulls away after a couple of minutes of chaste kissing, his heart racing like crazy. Kageyama may still be pure as holy water, but Oikawa doesn’t have that much experience either. After all, he’s only entered the magical world of girls a few months ago, and he’s never felt anything like this before. With anyone.
Tobio must never know, but he’s starting to have a decidedly strong effect on him.
Oikawa starts kissing him again with more conviction, and his hand quickly finds the small erection that has formed in Kageyama’s shorts. A shiver runs through him from head to toe, to the point that he feels the hairs on his arms stand up — besides his own dick, of course. He begins to massage Tobio through his pants with slow motions that gradually grow more decisive, until he brings him to full hardness. Kageyama’s stunned gasps crash against his mouth, hands gripping at Oikawa’s shoulders as if he’s about to fall off the chair.
When Oikawa pulls away again, they’re both out of breath. Oikawa glances at the bed, and Kageyama notices. His eyes go wide, and he blushes like a pepper, freezing instantly.
Oikawa panics. He didn’t want to scare him. Suddenly, it occurs to him that Kageyama might feel trapped. He could think that this was Oikawa’s plan all along: to invite him over just to take him to bed and do things to him. But that’s not it. Or rather, Oikawa is dying to put his hands on him since they’ve given each other pleasure for the first time, but he didn’t plan on doing it today. He genuinely invited him just to spend some time together. And it’s not his fault if this brat manages to be so hot even without talking or doing anything lewd.
In any case, he can’t have Kageyama feeling in danger, because he’s not. And if that’s what it is, he needs to make him leave right away. The truth is… he doesn’t want Tobio to hate him. It’s shocking, really, because they do act like they hate each other most of the times.
“We don’t have to do anything!” he all but yells, retrieving his hand abruptly. “It’s not—”
He falls silent. He doesn’t know what to say, damn it. He lets out a frustrated sigh. “It’s not what you think,” he continues, rubbing his eyes as he struggles with shame. “Forget about it. Just go home. I’m sorry.”
But Kageyama quickly grabs his wrist and puts Oikawa’s hand back on his hard-on. Both of them widen their eyes — Oikawa being shocked by Kageyama, Kageyama being shocked by himself and by Oikawa and by the whole situation.
“Okay,” he whispers.
Oikawa blinks. He can’t believe what he just heard.
“Okay,” Kageyama repeats, his face so red it’s nearly purple, pupils trembling with emotion.
Now, this is fucking endearing. Oikawa could eat him alive for how sweet he sounds right now. Insufferably sweet. So he swallows the lump in his throat, inhales deeply through his nose, and nods.
All the uncertainty melts away from Kageyama in that moment, replaced by a visible impatience as he stares at him with sheer, unconditional trust – in which Oikawa, however, catches a glint of lewdness that rekindles the spark that’s been simmering ever since he first laid hands on him in that locker room.
They sit on the edge of the bed and resume kissing until Oikawa decides to lay down and pull Kageyama down on top of him. Tobio is eager yet still unsure, and above all, Oikawa realizes with a rush of fondness, is still learning how to kiss, and the older boy finds himself surprisingly willing — enthusiastic, really — to be the subject on which Kageyama can practice. So he keeps calm and still between Kageyama and the bed as the younger boy tastes his lips at his own pace, giving him weak but heartfelt kisses before finally brushing his tongue against the seam.
Oikawa feels all the blood in his body rushing downward. He opens his mouth for Kageyama and lets the younger boy’s shy tongue in, with small, inexperienced licks. Oikawa places his hands on his back and grips his shirt, tilting his face to the side to help him deepen the kiss.
It works: Kageyama learns to know every feature and curve of his mouth, the wet tongue moving more boldly inside. Oikawa savors Tobio’s taste, and after realizing that his kōhai, as sharp as he is, needs a lot of encouragement before diving into things, he pushes his tongue forward to brush against his. At the contact of their wet tongues, they both shudder. To spur him on, Oikawa begins caressing his back along its entire length. Kageyama releases a trembling, desire-filled sigh into Oikawa’s mouth as his tongue licks at the roof and slides along the other.
Oikawa takes the opportunity to give in to the visceral instinct to trap Tobio’s tongue between his lips and give it a long suck. Kageyama moans in surprise, and the room soon fills with dirty, wet sounds. It is completely different from last time. Paradoxically, although this is their second snog, it feels like their first. That time in the gym was instinctive, fast, passionate and completely unglued from reality. This time it’s slower, painstaking and cautious. But intensity and desire are unchanged. They take their time, because this time they have it.
And so they continue, acquiring a rhythm that is theirs alone. A lesson on tongue kissing all based on practice, except for a few, hoarse directions from Oikawa: “Swallow, Tobio-chan. You’re drooling”, or “Stop, now, breathe”, or “Open your mouth more”.
Tobio begins to imitate Oikawa’s motions with more and more conviction, and in the moments when he sucks his tongue into his own mouth, Oikawa doesn’t care to keep to himself the pleasure he’s experiencing: he lets it all out with faint but long hums that vibrate in Kageyama’s mouth, who meanwhile continues his attacks undaunted, first plunging his tongue deep into Oikawa’s mouth, probing the whole cavity, letting their tongues play and entwine together, then withdrawing his tongue to make room for the other to do the same. Then he starts over again. He is relentless. And, just like he is in sports and study and whatever the fuck else, he turns out to be a pro. He learns quickly, and Oikawa seriously begins to think he has found himself a new passion besides volleyball. Whatever other snogging has preceded this moment can’t really hold a candle to this – to him, his Tobio-chan.
They go on lazily making out for a good ten minutes, before Oikawa notices Kageyama’s ridiculous position: he’s on top of him, but he keeps his hands on the mattress, on either side of his senpai’s head, and his back hunched over to kiss him. It looks bloody uncomfortable. How the hell can Tobio stay like that without feeling pain? Not to mention, this is preventing their bodies from touching.
Oikawa holds back an annoyed but affectionate snort, rolls his eyes and hooks one leg over Tobio’s, who winces in surprise and then falls on top of his senpai.
Oikawa lets out a noise from the sudden weight, but at least now they are pressed tightly against each other. Then, not yet satisfied, he presses his hands on Tobio’s loins to push him against himself even more and… There. This. This is exactly what he needed.
Oikawa pulls away from Tobio’s mouth with a louder moan, losing himself in the instant, giddy pleasure that the friction between their shorts gives him. He squints his eyes and makes their hard-ons rub against each other; Tobio, God bless him, gets the hint: he opens his mouth in a series of broken gasps and, looking at the spot where their groins meet, starts thrusting downwards, swaying over Oikawa’s body in a totally awkward and rhythmless, but nonetheless effective way. Oikawa’s heart tightens in his chest and his dick hardens even more. Double reaction in the same split second. This has never happened to him with any girl.
The eagerness becomes the main engine that moves their bodies and governs their minds: Kageyama lets himself go without any more shame, no longer concerned with anything but his own pleasure, that sexuality that awakened in a smelly locker room a few weeks earlier and the mad, enamored longing for his senpai. Oikawa closes his eyes tightly, brows furrowed, head digging backward on the mattress and his back slightly arched, surrendering to a need that he never felt before, a need that doesn’t let him reason, doesn’t let him think.
He doesn’t even realize what he is doing: his fingers act without any order coming from his brain, and slip under Tobio’s shorts, but not from below. From that point he reaches up until the tips of his fingers barely touch the underside of Tobio’s buttocks, warm and soft as pillows. Tobio’s eyes and mouth open wide in shock, but Oikawa doesn’t even have time to take notice: he sinks his fingertips into the flesh, throws his head back with a long groan, and comes copiously in his underwear.
It takes him longer than usual to recover from the orgasm, and the first thought he manages to formulate is that he absolutely needs to throw his clothes in the washing machine and do a laundry before his mom comes home.
Meanwhile, Kageyama has not yet stopped moving: he keeps using Oikawa’s body to give himself pleasure, and as soon as his senpai notices and he feels like he can actually breathe again, he lifts up to stop Tobio’s motions; Tobio looks at him in confusion and… fear, maybe? Oikawa mockingly lifts one corner of his mouth: ‘Relax, Tobio-chan’ he thinks. ‘If you’re afraid I’m about to kick you out without getting even, you’re so wrong’
He yanks down Tobio’s pants and underwear with a yank – the sight of his erect member sends him in a frenzy that makes him feel more powerful than he’s ever felt on the court –, grabs the lube from the nightstand, pours some on his palm and surrounds his kōhai’s hard-on. Whatever moan is about to come out of Tobio’s mouth, Oikawa stops it with his tongue, sinking it into his mouth while he switches their positions: now Tobio is lying on the bed, Oikawa lying on his own side but leaning over the younger boy as he works his hand frantically up and down on his member, thumb teasing at the opening to stimulate the release. He keeps kissing him vulgarly as he increases the speed of his wrist, and finally it happens: Tobio’s body is seized by violent and incessant shudders, his voice coming out broken and high-pitched and then there it is, the hot liquid between his fingers.
Oikawa kisses him throughout his whole orgasm, swallowing his whines; then he gives him one last, chaste kiss on the lips that Tobio doesn’t even have the strength to return. Oikawa fetches tissues from the bedside table, cleans the younger boy’s stomach and then his own hand. Tobio doesn’t even seem to notice and keeps lying with one arm covering his eyes, mouth opened to let out heavy breaths, as if he’s just finished a particularly tough practice.
Oikawa gets up from the bed and opens a drawer, rummaging for clean underwear and pants. “Why don’t you sleep over?” he prompts without turning around.
Kageyama’s faint response comes after a few seconds. “Okay.”
Oikawa gathers the clothes he needs and turns toward him. “I’m taking a shower,” he says. “Wanna come?”
Kageyama blushes from head to toe but jumps off the bed without needing to be told twice.
They have dinner with sandwiches filled with tuna and mayonnaise, shoddily prepared by Oikawa — he hates cooking and isn’t used to making attempts even when he has friends over —, brush their teeth and put on their pajamas. He lends one to Tobio, the smallest he has, but soon realizes that it wasn’t necessary: Kageyama is growing at an alarming rate — in a couple of years, Oikawa might even be able to see him grow ten or fifteen inches —, his long limbs making him as clumsy and awkward in life as he is fast and powerful on the court.
Oikawa greedily drinks in the sight of his teammate’s small, round butt, even more defined in the pants he lent him.
Then they settle in front of the TV to watch volleyball at the Olympics. They could sit on the couch, but for some reason, they sit on the floor on the carpet, legs stretched out in front of them in the dark of the room.
At a certain point, Tobio starts playing with Oikawa’s fingers, eyes glued to the screen as he twists them between his own, as if trying to measure their length. Oikawa looks at him, and shortly after, he is struck by an instinct he doesn’t recognize and pulls his hand back to put an arm around Kageyama’s shoulders. Tobio seems to welcome the gesture and immediately snuggles up against him, resting his head on his shoulder. He doesn’t seem surprised. Oikawa, on the other hand, is quite surprised.
This is not like him. He did this before, of course, but only because he knew girls like this. Or because he hoped to get a hand job at the end of the date. Or because he was bored.
Now, however, he’s doing it because he wants to — which adds yet another piece to the label he should give to his feelings but continues to stubbornly ignore it.
Suddenly, he is drawn in by an irresistible scent, a wave that hits his nostrils and which he chases, burying his nose in Tobio’s hair: they showered — and of course ended up masturbating each other again —, but they didn’t wash their hair. So this must be the shampoo Tobio uses at home. Vanilla and something else. Maybe a flower. Anyway, Oikawa can’t get enough of it.
How is it possible that even the way he smells is arousing to him?
Tobio keeps following the game, utterly oblivious; Oikawa, on the other hand, feels the usual spark in his chest that he still doesn’t understand where it comes from or what it means, but it has something to do with Kageyama.
Before he even realizes what the hell he is doing, he closes his eyes and shuts off his brain: he kisses Tobio’s hair with a gentleness and desire he did not think possible, then does the same thing on his forehead, then on his temple. Reaching down to Tobio’s hair, still a little wet from the shower, and from the hairline he sees a drop slide down to his neck. He catches it with his tongue, licking upwards to where he saw it come. He doesn’t know why. He is just following his desire.
Kageyama’s sudden gasp fades into a long exhalation, like he’s gasping for air. His eyes are closed, but Oikawa can’t see it. He focuses on the goose bumps he sees popping up on his kōhai’s skin and then he runs into his ear. As strange as it is, it feels like he is seeing it for the first time.
‘I’ve never licked him here,’ he thinks. ‘No one ever has’
It’s all slow, so slow: Oikawa rests a hand on Tobio’s throat and slips the tip of his tongue into his ear, swirling it around and licking the entire surface of the shell in a spiraling motion. Tobio’s breaths come out labored and shaky, head barely bending backward; Oikawa gently bites his earlobe and then sucks on it like it’s an addictive candy.
He only pulls away to reach for his mouth and, despite panting heavily, Tobio lets himself be kissed for a while. Oikawa goes easy on him, holding back his eagerness to let him breathe – and to avoid coming in his underwear for the second time in a day – but he still allows himself to take it with Tobio’s lower lip, sucking it and running his tongue over its length, then sucking it again. He squeezes it between thumb and forefinger, and all his willpower flies out the window when Kageyama tentatively licks at his fingertips. Oikawa’s pupils dilate to their fullest, his previously half-hard dick now fully hard as a rock.
Kageyama having a finger kink – or a hand kink, really – for his senpai’s is no secret since that time in the locker room... But Oikawa had forgotten about it. How could he have forgotten?
‘Well, what the hell. He asked for this’
He first slips his thumb into Tobio’s mouth and hooks it on his cheek, causing him to tilt his head back slightly and plant his eyes in Kageyama’s half-closed, wet ones, as he gasps around his finger. After that he pulls it out and places his index and middle fingers on his lower lip, still red and swollen from the kissing, as if to ask permission. Tobio not only grants it, but he dives into it, longingly welcoming them into his mouth and closing his eyes in total adoration. Oikawa breathlessly stares at him, his mouth half-open. He pets his hot, wet tongue all over the surface, while Tobio clings to his wrist as if afraid to have it removed from under his eyes. He sucks the phalanges and wets them, running his tongue all over them and between, letting out quiet hums and slurps that send what was left of Oikawa’s blood from his brain to his twitching erection.
When Oikawa snatches them from his mouth, Tobio makes a sound that resembles a pathetic whimper, something that arouses unprecedented fondness in his senpai; he would stick his fingers back in his mouth again if he could, but it’s really not enough for him anymore. His balls are starting to hurt. Tobio’s mouth forms a silent ‘O’ from which his pink tongue can still be glimpsed. Oikawa grabs his face between her thumb and her other fingers and, just because he can – and because in front of him is the hottest sight ever and he still can’t believe the power he has over Tobio –, he leans in and licks inside his mouth in one smooth, bottom-up motion. Kageyama keeps his mouth open, pliant and still.
God. He doesn’t even know how to formulate the thought in its entirety. He struggles to conceive it, but... he wants to spit in his mouth. Tobio would let him, no doubt. But he decides not to take the risk. Anyway, now he gets why so many people like it. He used to think it was quite weird, and never saw the point of it. Never thought that one day he would want to do that to anyone – let alone this pain in the ass that is Tobio Kageyama, of all people.
Tobio leans in to kiss him, but Oikawa holds him back with a hand. He is so turned on that he doesn’t even know what the fuck he is doing. He glues his forehead to Tobio’s and looks at him gravely.
“Tobio,” he says. He almost frightens himself, both from the seriousness in his voice and from the fact that he used his name. No chan. No ‘baby king’. No ‘brat’.
He never, ever called him by his name before.
“Oikawa-san,” whispers Tobio in an equally broken and impatient, yearning voice. There’s a perverse pleasure in the way he says his name – does he get off on being two years younger than Oikawa? On being much more inexperienced and having the chance to learn from him? –, and Oikawa is so shocked by it that he would laugh, but he doesn’t have the time. He needs to do something now, or he will implode. He looks down and gently grabs Tobio’s crotch, where his dick stands tall and hard.
Then he looks at Tobio again, praying to God and whatever other entity that the younger boy will not back down now.
“Please,” Tobio whispers, hooking a thumb at the hem of his own pants, “please...”
Sometimes, praying works.
Oikawa wastes no more time and pulls down his pants and underwear. He freezes. He gets an idea. A desire so violent that it invades his brain and sends electrical impulses to the rest of his body and makes him even harder and God he wants it so bad that he might die if he doesn’t do something.
He leans down between Tobio’s legs until he rests his elbows on the ground, grabbing his erection at the base. He looks up to the other’s eyes and slowly, slowly moves his mouth closer. He searches the other’s gaze for a sign of rejection, or even doubt. There is none. That’s all he needs.
The first contact between his tongue and Kageyama’s dick is the strangest yet sexiest thing that has ever happened to him. He begins with repetitive motions of tongue from the base to the tip, trying not to miss a single inch of the younger man’s skin, while Kageyama is forced to bite hard on his fist. Then he focuses on the slit, the tip of his tongue pressing and teasing and flicking until he feels a sweet, delicate taste, something he has never felt before. ‘It’s his cum’ he thinks, deliriously, wondering how the hell he’s even going to be able to look at him from now on during practice without getting a hard-on in front of all their teammates.
After a couple of minutes, Oikawa breathes deeply, wets his lips and takes him into his mouth. Not all of it, but just enough for Kageyama to give up trying to stay silent: Tobio sinks his fingers into his teammate’s hair with a long, high-pitched moan. This is a first for Oikawa, but damn if he won’t do his best to make it an unforgettable experience for Tobio.
And, apparently, he is succeeding:
“Oikawa-san,” Tobio keeps babbling as if he had taken a blow to the head, his high-pitched voice broken by gasps and sighs. “So good... So good, Oikawa-san... Aaa-AAHH—!”
There’s something addictive about the passion and obsession with which Kageyama says his name while Oikawa holds his pleasure in his hand – and mouth –, as if he remembers nothing else but him, as if there was no one else in the world for Tobio but him.
And maybe it’s the arousal, or the frenzy of the moment, but Oikawa finds himself thinking he wants this forever. Every day of his life. He wants to be the one to bring such pleasure to Tobio. He wants Tobio to run to him every time he needs relief.
Oikawa bobs his head with one hand still clasped at the base of his dick, milking it with his lips as his tongue presses on the underside. Fortunately, the match on the TV seems come to an end just at that moment, and the people explode in a cheer that blends with the excited words of the commentator announcing the victory of who knows what team — Argentina or Italy? He doesn’t know and he’s too busy to give a fuck – so Tobio’s desperate moans get lost in the confusion and he can let them out without holding back.
He starts pushing Oikawa’s head down, and Oikawa takes him all in, as deep as he can, hollowing his cheeks like he remembers girls doing to him. On other occasions, he would have taken some time to play with Tobio and make him beg, but now he’s too turned on not to indulge him. When the first wave explodes in his mouth, he closes his eyes tightly and forces himself to breathe through his nose, swallowing it all as he rests his other hand on Tobio’s stomach, partly to hold him down while he squirms and partly to hold on to something.
He doesn’t recall Tobio ever coming this hard before. His little ‘ah, ah, ah’ are obscene and dirty, and Oikawa finds himself hoping that he never stops coming. But, of course, eventually, it ends.
Oikawa lets out his limp member and rests his forehead on his thigh while he catches his breath. He is damn proud of himself, but he doesn’t have enough energy to brag about it. And then there’s also the little issue of his balls about to burst.
He sits up on his heels and helps Kageyama do the same. Tobio, his face on fire and still in shock, licks at Oikawa’s lips and then moves on to his neck, licking and kissing and sucking like his life depends on it, hands reaching down to caress along his sides, back, and pecs. He looks like a completely different person than he was only six hours ago when he first set foot in his house.
His hips move against Oikawa’s sex, squeezed between their stomachs.
“Fuck, yes,” whispers Oikawa in his ear, guiding their movements and gently rocking them together. “Touch me.”
No, that’s not enough. Tobio is already touching him. “Touch my dick.”
Tobio doesn’t wait a second longer. This is their thing. That’s how it all started, after all. The two of them in the gym locker room, their favorite place in the world, the place that knows them best. So Tobio immediately lifts his hand to Oikawa’s mouth, who wets it with spit without taking his eyes off the other’s.
He then begins to jerk him off quickly, with much more confidence and skills than the first time – or the second. Oikawa had resolved not not finish right away, but he decides he has resisted long enough, and spills into Tobio’s hand with a long, relieved moan.
Once he has recovered from his orgasm, Oikawa realizes that he has not let Tobio taste himself. He decides he should make up for it.
So he immediately slips his tongue into his mouth and Tobio promptly sucks at it, as if he had read his mind. Oikawa lets him do it for as long as he wants, eyes closed while a strange feeling of intoxicated euphoria mixed with inner calm makes its way inside him, investing him completely.
When Tobio pulls back, they look at each other in complete silence, until Tobio gathers his courage takes his hands away from Oikawa’s shoulders so he can wrap his arms around him, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against his. They stay like that for a while before Tobio opens his eyes again. Oikawa breaks into a relaxed, wide smile.
“Wanna do it again?”
An innocent smirk spreads across Tobio’s face, and Oikawa swears he could touch the sky with a finger.
Then Kageyama kisses him again and pushes him down.
Oikawa stands in the center of the entrance with his hands in his pockets, watching Kageyama put on shoes and jacket. It’s Sunday morning, and the sun illuminates the house with soft light.
“You’re so slow, Tobio-chan,” he teases. “Thank God you’re not like this on the court. Otherwise, we’d be screwed!”
Oikawa’s voice is sharp as always, but there’s no real malice behind it. Just the usual annoyance mixed with a slight discomfort he tries to hide behind witty remarks.
The truth is, he doesn’t quite know how to behave now. That night, things got out of hand more than he had anticipated, and even though he doesn’t regret it, he can’t bring himself to face it now. It makes him uneasy. Not because of what they did, but because he doesn’t know how to handle Tobio and his awkward innocence. He doesn’t know how to deal with the fact that they’re teammates, damn it.
Kageyama doesn’t answer, but that’s nothing new — he hasn’t spoken a word since they woke up that morning, pressed against each other with two cheerful morning erections and then jerked each other off. He moves mechanically, never quite able to look Oikawa in the eye. His cheeks are still red, as if he hasn’t stopped blushing since he stepped into the older boy’s house. Oikawa sighs and approaches him with a laid-back smile.
“So, Tobio-chan,” he says, “ready to face the day after this scandalous night?”
Kageyama blinks, clearly uncomfortable. This is too much for him, and Oikawa knows it. He’s still processing the last thirty-six hours or so. A few awkward moments of silence follow, before Oikawa decides to come up with his usual boldness. He closes the distance between them and pets Kageyama’s hair to try and make it look decent, ignoring the younger boy’s flinch at his touch.
“Come back whenever you want, okay? And don’t forget to bring your homework. Maybe we can repeat some... lessons”
The joke lands halfway between serious and funny, but it serves to break the tension. Kageyama nods, his face rigid, as Oikawa gestures toward the door. He would never openly admit it, but that clumsiness is adorable. Even the way Tobio is getting embarrassed amuses him – though he’s feeling a slight sting in his chest, which he stubbornly tries to ignore. It’s nothing, he tells himself. Nothing important.
When Kageyama reaches the door, Oikawa looks at him for a long moment, a sarcastic smile plastered on his face.
“See you tomorrow” Tobio reiterates hesitantly, looking at Oikawa for a moment before turning away from him and shutting the door.
Oikawa stands there, frozen, hands still in his pockets, staring at the closed door. But then, the footsteps he heard fading just a moment before return. Kageyama knocks. He must have forgotten something.
Oikawa opens the door. They look at each other for five seconds without a word, before Kageyama grabs the edges of Oikawa’s pajamas, stands on his tiptoes, and plants a quick kiss on his lips. Oikawa’s eyes widen so much that his eyebrows brush his hairline.
But he doesn’t even have time to react: Kageyama has already run away.