Chapter Text
It was just them now.
Just them. Iwaizumi and Oikawa. Sprawled out around the table in the Oikawas’ living room with some random rerun of a show providing background noise. Oikawa wiggled his bare feet as he combed through the papers on the table. A printed ticket, a couple of maps, addresses and emergency contacts. Iwaizumi scrolled through his phone, double- no, triple-checking the flight tomorrow at this point.
Farewell dinner had gone well. Yahaba had insisted on picking up the tab for ramen as their new captain. Kindaichi gave his respected senior a hug longer than necessary, almost breaking into tears as he wished him all the best wishes he could squeeze out. Hanamaki and Matsukawa were there to peel him off of a laughing Oikawa, tousling his hair and cracking jokes in an attempt to comfort the boy. Watari presented a brand new Aoba Johsai turquoise shirt, signed in permanent marker by everyone on the team. Even Kyotani made the effort to show up, even though all he contributed was a permanent scowl. Oikawa bought a round of ice cream at the convenience store afterwards, and Kindaichi nearly started sobbing again. Yuda beats him to it this time, a dripping cone in one hand and Oikawa in the other as he pushes through a heartfelt ramble of pride.
The rest of the Oikawas were out making the most of summer vacation with Takeru. They had intended on getting home just in time to send off their son, but a pickpocket and a lost passport later, their return trip was doomed to delay. His mother had called the neighbours’ boy, apologetically asking him to stay over and keep Oikawa company before his flight as he had always been a sentimental kid.
So Iwaizumi was here, kicking Oikawa off as he tried to prop his foot up on Iwaizumi’s thigh.
“Ow! Iwa-chan!”
“Just because you’re leaving tomorrow doesn’t mean you get special treatment.”
“You’re trying to break my knees and plug my career before it takes off!” Oikawa makes a face. “Jealousy is a horrible look on you, Iwa-chan.”
“I’m not jealous of idiots.” Iwaizumi kicks at him again, missing as Oikawa rolls away on the tatami.
“I’m going to go shower.” Oikawa announced, throwing down his pile of paperwork. The pages fanned out across the table. “Is my flight still at 3PM, or did it get delayed because you checked it too many times?”
“It’s cancelled because you’re an asshole .” Iwaizumi grumbled, eyes still focused on his phone as he counted hours in his head to evaluate a suitable alarm for the morning.
“Just admit you want me to stay!” He calls from the hallway, and Iwaizumi doesn’t answer.
-
Oikawa reappears in the doorway after what felt like an hour, cheeks rosy pink and softly shining with an array of skincare. The brown hair was wet and drooped against his face, framing it in a way that made it seem smaller, accentuating the chocolate eyes and bright smile. A careless hand flipped his bangs back, revealing his forehead as he flung beads of water away.
“Your turn!” He sings.
-
After his shower, Iwaizumi trots back downstairs in an old t-shirt and shorts, hair ruffled up at the back of his head where he toweled it. While summer didn’t call for that much hot water to be needed, there was a very obvious shortage of it today. Oikawa was sitting in the living room still, the water-wasting fool about to be the recipient of a crack of a wet towel until he turned and grinned.
“Think fast, Iwa-chan!”
A flash of silver blinked through his vision, and Iwaizumi instinctively caught the object being tossed at him. It was cold in his freshly showered hands. He hangs his towel around his neck to catch the drops still falling from his hair to free up his grasp and inspect the beer can.
“Cheers to my latest and greatest adventure.” There was a snap and a hiss as Oikawa cracked open his own can.
“The hell?” Iwaizumi mutters as he follows suit. “Why beer?”
“It’s going to be imported and so expensive over there.” Oikawa licked the rim of the can as the drink fizzed, brown eyes peering at him from over the silver lid. “I can’t possibly say I’m Japanese when I haven’t had any of the good stuff.”
“This shit isn’t good.”
It felt like just days ago when they were children, wide-eyed and reaching at their fathers’ beer, begging for a taste of what looked like liquid honey. Oikawa’s pudgy face had bunched up as his tongue touched the beer, the bitter taste too much for the nine-year-old’s taste buds. Iwaizumi had laughed at him, taking the tiny lick his father approved as he tried to keep as straight of a face as he could, tiny hands wringing on his shirt as his pride made him hold back any visible opinion on the flavour.
Now Oikawa raised his cold can to a dull thud of a toast, a day away from crossing the ocean so he couldn’t be scolded for sneaking drinks from the pantry. Iwaizumi sat down beside him so he could see the television screen, bumping their cans together as he surrendered to Oikawa’s antics like he always does. Condensation trickled down over the brand logo and government ordered warnings, pooling between Oikawa’s fingers. It was clammy, making his fingers fidget uncomfortably. He switched the beer to his other hand, haphazardly wiping his wet hand on the side of his grey sweatpants.
For a while they drank in silence, letting the noise from the television fill the space. Oikawa peeks over at his friend’s profile and drops his head onto the waiting shoulder.
“Oikawa.” The warning tone comes as he expected, and Oikawa wiggles his can in the air.
“Mhmm~”
“I’ll get you some water.” Iwaizumi leans forward to put his empty can on the table, almost dislodging him. Oikawa cranes his neck to follow so his head stays glued against Iwaizumi’s sleeve. “You really need to watch your consumption when you get over there.”
“Yeah yeah, Cali frat boy.”
“Sit up, dammit .”
“Iwa-chan.”
The weight on his shoulder rolled off with a rustle as Oikawa moved, stretching up and over until he was propped on all fours, looking down at Iwaizumi like an oversized dog. Round brown eyes hovered just inches away, a little unfocused with how close they were. A warm breath mingled into his own, scented like the same beer, as if they were one and the same to begin with.
“Iwa-chan.” Oikawa spoke again, his voice softer somehow, vulnerable and quiet unlike his usual melodic chirp.
He wanted to ask what Oikawa was doing, as if he didn’t know what the closeness represented, but Iwaizumi wasn’t a liar. His heart was thundering in his ribcage, his mind pleading with a thousand languages of permission, his hands shaking as the anticipated touch came gently to his lips.
-
The kiss was chaste but slow, manifesting in a deep press that Oikawa sank into in a blissful haze. It was so simple. It felt so right that it made all the ones before feel so wrong , to no fault of their own. It wasn’t their fault they weren’t Iwaizumi .
Oikawa drew back as he exhausted all of the courage he could blame on a can of beer. He watched the bright red burn up along Iwaizumi’s neck, across his cheeks and outward to his ears. The moment called for something quirky to brush off what he had just done, but at the sight of such a flustered Iwaizumi, his tongue jumped ahead of his brain and cemented the reality.
“That was your first kiss, Iwa-chan.”
-
The confidence in Oikawa’s voice made his fists tighten with embarrassment, and the frustration grew because he was right . Iwaizumi could feel his ears on fire, all of the blood in his body rushing to his head. Oikawa was smirking, the shit-eating grin on that face plucking at all of his nerves. Plush pink lips parted as if they were going to tease again, and Iwaizumi’s arm unfurled to seize him at the back of the neck, dragging him back down into another kiss that finally shut him up.
Iwaizumi’s mouth parted in a groan, the reaction rising from his gut in a longing for more. A slip of tongue against his made him almost jump, the unsurprising display of skill stirring annoyance in him. A string of names and pretty faces came to mind, each one dog-earing a few pages in Oikawa’s life as the relationships came and went, leaving creases that haunted him as he flipped through. He bit down on Oikawa’s lip, hearing the other growl. Slim hands slammed down on his shoulders, holding him as Oikawa’s weight crawled into his lap, trapping him on the ground, against the couch, snared in a kiss he didn’t want to escape.
“Iwa-chan.” The voice chanted again, like it was the only thing he was capable of saying. “Iwa-”
Iwaizumi’s chin tips up to catch Oikawa’s lips again, enchanted by the way his name rings in the room. Oikawa’s hands slid inward from his shoulders to his chest, broad and firm under the old shirt. He grabbed a handful of the faded cotton and yanked on it, crushing Iwaizumi harder against himself. The urgency was contagious, spreading like flames where they connected, rippling outwards as he felt Iwaizumi’s fingertips crawl under the hem of his shirt. Warm palms slid up against his ribs, thumbs tracing lines into his skin where the hands pulled Oikawa in. He rocked himself into the touch, weight leaning against Iwaizumi until the other jerked under him in a half scramble to hide.
Oikawa drops a hand from the grasp on his shirt, pressing down between Iwaizumi’s legs where his fingers bend ever so slightly around the firmness under the fabric. For a moment, he feels Iwaizumi tense up as if he was about to throw Oikawa through the window. His fingers close in more, his wrist flexing to give the tiniest rub that gifted a taste of fleeting heaven, and Iwaizumi surrenders. The smirk on his lips grows as he feels Iwaizumi react. A hand slides around the back of his waist, trying to pull him in, not quite sure if he’s trying to stop him or invite him. A stifled groan cuts off in the air, leaving a wet spot in the shorts where his hand was playing across the tip, echoing the way Iwaizumi leans into him as he yearns almost as hard as Oikawa does.
“Iwa-chan.” He whispered, breaths stumbling over themselves as he tapped their foreheads together. “Come upstairs.”
Oikawa shoved himself to his feet with the leverage on Iwaizumi’s chest, jumping over the empty beer can on the ground - his own - as he ran up the wooden staircase. He heard the slam of footsteps behind him, hammering like the heart in his chest.
They always raced up these steps, year after year after year. He’s memorized exactly how many there are, which one squeaks in the dead of night when they try to get snacks in the kitchen, which one has a bump of deformed wood that once made five-year-old Hajime trip and fall.
Iwaizumi has these steps memorized too, tailing him by half a moment, skipping the bottom step and hopping the last one up. He catches up at the top of the stairwell, one arm around Oikawa’s waist, throwing him up against the wall as their lips crash together. Oikawa stumbles at the force, his back hitting the wall before the huff of air knocked from his lungs dissipates in another kiss.
A palm catches his neck before he can hit his head. They barrel into his room and narrowly miss the door frame as they go. Someone slaps the switch on the wall, dousing them both in a soft yellow glow. For a moment Oikawa squints, peeking through his eyelashes until his vision readjusts. Iwaizumi is close, inches away from him, olive eyes glowing with a golden trim cast around them by the light. The pause drags on across years of familiarity, and Oikawa saves the blessed silence with a kiss when he notices Iwaizumi wanting to speak.
He wasn’t sure what he wanted from this, but it certainly wasn’t hesitation at this point.
Oikawa breaks away, swatting at Iwaizumi’s hand on his waist, shoving him backwards until he tips over. His knees bend and he flops down on the futon. Grabbing the hem of his shirt, Oikawa wrenches it off over his head and throws it aside. The green eyes flick up, intently fixed on the way the light ripples with the shift of his muscles.
He seats himself over Iwaizumi’s lap again, finding the perfect place to fit their bodies together. His arms wrap around Iwaizumi’s neck, bringing his cheek to nuzzle against the damp hair. A nipple is caught lightly between teeth, and Oikawa’s fingers tug on the wet locks, guiding the motion of that servicing mouth as it moves. He rolls his hips forward once, every muscle sighing with a blessed satisfaction at the equal excitement against his own erection. Hands catch his waist and pull him in with aggressive force, begging for his closeness, grinding him harder over growing heat.
The world spun around him, ending in the impact against his back as Oikawa felt himself hit the futon. Iwaizumi loomed over him, the shadow from the lamp in the room sharpening the crisp features of his face. His hands dipped under the hem of the t-shirt, sliding upwards along the muscular torso, thumbs brushing lightly over the chest until he heard Iwaizumi’s breath catch against his neck.
“Off, Iwa-chan.” He demanded, flipping his hand to twist the shirt. “ Off .”
The hot mouth broke away from his skin for a moment as Iwaizumi threw his shirt off to the side. Oikawa wanted to joke about the speed at which the garment was sent flying, wanted to question how he made it look so easy, wanted to run his fingers across every shape of the body that was now exposed before him. His breath was swallowed into another kiss before he could do any of that, the loss of a shirt like a spell undone as the heat radiating off Iwaizumi brought all of the longing within him to a boil.
-
There is no space between Hajime and Toru. Their names fit like they did, bold when apart but perfectly tuned in meaning when together. The same soul split between two bodies yearned to be whole again, making them gravitate to each other across every timeline Iwaizumi could imagine.
The magnetic draw brought his mouth to nudge the crook of Oikawa’s neck, touching him with kisses, not daring to leave anything more. The closeness of friendship was a blessing and a curse, drawing lines in invisible sand that fenced love into longing. Iwaizumi’s hands fell to Oikawa’s hips, thumbs digging against the band of the sweatpants, curling around the scrunched fabric. The body wiggled under his touch, knowing his need and needing him to know. He wrenched Oikawa’s pants downwards, feeling him lift himself ever so slightly, arching so it slipped down past the curve of his ass.
“Oikawa.” He breathed into the skin of his friend’s throat, feeling the warm moisture from his shower rise into steam between them. The tip of his tongue flicked against sensitive skin, as if he was licking his fingertip before turning a page. Hesitant, not quite done with the current paragraph but so eager to turn to the next chapter.
“Yes.” Oikawa answered before he could ask.
-
Iwaizumi reached over the low desk with the lamp, sliding past the row of books until his hand closed around a tube of hand cream. It was always there for Oikawa to rub into his hands as he studied match recordings, after they did homework, on dry and cold winter weekends before they slept. It helped maintain his setter’s touch. Or whatever.
He returned to his position between Oikawa’s legs, examining the puckered hole. It was a little red, a little used , if that even made sense as a descriptor. The hour-long shower and hot water deficit roared in his mind, breaking the impossible feat of making him even more turned on.
Oikawa raises his arms to cover his face, noticing the flicker of realization that crossed Iwaizumi’s eyes. The fist scrunched around the tube too hard, a stream of peach scented lotion landing on Iwaizumi’s hand. He rubs it over his fingers, lathering it on thick over the joints, the creamy stickiness making his throat tighten as he stares. Swallowing hard, he manages to squeeze out half a question.
“Were you…”
Oikawa grabbed the closest thing - a pillow - and it whiffed past Iwaizumi’s head as he dodged with years of experience. It hit the wall behind him, the poof of air thumped out of it making the uniform dress shirt sway where it hung. He grabbed around for something else to throw, and felt Iwaizumi move over him to pin his wrist down with one knee. Oikawa shudders, letting his hand go limp with a quiet sigh.
Please don’t say it. I was cleaning myself in the shower but please don’t say it out loud.
And he doesn’t. Thank goodness.
The click of the cap as it was snapped shut almost got a flinch out of Oikawa, visibly nervous and not nearly as drunk as he was trying to make anyone believe he was. He grabbed Iwaizumi’s arm almost out of instinct, seeking an anchor before he could get carried away. The touch of cool lotion against his rim made Oikawa tense up. The fragrance of it was heavy in the air. The flavour of beer still danced on his tongue. A cocktail of alcohol soaked peaches poured into his lungs, luring him down a dangerous cascade of decisions.
“Tell me if anything hurts.”
A heavy hand laid on his inner thigh, pressing it to the side for easier access. He lay on his back, trying to remember how to breathe, peering at Iwaizumi kneeling between his legs. Oikawa couldn’t quite see the hand touching him, which quite possibly added to the nerves.
“Iwa-chan.”
He craned his neck a little, propping himself up on his elbows so he could use his eyes to follow Iwaizumi’s hand. The new height got him a kiss on the forehead, feathery light like a brush of his bangs. He could see the slow motions, as if they had all the time in the world, as if they were not parting ways in a few hours. Shivers shot through his leg as the fingertips ran over the spot, rubbing the hand cream apart with a gentle slide. Iwaizumi added more pressure behind his touch, fingertips dipping the soft flesh as they went.
“Breathe.”
He realized he had been holding his breath, his chest full of too many feelings he couldn’t name that it forgot to exhale. Oikawa buried a hand into the sheets, clinging to it like a lifeline as he waited for the moment to happen.
Sure, hormones and curiosities have led him this far before, not quite in a thirst for knowledge but needing to know how it would feel as Iwaizumi lingered on his mind. But this was different. It was more than just the stretch as the finger pushed in. It was a whirlwind of realization and desperate anxiety and racing heartbeats, escalating with his hiking breaths as he felt the touch inside.
“Ha- Hajime!”
Oikawa wrenched on the bedsheets under him, trying to relax, stiffening in an attempt to not recoil from the sensation. He felt the hand freeze in its press forward, trying to avoid any additional stimulation as he adjusted to the feeling. Iwaizumi’s brow pinched between his eyes, knit in the same kind of focus Oikawa knew so well and loved so much.
“Oh… Okay.” He whispers. “Yes.”
This wasn’t too much, this much was easy. He got this far in the shower.
“Good?”
He nods, and nods more, his head bobbing with scattered thoughts. Yes. Always yes.
Oikawa gasps when Iwaizumi pulls out almost all the way, pressing another finger against the first before opening him up further as he pushes a new width in. His knees try to close inward uselessly, one of them still pinned down under Iwaizumi’s hand.
-
Fifteen years. They’ve known each other for fifteen years. Iwaizumi was certain he had seen all of Oikawa’s expressions, from his genuine smiles to feigned laughter, all of the facets between fury and terror, but somehow he was still finding more. Round brown eyes were going from wide open to a heavy lidded hunger, lips half parted in a thin moan that trilled against his ears, a flustered rosy tinge riled up on that pale skin. He looked ridiculously good, a beacon of temptation across a rippling lake, every lap of the waves against him drawing him into the unknown waters.
He angles his fingers a different way, pressing into the walls instead of slipping past them like he had been doing. They dragged blessed tingles as they went, exploring slowly as the expression across Oikawa’s face blossomed into something new. The spot under his touch was softer, more sensitive it seemed, and he watched all sense of control crumble in the depths of chestnut eyes. Before Oikawa could wail, he dove in for a kiss, feeling the tension around his hand grip him like a vice as the body curled up. Oikawa’s knee thumped against the side of his ribs before he grabbed it, pushing it back outward and hooking the leg around his waist.
“Nn… There! Wait!”
“Here?”
“Y-Yes, wait! Like-”
The words stammer out in bits and pieces, tossed and rolled around between their tongues as Iwaizumi kisses him over and over. Fingertips nudge the same spot within him, making him pant into Iwaizumi’s mouth helplessly. A hot hand lay on his outer thigh, hitching him up higher. Before he could suffocate, their lips break apart and the wet contact lands on his chest instead. Tongue and lip pass over his nipple, teasing him, compounding the intensity of every touch as they went. Oikawa was shaking, covering his voice with one hand as he moaned between his fingers.
“You like this?”
Iwaizumi asks, but Oikawa could tell from his gaze that he wasn’t really looking for a verbal answer. Oikawa’s body was responding faster and more desperately than he could ever bring himself to say, his grasp tight around Iwaizumi’s arm and his hips bucking into the hand in a plea for more. The smoothness of the motion and Oikawa’s growing eagerness were sufficient hints. A third finger nudges the entrance, slipping in with a groan as he was spread even further apart.
Watery brown eyes gave such a sweet look that Iwaizumi was instantly summoned forward into another kiss. His hand moves with careful meaning, every push into Oikawa’s body a little deeper than the last, seeking out all the angles that draw a variety of gorgeous sounds from weakly parted lips. His best friend mumbles something incoherent, the sounds crushed between them as they indulge in the closeness. Iwaizumi follows the curve of Oikawa’s neck to his throat, all the way to the shape of his collarbones where a bit of a suction leaves a faint pink mark. He rubs it with the thumb of his spare hand, suddenly worried if he was crossing a line.
Oikawa always looked like the sun didn’t touch him. No matter how they ran laps on the field and around the block, his skin was soft and milky, blinding against Iwaizumi’s tan. He longed to put his mark on that canvas, to prove that he was here, to prove that he meant something in all of those years. They had coloured too many of each other’s pages in all of the years - with chalk and crayons, growing into pencils and scribbled ink. He wanted to claim every page, to have all of them filled edge to edge with them to the point where no one else could add anything.
His focus drifts with his thoughts, and he feels Oikawa pull on his wrist in annoyance. Fingers curl inside, and Oikawa turns his head to bite on Iwaizumi’s shoulder and screams against the intensity of it all. The sharp sting of teeth riles up every drop of blood coursing through Iwaizumi’s veins, making him return a crimson bruise of his own into Oikawa’s chest. His hair is pulled, and Iwaizumi fights against the hand as he signs his presence into Oikawa’s body, littering the skin with a collection of red.
Nails scratch against his arm, raking down where the grip slipped from his hair. Oikawa was writhing, struggling under him, caught in an inability to understand whether what he was feeling was too much or not enough. Iwaizumi ruts against him, pumping his fingers, every brush and swipe against the lotion-dappled thighs making his skin prickle with electricity.
-
What are they? What are they now?
The heat in him gave way to cold fear pooling at the bottom of his stomach. Oikawa’s hand moved without thinking, palm falling flat against Iwaizumi’s bare chest. The skin was hot to his touch, underlined with a heavy heartbeat. A refusal wasn’t quite what he was trying to give, but Iwaizumi moved immediately at the implication, drawing back to shift his weight off.
But it didn’t matter, did it?
It didn’t matter what they were. It didn’t matter if Iwaizumi was just playing along, or drunk, or both. As long as he was Toru Oikawa, as long as he was Hajime Iwaizumi, he would need him. He would need this like he needed to breathe. Even if they never become anything, even if this was just all in his head, he would need him. Right now. Right here .
Oikawa’s not the type to spend the rest of his life missing things, lamenting the chances he didn’t take. He’s already here, spread into the sheets, wearing nothing but the bites and marks across his chest. He has dreamed about this for years, whispered that name too many times into his pillow to give him up without a taste. The hand slid off to the side, grabbing Iwaizumi’s forearm to invite him back.
“Hajime.”
Iwaizumi’s brow furrowed even tighter.
“It’s okay. I know, we don’t- stop teasing me, Oikawa.” He sighed. “You’re drunk.” His voice sounded pained, trying to choke out normal words that would dial down the fervour in the room. “ One beer, Oikawa. Really?”
Maybe he was. He didn’t think so. It didn’t matter. He just needed something to blame. An escape route just in case Iwaizumi just wanted this and nothing more.
“You’re making it hard to be reasonable.”
Oikawa always had his stress surface as destructive tendencies. Iwaizumi was familiar with his outbursts, there for almost all of them, a hand on his collar to pull him back when he was stepping too far, a voice of reason and a shoulder to lean on. But he wasn’t sure he was ready for this one. Even if compared to the overexertion at practice and the palm that nearly struck their junior, Iwaizumi still had to admit that this night was topping his list of Oikawa’s insanities. Uncontestable.
“Then don’t be.” The brown eyes pleaded.
“Oikawa.” He hissed through gritted teeth. Oikawa sat up, taking a fistful of Iwaizumi’s dark hair as he raised his chin to a commanding tone.
“It’s Toru .”
Their eyes met, burning with some kind of frustration, some kind of arousal, some kind of tipsy and all sorts of inbetween. Iwaizumi cursed under his breath, following the pull on his hair until he threw his weight forward and pinned Oikawa back into the sheets. If Oikawa wanted his stress relief this way, Iwaizumi was not the saint that would deny him the option.
“Fuck, Toru.”
“Oh, please.” Oikawa groaned against his lips, breathless with the way he was kissed. His cheek was cupped in Iwaizumi’s hand, a gesture that could almost be romantic, delicate skin brushing up against the calluses. The palm received all of his most perfect sets, landing heavy shots in the opposing court where the thundering score echoed in their hearts. It supported his jaw now, holding him as they melted together, unimaginably gentle. Iwaizumi had never turned him down, never let him down, and he’s got him right where he wanted him. “ Please .”
He felt fingers seek out his hole again, two digits slipping in to recheck his readiness, a third joining them with a bit of a stretch that made his knee bend in a natural reaction. In the next moment all those fingers were gone, drawn out of his body with a tickle that ran deep in the skin under his stomach. He felt the fumble as Iwaizumi nudged at the entrance, one hand hooked around his hip to align him, and his shoulders tensed with another breath he forgot to let out.
There was a brief pause when Iwaizumi leaned in to kiss him again, allowing him to exhale and drop the tension in his body. He could feel it, searing against the sensitive skin at the apex of his thighs.
“Toru.”
He wouldn’t say it hurt, but it definitely ached . The strain rippled out through his body from that one point of penetration, amplifying a completely different soreness in his heart. It wept with satisfaction, making him whimper where he lay, hands twisting where they clung to the blankets.
“Talk to me, Toru.” Iwaizumi prompted, easing a hand off of where they held his waist to tease his fingers away from their abuse of the bedsheets.
“Full...” He closes his eyes as he turns away, trying not to think about how utterly pathetic his expression must look. Tears well up in their corners from the discomfort, or the display of weakness. He wasn’t quite sure. “Wait…”
He felt the mounting pressure cease, the weight over him holding as still as possible. A thumb touched the edge of his eye, brushing just under his lashes.
“Do you want to stop?”
“N-No.”
Iwaizumi’s thumb drops to the corner of his mouth, running a delicate caress that lifts his teeth from the sharp bite on his lip.
“Just so you know, you look gorgeous. Relax.”
It was not fair. Oikawa mewled as the words sank into him with a deeper push. When did Iwaizumi learn all this gentleness and charm? Was there a girlfriend he didn’t know about, a secret lover tucked somewhere in the hours he wasted on dates or took a weekend with his family? Was he always this handsome?
“Talk to me.” Iwaizumi coaxed. “Let me hear you.”
Oikawa felt him pull back ever so slightly, delicious friction slicking against the tight walls before he pushed his hips forward slowly to reclaim the space. A whine escapes Oikawa, the pulse in his cock throbbing with the nudge inside him.
“Hajime, please.” His breath hitches with another thrust bumping into him.
A thousand thoughts fly through Iwaizumi’s mind, a million of them about how beautiful Oikawa looks under him at this moment. Iwaizumi wanted to see him shine on the greatest stages, to see him dripping with medals, laurel wreaths twisted into his hair. This was a whole other kind of view, equally as amazing and a hundred times more intimate, his brown hair ruffled with the moisture from his shower, glowing under the light of the lamp, every kiss dragging silver threads between their tongues. Hazel eyes stayed on him, their gaze glossy with pleasure, the eyelids narrowing with every heavy stroke and widening as he hit all the sensitive spots. The hips buck under him, silently asking for more, meeting him at every accelerating movement until they can't keep up and Oikawa collapses into the stimulation.
His grip turns forceful on Oikawa’s hip and leg, hard enough to almost bruise, but Oikawa doesn’t notice it as he lets out another cry. Iwaizumi adds another mark to the base of his neck, feeling Oikawa writhe as the changed angle opens him up differently.
Iwaizumi doesn’t know how much more of this he can take. He keeps his gaze low, focusing his attention across Oikawa’s chest, unable to stop himself from begging if he dared look back at those molten eyes. There’s no measurement for how much he wishes Oikawa would stay with him, for the way he wants to put him in a pocket and take him to California, for methods to scoop out all of the water in the seas so an evening stroll would have them back together at the end of every day.
But that was unfair. Oikawa deserved the spotlight, the opportunities, an ace that could raise him to the stages that the world would cheer for. He couldn’t be the shackles that held him back, like he had been for the past six years.
“Can you get on your knees, Toru?” Iwaizumi pleads, the insecurities threatening to spill and contaminate the simple pleasures that they should be enjoying.
“Y-Yeah.”
He pulls out, turning Oikawa over with light guidance along his back. Oikawa kneels before him, settling on his elbows, half turning over his shoulder to ask.
“Is this okay?”
The light dances over the curve of his face, illuminating the bliss in shimmering irises. Iwaizumi caught his lips, feeling them part against him in a gasp that turned into a grunt as he bottomed out in that tight hole.
“Yes. You’re unbelievable.” He nibbles lightly, closing his eyes so the heavy feelings don’t weigh on their mood. “So perfect, Toru.”
Oikawa moans in response, head falling into the futon as Iwaizumi picks the pace back up.
Iwaizumi wanted to be the only one with this view, to see his great king kneeling before him with a willing whimper, calling for him under him with round eyes and flushed cheeks. There was no telling what was waiting for them in Argentina, or even if the concept of them was ever a thing to begin with. The oceans and offset hours would carve valleys between them, leaving him to watch as other people took his spot as the closest in Oikawa’s life. The days and nights he couldn’t touch would wrap Oikawa in a wide selection of other arms, delicate smiles and toned muscles, vibrant personalities and sharp tongues. Because he was Oikawa. Because no one could ever see Oikawa as anything short of amazing.
“Toru…” His grip tightened around Oikawa’s waist, pulling him back to meet every thrust, claiming all that he could in this once in a lifetime opportunity. The collision of skin against skin is a glorious contrast, his eyes unable to fall away from the way Oikawa’s body embraced him, welcoming him with everything. “I’m so close… Can I…”
Oikawa whimpered at the thought of being filled, rocking into Iwaizumi’s cock as he tried to push himself along the tightrope he was walking. It quivered under him, or maybe he was the one quivering, teetering on the edge.
“Y-Yes.” He whispered.
“Inside?” Iwaizumi asks, breaking the consistent movement with surprise in his voice.
“Inside.” He echoes with certainty.
-
Iwaizumi almost had to pinch his arm to reassure himself that this was real. All of those messy mornings and heated dreams were manifesting into a reality that he never dared to even imagine for a moment too long. He couldn’t pinpoint when it all started. Was it the way Oikawa’s lips parted as he reached out for another perfect set that sailed into his hand, the fire that still burned through watery eyes when they swallowed bitter losses against Shiratorizawa, the unique nickname that always held a different tone?
Love was the spread of memories that accumulated across the years, compiled into thick tomes of history. It was the hopeless, useless yearning that silhouetted his nights as he waited for the perfect timing that would never come. Love was the fear in his chest as the impending separation grew closer, the anxiety of never being good enough,its fangs sinking into all the last threads of self control that were already worn weak in the landslide of emotions.
What are they? What are they now? Would this have been anyone else if he didn’t happen to be here?
His fingers dug against skin, spreading Oikawa further for a better view of how he was raw and red where they met. Another pleasured cry filled the air. The sound was sweet and sticky in Iwaizumi’s ears, filling him with greed until it spilled over.
-
“You’d say yes to anyone asking, wouldn’t you?” Iwaizumi growled, a fist in the soft brown hair as he leaned in, angling himself downward. A muffled scream tore into the pillow as he pounded into Oikawa, the shifted position grinding right over the sensitive spot. His best friend. Not boyfriend. Not his. “Huh, Toru? Who would you let cum in you?”
His voice wavered at the end, but Oikawa couldn’t pick up on the details. There were only his own wails echoing in his ears, drawn thin with overwhelming pleasure as he tumbled in an ocean of lust. The hand wrenched his head back. He gasps for air as Iwaizumi relentlessly crashes into his body, the tide climbing into waves that threaten to toss him over the edge. Iwaizumi seems to assume the worst as Oikawa doesn’t respond. The head of the cock slams in harder every time, hot and rough against the weakest nub until he wails again.
“Do you understand,” His words were punctuated with Oikawa’s shriek. “how dangerous that is? To trust just anyone ?”
“Hajime!” Oikawa pleaded, no longer able to squeeze any teasing out of his chest. His words fell out before he could catch them, exposing all of those delicate feelings that he feared wouldn’t be reciprocated. “Only you- I- Only you!” He feels lips at the back of his neck, dotting his skin with scattered nips as if they were pleading with him to continue. “Please, Hajime! I- It’s always you!”
Oikawa could almost feel his heart trembling, rattling between his ribs with every beat that passed. Was that too much for whatever this was? The grip in his hair releases, making him slump back into his futon as the hand slides down to slip against his jaw in a tender touch. He feels Iwaizumi’s heartbeat against his back as he is engulfed in strong arms. His head is tipped ever so slightly, turning his cheek up to receive a kiss.
“I love you.”
-
Toru Oikawa isn’t stupid. He knows better than to believe things people say in bed. He’s learned his lessons in old dramas, his parents’ lectures to his sister, in novels recommended by Hanamaki. You discount the words they say, dial down the feelings, and apply another filter called common sense. It’s the correct formula, and the incorrect application of it is a recipe for disastrous heartbreak.
-
Theory and sensibility don’t stop the words from hitting him the same way, soft and warm against his cheek, gentle against his heart, rough and deep between his legs.
“Hajime! I- ”
Oikawa screams as he orgasms, every inch of stretched tightness singing as his body jolts with a force he’s never experienced before. Those three words choked in his throat as his chest seized up. All of the sentiments he couldn’t speak spill out through his veins instead, setting him on fire as they spell out heaven. Tears well up in his eyes as they roll back, his vision fizzing white as he surrenders to the pleasure. His cock spurts against the sheets under him, pent pressure unravelling harder and faster than any previous self-serving occasions.
He could see the stars and the heavens, sparks flaring across the blur that he could hardly decipher. Iwaizumi mouths at his shoulder, blooming another petal on the pale skin, working him into the blankets until he collapses into the mess he made. The cool smear against his abdomen made him whimper, the noises in his mouth faint with the breathtaking orgasm.
The ideal timing comes and goes. Oikawa’s hand twitches where they were wringing the white cotton sheets, feeling the opportunity to respond slip through his fingers as the moment fell behind them. His whole body was shaking, slumped into the futon. Breaths hurry past in heavy pants, back and forth within his body at Iwaizumi’s cadence. A whine or a moan slips from where he buried his face into the pillow, overwhelmed but unwilling to call it quits. Iwaizumi’s hand presses against his, weaving their fingers together, giving him precisely what he wanted to cling to. Soft feelings flutter against his skin, seeping into his knuckles and relaxing his grasp as he was held. Iwaizumi just knows. He always knows.
The intense clench as Oikawa comes undone catches Iwaizumi as well, the added friction and velvety grip all too much for him. He groans, arm hugging Oikawa’s hips as all of the years of longing sank into those silky depths in hurried thrusts and desperate bucking.
“Hajime…” He hears Oikawa’s voice, low and still breathy. “Come on, Hajime… Yes.”
“Toru…”
Iwaizumi falls silent, unable to bring himself to say anything else. The moment was close, tempting him just ahead. There was nothing left in the world but the noises from Oikawa’s lips and the trembling in those legs as he tried to meet Iwaizumi at every thrust. His spare hand squeezes Oikawa’s inner thigh, pulling his legs further apart so he could stuff in more of himself as he hits the peak. Iwaizumi revels in the tightness that held him, accepting all of him as he came inside. An elongated moan voiced how he filled that body, stuttering final thrusts nudging his cum further inward and breaking Oikawa’s voice into wayward gasps.
They both fall into the sheets, Iwaizumi landing hard on his right shoulder as he tries not to crush Oikawa under him. Dazed brown eyes met weary green ones, and they needed no other words to understand the mutual want of another kiss. This one was soft, slow and lazy between their lips, full of wet mumbles and gliding tongues. Iwaizumi collects Oikawa into his arms before pulling out, hearing the feathery whine close to his ear as the head of his shaft exits.
Breaths slowly start to catch up, slowing down the heat in the room as the rush of dopamine eased off. Iwaizumi pecks the tip of Oikawa’s nose, trying to decide on the best way to phrase his feelings that were two whole virginities overdue.
“Toru, I-”
The wind up was too long. Oikawa slips out of his arms like a cat that had its fill of socialization, satisfied with the pets it received and no longer desired its owner’s attention. He rushes to his feet, a drip of white falling past his knee as he runs, disappearing past the open door, leaving Iwaizumi in a tangle of bedsheets as he trails off into nothingness.
-
Iwaizumi gets up to strip the futon of its soiled covers and stuff everything into the washing machine. Something jumps in his mind, and he hurries back to Oikawa’s room to blot the soiled spot of the tatami with Oikawa’s shirt. The garment is promptly thrown to the washing machine. The buttons beep, and the low whirr of the cycle helps drown out his thoughts. He pulls open Oikawa’s closet, reaching up to the top shelf on the right where the extras were kept, yanking out a fresh set of sheets to redo their sleeping arrangements. The window is thrown open for air, the summer night breeze sweeping the suspicious scents out of the room. He powers through the clean up on autopilot, trying not to think about the way he was rejected before he could even pitch his case.
The corner of the pillowcase was just tucked in when Oikawa finally re-enters his room, a towel half wrapped around his waist. His face was steamed bright red. Oikawa skirts around him and goes to the closet for a fresh change of clothes that he didn’t remember to take with him when he had dashed into the shower. He rummaged through his closet slowly, avoiding eye contact, leaving Iwaizumi just a view of wet hair and bare shoulder.
“Your turn for the shower.”
-
There really wasn’t much hot water left. Iwaizumi felt like he had only been in there for four minutes - five, tops - before every bump on his skin was raised in a demand to get out of the chill. The lights were out in Oikawa’s room when he returned, as if the owner had fallen sound asleep in the briefest time they were apart. Iwaizumi tilts the screen of his phone downward so he could see where he placed his feet as he crawled into the blankets. Oikawa had his back to him, curled up and silent, but he could tell with the tempo of the breaths that Oikawa wasn’t actually asleep.
Iwaizumi turned over on his side so he could look at the back of that head of brown hair. In the darkness, he shuffled a little closer. Oikawa smelled like soap of that one brand he liked as a kid and stubbornly decided to keep liking forever. Warm and sunny, catalogued in some component of his brain along with other scents that spelled out home. The selfish affection in him lifts the shared blanket a little, reaching over with one arm.
-
Oikawa feels the cool of the space that was created between them, knowing Iwaizumi had his arm out behind him, able to see the extended embrace in his mind’s eye. His thoughts go to that one time a girl in second year sat through their volleyball practice to confess to Iwaizumi, a neat white envelope clutched in her hand. He remembered how Iwaizumi thanked her, accepted the letter into the pocket of his uniform, and even wrote a letter back the next day to gently turn her down in person. That was the kind of character he was - honest, sincere, attentive, and ever considerate to the feelings of those around him.
He rolls over, closing the space and slotting himself against Iwaizumi’s chest. The raised arm falls over his waist. He thinks about all the sun-kissed girls who would gladly fall into this embrace, charmed like he is. He imagines the kind of partner Iwaizumi deserves, someone who can support him at his side, who can promise him a future together, someone who won’t leave him hanging on a thread of a relationship that stretches a handful of different time zones and a thousand miles. Security and stability weren’t things he could offer when he didn't even know if Argentina was his final destination.
And it wasn’t fair to have Iwaizumi pass up everything else for a wait with no end in sight.
His mind pleads for him to cut his losses, to stop making memories that are only going to make things worse between them. It was better to just keep it to this. Minimize the damage done. The arms squeeze around him, and his resolve withers. Oikawa’s lips trace Iwaizumi’s jaw until they land over his, moving gently as they both sink into a mirrored rhythm. The ghost of earlier intimacy aches in his muscles, and he convinces himself that he deserved at least another kiss. And another. As many as he could steal in the cover of the night.
-
“Toru-” Iwaizumi tries to say.
A hard press against his mouth silences him and he feels the refusal. The conversation died before it could breathe, suffocated between lips that couldn’t phrase their thoughts. Miyagi’s nights are heavy and inky beyond the window, weighing over them like a storm. Oikawa presses up against him, fingertips resting on Iwaizumi’s waist in a touch that was barely there. The last minutes and hours tick away, a lifetime of entwined chapters slowly coming to a close.
“I love you.” Iwaizumi whispers as he listens to Oikawa’s breathing even out. Exhaustion lulls Oikawa’s consciousness away, and the opportunity to respond escapes him once again.
-
The alarm goes off as the morning sunlight beats down through the window. Oikawa groans, his hand reaching up instinctively around his pillow to swat at his phone. Fingers probe across Iwaizumi’s face and he grumbles as he tightens the arm he has around the person huddled against his chest.
“Stop it. I got it.”
He feels Oikawa shrink back down, nestling comfortably against his shoulder with drowsy mumbling. Iwaizumi reaches over his head and jabs at the screen of his phone until the ringing stops. The arm drops back down. It had been a comfortable sleep, deep and untouched by dreams after exhausting all of his energy the night before. Iwaizumi tugged the comforter up so it lay snug around Oikawa’s shoulders, tucking his arm under the covers.
Five minutes. He promises himself. Just a little bit longer.
-
“My passport!”
“Got it!”
The small book sails across the hallway, and Oikawa pulls it out of the air before continuing to yell.
“The backpack! Iwa-chan! The backpack!”
Iwaizumi bursts out into the foyer with the black backpack hanging over one shoulder, skidding to a stop in his socks before glancing down at his watch. Breathe. Breathe. They’re not going to miss the train. The flight is not going to leave without this oversleeping and still hair styling asshole. He snatches the passport from Oikawa, splits apart the first couple of pages with his thumb to check the photo, and stuffs it into the deepest compartment in the backpack.
“Come on! Come on!” Oikawa combs his fingers through his hair, trying to tame the bedhead that didn’t get the usual time and attention with their urgent rush out the door.
“I’m coming, Shittykawa!” Iwaizumi shouted, doubling back around the living room once more to make sure they grabbed all of the paperwork that Oikawa was looking at the night before.
Oikawa was just ahead, now trying to straighten out the edge of his shoe without using his hands. He held onto the suitcase with one hand, the rolling wheels making him wobble back and forth as he kicked his shoe on. Iwaizumi reached out and steadied him with a pat on the small of his back before turning to pull on his own shoes, missing the pink that crawled up into those cheeks.
“Okay, let's go.”
“Y-Yeah.” Oikawa mumbled, kicking his shoe against the floor again.
-
Oversleeping did little to save them from the effects of the alcohol and late night activities. Oikawa’s head flopped onto Iwaizumi’s shoulder the moment the train got going, flattening down whatever fluff he had managed to put in it before they hurried out the door that morning. Iwaizumi hugged the backpack to his chest, setting another alarm on his phone. Miyagi scenery flew past the windows, the midday sun shining brilliantly through the glass. He peers down at Oikawa’s unguarded expression. Iwaizumi closed his eyes, leaning his cheek into the top of Oikawa’s head, letting a nap silence all of the nagging feelings on his mind.
-
The three hour trip over to the airport felt over in an instant. Oikawa goes straight to the lineup so he can dump his luggage into the care of the airlines. Iwaizumi wanders over to the fast food spots, grabbing a couple of onigiri and a container of soup. He sits down at a table where he can catch a glimpse of the check-in counter, popping up the lid of the soup container so it could cool off while he waits. His wrist flicks naturally as he glances down at his watch. He remembers Oikawa’s purring as the birthday present was handed to him two months ago.
“Happy birthday, Iwa-chan!” Bright eyes batted excitedly where they typically hovered just off his shoulder. “I even set the time for you!”
He pretended that he couldn’t already instantly recognize the hour. It spun just under the main display of the local time, a reminder of a distance that he didn’t yet want to think about.
“Where’s that? California? You know it’ll be my local time when I fly out.”
Oikawa wagged a finger in his face, grinning.
“San Juan! So you know when to answer all my texts and say good night!”
Something stirred in him with the memory, overlapping with all of the fresh imagery from the night before, blurring the gap that he once thought lay between their interpretations of their relationship. He reached into the fog in his head, almost feeling like he could make something out in the white haze. The thoughts ache against his temple with the remnants of alcohol, and Iwaizumi props his elbows on the table as he groans into his hands. The black watch band on his wrist suddenly felt too tight, his pulse racing under his chin and through his arm.
“Iwa-chan!”
Oikawa showed up with his passport clamped between two fingers, boarding pass fluttering where it was tucked between the pages, interrupting whatever conclusion Iwaizumi could have possibly gotten. He looked as though he was about to plop down on the chair like he usually does but froze before doing so, lightly lowering himself into his seat. Iwaizumi nudged the soup closer to him, looking away awkwardly.
“Sore?”
Oikawa twitched when he picked up the paper bowl, hands tensing. He laughed weakly and shrugged.
“Yeah. We forgot my neck pillow. It was a horrible sleep on the train.” As if to clarify, he tipped his head to the side until there was a little cracking noise in his bones. “I’ll buy a new one when I pass security.”
“Yeah. Good idea.”
He watches Oikawa finish off the soup and peel back the wrapper of the onigiri to take a few bites. The line of his jaw bobs as he chews, and Iwaizumi catches himself tracing the shape of the arc with his eyes, trying to memorize every bit of him. A reddish mark peeks over the edge of his collar. Iwaizumi clears his throat and looks away, accidentally catching Oikawa’s gaze and tearing away as fast as he could.
The last of the rice disappears. Oikawa scrunches the wrapper into a ball and reaches over the table with his other hand. Iwaizumi pauses, looking down at the outstretched palm. His hand reacts instantly, almost reaching back out to touch him before the fingers snap and piece his thoughts back together.
“My backpack, Iwa-chan?”
Ah.
He shoves the backpack across the table with unnecessary force. Oikawa grabs it and swings it over one shoulder as he pushes on the table to get back on his feet.
“Come on.”
“It’s still early.” Iwaizumi frowns.
“I’m going to get through security.” Oikawa tosses his trash in the bin. “Pick something up for my new roommate. You think mochi would be good? Maybe biscuits?” He looks back over his shoulder at Iwaizumi, head tilted with the same light hearted smile he wore so casually all the time. The usual smile. The socializing smile. “Need to shop around for a new pillow too.”
“It won’t take that long.” He tried to argue as he got up. Oikawa is already pulling his carry-on suitcase, the wheels rumbling over the flooring as he makes Iwaizumi break into a quick paced chase.
“Aww, Iwa-chan, are you missing me already?” The voice was light and airy, trying so hard not to tread on too many feelings he didn’t have the capacity to handle in the moment.
“Yes.”
The painted look of relaxation cracks across Oikawa’s face. He blinks twice, turning to stare back at Iwaizumi. The lights of the airport were too bright, too clear. They reflected off the floor in irritating, flashing spots, leaving him nowhere else to put his eyes but Iwaizumi’s face. He didn’t know how to react, all of his limbs feeling out of place. Iwaizumi looks as if he had something to say, and Oikawa sends a prayer to the sky that he doesn’t. He wasn’t ready for this talk. He wasn’t ready to bite into the hope of a future when he was still tiptoeing on clouds, uncertainty underlining every step that he needed to take and feared taking.
Iwaizumi watches his lips thin as they press together, his brow pinching ever so slightly as if he was going to cry. He extends a hand, but Oikawa doesn’t close the gap this time.
-
A suitcase bumps into Oikawa’s legs as a girl hurries past, and Iwaizumi steps up to cover the stretch himself, catching his arm to hold him steady. The stranger gives an apologetic smile around the boarding pass she was holding between her teeth, bowing her head quickly before she continues her sprint towards the security gate with her luggage and bag in tow.
“I should go too.” Oikawa says quietly.
“Okay.” He responded.
For a moment Oikawa thought he was going to keep going, to tear apart the fragile calm and hit him with the offer of a relationship that he wouldn’t be able to refuse. If it doesn't work out, if their journeys never cross again, if Iwaizumi realizes that he could do so much better than just Toru when California broadens his horizons.
He can’t take the fall, so it’s better not to try climbing.
The worst of his fears don’t come true. Iwaizumi gave him a hug instead, familiar and firm around the shoulders. Oikawa’s arms moved on cue, finding their spot on his back where they have been for all the past fifteen years.
“Have fun in California.” Oikawa manages, trying to steer the conversation himself, even though this wasn’t even Iwaizumi’s send-off. That was later, mid August, when the dorms opened up over there. He hears the laugh by his ear.
“Don’t starve out there. Don’t stay up late.”
Oikawa huffed with amusement.
“Don’t laugh.” Iwaizumi chuckled, his voice a little drier than usual. “I’d have to fly out to kick your ass. It’s expensive.”
His shoulder felt a light pat. Safe, comfortable, nothing that would push any of the arbitrary lines he had drawn up in fear. Iwaizumi let go.
“I’m going now.” Oikawa said, a little louder, a little less nervous.
“Go get ‘em.” Iwaizumi nodded. “See you around.”
“See you around.” Oikawa echoed, and it took all of his strength to turn around and walk towards the door.
-
Oikawa sits on the bench at his gate, a new paper bag of snacks beside him, chin resting on the backpack he hugged on his lap. A new neck pillow hung over his shoulders, turquoise with a faint leafy pattern along one end. Planes taxi outside, crawling across the pavement as they head in different directions. His phone buzzes with a message, and he whips it out to see that it’s just a notification of his spending at the tax-free shop. The phone is tossed to the side, and Oikawa curses himself for not even having the courage to text first and apologize.
He leans back into his seat, bumping the back of his head on the cold metal railing, unable to shake the feeling that he had just made a grave mistake. There was a whole world of unknowns out there waiting for him, an unfamiliar face of a roommate, a new city to learn, new languages and cultures and a climate that he couldn’t even fathom. The last thing he should have done was to surrender to his impulse and ruin the safest constant he’s been falling back on for all of his life. It felt as though he had penned the worst possible epilogue between them, leaving Iwaizumi hurt with all of the questions he couldn’t answer.
What were they now, even? Friends? Certainly not lovers. Were they still friends?
Could they even be friends after all of that?
Oikawa groaned. He chose this. He decided to jump on his best friend before he leaves, silenced him when he tried to talk about it, and cut their time together short just so he could come hide in a corner of the airport and regret all of the above.
But now he was just lonely. And scared. And fucking sore.
Oikawa runs a hand through his hair, looking up at the bright lights that hang overhead. His eyes water from the burn on his retinas, and he shuts them quickly before pulling his travel pillow over his face. The tears keep coming even with the light blocked out, and he squeezes hard on the microbead filling so his shoulders would hold still.
The phone buzzes again on the seat where he had thrown it after the last message.
Iwa-chan: Have a safe flight.