Chapter Text
If the tensed silence inside the bus is any indication of what just transpired that day, anybody can tell it isn’t the best day for the rest of the team. Okay, it isn’t completely silent because Shirabu can still hear soft murmurs at the back of the bus and the very distinct sniffling of Goshinki, which on ordinary days, he might have snapped at him, but today, he found it oddly relatable.
It’s not like he would openly be emotional in front of the team, but his mood reflects the rest’s as he sits there hands curled into tight fists resting on his knee caps. Not even Tendou tries to lighten the already heavy mood as he currently is just looking out the window, still dazed from the defeat they just suffered.
That’s right. The great eagles had been grounded by a flock of crows. Karasuno defeated Shiratorizawa in the finals.
He bites his lips shut and closes his eyes, trying to erase the moment it happened from his mind. But it doesn’t matter because he can still hear the echo of the ball when it hit the court followed by the high-pitched sound of the final whistle and he remembered how it sounded like a wailing cry to his ears. And then the entire stadium fell into a deafening silence, like the entire universe suddenly ceased to exist at that very moment; that even Karasuno’s mismatched cheering team just openly stared at the scoreboard results. And the players standing in both sides of the court just froze on the spot--both in surprised silence, but for different reasons.
But it’s only the calm before the storm because when a single person (from Karasuno’s cheering squad, he thinks it is their manager) spoke the words “We did it.”, all hell broke loose. Everything suddenly moves in a blur and for some reason he has found himself lining up to take a bow at their side of the court, Goshinki crying stupidly beside him.
If he isn’t part of the team, he might have found the entire situation hilariously ironic.
He remembers Ohira asking him if he is okay. He remembers saying he is, that he is just surprised of the outcome but really, he just doesn’t know what to feel that moment. It’s like someone pulled the rug under his feet and he’s just falling. He vaguely remembers tearing up--okay, he might have cried, or at least almost cried, but like the rest of his memories, even that doesn’t seem to sit well with him.
The only vivid image in his mind is the pools of black eyes which looked down on him they lined up to do a proper handshake with Karasuno. Kageyama’s face is unreadable when the two of them moved in for the handshake which was quite unexpected considering how he was very competitive during the match, glaring and responding to every good play their team makes.
But Kageyama squeezed his hand tightly and a little longer than a normal handshake would require. The setter’s hands are clammy but warm, his fingers bare the equal opposite of Shirabu’s cold ones and bandaged fingers. He feels the stingy pain of defeat. That is when he looks up at the setter who stands a couple inches taller than him and swears to himself, amidst the tears currently blurring his vision, that he will have his revenge one day.
Kageyama’s face however, changes and he notices a slight flush appear in those sweaty cheeks before Kageyama retreats back to his celebrating (and by celebrating, he means crying) teammates., but then again, it could just be the lighting, or probably the exhaustion of the recent match--or probably both or maybe, not even one of them and he is just imagining things.
Kawanishi shifts beside him and he turns to find him frowning at him. He wonders why--until he sees his reflection on the glass window and realizes how red his face is. Stupid. Thankfully, Kawanishi doesn’t say a single word, not even to comfort him and just looks away.
When they arrive in school, the coach rounds them up and Shirabu prepares himself for a scolding, if he’s lucky, if he’s not, his blunders would warrant a slap on the face. But, the bakemono just says a few words about cancelling tomorrow’s practice for all regulars but they still need to participate in the afternoon jog. He dismisses them immediately afterwards and the rest of the team heads on to the club room to change into their uniform and Shirabu follows suit.
The atmosphere in the room is as thick and heavy as it was in the bus, but this time, everyone seems to be openly expressing the frustrations. Everyone is comforting everyone and for a team who isn’t used to losing, Shirabu finds the scene oddly heartwarming. Goshinki slams his head on his locker door and the tin rattles loudly. Ohira grabs him by the shoulder and orders him to stop and he did, but not before he blurts out, “I still want to keep on playing with you, senpai.”
Shirabu is stunned. Right. This is the last match for their seniors. This is the last match for Ushijima. The last match they played together and even if he follows the man to the college of his choice, there is no guarantee--probably the percentage is little to none that he will become an official setter. The reality hits him in the face and knocks out the wind out his chest. His eyes scan the room immediately, looking for that brown hair and dark olive eyes--but there was none.
“Shirabu, are you okay?” Semi asks noticing his distressed expression. He isn’t. The tears are coming now, flowing steadily from his eyes to drip down his chin and no matter how many deep breaths he takes, his heart doesn’t seem to calm down.
“Uh… I think I left something in the bus.” He stammers before he excused himself out of the room. He hears someone call his name but the sound already faded into the background as he blindly ran towards the gym.
Tendou is on his way out when Shirabu arrives at the entrance, lungs burning at the lack of oxygen from the way he ran. The middle blocker had the decency to look shock, probably because of how he looked--which Shirabu is sure, it is anything but composed. But a knowing smile crosses his face when he realizes what is happening and he steps aside, “He’s still inside.”
Shirabu ignores his wide grin and nods before stepping inside, hearing the soft slide of the door behind him, followed by footsteps of someone walking away. He looks inside the empty gym, his eyes surveying the place which has been like home to him for two years now and his eyes settle at the man lying down in the middle, knees bent so his feet are still on the floor, one hand outstretched while the other rests on his face, covering his eyes.
He wonders how it would feel like, now. Tossing and not having Ushijima spike them… and the idea hurts more than expected.
He takes a step forward and Ushijima immediately notices his presence. He pushes himself up without totally standing up, and turns to look at Shirabu. Those olive eyes pierce through his skin, lances through his flesh and muscles under that very same skin and reaches his heart, making it ache in that terribly delicious way.
“Shirabu?” He asks, the deep voice echoing against the walls of their gym. His name almost sounds beautiful in those lips and he just stares at the way they move. They are pale and somewhere a voice inside Shirabu’s head is thinking lips shouldn’t look that way… they need to be strawberry red.
He shuts that voice immediately and focuses on the olive eyes instead, but even those feel wrong. They aren’t dark enough.
“What is it?” Ushijima asks and Shirabu opens his mouth to say the only thing he’s been dying to say.
I like you. But somehow, the words don’t reach his mouth, his tongue doesn’t move and his lips don’t form the words. Ushijima frowns and grunts as he moves to stand up. Shirabu takes a deep breath, wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket and tries again.
I like you. The words are right there, at the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t get it out. What gets out, however, is: “I’m sorry.”
Ushijima looks surprised, eyes slightly widening and brows furrowing when he realizes what Shirabu meant. He walks towards Shirabu and the setter’s instincts is to back away but he plants his feet on the floor and waits until Ushijima is already beside him.
He looks down on the floor, glaring at the ends of his shoes, feeling like he betrayed himself. I am such a coward. He will move on without knowing what I really feel. He’ll meet new people, probably be team mates that damned setter from Seijoh, and he will ultimately forget he ever knew me.
His self-depreciating thoughts stop when he felt a warm hand on top of his head, carding through his hair.
“Stop overthinking this.” He says in that deep voice. Shirabu looks up at Ushijima feeling like shit. He takes the deepest breath, mustering up all courage and determination still present in his body before he says--no, more of yells the words he hopes he won’t regret:
“I want to toss for you again, Ushijima-san! I want to stand in the court with you more. I want to play volleyball with you. I want… I want to be with you!” Wow, they unexpectedly rolled out off of my mouth easier than I thought they would. Shirabu almost congratulates himself but the look of shock in Ushijima’s face, made him regret everything he just said.
He wonders if it’s not yet too late to pass it off as a joke and he seriously considers it. But there’s still that small hope inside his heart that… of course, it’s impossible. Still, he holds his breath, anxiously waiting for their captain’s response.
The shock passes soon enough and Ushijima retracts his hand slowly… too slow, like he’s afraid that if he suddenly removes their only contact, Shirabu would shatter. Shirabu looks up and sees his face withdrawn: the permanent scowl, temporarily gone and replaced by a look that vaguely and surprisingly resembles unease and…vulnerability. It looks wonderful. Ushijima notices him looking and turns away. He takes a painfully deep breath and just whispers, “I can’t.”
Of course. Shirabu nods, “I know.” And he has never cried harder.
---
He skips the morning jog the following day. Then the practices for the next days with the excuse of coming down with a flu. He receives messages from his classmates wishing him well and eventually he received them from the first years of his team, then his seniors--except from their captain who probably knows he is lying.
He basically does nothing, just stays at home, trying to cure his depression with oversleeping, but every day, he wakes up feeling as shitty as he was the day before so he is beginning to rethink his strategy. His parents are also starting to worry about him, which is saying something because they are usually not home, both busy with work and rarely sees him. Luckily for him, his parents don’t say anything about it and contents themselves with curious and worried glances.
One day when he was on his way to shower--the first after three days, he receives a dubious text from no other than Kawanishi asking if he is still at home. He frowns at his phone, thinking about whether he should respond or ignore it, but he thought it must be about their school since they are classmates. He sends a response: What is it?
I got notes for you. Sensei asked me to deliver them. Send me your address.
Shirabu frowns more at this because he never really pegged Kawanishi as someone who would actually bother just to deliver notes to him when they are not even that close. Something is definitely fishy about this.
He rubs his temples at the signs of an oncoming headache, sighing to himself when he receives a new message.
Send it or I’ll throw them in the trash now.
What?! He grimaces at the phone and rolls his eyes at the annoying threat. Fine, whatever. He types in his address before hopping inside the shower.
---
DING-DONG!
He’s already finished with his quick shower, towel wrapped around his waist, a smaller towel over his head when he hears the doorbell ring. He grunts to himself, not expecting Kawanishi to arrive this soon. He looks at himself in the mirror--there are dark bags under his eyes, and his pale skin looks taut against his cheeks--overall, he looks like shit. But at least, he has showered.
DING-DONG!
What the fuck?! He almost growls in annoyance. Seriously, can’t that stupid Kawanishi wait?
Since it will be just a quick drop-off of notes and the doorbell is still ringing, for god’s sake, he forgoes getting into something decent--thinking it to be a bother. With heavy steps, he proceeds to the genkan to open the door of their apartment, scowling down at his foot, “Taichi, can’t you seriously just fucking wait?!”
His heart almost drops when after looking up, the brown eyes he expected are not there, and in its place are wide dark eyes--the blackest things he had ever seen.
“What--” He stares open-mouthed at Kageyama who is looking thoroughly embarrassed and trying to avert his gaze whenever their eyes meet. The headache is real now. Shirabu stops himself from just closing the door and crawling back into the bed because he certainly woke up at the wrong side of it--that or he is still dreaming.
“He wanted to talk to you.” Kawanishi starts to explain stepping into view. If eyes could kill, that bastard would be drowning in his own pool of blood right now, Shirabu laughing maniacally at his carcass.
“Wanted to--” His eyes drift back to Kageyama who is looking down at the floor, his cheeks dusted with pink. He is wearing casual clothes, too, a white shirt with a black print in front that resembled a flock of ravens (Seriously? What is this? Your school P.E. uniform?), a green plaid jacket tied around his waist and some dark cotton pants. Who would have thought the king of the court has some decent style?
Wait… Wait a minute!
“I think it’s better if you put on some clothes first before you talk to him, though.” Of course, Kawanishi just had to point it out. He instinctively and pathetically covers himself with his hands and glares at his classmate and team mate, “Why the fuck did you bring him here? And why the fuck are you two even talking anyway?!”
Wakanishi doesn’t even flinch at his questions and if he isn’t half-naked right now, he swears, he would strangle the bastard right there and then. “He’s been bugging the rest of the team for the entire week that you’re gone.”
A week? Has it already been a week? He gapes at him.
“Anyway, I didn’t bring him here. He followed me halfway and well, I just sort of told him I’d take him, just so he’d stop walking like a stalker behind my back.” Wakanishi sighs and Kageyama had the decency to actually look sheepish, “I also thought that maybe he’d help you out of your depression or something. I don’t know.”
His frown deepens. Depression? So the team actually knows? How? He hopes they think it’s about the defeat and not about anything else.
“Anyway, I really had to deliver some notes to you. So that part is true, at least.” He raises a paper bag filled with notebooks and hands it over to him. Kawanishi turns to Kageyama, “You know your way back, right? I’ll leave you in capable hands.”
“Oi, wait. What do you mean?!” Kawanishi is about to leave when Shirabu grabs his shoulder. The middle blocker gives him an uninterested look, “What?”
“Don’t just leave him here! Take him with you!”
“You two haven’t even talked!”
Shirabu turns to Kageyama, getting more annoyed because the flustered teen looks cuter by the minute. What the fuck is wrong with him?! “Oi, what the hell do you want to talk about, anyway?”
Kageyama’s head snaps up to look at him, opens his mouth then closes them again, eyes drifting off to Kawanishi who sighs for the nth time that night, “See? Kid can’t talk with me here. So I better go.” He pulls himself away and Shirabu has no choice but to let him go. He nods at Kageyama, “Have fun, you two.”
“What the--What the hell are you talking about?!” He yells trying to grab Kawanishi again but the middle blocker easily sidesteps away from his outstretched hand and skips towards where the elevator is. He raises his hand goodbye, but not before telling Shirabu to: “Seriously, put some clothes on.”
Shirabu is huffing in anger as he looks on helplessly as his Kawanishi walks away. The headache is becoming a terrible migraine now and he rubs at his head again forgetting Kageyama is there with him and only when the latter clears his throat does he remember him standing in front of him.
He looks at him with exasperation and Kageyama bites on his lower lip again--automatically drawing Shirabu’s attention to those strawberry red lips. Fuck. He sighs frivolously before kicking the door open, standing beside it to let him in, “Get in.”
---
He manages to get himself into a fresh white shirt and some sweat pants before strolling back to the living room where Kageyama is sitting on the sofa, quietly surveying the room, like a puppy. “I won’t offer you some tea because this will be brief.” He says slumping on the carpeted floor and rubbing furiously on his still wet hair.
Kageyama turns to him and nods, “Ah, yes. I’m sorry for intruding.” He shifts in his seat, the chair squeaking underneath him. Shirabu narrows his eyes, “Listen, I don’t know what you want from me. But if you or any of my teammates think that talking to the genius setter of the team that just defeated us would bring up my mood, then you are really stupid.”
Kageyama blinks at him, “But... It’s not what I came here for.” There is an easy shyness in his face and Shirabu, for the love of god, find it terribly, terribly amusing.
“Good.” He says, “Because I am not depressed over our loss. I got over that quickly so you can leave now and tell your--”
“I lied.” Kageyama nearly yells and Shirabu pauses to gape at him. Wow, he’s as red as a tomato. The setter awkwardly raises his eyes to look at him straight and it’s the most unnerving thing ever, “When I said it was a girl.”
“Huh?”
“My first kiss.” Kageyama explains and Shirabu doesn’t understand right away. “My first kiss, wasn’t with a girl like I told you.” Kageyama says again and something clicks in place and Shirabu suddenly knows what he’s talking about.
He laughs aloud--probably the first after so many days and it feels damn good. “You really came here to tell me that?” Kageyama looks serious, despite the redness of his face and Shirabu just gawks at him, “Wait, you are serious?”
Shirabu thinks he knew what embarrassment looks like, but looking at Kageyama now, he realizes, no, this is different. He pities him a bit and thinks how harsh he was treating him when he hasn’t done anything to offend him (well, apart from beating their team, but that’s a different story). The Karasuno setter’s face is a deep shade of red, his eyes glazed and his lips quivering in between his teeth.
His eyes zero in on those lips--they are as red as the first time he saw them. Kageyama’s tongue swipes over them again and they glisten against the fluorescent light. Shirabu finds himself doing the same as he tries to ignore the memory of how those lips taste like, how they feel like against his own: the softness, the warmth--and god forbid him because he wants to feel them again. Maybe just to confirm his memory is still good. Yeah, keep telling yourself that.
He watches those lips form words but he isn’t listening now. Something about confessing his love and being rejected? But then again, it could just be Shirabu thinking about himself so he ignores it and just keeps looking at those moving lips. Before he could stop himself, he’s already asking, “So, it’s a boy?”
Kageyama blinks at him, then mutters a soft yes… and every other sound disappears when in two huge steps, Shirabu has already crossed the living room, pushed Kageyama against the sofa, claiming those strawberry lips. They’re as warm and as soft as before but the sweet taste of milk is gone and replaced by something minty. Peppermint?
“Mpff…” Kageyama gasps when he slots their mouths together, lips rubbing hungrily against each other. Shirabu closes his eyes, and thinks about nothing except those warm lips, wishing Kageyama would… even just a little bit… if he could just, open…
The lips beneath his own move suddenly, like it has a life of its own and the scent of peppermint makes him lightheaded as Kageyama opens his mouth, pink tongue darting out to swipe on his lips. His mouth automatically welcomes the probing tongue. He lets out a stifled gasp when Kageyama plunges his tongue deep into his mouth and uses the opportunity to pull him closer onto his lap.
Shirabu winces a bit when Kageyama’s belt buckle digs on his groin but the overwhelming taste of peppermint assaults his senses as their tongues dance around each other, curling, lashing and wrestling against each other--every movement making him feel more and more woozy.
He should be ashamed then. But right now, nothing matters as the two of them suck on each other’s lips like their life depended on it. Kageyama’s hands are settled on the small of his back while his hands are just uselessly hanging beside him. But not for long, “Ahhh!” He gasps aloud, hands grabbing onto Kageyama’s head when the latter releases his lips only to latch on his adam’s apple and suck on the sensitive flesh.
Kageyama begins nipping at the skin on his neck, putting them in between his teeth and sucking. When Kageyama pulls Shirabu closer to his lap and their groins grind against each other for the first time, Shirabu feels something hard rub against his and he gasps aloud, eyes rolling back at the delicious friction. They are both hard and it’s ridiculously, fucking sexy.
They grind their hips together, enjoying the heat and pressure their clothed bodies could offer--but it’s not enough. He wants more skin. More of that annoyingly delicious sensation. He pushes Kageyama away who doesn’t fight back, but doesn’t totally release him and just holds him on his shoulders. He sees the look of shock and panic in his eyes, but his face is as red as his swollen lips, his breath coming in short pants and Shirabu thinks that he… he made that. He made that look and a sort of lewd happiness blooms inside him.
More. He wants more.
“Shirts, off. Now.” He commands, pulling his shirt off and discards them on the floor, Kageyama following his example. The boy isn’t ripped but he is lean and sexy as fuck. Shirabu greedily spreads his hands at the expanse of Kageyama’s milky white chest before he leans in for another desperate kiss.
One of Kageyama’s hand settles again at the small of his back, making sure he won’t run away--as if he would, while the other moves on his chest and finds a pebbled nipple, pinching on it ruthlessly. “Ngghh!” Shirabu hisses, releasing Kageyama’s lips and the younger boy just uses this chance to take said nipple into his warm mouth.
Shirabu’s world is collapsing instantaneously, and he arches his back, giving Kageyama more access to his flustered chest. He accidentally grinds their hips together and the heat begins building up right there below his belly, the evidence showing against his cotton sweatpants.
He moans when Kageyama not-so-gently nips on the nipple before releasing it to latch on the other. His hands grip on the taller boy’s shoulders, digging his nails onto skin, he’s sure he’s leaving marks--god, he hopes he does. Not to be outdone, however, his hands travel down the expanse of Kageyama’s chest, brushing against the perked up nipples, licking his lips as he stares at every curve of his muscular chest and abdomen, wanting to trace them with his tongue--he would, probably, but not now. Because he knows what he wants and he’s going to get it.
He cups Kageyama’s erection against the fabric of his pants, squeezing it lightly and Kageyama releases his nipple with a loud groan and leans his head back against the sofa. Shirabu grins to himself, leaning forward so they are now skin to skin, the heat of the contact making his own erection hurt with need. His tongue darts out to lick at the raven-haired boy’s earlobe.
“Are you still a virgin?” He whispers. Kageyama freezes and, okay… that must be the worst possible thing to say right now--good job ruining the mood--but he really needs to know. Having sex with a virgin is a little more difficult than usual.
The yes he hears is soft and low and he feels the rumble in Kageyama’s chest when he speaks it. Right, figures. He chuckles, the sound unexpectedly more seductive than what he intends it to be, “Let’s go to my room, then.”
---
The trip to his room shouldn’t have taken at least three minutes, but they are stopping in every step to grab and kiss each other that when they arrived in the room, both of them are already breathless and panting. Shirabu throws Kageyama on his bed, nearly toppling over him, if he didn’t pull away to remove his sweatpants. Kageyama willingly crawls up on the bed, eyes never leaving Shirabu, and the look he’s giving only made Shirabu hyper aware of what is happening.
Suddenly, he becomes too shy to continue and he stands there naked, shifting his weight on the balls of his feet, not sure how to continue.
“You’re so beautiful.” Kageyama breathes out the words and Shirabu looks up to find him staring with those big, black eyes filled with unadulterated wonder. Usually, he hates being called beautiful--many of his bullies back when he was a kid calls him that to mock his girly features, but this time, it only makes him flush. He isn’t sure if it’s the way Kageyama is looking admiringly at him, or the way he has said it… or maybe both, but whatever that is, it just made him feel like he’s melting in a puddle of cheesy embarrassment.
“S-Shut up.” He stammers and walks toward Kageyama who smiles shyly at him. He slowly crawls into the bed with him, but the Karasuno setter grabs his hips and holds him at arms-length. He frowns at him, extra aware that he is totally naked, embarrassingly aroused, and yet Kageyama is still just looking at him with those greedy black eyes.
“What the hell are you doing?” He demands.
“I just want to look at you more.” He says and there is no pretense on his words nor his eyes. Shirabu feels like his entire body is on fire and he wants to die in embarrassment with the way Kageyama is looking at him--but he also doesn’t want it to stop.
He puts a hand against his mouth and mutters, “Just, stop saying those embarrassing things.”
“Sorry.” Kageyama says and as if to make up to it, he pulls Shirabu in for a kiss until the smaller boy is now mounting on his stomach. Shirabu leans into the kiss, relishing the warmth and softness of Kageyama’s mouth as their tongues collided.
“Let’s take this off.” He says pulling on Kageyama’s belt, hastily unbuckling it. Kageyama unzips his pants and pulls it off with his briefs, kicking off the clothes in a heap on the floor. Shirabu lets his eyes wander to where and--wow. He is not expecting this, but, yes, the king of the court is definitely a king for some reason.
He licks his lips unconsciously as he blinks up at Kageyama who is still staring at him with those disgustingly lovesick puppy eyes. He hopes he stops that because it really is getting harder to concentrate on what he is supposed to be doing if he continues looking at him like that.
“Can I touch you?” Kageyama asks and shit it is so cute he nearly wants to punch him. Shirabu gives him a lopsided grin instead, “I’ll even let you fuck me.”
That’s all it took. With a loud groan, Kageyama lunges forward and pushes him on the bed, the comforter and the sheets swallowing him immediately with the weight. Kageyama kisses him quickly before his mouth goes down to his neck, to his chest, down to his stomach, dipping his tongue into his navel before going further down to--Oh!
Shirabu’s breath catches in his mouth when Kageyama’s mouth closes in on the head of his cock. He looks down only to be rewarded by the man’s half-lidded eyes, not even hiding the lust behind them. “I thought you said you’re a virgin…” He manages to croak out before Kageyama licks a straight line from the base up to the head.
Kageyama only hums in response, the vibrations sending ripples of sensation into his body as the taller boy continues sucking around him. The heat of Kageyama’s mouth is enough to send him into madness and he curls his toes, bites his lips to stop himself from screaming or from grabbing onto Kageyama’s hair.
A virgin, yes, probably. Considering how he is out of sync and overall sloppy, but Shirabu is not one to complain especially because he can already see stars under his lids. “Ahh… Ahhh…” He moans, unable to articulate the pleasure building inside him, racking up his entire body until he is nothing but a shivering mess.
“Shit, Kageyama, I…” He is unable to hold it back longer and if Kageyama continues with this, he’d most definitely come in his mouth. He grabs on a handful of hair and tugs Kageyama away who releases his erection with a loud pop. He immediately misses the warmth of his mouth but he wants… more of him.
“Fuck me.” He breathes out the word, watches Kageyama’s cock twitch at that before he turns around and reaches out inside bedside drawer. He rummages around its content before he finds a bottle of lube and a single packet of condom.
He throws it to Kageyama who catches it but blankly stares down at them like Shirabu just threw him the secrets to a perfect toss. Shirabu rolls his eyes, but more with fondness rather than exasperation and he pushes Kageyama onto the bed, taking the two into his hands, chuckling lightly, “Virgins.”
He uncaps the bottle of lube and squeezes a generous amount onto his hands, coating his fingers with it. He moves on top of Kageyama until he is straddling his hips, opening them wide enough so he could slide his fingers in between his thighs before pushing a single finger into his twitching hole.
Kageyama is watching him intently, eyes widening when he pushes a single finger inside him. He gasps and arches his back, Kageyama’s hands immediately circling his tiny waist to support him as he rubs himself. He absently licks and bites his lower lip as sweat trickled down his forehead when he inserts the second finger, scissoring them inside him.
He looks down and sees Kageyama’s cock, again and he knows he needs more than two fingers to prepare for that. “God…!” He hisses when he inserts the third finger and the feeling of getting filled made his knees shake.
“Shirabu-san… are you okay?”
Shirabu-san? His eyes, clouded with lust, flicker towards Kageyama, “Stop being so formal when I’m in front of you fucking myself with my own fingers.” He breathes out in a raspy voice, “Kenjiro… Call me, Ken--AH!” He moans aloud when his fingers hit his prostate. God, it feels so good.
“K-Kenjiro.” Kageyama’s voice is apprehensive and meek--and seriously, terribly cute--but hearing his name on those red swollen lips, is enough.
He pulls out his fingers, moaning slightly at the sudden emptiness his fingers left before he throws the condom to Kageyama, “Wear it.” He commands before he grabbing the bottle of lube again, squeezing a dollop onto his palms, warming it in his hands. When he looks back up, Kageyama has already worn the condom, at least he knows how to put one on, otherwise Shirabu would have called this off (although of course, who is he kidding? He would not call this off). He reaches out to touch the neglected erection, wrapping his hands around it.
Kageyama gasps at the contact and Shirabu watches his expression turn from the boy filled with wonder to the man groaning and moaning in his hands as he pumps him slowly up and down, picking up his pace when those sinful sounds starts coming out of his lips.
When Kageyama’s already fully coated, he stops and aligns Kageyama’s throbbing erection to his twitching hole. His breath is coming out in quick, soft pants and his entire body is shaking from excitement but he leans down and gives Kageyama a quick peck before he lowers himself slowly down to Kageyama’s erection.
He is big. The stinging pain makes him pause mid-way. He takes a deep breath as he tries to stop the shuddering of his knees and focuses on relaxing his muscles to take all of him. He closes his eyes and takes another breath until he feels Kageyama’s warm, hands steadying his hips. He opens his eyes and comes face to face with Kageyama, looking straight into him.
The look in those eyes makes everything inside him ache with desire. He swallows hard and with the help of Kageyama’s guiding hands, eases himself onto it.
“It’s all the way in.” Kageyama whispers disbelievingly, taking his face onto his hands and kissing him deeply again. The feeling of being filled almost makes Shirabu come right there and then and he moans when he just as simply shifts on his lap.
He releases Kageyama’s lips and smiles at him, loving the glistening of his sweaty skin before he pushes himself up and slams himself down onto his cock. Kageyama groans aloud, head lolling back, eyes turning white. The sound is music to Shirabu’s ears and he closes his eyes and continues riding him, finding the perfect pace for the both of them.
Kageyama’s hands are digging painfully on the side of his hips, he is sure they’ll be bruised later but he doesn’t care. He knows there are a lot more of those on his neck and on his shoulder and he will take it all because that is what he wants. That is what he needs.
...Isn’t it?
I can’t.
The voice echoes in his mind and all he sees is dark olive.
He pushes himself up higher until he is almost empty again and slams back down, the angle perfectly hitting his prostate and he moans, throwing his head back. “K-Kenjiro… slow down.” The voice beside him is ragged yet earnest. He doesn’t know who it belongs to but it oddly resembles the one who calls for a toss every time they are in court.
I like you.
I can’t.
Someone bites onto his neck and he makes a choking sound as he grabs onto dark brown hair. Wait… is it dark brown? Or…? Of course, it is dark brown. And the eyes are olive… always olive.
Fuck. He is close now. He can feel the familiar tingling in his body, all pooling to the area just below his stomach. His body feels like it’s on fire and the muscles on his legs is screaming at him with the motion. But he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop moving up and down until his moans become louder, his breath raspier and all he sees is the beautiful color of olive.
---
Shirabu wakes up with an arm snaking around his waist and he instinctively shies away from it, sitting down on the corner of the bed.
Kageyama blinks up at him from the bed, confused at his reaction before the realization behind his reaction dawns on him like a heavy blanket and he looks down on his hands. Brown gray eyes meet dark ones and the two pairs showing extremely different emotions--one still holds that childish wonder, like a kid who was just given a puppy--but without that giddy happiness it entails. The other pair, however, looks lost and guilt-filled.
“Sorry about that.” Shirabu says, avoiding those questioning eyes, “I just…” got carried away? But by what? He isn’t drunk. He is totally sober and aside from the migraine which has disappeared and having a comeback just about now, he doesn’t have any excuse, at all. Except that he’s a completely shitty person, that is.
“Your first kiss.” Kageyama says from somewhere in his bed, “Who was it?”
Shirabu doesn’t understand why Kageyama thinks it’s important to ask but he answers it anyway, “Just a random boy back in middle school.”
Kageyama hums in response, “Your first time?”
Shirabu doesn’t even pretend to not understand him, “Same boy.” Hatori Ueda. He met him in seventh grade, he was nice and he had a bright smile. He was tall, bulky--the exact opposite of Shirabu and one night when their school went on a camping trip, he kissed him. A week after, he lost his virginity with the same boy. He has long forgotten about him, and if Kageyama didn’t bring him up, he won’t even cross his mind. Now he can’t help but think about the chestnut-haired boy.
“Did you love him?” Kageyama asks and Shirabu doesn’t know what to think about his question because one, he didn’t expect the king of the court to be this sentimental to believe in true love and; second, he hasn’t really considered it before.
He sighs, “Why are you asking these questions?”
“I just… I just thought that you have to at least like a person to be able to uh... do these things.”
That’s it. Shirabu grins to himself. So naive. So innocent. And he’s just what? A year younger? “It doesn’t always work that way.”
“Why not?”
“So you would kiss anybody?”
Shirabu chuckles bitterly, “As long as they’re cute and willing.”
Kageyama takes a while to respond, “That’s… A bit self destructive, don’t you think?”
Right. Like he needs him to point that out. He’s perfectly aware of that, thank you. Shirabu sighs and shifts in his position, then in a quiet voice, he says, “You should probably leave.”
It takes a few silent moments for Kageyama to understand that he wants to be alone before he moves to clean up the mess. He grabs his clothes and asks if he could use his bathroom. Shirabu nods, pointing him the way.
The moment the door closed behind Kageyama, Shirabu closes his eyes and pulls his legs to his chest so he can hug his knees. He vaguely recalls his mother scolding him when he does this back when he was a kid. She keeps on telling him it would make his posture bad. He believed it then until he realized she had been lying. Still, that lie helped him grow out of it.
But he still does it sometimes. Especially when he feels like a terrible human being and the need to decrease his existence becomes too powerful.He puts his head on his folded knees and breathes in deeply, hoping he would stop pitying himself, but a mere action like that doesn’t stop the pain wracking his entire body.
You need to at least like a person to do these things? He snorts at the bitter taste in his mouth. How perfectly naive. He wants to tell him that sometimes people you like don’t like you back and no matter how much it sucks, you just have to swallow up that glaring truth and live with what you have. Live for the stolen moments and kept up memories you shared with that person. Because that is all you will have.
And the sad part is, if he’s given a choice… he’d probably do it all over again.
It starts as soft whimpers then transforms into full-blown sobs in only a matter of minutes. Whenever he closes his eyes all he sees are those dark olive eyes staring back at him, pulling him apart piece by piece… and the funny thing is, he’s okay with all of those, if it meant that he’ll be able to stay with him for one more match--one more day. Please, just one more time.
He almost jumps out of bed when his phone vibrates to an incoming call. He almost chooses to ignore it but when he sees the name that popped out on the screen. His heart just drops on the floor and rolls out the door as he looks at the name on the caller ID. With shaky hands, he gingerly picks up the phone.
“Shirabu.” Ushijima’s deep voice sounds like heaven and his heart aches at the yearning to hear it once more.
“U-Ushijima-san.” He responds, hating himself for stuttering for even just calling his name.
He hears his captain clear his throat and he realizes how awkward he must be feeling right now. But he waits in silence, holding his breath. Telling his heart to expect nothing and reminding himself about the sting of rejection still fresh and painful.
And yet despite that, Shirabu waits for him. Always. Always.
“Come back to practice soon.”
Great. Here we go again.
+++