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Water trickles from the corner of pink lips, dripping off of porcelain skin in the shape of a perfect jawline. He narrows his eyes, feels his body stiffen as the other male's Adam's Apple bobs along with gulps as desperate as a dying man in the driest of deserts. Wakatoshi is finally able to look away as soon as Tooru wipes his lips and tosses the bottle in the trash, cheeks still flushed from exertion during the previous match.
Ushijima might not have smiled often, but he found his lips curling into a small smile for Tooru. He had watched this match from the bleachers, awaiting the match following. He hadn't yet faced Tooru's team and probably wouldn't until tomorrow, all things considered.
Still, it was time for him to change into his jersey. He liked to be an hour early regardless of anything else. It was just... preparation, as he saw it. So he threw his duffle bag over his shoulder, heading down into the locker room and then to the restroom to change. There was no one but staff left here, the previous teams were either celebrating or packing up, and the next two weren't due there for another 30 minutes.
With that in mind, he slipped off his sweatpants, his gym shorts already underneath, and stretches a bit as he slips his t-shirt off and tosses it towards the open bag.
"Ah, Ushiwaka~" A familiar choice chimes, the tone of it as devious as ever.
Oikawa had changed a little bit after high school, Wakatoshi thought. It was as if losing to Karasuno had humbled him a bit. Whether that was the reason or not, it had led to his former rival finally opening up to the idea of some kind of truce between them. It had also led to a one night stand, a date, and then a handful of other encounters similar to this one.
He kept his back turned to the other, feeling lithe fingertips across his back before actually turning to face the other captain. He had to give himself a moment, the memory of a flushed and sweaty Tooru sucking the life out a water bottle was suddenly replaying itself in his mind.
He follows Oikawa into the furthest stall catching the door right before the other could close it.
"Waka-chan, what is it?" He asks, chestnut eyes brimming with what was genuine surprise as far as Ushijima could read. He took a step closer and he watched as those eyes slowly softened, becoming a bit hazy just as the space closed between them. He was already leaning in to meet the other's lips as he closed the door and secured the latch. His eyes were closed as their lips brushed, the gentle brush of teeth along his lower lip all the consent he needed to pin his partner to the wall. Tooru moaned softly into his mouth, a smile soon parting the lips against his own.
Wakatoshi sighed in approval, slipping his tongue into those parted lips. They kiss deeply and the older male gets a little lost in the taste of Tooru as he struggles to maintain the dominance of the kiss. He slips a tanned hand up the other's jersey and presses his knee between Oikawa's thighs, the brunette's back arching as he broke the kiss to moan aloud.
Ushijima's body burns at the sound, his nails soon finding purchase in Tooru's lower back. He's now well aware of his cock half-hard and bobbing against his skin as his partner looks down at him. He's suddenly thankful for the vigorous training he had put in his whole life, leaning slightly forward to more securely perch the setter on his thigh.
"Hi," he says softly, looking through dark lashes at the man above him. The setter rolled his eyes a bit, finding Ushijima corny beyond belief. The ace then re-adjusted his knee beneath the setter, eliciting a heavy gasp along with a bit of regret from him.
"What--" Tooru tries, but ultimately decides he doesn't care. He leans back into the cool metal of the bathroom stall and lets Wakatoshi nuzzle against his chin. The ace purrs into the his jawline and sucks that collarbone he'd worshipped all to himself just moments before. He could feel the other's breath quicken a bit and soon felt a twinge from under the shorts pressed on to his knee. Ushijima couldn't resist the need to squeeze the little tent that has formed, pressing his knee into Tooru once again.
The setter winced and stiffened, and Ushijima instantly pulling away.
"What's wrong?" He asks, sincere concern flashing in his dark eyes for a moment. Had he moved too quickly? Was this too brash?
"I just... gimme a sec."
Wakatoshi does, brows knitted as he internally tore himself to shreds. He steps backwards and Tooru slides down the wall a bit unceremoniously and still not meeting his eyes. When he finally does, he's flushed again as he gestures in a motion that surely means "turn around".
So he does.
He's nervously running his fingers through his hair when he hears he sound of fabric rustle and a waistband snap against skin. Oh. That's it. Tooru just had to piss. Cool.
With the anxiety of making the setter uncomfortable now settling itself, it resurfaces as an uncomfortable ache in his groin. He's listening for the sound of piss hitting the toilet, but it still hasn't come. The anticipation is doing nothing to relieve that ache, but he decides it's best to ignore. Any sexual deviancies he'd had yet to discover were probably best to consider another time. He'd only had sex with his ridiculous high school crush three times now. It could wait.
And it waits a while.
Ushijima knows it's been at least a few minutes of silence. Finally, he hears a groan of frustration and the sound of a waistband snapping once again. Tooru keeps his back to Wakatoshi as he mutters, embarrassment evident in his voice, "I can't do it with you in here".
Ushijima turns back, peeking over his shoulder as the other turns back, his arms crossed. He's now face to face with a blushing Tooru, the outline of his cock visible in his gym shorts and the embarrassment softening the his expression to something somewhat pitiful.
He feels his heart throb in its own fit of anxiety, Tooru finally looking up at him. He acts before he's fully considered the consequences, closing the space between them once again, kissing the setter with a fervor that had him moaning in seconds. It lasts a moment before he's breaking away visibly confused, but the hazy green irises that are burning holes into him are more than enough to convince Oikawa to continue.
"'Toshi," he sighs, the elder hoisting him up again, knee between supple thighs and rocking against the other's groin. Tooru moans but winces, clutching his lower abdomen and curling in on himself.
"D-Don't," he gasps. "I didn't--"
"...'s fine."
"Wh... wha--"
"It's fine," he reaffirms softly, pulling away to take in Tooru's expression of utter disbelief. Wakatoshi answers to this with another press of his thigh, now rubbing his thumb into the head of Oikawa's cock through the fabric of his shorts. Tooru's look of shock quickly warps into something of embarrassment before he moans, wrapping his arms around Ushijima's neck. He shifts into Tooru and his knee presses directly into his bladder. Tooru gasps as a stream of urine soaks his tented boxers, quickly staining his shorts and in turn Ushijima's hand.
As soon as he realizes his accident, he slaps that hand away to clench at his crotch. Ushijima doesn't move. Tooru is panting, clearly struggling to stop the stream once it had finally started. But he finally understands, and that much Ushijima is sure of.
"You're gross, Ushiwaka," he says softly, but makes no move to stop. Wakatoshi decidedly puts his knee down, Tooru sliding down the wall. His thighs are trembling and Ushijima knows he's at his limit. So does he, and that's clear by the look of fear that he soon gives the ace.
Ushijima picks him up quickly, scooping the setter up easily and slipping his shorts down to his knees before standing him up in front of the toilet. The seat's up, but Tooru is too intent on holding it to let himself finally go. Ushijima still has his arms around him, clearly supporting the setter who surely couldn't stand for himself.
"Go on," Ushijima whispers, voice low enough that it sends a chill down Tooru's spine. He hisses.
And he pisses a bit, before a pair of fingers cut him off.
"What!"
"Hold it," he mumbles, and Oikawa keens, desperation now quickly setting in. He's leaning back into the ace now, cock throbbing. Ushijima can feel his legs shuddering and he releases his grip, Oikawa instantly pissing again with a moan so wanton he prayed the locker room was empty.
Ushijima can't fight the smirk that soon finds its way to his lips. He cuts the setter's stream again and Tooru's whole frame is racked with a sob. "P-please," he begs, voice breaking, and Wakatoshi can't resist the urge to press himself against the crack of Tooru's ass. He moans into Oikawa's auburn tresses as he grinds against him, the setter answering with a sob and a twinge of his cock.
Tears blur his vision as violent gasps pain his chest. He lets out an undignified squeak and a sudden shout as his stream is interrupted by an orgasm, cum splurting between streams of piss. Wakatoshi is unable to do anything but watch in absolute amazement and desire, pumping his partner's dick as if his life depended on it. He ruts against the crack of Tooru's ass, finally feeling the trickle of piss begin to slow and Oikawa beginning to grow rigid.
He turns around, flushed a deeper crimson than Wakatoshi had ever seen him. He appears a bit agitated, but the sight of Ushijima's tanned skin heated, his cheeks and the tips of his ears flushed and his hair sweat-stricken causes him to hesitate.
The ace is a shuddering mess just inches from him. Tooru is unable to resist the other male in such a state. He huffs as he pushes down a pair of jersey shorts, freeing a cock that still somewhat surprised him every time he saw it. His mouth watered as he sunk down, bending at his knees and wrapping his lips around the girthy head. He uses his hand to work the rest of it, only able to take so much, but still eager to slip the whole thing down his throat. He just couldn't get enough of the taste of Wakatoshi or the desperate sound of his breath hitching. The ace soon pets Tooru's sweat-dampened hair, his fingers gripping the auburn curls until his knuckles were white. He was already throbbing against Oikawa's tongue when the setter slipped him down past his tonsils, sucking as he made his way back to the tip of his length. His lips were barely midway on Ushijima before he was swallowing ropes of cum.
It seemed he was never quite fast enough. A bit dribbled down his chin, mixed with saliva, just the way the water had not even thirty minutes before. Ushijima's eyelids are fluttering and he's beyond speechless. It was one of the quickest fucks he'd ever had, but certainly in the top 5 as far as quality went.
He's tucking himself back into his jeans as Tooru stands, dusting himself off before taking a few steps back.
"We don't speak of this," he stutters, cheeks still blazing as he wipes his mouth on the tail of his shirt.
Ushijima could only nod weakly. Tooru wasn't meeting his eyes anyway. That was probably a good thing -- he was unable to fight the smirk that soon took over his expression.
"I'll text you," he replies, ignoring the scoff from the other side of the stall and then the slam of the bathroom door.
Yeah, he would just have to be a few minutes late to the match. It was all worth it.