Work Text:
The warmth and steady rocking of the train would be soporific even if it weren't so early in the morning. Iwaizumi yawns for the dozenth time and presses his cheek against the train window, letting the chill of it wake him up a little. He leaves it there until it warms to his skin, watching the scenery from Miyagi to Tokyo zip by and thinking with mild amusement that Sawamura is doing the same thing in the opposite direction at the same time, maybe even on one of the trains that occasionally pass him.
Oikawa's been trying to figure out all year which former teammate Sawamura goes home to visit, but won't ask directly because he says that spoils the fun of it. Oikawa's money is on Mr. Refreshing and his sassy beauty mark; Iwaizumi is rooting for Manbun personally. Size difference.
Whichever way Oikawa's roommate swings, Iwaizumi doesn't want a repeat of that time he slept through the stop at his station and woke up to Oikawa calling him in a panic. He sits up straighter and pinches the skin between his thumb and forefinger, which always works even though he doesn't believe it should. The book in his lap is obviously a lost cause, homework though it is, so he tucks it away in his bag and puts his headphones in instead, thumbing to the jogging playlist of obnoxious pop Oikawa made him over the summer. Maybe the heat of how much he hates half of the songs will keep him alive.
He doesn't sleep through his stop this time, and the chill of the air outside wakes him up the rest of the way as it ruffles his hair. It's really fall now, a relief after the blistering August they had, and Iwaizumi is wondering if he should have brought a scarf when he spots Oikawa waiting for him at the station exit. Oikawa is bundled up in a huge Tokyo University sweatshirt under his coat, always weak to cold, and is leaning coolly against the wall people watching until the instant he spots Iwaizumi.
"IWAAA-CHAAAAAAN!" he yells, waving like a lunatic and making everybody stare at him. Iwaizumi gives him a bland look for making a scene in public, but on the inside liquid warmth is already pooling under his ribs at how much he's missed Oikawa, how fiercely.
It's not easy to send your childhood best friend off to Tokyo for university just so he can be on some dumb Nationals-level volleyball team or whatever. The sense that Iwaizumi is actually in a romantic daytime drama intensifies when he can't find his train pass to swipe himself through the gate, and there's a long minute while he hunts and the only thing separating them is the meter of space the gates take up.
"Hurry up!" Oikawa whines, bouncing on his toes.
"Shut up, I'm right here," Iwaizumi grumbles, thinking they could reach across the space and high five, honestly. He finds the pass and slaps it on the sensor, then steps through. "Happy now?"
"Yes!" Oikawa grabs Iwaizumi's bicep with two hands and starts dragging him away, even though Iwaizumi knows the way to the apartment himself by now. He understands, though, that it's a replacement for the greeting Oikawa wants to give him, throwing arms around each other and kissing as if they really were in a romcom. Not the smartest thing two Nationals-level volleyball players could do in public.
"Slow DOWN, asshole," Iwaizumi snaps when Oikawa all but drags them into the street before even looking at the traffic signal. Oikawa only looks up at him and grins, fingers digging into Iwaizumi's arm harder. "Don't get killed."
"Iwa-chan, you care," Oikawa coos. Behind them a shopping grandma clears her throat because the light changed while they weren't looking and they're blocking the crosswalk.
The dramatic kissing reunification waits until they are safely inside Oikawa's apartment, door firmly shut, and then Oikawa is on him like a koala before their sneakers are even off. Iwaizumi shrugs off his backpack with a careless whump and then takes Oikawa's face in his hands, angling Oikawa's lips against his so the kiss is still messy and deep, but less chaotic. Iwaizumi closes his eyes and leans into it, lets it sink in that there are no more miles between them, and then he wraps his arms tight around Oikawa's waist because it still isn't enough. Oikawa tastes like mint gum and smells like home, melting the ache in his chest into something darker, hotter.
When Iwaizumi's hand slips under Oikawa's sweatshirt to palm the skin of his back, Oikawa pulls back suddenly. Iwaizumi blinks in surprise, his lower lip stinging where Oikawa bit him a little.
"We should get lunch!" Oikawa says. He sounds a little funny, but Iwaizumi is probably squeezing his lungs.
"What the fuck?" Iwaizumi asks, dubious. Usually the first thing he eats when he visits Tokyo is, well, Oikawa, and he's not keen on breaking the tradition.
"There's this place I've been dying to take you," Oikawa hurtles on, pushing Iwaizumi back by the shoulders. "And you've never had a proper tour of campus!"
"Are you kidding me?" Iwaizumi groans, watching Oikawa pat down his pockets to make sure he has his keys, wallet, phone. "I've seen your shitty campus."
He hasn't, not really. The first time he was in Tokyo, they spent the afternoon setting up Oikawa's furniture and room and then the rest of the weekend in bed, mourning their impending separation with a lot of blowjobs and spooning. The visits after that, either it was Oikawa coming back to Miyagi, or too hot in summer to walk around anywhere, or they were busy going to Oikawa's matches. This weekend they don't have anything planned except for Oikawa's practice the next morning, and the weather is crisp and perfect.
"Out you go, slowpoke," Oikawa insists, pushing Iwaizumi right back out the door he'd been so desperate to get in not ten minutes earlier. Iwaizumi heaves a sigh but lets Oikawa drag him wherever he wants, back onto another infernal train.
"You're such a fucking annoyance," Iwaizumi growls in Oikawa's ear, crowding him against the pole even though the train is only half-full. Oikawa doesn't look up from his phone, but he smiles this small, knowing smile, that makes Iwaizumi's chest ache with familiarity. He wishes it were rush hour so he had an excuse to rub up against Oikawa, to crush him into the corner space between the seats and the door and sneak a hand under his coat.
The ramen place is good, at least, and Iwaizumi has to admit Oikawa knows his tastes if nothing else. Iwaizumi orders karaage along with his salt ramen, raising an eyebrow when Oikawa doesn't want to share it.
"I've had it before," Oikawa says lightly, his eyes on his phone. "You should enjoy it."
"Don't be dumb, you love karaage." Iwaizumi picks up a smaller piece and pokes it into Oikawa's mouth when he opens it to protest. "See? What's with you, Shittykawa? You're being weird."
"Well, excuse me," Oikawa sniffs. "Usually you yell at me for taking bites of your food, make up your mind. I'm trying to be a gracious host!"
Iwaizumi looks him over dubiously, then kicks at his feet. Oikawa squawks and kicks back, and they're still scuffling when the waitress brings their ramen bowls and gives them both the beady eye.
True to his word, afterwards Oikawa takes Iwaizumi on the grand tour of Tokyo University, or at least the parts of it that he frequents. Some of it Iwaizumi is mildly interested in, like the practice fields and the volleyball courts, and other parts like the Academic Guidance Center that he couldn't give half a shit about. He plays along for a while, the walk nice after stuffing himself full of noodles and fried chicken, but after an hour his patience is wearing thin.
"Let's go home already," he says, tugging on Oikawa's arm where it's looped through his. Oikawa pouts at him.
"You don't like my tour? You can't get your money back, you know."
"Like I'd pay for you." Looking around to make sure nobody is around to see, Iwaizumi leans in for a kiss, skimming Oikawa's lower lip with his tongue before nipping it sharply. "I want to go back. I missed you."
"Fine, fine," Oikawa says, cheeks pink. That could just be the wind, though; their senior year Oikawa had moved far past blushing at anything Iwaizumi did to him in either private or public, and initiated a lot of the public risks himself. Maybe separation is eroding their immunity to each other…Iwaizumi dismisses the thought as soon as he has it. If you look up 'shameless' in the dictionary, the kanji is shaped like Oikawa's face with the radical for 'flashy asshole.'
Back inside the apartment, Iwaizumi strips off his sneakers and jacket before Oikawa can get any other ideas. He picks up his backpack from where he dropped it earlier and strides to Oikawa's bedroom, familiar with the path. He doesn't even realize Oikawa isn't following him until he's elbow-deep in his backpack, digging around for the box of glow-in-the-dark condoms that are guaranteed to make Oikawa lose it laughing.
"You aren't going to believe…" he starts, then realizes there's no one behind him, no one trying to sneak a peek over his shoulder. "Shittykawa?"
Oikawa appears in the doorway to his bedroom and hovers there, arms folded in front of him, still wearing the sweatshirt, and that's when Iwaizumi knows something is wrong. Iwaizumi abandons his backpack to stand in front of Oikawa, looking him in the eye directly.
"Are you going to tell me what's going on or do I have to beat it out of you?" Iwaizumi asks. Oikawa's gaze drops as he mutters he doesn't know what Iwaizumi is talking about; worry starts to fizz in Iwaizumi's chest like television static. "You're acting weird. Usually you can't wait to get me into bed, and today you want to be everywhere but there."
Oikawa lifts his gaze back up pull an angry face, but his pout is too showy to be convincing. "Is that all you want from me, Iwa-chan?"
"You know it isn't; don't deflect." Iwaizumi cups Oikawa's face like he had earlier in the entryway, but this time he looks Oikawa over critically. "Are you sick? You feel warm."
"No, I'm fine." Oikawa heaves a sigh. "Don't fuss."
"I'll fuss as much as I fucking want to. Is it something with school? Or your team?" Iwaizumi presses. Oikawa shakes his head, as much as he can with Iwaizumi holding his face. It's something, Iwaizumi can read it off Oikawa's face, but he never makes Iwaizumi work this hard to find out what's bothering him. The worry in Iwaizumi's chest starts to crawl up his throat. "Is it us? Being so far apart?"
"No!" Oikawa straightens, eyes wide.
"I know you've gotten busier." Iwaizumi thinks about how long it's been since they've seen each other in person. Uncomfortably, he realizes it's been weeks since they actually Skyped instead of just trading texts. "If this is too much, tell me."
"Iwa-chan, no," Oikawa insists. He isn't flushed, Iwaizumi realizes, he's blushing, his nose wrinkled up in displeasure. "It's…it's dumb. And embarrassing." Oikawa yanks on the bottom hem of his sweatshirt, twisting it in his hands.
Iwaizumi eyes Oikawa evenly, just waiting. He wonders what exactly Oikawa could think was too embarrassing after living through puberty together.
Heaving a sigh, Oikawa steps back enough to strip off his sweatshirt and then drops his arms, jaw clenched like he's waiting for Iwaizumi to tell him how many laps to run. Iwaizumi doesn't see what he's talking about at first, distracted by Oikawa's hair getting mussed up and the flex of his biceps sticking out of his T-shirt, the pink tint to his cheeks.
"Well?" Oikawa demands.
"Well, what?" Iwaizumi asks, one eyebrow raised. Oikawa scowls and gestures to his middle, where his T-shirt has ridden up, and finally Iwaizumi notices that Oikawa's jeans aren't buttoned. In fact, they're being held closed by a hair elastic looped through the button hole. Now that he's looking, Oikawa does have a bit of a tummy pooch, which is definitely new, and the start of a muffin top peeking around his sides from his jeans being tight.
"See? I'm horrible!" Oikawa exclaims. "I'm a whale! I didn't want you to see me like this—" He lifts his arm like he's going to put his sweatshirt back over his head; Iwaizumi catches his wrist to stop him.
"You're not a whale, you goddamn drama queen." Iwaizumi is a little pissed off that he was actually worried over this asshole for a minute there. But he can't stop noticing the difference now that he's started, the softness across Oikawa's belly, the way his thighs fill out his jeans. Even the curve of his cheeks is rounder, plush when Iwaizumi brushes lips over it. "You absolute asshole, you scared me it was something big. Gaining a little weight in your first year at university is completely normal."
"I've gained eight kilo!" Oikawa screeches. "I can't even button my jeans!"
"What size are those?" Iwaizumi asks, clicking his tongue. He lets go of Oikawa's wrist to put his hands on Oikawa's waist instead, fingers skimming the warm, soft skin just above Oikawa's waistband. "I'm pretty sure nobody is supposed to fit in these."
"I'm supposed to!" Oikawa slumps his head against Iwaizumi's shoulder. "You don't understand what it's like! Sawa-chan is an amazing cook and brought all his mother's recipes! Last week he made a cheesecake for fun. He owns a springform pan! What university student does that?! And he and Bokkun eat like wolves, you can't believe it! I don't have the metabolism of a sixteen-year-old anymore, Iwa-chan!"
"Poor baby," Iwaizumi soothes. His hands seem to have a mind of their own, palming Oikawa's sides, fingers sinking into Oikawa's love handles, no idea how into it he is until it's already happening. He leans in to press his mouth to Oikawa's, cutting him off mid-complaint. He means it to be reassuring, but he ends up licking his way into Oikawa's mouth, heat spreading from the center of his chest outwards.
And then he slides his hands into the back of Oikawa's jeans, gets two handfuls of Oikawa's ass, and squeezes.
"Ahh!" Oikawa exclaims, yanking his mouth away. "What are you doing?!"
Iwaizumi grins at him. "You have an ass now."
"I had one before!" Oikawa shoves at Iwaizumi's chest, but his grip is too good. The curve of Oikawa's ass fills his palms perfectly, it's impossible not to squeeze it again and, yeah, Iwaizumi is definitely into it.
"Barely." Iwaizumi lets go and steps back. "Turn around."
"What? No, you pervert!" Oikawa's hands fly back to his ass, as if he's a maiden covering his shame. Iwaizumi reaches up to tweak one of Oikawa's unguarded nipples. Then he takes Oikawa by the shoulder and spins him around to get a good, long look. Oikawa's ass looks just as good as it feels, filling out the skinny jeans like a peach, and if Oikawa had always had an ass like this, it wouldn't have taken Iwaizumi the entire way until high school to realize just how gay for his best friend he really was.
His ass is so cute it's kind of unfair. Iwaizumi wants to put his hands back on it. He wants to put his mouth on it.
Oikawa is peeking over his shoulder at Iwaizumi's face, eyes narrowed. "You're just humoring me."
"As if I ever do that," Iwaizumi snorts. He slides arms around Oikawa's waist to pull them flush together, rocking his hips up into Oikawa's ass. He kisses the back of Oikawa's neck, just where his hair stops, then the tendon running from his neck to his shoulder, then the back of his ear. "I'm taking you to bed. Any objections?"
Oikawa doesn't answer, but he turns his head enough to kiss Iwaizumi firmly. The angle's awkward over his shoulder, but neither of them will give it up as Iwaizumi walks them backwards towards the bed until he bumps into it.
They've fallen into bed together dozens of times, hundreds, but the first time after they've been apart for weeks is the one that gets under Iwaizumi's skin every time, rushed, desperate, moaning commands and praise into each other's skin in half sentences. Oikawa rolls over as soon as they're horizontal, dragging hands through Iwaizumi's hair; Iwaizumi drags fingers down his spine and rolls their hips together.
"Mmm, Iwa-chan," Oikawa sighs, rocking down against the thigh Iwaizumi has wedged in between his own. He's licking and sucking at Iwaizumi's neck, down near the jut of his collarbone where the scrape of Oikawa's teeth makes Iwaizumi's hips jerk involuntarily.
"Off," Iwaizumi grunts, shoving at Oikawa's jeans. He gets them down just over the swell of Oikawa's ass and they get stuck there, Oikawa busy yanking at Iwaizumi's shirt. Iwaizumi grabs two handfuls of Oikawa's ass and squeezes until Oikawa moans, marveling at how perfectly the curve of it fits into his palms now, how there's toned muscle flexing underneath. Oikawa bites down, hard enough to probably leave a mark where Iwaizumi's uniform might not cover it, and Iwaizumi lets go of his ass with one hand to wrap it in Oikawa's hair instead, yanking him back to glare. "Clothes off now."
"So forceful," Oikawa teases, poking his tongue against his cheek when Iwaizumi growls at him. He rolls away just enough to kick off his jeans, though, Iwaizumi stripping off his own clothes and tossing them to the ground with equal carelessness. Iwaizumi's hands are already back on him before Oikawa's even finished stripping, grabbing him by the hips to yank Oikawa against his chest.
"Tell me what you want," Iwaizumi orders between messy kisses. They could go just like this the first time and Iwaizumi wouldn't be sorry, but he'll do whatever Oikawa wants so long as Iwaizumi can keep touching him. When Oikawa doesn't answer, Iwaizumi pulls his mouth away, dragging it down Oikawa's jaw while Oikawa tries to force his head back to kissing. "Tell me."
"You," Oikawa says. He says it like it's an order, but it's breathless. Oikawa throws his knee over Iwaizumi, spreading himself open. "I want you inside."
Iwaizumi takes his time opening Oikawa up with his fingers, ignoring both his own aching cock and Oikawa's pleas to hurry up. Oikawa feels so good around his fingers, his rim fluttering around Iwaizumi's fingertips when he teases at it, the slick heat of his hole squeezing tight when Iwaizumi pushes in up to his knuckles. He's holding down Oikawa's hip with his free hand, still marveling at the plush give of Oikawa's added weight under his fingers.
"Finally," Oikawa groans when Iwaizumi pulls his fingers out. He turns his head to glare, though, when Iwaizumi flops onto his back, shoulder to shoulder with Oikawa. "What are you doing?!"
"You're going to ride me," Iwaizumi tells him. Oikawa's cheeks, already flushed from arousal, tint darker from lingering embarrassment.
"Who said I was going to do that?" he asks, eyes drifting down towards his belly and thighs.
"You love it, you fucking exhibitionist, and I want to see you," Iwaizumi says bluntly, making Oikawa's eyes snap up to his face with an obvious shudder. He wedges his hand underneath Oikawa's hip and pulls up as if he's trying to flip a pancake over. "So get on my dick already."
They get a condom rolled on Iwaizumi and Oikawa up on his knees, and whatever self-consciousness Oikawa still feels it seems to fade as soon as he's sinking down onto Iwaizumi's cock centimeter by careful centimeter. Iwaizumi loves watching Oikawa's face when he's working himself open on Iwaizumi's dick, loves the intensity of Oikawa's expression that only shows during sex and official matches. He wasn't kidding about wanting to look, and in this position Iwaizumi can see everything, raking his gaze from Oikawa's wet lips to his pink chest to the soft swell of his belly just behind the fullness of his dick. Iwaizumi's palms itch with the desire to touch all of it, but waits until Oikawa bottoms out, panting, eyes closed.
"Easy," Iwaizumi encourages. He puts his hands carefully on Oikawa's hips, pressing his thumbs in to make soothing circles. "No rush."
"Easy for you to say that, down there," Oikawa groans. He sucks in one slow breath, releases it, and takes another, the tight clench of his jaw easing. "Move."
"You aren't ready," Iwaizumi says; it's not a question. He slides his hands down to Oikawa's thighs and feels the muscles trembling. "Don't be a moron."
"I won't break," Oikawa snaps. He shifts his hips up and back down, getting his bearings. He opens eyes his just enough for Iwaizumi to see the dark glimmer of them under Oikawa's eyelashes. "Move."
Iwaizumi lets Oikawa do most of the work, to set the pace himself, but he uses the grip he has on Oikawa's thighs to help get things going. It's only once Oikawa has a steady rhythm of his own going that Iwaizumi begins pushing his hips up into it, timing it to Oikawa's hips coming down. Oikawa tends towards shallow, deep thrusts when he rides, and Iwaizumi knows how to give him what he wants, grinding in just a little at the top of his thrust, earning a pleased groan from Oikawa each time.
He could wrap a hand around Oikawa's cock and coax him into finishing, but Iwaizumi doesn't want it to end just yet. He's much more interested in running hands over everywhere on Oikawa that he can reach, exploring the new shape of him. He traces fingers from Oikawa's knees up to the pale skin of his inner thigh; he palms the top of Oikawa's thighs to feel the corded muscle bunch and release as Oikawa rides him; he squeezes the flesh of Oikawa's sides, and then back a little further, and he can't help humming to himself in satisfaction that there's enough there to get a good grip. No wonder they used to be called Venus's handles, he thinks, the perfect spot to hold on to as Oikawa gets more into it, making the bed creak.
"Touch me," Oikawa orders, and when Iwaizumi doesn't obey fast enough, pants an annoyed, "Hajime." Iwaizumi peels one hand away from Oikawa's side to palm his cock instead, but he does it slowly, thumbing the wetness at the tip and making Oikawa groan in frustration.
Iwaizumi laughs, voice rough. "You're so hot when you're desperate. I could watch this all day."
"I'll fucking murder you," Oikawa groans. He bucks his hips up into Iwaizumi's hand, out of rhythm. "Harder. Give it to me, Iwa-chan."
"Yeah," Iwaizumi growls, planting his feet against the mattress and thrusting up hard enough to make Oikawa bounce. It makes Oikawa's thighs and stomach ripple, and a wave of heat rolls through Iwaizumi, sudden enough he has to grit his teeth and concentrate on not having a surprise ending himself. "Yeah, that's good. So fucking good."
"Pervert," Oikawa accuses again, but his head is tipped back, eyes shut, barely attending to what he's saying. He's taking Iwaizumi's cock so well, so deep, and Iwaizumi wants it to last longer almost as much as he wants to watch Oikawa unravel. "Mm, I'm close, don't stop."
"Come for me," Iwaizumi says, lower back starting to ache from the strain of keeping his thrusts steady, but he ignores it. His focus is only on the sweat-slick grip of his palm around Oikawa's cock, fucking Oikawa up into it, and the taut line of Oikawa's throat when he starts to come, breathless and trembling.
"A-ahh," Oikawa manages when he draws his next ragged breath. He tips his head forward to see the mess he's made over Iwaizumi's knuckles and abs, humming satisfaction even as he shivers from the aftershocks of Iwaizumi's hand still stroking his softening cock. His balance falters, and he puts his hands down on Iwaizumi's chest for balance. "Iwa-chan, you're too far away," he says plaintively. "I can't kiss you."
"Needy motherfucker," Iwaizumi grunts. He lets go of Oikawa to shove himself up from the mattress, until he's chest to chest with Oikawa, Oikawa lodged firmly in his lap. Oikawa bends to kiss him, raking hands through Iwaizumi's sweat-damp hair, licking messily into Iwaizumi's mouth. Iwaizumi struggles to breathe and digs fingers into Oikawa's ass to hold him still for a minute. "All right?"
"Yeah," Oikawa murmurs against his mouth. He brushes their noses together, full of clinging affection just after coming. His weight slumps against Iwaizumi, sweat and come sticking their chests together. "So good. Wanna make you feel good too."
"You are," Iwaizumi tells him. He tips Oikawa backwards, gripping his ass tight to make sure he doesn't slip out, and then drops his weight onto Oikawa's chest. He stretches up to make the kiss work, his hips rolling up into Oikawa with a mind of their own, out of rhythm. "You do."
Oikawa hums happily, legs curling around Iwaizumi's waist. He's clinging too tightly for Iwaizumi to move much, but it's good like this too, the short, deep thrusts that he can manage making Oikawa moan and shiver around him, against him. Iwaizumi braces himself on his elbows for what little leverage he can manage, and presses his forehead into the curve of Oikawa's neck, gasping wetly against his skin.
When he's almost there, he sits up suddenly, knocking Oikawa's grip loose from surprise. He grabs Oikawa's thighs to fuck him hard enough to make Oikawa's breath catch, and at the last moment pulls out to snap the condom off with half-numb fingers. He jacks himself off and finishes across Oikawa's stomach with a long groan. For a second all he can do is gasp for air, trying to blink the sweat out of his eyes and digging his fingers into Oikawa's thigh to keep from tipping over.
"So messy," Oikawa complains, but he's grinning. He looks so good fucked out, flushed and disheveled and lazily tweaking one nipple between his thumb and forefinger. "Take some responsibility, you."
Without replying, Iwaizumi drops to his stomach, nestled firmly between Oikawa's warm, perfect thighs, hands sliding under them to hold Oikawa still. He licks a stripe across Oikawa's belly with the flat of his tongue, startling a stuttered moan out of Oikawa. He kisses and licks Oikawa's skin until it's clean of everything but his spit, marveling at the warmth and softness of it. When he bites down gently just to the left of Oikawa's navel, Oikawa slides fingers into his hair and twists gently, but doesn't pull him off.
Eventually Iwaizumi turns his head to pillow his cheek against Oikawa's belly, sighing in momentary contentment. "You're really hot like this."
"Don't be cute about me turning into a big marshmallow," Oikawa mutters. Iwaizumi would roll his eyes if they were open.
"You're not a marshmallow." He squeezes gently at the backs of Oikawa's thighs, pleasantly heavy in his hands. "These are solid muscle. And you were always too skinny in high school anyway."
Oikawa doesn't answer, and when Iwaizumi opens an eye, Oikawa is looking down at him, brow furrowed, chewing on his lower lip.
"You really don't care?" he asks.
"I love it," Iwaizumi says firmly. Lack of confidence doesn't suit Oikawa and Iwaizumi wants to wipe it off his face. "Give me ten minutes and I'll show you how much I'm into it again."
"Ten whole minutes?" Oikawa's sly grin is all the warning Iwaizumi gets before Oikawa wriggles down low enough to flip them over, looming over Iwaizumi and pinning his wrists down. "Iwa-chan, you're losing your touch."
"Come on," Iwaizumi protests. "You freaky son of a bitch, let me rest!" But Oikawa's smile only gets sharper, his grip tighter. Iwaizumi makes an exaggerated face as Oikawa settles on top of him. "Oof. How much do you weigh?"
"Don't worry," Oikawa purrs, kissing the tip of Iwaizumi's nose. His fingers dig into Iwaizumi's wrists deep enough to make Iwaizumi's heart flutter. "This time I'll really give you something to watch."