Archive of Our Own

Outside looks like someone melted down sunlight, mixed it with honey, and glazed the result into stained glass. The sun is shining through the sun, almost, it’s that bright, that golden, that mellow. Shouyou wanted to draw his blinds before he got started because he hates when it’s dark out, his lights are on, and his curtains are parted. Feels like the entire world can see through his window, and that feels creepy enough even when he isn’t knuckle deep in his own ass. But he hadn’t wanted to miss the view, so.

Shouyou’s breathing is hollow, whistly. His lungs are all scrunched up under the weight of his bent legs, the tops of his thighs resting heavy along the line of his abdomen. His asshole’s all puffy, squelching around two of his fingers. The noise is embarrassing him, which is confusing because there’s nobody around to hear except himself. Shouyou thought he was long past being surprised by his horniness, but something about the weight of his lust, how deep-seated he feels it as he fucks himself slow like this, belly-up, thighs apart, is scorching him with shame.

He likes it. Likes it even more knowing that he’s doing this for someone.

Shouyou looks down his body. His cheekbones prickle with the scorch of his blush. Saliva strings between his lips when they part on a soft, overwhelmed whine.

He looks… naughty. Corrupt, or corrupted, he can’t quite tell. His cock is so fat on his stomach and the way his thighs bracket it, plump surrounding stiff, paints such a pretty picture. A study in curves and colour. Texture; Shouyou can see where he’s taut, where he’s tense, where he’s tight. Where he’s soft, smooth, slack. His cock is firm and his balls are full and his thighs are twitching. He wants to touch himself all over, canvas the skin he’s seeing, leaking over, wants to stroke all his nerve endings and remember what each one feels like in each spot. But his fingers are so deep inside himself, he’s worried dislodging them will make him come. He’d wanted to prepare but he doesn’t want to jump the gun.

Shouyou turns his face away, panting, drawing as much air into his rumpled lungs as he can. The sunlight isn’t bleeding as bright as it had earlier. Orange now tinted blue. How long has he been doing this? He’d only meant to get a headstart, take on some of the workload so Tobio had less to do when he got here. Though, realistically, he should’ve known his plans would get derailed. Thoughts of Tobio tend to do that.

Fingers twitching up inside, middle finger teasing so close to that too-much, too-perfect place, Shouyou tries to calm himself down. He runs hot with arousal, cool with sweat, and colder with something he’s been in denial about since he started.

He’s nervous. Just a little.

He’s no stranger to milestones; he’s had to hit a fair few of them on his way to the top. But the milestones he’s used to associating with his body have only ever been volleyball-related before now. Volleyball asked him to train harder, jump higher. Run faster, fly further. It didn’t ask him to stretch his asshole out or worry about coming too quickly. Didn’t ask him to buy more lube, didn’t ask him to ask his boyfriend to buy condoms.

Shouyou is no stranger to newness, but this newness is strange to him.

The fingering had been a desperate grab for relaxation as much as it had been an excuse to prepare. He’s succeeding with one of those goals, not so much the other.

Shouyou tries to focus on feeling good. And he does feel good. Feels full in a tease of a way, like his hole knows he could feel fuller, will feel fuller. Arousal keeps tugging on his insides. Feels like there’s a string in the pit of his stomach that draws out from the slit of his cock, and every twitch of his fingers pulls on that string, makes him tight and shivery with pleasure. He’s spilling these weak little whimpers and drool is puddling in the corners of his mouth. He’s horny, and no amount of overthinking will undo that.

But overthink he does, because he likes what he sees when he looks down, but now he has to wonder about someone else liking it. Worry about someone else liking it. There’s another thing that volleyball has never asked of him; validation from others.

Alright, well, that isn’t strictly true, he supposes. Shouyou has never needed approval on the court besides his own, but he likes when he gets it. Clearly that applies here too.

The problem isn’t knowing Tobio finds him attractive, but making sure he still does. And Tobio does get shy about sex stuff. Shouyou would never begrudge him that, but he can’t help but look down at himself at times like this, with his cock throbbing all over his tummy and the knuckles of three fingers tugging on his rim, and worry that Tobio won’t find it as sexy as Shouyou hopes. When he thinks this way, the embarrassment he uses as fuel for his orgasms starts to burn a little acrid.

Shouyou chews on his frustration, bites into his lower lip. He bets Tobio doesn’t worry about this sort of thing. Socially inept though he may well be, Tobio’s got this rigid kind of confidence to him. Immovable, uncaring. He walks and waits for the world to part around him, and doesn’t even realise it, the way mountains move for him. Look up at him.

He’s pretty and lethal with it, strong, solid, dependable. Made up of long, sure lines, gentle swells. Kind of lanky where he’s grown so fast even his body wasn’t prepared for it. He takes up so much space and doesn’t always know what to do about it but doesn’t care anyway.

And he’s Shouyou’s. All his.

“F-fuck,” Shouyou whispers, teeth pointy and harsh on the place where his lower lip fades away to the skin of his chin. “Tobio…”

His hand trembles with the force he exerts trying to spread his three fingers. Lube slides down his straining veins, makes them shine all glossy and orange-blue. The dying light kisses Shouyou’s sweaty body, highlights how his abs quiver as he fucks himself wider. Cock tap-tap-tapping wetly, heavy and swollen and swelling. Shouyou can’t remember what he’d been worried about. How could Tobio, in all his glory, look at Shouyou like this and not want him? How could he feel the way Shouyou’s hole flutters like this and not want to be stuffed all those long, sure inches inside it?

Shouyou’s toes flex in time with his pumping fingers, the blood beating in his chest and his cockhead, his balls. It’s about that time where he feels himself start to throb toward something, that time where stopping would feel more like letting go than continuing would. And he does want to take a picture, he decides. Tobio would like it. Tobio would love it. He would ask for another, and another, and he’d call Shouyou and say blunt, stupid, filthy things, nasty fucking things, nasty fucking things…

Shouyou picks his phone up with his left hand. He’s going to take the picture. He swears he is. Swears he would have, if the doorbell didn’t go off the second he unlocked his phone.

He’s. Not quite sure what to do now.

He checks the time. 7pm. Tobio is right on schedule, and Shouyou is an idiot. Time flies apparently.

Another glance outside has everything painted blue, not yet the navy of night, but getting close. Shouyou’s position feels even more incriminating than before. He’s newly aware of how wet he is around his hole, wet enough that the pads of his fingers have probably wrinkled up. Ah, how had he thought preparing in advance would be such a good idea?

The doorbell rings again, its usually pleasant trill especially damning now. Shouyou winces and slides his fingers out of himself. Bad idea; lube pools out with them, runs down his ass and globs onto the mattress. Phone in one hand, lube dripping from the other, Shouyou hovers both in front of him and just, sorta. Lies there. Turtled up on his back, horny and alarmed.

He hasn’t moved when his phone buzzes with a text. Unlocking it takes about four attempts, his thumb, and his nose, and when he views the message, he considers turning his phone off forever anyway.

tobio :)
Are you not home? I thought we said 7pm

Shouyou winces. Responding takes his thumb, his nose, and his elbow at one point, for some reason.

i m home
s orry
mum and natsu left , front door,s unlocked

tobio :)
Not going to let me in yourself?
Rude as hell

! i was busy

“Doing what?”

Shouyou yelps. Tobio’s voice is both the only and last thing he wants to hear right now. Shouyou hadn’t even heard the front door open. But he’s paying attention now. He hears every second of Tobio taking off his shoes, his coat. Hanging up his jacket, padding around downstairs.

Against his better judgement, Shouyou yells in response, “Uh. Come upstairs! You’ll see.”

Shouyou settles his legs back down on the bed, hips cracking. He doesn’t cover up but he tries, probably stupidly, to look semi-presentable. For lack of anything better to do with his hands, he rests them in his lap, covering his slightly softer cock. He feels lewd and dumb.

The footsteps start to creak up the stairs. Shouyou has the slightly inappropriate feeling that one of them is about to be jumpscared. Most likely Tobio.

Once he reaches it, Tobio knocks on Shouyou’s bedroom door, which is nice of him. Then he lets himself in anyway, which is less nice. Then he finds Shouyou naked on the bed and squawks, which is decidedly not nice at all. He slaps a palm over his eyes so hard, even Shouyou feels a little concussed.

“What. The fuck. Are you doing.”

“I, uh. Wanted to get a headstart,” Shouyou explains. It sounds really stupid out loud.

Tobio’s mouth is pursed and shrivelled as if he’s just put something sour in it. Shouyou can’t really see because the natural light from outside has dwindled even more, plus Tobio’s hand is covering most of his face, but he’s pretty sure the blush on Tobio’s cheeks is the most vivid it has ever been. His other hand is curled in a fist by his side. He hasn’t moved past the threshold.

“This is why you wouldn’t answer the door? I rang twice, Hinata. And I knocked. Three times.”

Oof. Shouyou had missed even more time than he thought.

“I panicked, okay? God, just—you can come in, stupid,” Shouyou gripes, giving in and wiping his messy hand on the sheets. When Tobio still doesn’t move, Shouyou groans and shifts around until he’s under his covers, letting his sheets collect around his waist. “Alright, alright, I covered up. Get in here already.”

Tobio spreads his fingers and peeks through them to check. Shouyou rolls his eyes. He only finds that a little bit cute, would probably find it adorable if he wasn’t so goddamn mortified. Deeming Shouyou decent enough, Tobio huffs and steps inside, toeing Shouyou’s door closed behind him. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants and frowns.

“The hell do you even mean, ‘headstart’?”

“Oh, my god, there’s no way I have to spell it out for you,” Shouyou complains, sinking deeper into his pillows and crossing his arms.

Tobio’s retaliation is to glare and twist his pockets in his clenched hands, making twin whirlpools in the black fabric. “Don’t act like you’re not shameless. You could’ve covered up if you wanted to; you wanted me to see what you were doing, so tell me.”

Shouyou glowers out the window again. It’s getting even darker. He really needs to draw his blinds. He’s antsy enough with Tobio’s eyes on him; he doesn’t need that we’re-watching-you feeling he’s always so concerned about.

“I knew we wanted to have sex today—grow up, ‘Yama,” Shouyou says when Tobio winces. “And when you got here I didn’t wanna spend too much time on, like, opening me up or whatever, so I just started myself. And I didn’t want you to see what I was doing. Well, not like this.”

Gah, he feels stupid. Way too confused about way too much, in way over his head, way out of his depth. Way, way, way.

Ideally, Tobio would have come in, and Shouyou would have said something sexy. Took you long enough, or I’ve been waiting for you. Though now that he thinks those over, they both sound more villainous than alluring. And realistically, he would have freaked out over Tobio seeing him this way no matter Tobio’s reaction. He’d been riding the high of his arousal as hard as he’d been riding his fingers, getting drunk off the thought of Tobio wanting him as much as Shouyou wanted himself, but he hadn’t a clue how to translate that to reality. How to make himself desirable out of texts, phone calls.

Again, volleyball doesn’t ask this of Shouyou. Displays of his body’s desirability don’t carry to the bed.

“Sorry.”

Shouyou blinks up at Tobio. He’s pouting, blush still rubbing his cheekbones raw, but he’s making eye contact. Very sincere, earnest eye contact. Shouyou cocks his head to the side, loosens his arms from around himself.

“Sorry?” he asks, confused.

“For making you feel weird,” Tobio continues, socked feet worrying depressions into Shouyou’s carpet. “Or, I don’t know, for making you feel like I don’t want to see… all this stuff. I do.”

‘All this stuff’. Shouyou’s smile is fond, dreadfully endeared.

“It’s alright,” Shouyou reassures. “It’s okay, Tobio. I dropped it on you, and I shouldn’t have. Should’ve given more warning.”

“Shouldn’t need a warning,” Tobio grumbles mostly to himself, and Shouyou wants to protest that sentiment, but Tobio carries on before he can. “We both know we wanna do this. I’m just nervous.”

Shouyou’s heart swells but his chest doesn’t accommodate for it. It hurts to breathe. “You are?”

Tobio scowls and looks at the floor. “If you make fun of me—”

“I won’t! I’m not!” Shouyou sits up quickly, blanket almost revealing everything he’d sought to cover up. He feels really icky about telling Tobio to grow up, now, even in jest. “I wouldn’t do that. I’m nervous, too. Hey, look, just—c’mere? Oh, wait, could you draw the curtains too?”

Tobio shuffles foot-to-foot for so long, Shouyou thinks he might refuse both requests. But he makes his way over eventually, tugging the curtains together while Shouyou flips on his bedside lamp. Immediately, the air settles heavier, warmer. The lamp illuminates only what is painfully, perfectly necessary; Shouyou and his bed.

Shouyou feels all of a sudden like Tobio isn’t just his boyfriend, but his audience, like the weight of the outside world couldn’t be shut out by blinds. The way Tobio moves, stunted and unsure, suggests he’s feeling something similar. His mouth twists to one side, then the other, then sucks in, then pushes out. He perches gingerly next to Shouyou, focus resolutely fixed above Shouyou’s neck but below his eyes. Shouyou sighs and tilts his head until Tobio has to meet his gaze, or else risk a fractured… eyeball? He’d hurt himself, is the point.

“Kageyama?” Shouyou asks. Tobio quirks a brow up, then brings them both down, like he just can’t help frowning. Shouyou whispers, “Can I have a kiss?”

This, at least, is familiar. They’ve kissed enough in the past months that they could pick each other’s lips out in a lineup. And they need familiar right now, something grounded in the known. They both know how to leap when they need to, but this sort of thing deserves baby steps.

They take the first one together, Tobio’s lips touching to Shouyou’s and tasting like relief.

Immediately, Shouyou’s cock starts to perk back up. He does his best to ignore it but this feeling is familiar, too. Tobio’s mouth will never fail to tug on that earlier string, the one that has Shouyou clenching hard on arousal, choking up on it. Tobio’s lips are careful now, though. Considering, gentle. Shouyou takes a deep breath in and slows himself down. Tries to get lost in the soft press of Tobio’s mouth, rather than imagine where it might lead him.

Bit by bit, Tobio starts to relax, and Shouyou with him. Shouyou cups Tobio’s cheeks in his palms, and Tobio shifts on the bed to tilt his face further into Shouyou’s hold. He kisses the tender spot below Shouyou’s lip that Shouyou had been chewing at. Licks it, too, one easy flick of the tip of his tongue. Shouyou shivers. How does Tobio know? What sort of telepathy does he engage in to read exactly where Shouyou’s touch has been, to follow it?

Shouyou wants to try reading Tobio, too. Where does Tobio like to touch himself? Where does his body gravitate all its attention to, consciously or not? Shouyou considers, as much as he can with Tobio lipping his way down his neck.

Tobio pokes at the inside of his cheek with his tongue a lot. He never realises he’s doing it, thinking too hard to notice. Sometimes he’ll poke off-centre, usually on the right side of his mouth, and his tongue will tease at the very corner of his lips, from the inside. It drives Shouyou up the wall. He bets for all the attention that spot gets, it’s sensitive. And he can’t quite kiss it from the inside, but…

He brings Tobio level with his mouth with careful fistfuls of his hair. Tobio huffs his irritation and the noise thins out into a surprised little jerk of a moan when Shouyou tongues at the corner of Tobio’s lips. He slips his tongue along the ridge, dips the very tip inside, tastes the skin Tobio’s always licking at when he’s thinking, frowning. Tobio shudders in Shouyou’s palms and Shouyou gets the distinct feeling that he’s holding glass, holding something he can break so easily if he touches just right.

“You’re so weird,” Tobio protests weakly. He’s playing with the blanket bundled in Shouyou’s lap. Dangerous territory. “What are you licking me for?”

“Trying to get you relaxed,” Shouyou answers. He kisses the wet spot he’s made on Tobio’s skin. “Is it working?”

“Hm. No. Not relaxed.”

Shouyou quails for about a second before he sees how Tobio is blushing, pushing his knees together like he’s trying to hide something. He grins. “What are you, then, huh ‘Yama?”

“Getting annoyed,” Tobio mumbles, then pushes Shouyou down onto his side.

“Ah! Okay, I’m sorry!” Shouyou manages. But Tobio is laying down with him, and that doesn’t seem like something Shouyou should feel sorry for accomplishing.

“Heh,” Tobio—laughs? Shouyou’s still working on understanding what that noise means. Tobio’s sort-of smiling though, and he starts to kiss Shouyou again when he’s laying comfortably, so it can’t be bad this time around. And he says, “Yeah. I’m relaxed or whatever. I’m fine.”

“Heh,” Shouyou copies, all teeth and smiles when he kisses back. “Cool. Me too.”

“Yeah, I bet you are,” Tobio says.

It sounds smutty, sounds like he means something rude. Shouyou can’t fathom what until Tobio walks his hand down Shouyou’s ribs, over his hip. Around the front to where his cock had thickened under the blanket. Toward the back to tease at the round of Shouyou’s ass.

Shouyou squeaks. “Kageyama!”

Tobio snorts. His face is on fire, though. It’s reassuring to know he’s not as cool as his facade would have Shouyou believe. But, still, when he says, “I bet you’re very relaxed, Hinata. How many fingers did you get in?” Shouyou has to wonder if Tobio’s confidence is starting to outbalance his nerves.

“Jesus, that’s so crude,” Shouyou pants. He wants to ignore the way his cock throbs at Tobio’s question but Tobio has his knee nudged up underneath it, so he probably feels it anyway, even through Shouyou’s sheets. Shouyou sighs into Tobio’s mouth and relents. “Three.”

Tobio’s whispered fuck is unbearably delicious on Shouyou’s tongue. His hand is still hovering above Shouyou’s ass, fingers skimming it. Shouyou pushes back to fill Tobio’s hand out with the thick of him. Tobio jerks away for a moment, then settles, thumb gliding over the curve of Shouyou’s ass. Shouyou feels it like the blanket isn’t even there.

“I’m kind of pissed at you.”

Shouyou frowns, biting Tobio’s bottom lip, tugging it taut. “What did I do now?”

“You got started without me,” Tobio says. He taps lightly at Shouyou’s ass, just in case Shouyou needed a hint. “I thought I—ugh. I wanted to do that part.”

Oh, Shouyou is stupid. God, he thought he’d been doing them both a favour. Learning that Tobio actually scorns his efforts, that he’d wanted to stretch Shouyou out, fuck his hole loose with his longer, thicker fingers, is as much a blessing as it is a curse. One of Shouyou’s most prominent fantasies, just within reach of his greedy, lubed-up fingers, and he’d let it slip because he’d wanted to be expedient, fuck. Shouyou groans, forehead thudding into Tobio’s chest.

And then has an epiphany.

“You still can,” Shouyou mutters.

Tobio’s hand twitches. “Hm?”

“Yeah. Do you—do you wanna check? See if I’m ready enough?”

The three or so seconds where Tobio does absolutely nothing is so thick with tension, Shouyou’s lungs compress under it. He hides in Tobio’s chest, drops lazy kisses to it while Tobio works himself out. Shouyou knows Tobio won’t refuse. The question wasn’t a question so much as it was an invite.

“Yeah,” Tobio murmurs after a while. “Yeah, let me see.”

Keeping his lips to Tobio’s chest, breathing him in through the dipped neckline of his shirt, Shouyou wraps his fingers around the edge of the blanket and draws it down, away from him. Tobio lifts himself off it, helps Shouyou kick it to the end of the bed. Air puffs out his mouth once Shouyou is re-revealed. Shouyou is embarrassed again, but it feels good again. This is the display he’d meant to put on earlier, close and bare, clandestine.

Tobio doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. His eyes tell all, and Shouyou scorches hotter the more he translates. He turns onto his back, parts his legs. Tobio’s gulp is audible.

“Here, uh.” Shouyou pats around his bed until he finds the lube. Tobio offers up his fingers and Shouyou tilts the opened bottle onto them. Watches Tobio get sticky, gooey. He plays with the mess, stirs it up between his knuckles until it drips down to his palm. Shouyou bites his lip but it doesn’t stop his whine. “‘Yama, please.”

Shouyou hadn’t realised how glassy Tobio’s eyes had gotten until he blinks focus back into them. He looks at Shouyou with so much I want you that it’s physical, it presses Shouyou deeper into the bed, spreads his legs further apart.

“You—you can start with two,” Shouyou coaxes.

“I’m starting with one,” Tobio says. Shouyou almost doesn’t hear it, his voice has dipped so low.

“I don’t need one,” Shouyou complains. He doesn’t say just how much he needs, has needed since he started, but Tobio must guess at it anyway. His glare pins Shouyou still.

“Just take what I give you, dumbass.” He pauses. Frowns. “Please.”

Pleasantry unnecessary. Shouyou would listen to anything that voice asks of him. Demands of him. He sucks his lips in and nods, brings his hands down to cup his thighs and hold them apart. Squeezes them hard, hopes if he grounds himself with the pinch, it’ll stop his cock from pulsing quite so much. It doesn’t. It pulses harder, even more so when Tobio props himself up on an elbow and brings his dripping hand between Shouyou’s parted legs.

The wet pressure Tobio applies to Shouyou’s rim is such a nothing feeling compared to what Shouyou is accustomed to. He gasps anyway, bitten lips parting on a shuddery breath. Tobio is frowning super hard. Shouyou is surprised he can see through his brows, but he clearly can; his touches are so gentle, cautious. Calculating, almost, and lord, what is Shouyou about to experience if Kageyama Tobio starts to calculate how best to fuck him?

“You’re.” Tobio clears his throat, swallows. Tries again. “You’re wet.”

Shouyou blushes. “Uh. Yeah.”

“So wet,” Tobio adds. He sounds mostly curious, but also like he’s holding something back, holding it down.

“Please, ‘Yama,” Shouyou begs.

The pressure swells, right in the centre of Shouyou’s hole. He feels it dip and give, turn inwards before it spreads open, sucks and swallows the tip of Tobio’s index finger. Shouyou moans high in his throat, then deep in his chest when Tobio doesn’t stop. He’s slow, steady, still careful, but relentless. He inches his finger deeper until Shouyou’s rim wraps around his first knuckle, then the second, then butts against the last. Kisses it.

Shouyou mouths, “Fuck.”

“Are you alright?” Tobio asks. Whatever he’s trying to keep down is climbing up. “Is this okay?”

“It’s good,” Shouyou whispers. “It’s great, it’s so—yeah, it’s good.”

“I can move it?”

Shouyou nods. Tobio does. Backs his finger out, slots it back in. Not as much lube spills out as when Shouyou uses his own forefinger, for some reason. Maybe Tobio’s is just that much thicker, maybe it won’t let as much lube out. He’s so much bigger than Shouyou everywhere. Kind of insane that this is the moment Shouyou chooses to become so aware of that. Shouyou hasn’t even seen Tobio’s cock yet and already he’s obsessing over ‘bigger’. He’s going to get all fucked up inside and he wants it so badly.

“Another one. Please, I swear I can take it,” Shouyou says. His thighs are twitching in his quivery hold. He wants to see how much fuller Tobio can make him feel and the anticipation is tearing him apart.

Tobio acquiesces without protest this time, probably because all his cognitive functions are going toward staring at Shouyou’s asshole, at his finger inside it. He backs that one out and slots another in next to it. The slide is so easy Shouyou feels ashamed of it. Loves it.

“Yeah,” he sighs, head lolling back, eyes following. “Yeah, ‘Yama. Good.”

Fullness is never the only thing Shouyou seeks out, though. It scratches the itch for a while, scratches it harder in increments the more you fill him up, but soon it starts to feel paradoxically empty. Like it needs embellishing.

He shifts around on the bed, trying to aim Tobio’s fingers from the outside. Tobio catches on, he’s incredibly perceptive when he needs to be.

“Am I doing something wrong?” he asks, fingers stilling where they’ve been tentatively thrusting in and out in these tiny, shy pulses.

“No, no, you’re doing so good,” Shouyou amends. “It’s just that… there’s this little spot you can touch to make it feel even better.”

Tobio pulls a face like he’s not sure what Shouyou is talking about. Shouyou can’t blame him; his description sounded kind of fantastical, vague and confused. But, to Shouyou’s surprise, understanding lights up Tobio’s eyes, and he asks, “Your prostate, right?”

Shouyou immediately feels bad for laughing. “Oh, man, you know what that is?”

“Of course I—you’re not the only one who wanted to prepare, moron!” Tobio exclaims. “I just thought I was already touching it.”

“Ah, no,” Shouyou says. He knows he sounds affectionate, he knows, but Tobio glaring at him isn’t going to stop it. “You’re close though. Try curling your fingers up a little. Like—press up here.”

Shouyou takes his left hand off his thigh and slips it underneath his weepy cock to pat his pelvis. That gets Tobio’s face twisting up all stony and determined. Sexy, Shouyou realises. His mouth drops open at the sight, conveniently, too, because Tobio does curl his fingers up, nudges Shouyou’s prostate instantly, and Shouyou’s moan just falls right out of his parted lips, loud and easy.

“I feel it now,” Tobio mumbles. Shouyou doesn’t think Tobio is talking to him, and that somehow makes it hotter.

And he’s doing more than ‘feel it’. He’s rubbing it, pressing his fingers atop it and stroking, slow and ceaseless. This is the embellishing Shouyou wanted. The sparks it sets off in Shouyou’s cock and his balls and his nipples and his ass are so palpable Shouyou can taste them in his saliva. Fullness is great because it means Shouyou is being fucked, but having his prostate played with like this is so much better; it means he's being fucked good.

“S-shit, ‘Yama,” Shouyou whimpers, thighs tensed, twitching together then apart in small, uncontrollable thrusts. “Mm, feels so good, so good, oh.”

Tobio is taking Shouyou’s direction really fucking literally. His fingers are aiming up toward Shouyou’s hand, still resting on the sensitive skin of his pelvis. Is he trying to fuck up into Shouyou’s tummy? Fuck, his fingers aren’t big enough for that, but his cock might be. He’d try, probably. Fuck so hard and so deep he’d nudge all Shouyou’s organs around until his cock is the only thing Shouyou’s body needs to function.

Pleasure like this is too perfect not to be shared. Tobio hasn’t been touched yet and that’s a problem. Shouyou turns his head into Tobio’s side, mouths at anything he can reach; Tobio’s shoulder, his neck, his chest, the point of his nipple. All he tastes is fabric and Tobio’s groan.

“Hinata, I—” Tobio gasps. “Ah, can’t you stay still?”

Shouyou ignores him. “Your dick, ‘Yama. Take your dick out, wanna see. Wanna make you feel good, I said I would, didn’t I?”

Tobio can splutter and feign righteous indignance all he wants, but he shuffles his sweatpants and boxers down anyway. Shouyou can’t tell if the moan he lets out is because of the sight of Tobio’s cock, flushed and thick and long, or because of the way Tobio is still digging at him, prostate swollen under all the attention, sensitive beyond belief, throbbing.

Shouyou doesn’t quite know why he does what he does next. He’s all muddled on the inside, on his insides. The only things that are firing as they should are his nerve endings. Everything else is running on emergency default, his brain most of all. It doesn’t make sense to him to spit into his hand and jack Tobio’s cock that way. All he can focus on is the fullness between his thighs, the wet squelch Tobio’s fingers are making as they work at Shouyou’s prostate. And where there is wet, there is lubrication.

He takes his right hand off his thigh, drags it downwards, and brushes his fingers along Tobio’s lube-wet palm. When that’s not enough, he traces his hole, nudges his fingertips inside to collect as much as he can. Tobio is making confused, grunty noises next to him. He stops short when Shouyou’s wet fingers find their way to his cock, wrapping around it and pumping.

"Fuck, Shouyou."

Tobio’s fingers jolt, slipping too deep, off-centre. Good thing, too; the sound of Shouyou’s given name, breathed that way from Tobio’s pink lips, would have made him come if Tobio had knocked on his prostate again.

“You’re so big,” Shouyou whispers, gut clenching as he works his hand up and down Tobio’s shaft. His fingers only just wrap all the way around, thumb and middle finger kissing, teasing.

“Shut up,” Tobio whimpers, head dropping into Shouyou’s neck. He pushes his hips into Shouyou’s hold at the same time he slots his fingers deeper, backs away at the same time too. Pseudo-fucking, promise-fucking. I’m gonna put my cock right here real soon fucking.

Now that Shouyou has the endgame in his palm, Tobio’s fingers are starting to feel like a shoddy substitute. They’re perfect, of course, long and skillful and relentlessly attentive, but his cock could be all those things, too. And it’s bigger. So much bigger. Shouyou’s palm is starting to ache with the effort of cupping its weight. He wants to hold it by the base and slap it against things, hear its heavy thud. Wants to put it in his mouth and taste the precome he’s spreading with his thumb. Wants to feel how it would weigh his tongue down, all plump and heavy.

“Is this okay?” Shouyou pants, hoping he doesn’t sound as feral as he feels. “Does it feel good like this?” He squeezes Tobio’s cock on the next upstroke, pulling the foreskin around the leaky head, wetting it with pre.

“Fuck. Yeah, it’s good,” Tobio sighs, teeth scraping the meat of Shouyou’s trapezius. “You feel good.”

“You feel good,” Shouyou pants. Wonders if it’ll start sounding repetitive, doesn’t care because it’s true. “I can’t wait. Can’t wait until you fuck me.”

Tobio hisses, nips at Shouyou’s neck. It feels like a rebuke and Shouyou runs warm, pleased. “You’re so insatiable.”

“Mm. Big word, ‘Yama,” Shouyou grins, gets bitten again. “Does it mean that I want you so much I can’t breathe right now? 'Cause yeah, it’s true.”

Tobio screws his fingertips into Shouyou’s prostate on the next thrust in. Shouyou’s back arches clear off the mattress with his wail, his fist tightening on Tobio’s drippy cockhead.

“I want you more,” Tobio wheezes.

“No way,” Shouyou protests. He runs the pad of his thumb over Tobio’s slit, pressing on the spongy spot until he feels it give.

“Fuck. Yes way,” Tobio argues. He spreads his fingers apart until there’s space between them, until Shouyou’s hole gapes on them.

“Wanna—ah, f-fuck—wanna prove it, then?”

Tobio’s fingers still again. “Prove it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, fuck me. Please? ‘m ready, I want it. Want you inside me all the way, wanted it so long.”

Shouyou thinks about ‘so long’ as Tobio carefully pulls out and tugs a condom from his discarded sweatpants pocket (so that’s why he’d had his hands stuffed so tightly in them). When he tries to pinpoint the exact moment he first started to feel things about Tobio, things that friendship couldn’t explain away, time becomes particularly malleable. Runs through his fingers like hourglass sand. His life with Tobio is built of so many significant moments that, really, any one of them could have been the start. Perhaps all of them were the start.

And what a funny addition to the list this is; Tobio pulling his shirt off, baring firm abs and soft pecs and peaked nipples atop them. Rolling a condom down his purpled cock, hissing around a bitten lip when he slicks himself up with the last of Shouyou’s lube. Locking eyes with Shouyou as he knees between Shouyou’s parted legs. This has to be the strangest milestone yet.

But Tobio asks, “You okay?” And Shouyou still answers, “As long as you’re here, yeah.” And Tobio’s eyes still soften and spark like they do every time Shoyou reminds him. So maybe not much has changed after all.

Tobio taps his cock at Shouyou’s hole. It does thud. Shouyou is still reeling over that when Tobio inches his hips forward, when his cockhead pops inside, when Shouyou’s rim clenches on it.

It doesn’t just feel full, it feels round. This almost perfect circle of pressure on every warm, wet inch of Shouyou on the inside. Shouyou’s breaths are whistling again, pitching higher and higher the deeper Tobio fucks. His eyes are shut tight, squeezing tears out. He can feel his insides changing, moulding like time, soft and impressionable.

With the seconds rolling by irregularly, indiscriminately, Shouyou cannot tell how long it takes for Tobio to bottom out. Just when he thinks Tobio can’t get any deeper, like there isn’t enough space in Shouyou’s entire body to contain him, Tobio’s balls touch to Shouyou’s ass. Shouyou exhales so harshly it hurts, forces his asshole to clench. Tobio winces above him.

“Tight.”

“Big,” Shouyou counters.

“Am I hurting you?” Tobio breathes, forearms shaking where they bracket Shouyou’s head.

Is he? Shouyou can’t really identify sensations other than wide and stuffed at the moment. He doesn’t remember what pain feels like. It’s not until he shifts around that he feels an unpleasant twinge in his lower back, a dull burn that runs the circumference of his sticky, open pucker.

“A little,” Shouyou responds. Tobio looks so irrevocably guilty at that, Shouyou can’t stand it. Tobio tries to back out and Shouyou panics, slapping his hand to Tobio’s naked hip. “No, don’t! Stay.”

“I’m hurting you,” Tobio protests, incredulous.

“I just need to relax more, don’t worry,” Shouyou tries to soothe.

Tobio’s guilt morphs into consideration. He’s thinking again. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek. Shouyou’s lips twitch up in a small, adoring smile.

Tobio chews on the corner of his lip and asks, “Can I have a kiss?”

Something familiar. Something grounded in the known.

Shouyou clutches at Tobio’s neck, ignores the way the pain stabs sharply in his back, and tugs Tobio down until their lips meet again.

The tension melts away fast, becomes forgettable. There is little in the world that can catch Shouyou’s attention more than Tobio’s kisses. They render everything else trivial. Even the previously insurmountable sensation of Tobio’s cock crammed balls deep in Shouyou takes a backseat to make way for the gentle, knowing slide of Tobio’s mouth, the teasing, indulgent flicks of his tongue, the incendiary nicks of his teeth. Shouyou collapses into Tobio’s touch until the pain leaches right out of him.

That’s when Tobio starts to move.

At first, it’s almost unnoticeable. Shouyou becomes vaguely aware of friction, movement, but he can’t pinpoint where he feels it because Tobio is kissing him stupid. Then Tobio does something. Shifts his weight around, balances on his knees a different way, maybe. Whatever he does drags his cock against Shouyou’s prostate in one smooth, torturous stroke, and Shouyou splinters.

“Tobio!”

“Hurts?” Tobio asks, voice sunken, hollow, restrained.

“No,” Shouyou cries. “Do it again.”

Tobio backs his hips out the rest of the way, then pushes forward. This angle… this angle is fucking insane. There is not a single second of this thrust where Shouyou’s prostate isn’t stimulated, isn’t touched. And Tobio’s cock is pressing up on everything else, too, every nerve in Shouyou’s asshole clamouring to be plucked, and Tobio listens.

It’s all Shouyou can do to force his begs out of his mouth.

“Fuck me,” he pleads in a whisper. “Fuck me, fuck me, please, Tobio, fuck me.”

Tobio listens to that, too.

He’s thrusting sloppy, uncoordinated, rhythm uneven, but he’s got the angle down and Shouyou doesn’t care about much else. He mewls into Tobio’s open mouth, tastes Tobio’s spit when the pleasure makes him drool. Wraps his legs around Tobio’s waist and definitely impedes the non-existent flow but draws Tobio closer, deeper, as compensation. Tobio rabbits his hips forward, balls slapping Shouyou’s hole, cock burrowing far down, thighs smacking against Shouyou’s ass. Shouyou remembers how he’d fucked his bed just like this, not too long ago. How he’d moaned into the phone as he told Shouyou about it. Now Shouyou gets to drink those moans into the back of his throat, lap them up and swallow them down til they settle in his belly, right where it feels like the tip of Tobio’s cock reaches.

Fuzzy. His head is so fuzzy. He’s moaning, knows Tobio is too, but fuck if he can parse what either of them are saying. Each other’s names, definitely. Swearing, probably. Anything else, he doesn’t hear.

But the walls do. Hear everything because every sound bounces off them.

They hear Shouyou scream for Tobio to fuck me full, please, fuck me deep.

They hear Tobio groan that Shouyou is tight, so tight, your little hole, you’re so little, I’ll break you.

They hear Shouyou beg yes, break me, wanna break for you, wanna be so tight for you, Tobio, please.

They hear Tobio yell that I’m close, I’m close, S-Shouyou, what do I—where do I…?

And they hear Shouyou plead inside, stay inside, come inside me, let me feel it, let me come with you, oh, oh, yes, yes, yes—!

The orgasm that rips them both apart is almost painful in its intensity. Shouyou has never before felt like his very cells are coming before now. It rattles his fucking teeth. His cock spurts all over his chest and Tobio’s stomach, thick, pearly drops of cream, heavy like hail. He shakes so hard he goes still.

He trusts his body to milk Tobio through it because he’s so far beyond giving it instructions and making it listen. Luckily, it does. He feels his hole squeeze around Tobio’s still working dick, stroking all his come out into the condom. So, not technically inside him, but close enough. Tobio is moaning like there’s no condom there anyway, quivering above Shouyou, rutting his hips forward until Shouyou has pumped him for every last drop.

He falls on Shouyou immediately.

Shouyou doesn’t even have the breath left in him to gripe about it. He wraps his arms around Tobio’s shoulders and draws him closer, draws him in, keeps him there. Kisses the top of Tobio’s head and waits to regain humanity, waits for the animal in him to stop growling.

They start to breathe in sync, heartbeats thumping against their aligned chests. Shouyou counts them as he comes down, listens for them to slow back to normal. On beat number nineteen, Tobio groans something. It’s vocal enough to sound like words, but not legible enough to understand.

“What?” Shouyou asks. His voice is fucking shot. “I didn’t hear that.”

Tobio grumbles. “Don’t make me say it again.”

Shouyou snorts. “Come on, your dick is still up my ass. We’re long past embarrassment, surely.”

Clearly, Tobio agrees. He fusses and grunts in such obvious avoidance that Shouyou has to laugh. He pets Tobio’s sweaty back with one hand, cards fingers through his hair with the other. He’ll wait. He’s learnt a lot of patience these past years. Waiting for Tobio, Tobio waiting for him, is kind of what they do, through all those milestones.

And because he has to one-up Shouyou in fucking everything, Tobio adds another one.

“Love you,” he whispers.

If you cut Shouyou open, his blood would drip and form icicles, it runs so cold.

And, no, Shouyou still isn’t sure where this started. Where they started. But he is wholly certain that their story doesn’t end. Not here. In fact, in some ways, it feels like they’re starting all over again. Because what is “As long as I’m here, you’re invincible,” if not another way to say,

“Love you, too.”