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Fame is exhausting.
At least for Iwaizumi it is.
Thankfully, his popularity remains within the circle of extreme sports enthusiasts, and anyone under the umbrella of kinesiology and sports science. His name isn’t exactly “household”, but he gets enough recognition that he can scratch his nose and pat himself on the back, and that’s enough for him.
His boyfriend however, is disgustingly popular.
And worse. He loves it.
Oikawa Tooru is definitely a household name around the world. Not only is he known for being part of the monster generation, his good looks had his agent drowning in calls for brand deals and sponsorships. When Iwaizumi met his team on a visit to Buenos Aires, it felt like a high school flashback. Though each of his teammates love him, they find him insufferable in a way.
It’s hard not to.
Oikawa is breathtakingly beautiful and exceptionally skilled, and he puts his money where his mouth is every damn time.
Though Iwaizumi hates to admit, these are things he loves about him, too.
Iwaizumi is not a jealous man by any means. It doesn’t bother him that Oikawa’s social media accounts are in the millions. It doesn’t ruin his day knowing those comment sections need to be dunked in holy water. And it certainly doesn’t get under his skin that Oikawa’s bank accounts have far more zeroes than anyone Iwaizumi knows.
He gets the perks for those too, after all.
“I’m tired of visiting you in that sad excuse for a studio.”
“California real estate is not exactly cheap, Oikawa.”
Oikawa plopped the keys to a three bedroom, two and a half bath house into Iwaizumi’s palm, conveniently located in Irvine and a short commute from work. Iwaizumi stared in disbelief. California real estate is one of the most expensive markets to break into.
“Please don’t do the whole I don’t do charity routine. I own it, you’re just living in it. And don’t pay me rent, please. Just use the extra funds for something.”
Iwaizumi didn’t put up too much of an argument. Oikawa wouldn’t have it, and Oikawa always gets his way.
Iwaizumi really doesn’t mind all that comes with Oikawa’s fame, except for one thing.
Public appearances.
For a brief moment in time, Oikawa’s popularity remained in the realm of sports. He could go most places with a bit of recognition and ogling eyes. All he needed was a face mask and a hat and he could almost disappear.
That was the last shred of privacy that Iwaizumi clung to.
But today, it’s officially gone.
There is nowhere they can go without someone somewhere recognizing Oikawa. If not for his volleyball career, than his part time modeling career. The magazine cover he did a few months ago. Or maybe the ad with Dior. Goodness knows his fans went feral for his commercial with Adidas.
All Iwaizumi wanted was to spend a little bit of time with his boyfriend in peace whilst home in Japan to visit some family and friends. He figured they could do a bit of shopping, stop for snacks—the usual date like things that people on dates do.
Oikawa’s fan base had other plans.
“We love you!”
“Oikawa-san!”
“Please come back!”
Iwaizumi is grateful he’s faster than the average man.
“These fans are insane,” he wheezes, doubled over on his knees and looking around the expanse of the outdoor plaza. They’ve been sprinting for a while now, trying to put some distance between them and the crowd.
Looks like they lost them for now.
“They really are dedicated,” Oikawa pants just beside him, a half smile of apology on his face.
“That’s more than dedication, that’s psychotic!”
“Be nice, Iwa-chan.”
“I am!” Iwaizumi roars. “Oh god.”
His booming voice alerts a group of fans with wide eyes and bared teeth. Their hands outstretch as they break into a full sprint towards them.
Iwaizumi snatches Oikawa by the wrist and takes off around the corner. “This is ridiculous! Can a guy just get a damned date?!”
“You wanna date me that bad?” Oikawa grins playfully, like they aren’t currently being chased by a rabid mob.
“I will leave you behind,” Iwaizumi spares a quick warning glare over his shoulder and turns back to search for somewhere to hide.
He spies a small doorway, likely a utility closet, just ahead in a less occupied spot around the corner from a few department stores.
Perfect.
He skids to a quick stop and reaches for the door handle. It’s unlocked. The heavens are working miracles today.
“Get in,” he growls and yanks Oikawa into the closet.
“Wait—oof! Iwa-chan wait a second—”
“No time,” Iwaizumi replies hurriedly and steps in after him, yanking the door shut with a hard tug.
It’s a tight squeeze with the door shut, but Iwaizumi leans back against the frame to give the both of them a bit more room.
Only problem is, there is no room. Not even a little bit.
Oikawa’s hands are against his chest and basically straddling his lap in what little space they have.
“Oikawa back up, will you?” Iwaizumi doesn’t dislike being this close to him, no, but they’re both still breathing heavy from running around like madmen, and he’d really like to lean over or even sit down for just a moment.
“That’s what I was trying to tell you, dummy. I can’t.”
“The fuck do you mean you can’t? It’s a closet, There’s at least a—” Iwaizumi stops talking when he stretches an arm past Oikawa’s head and immediately hits something solid and dense. He gives it a push. It doesn’t budge. He tries again with a box that’s down by his foot.
Nothing.
This closet is packed full of heavy, sturdy boxes. God knows what’s in them, but they aren’t going anywhere, and they’re out of time to find a more comfortable hiding spot.
“Damn it.”
Iwaizumi can’t see his face in the dark, but he knows the expression Oikawa is wearing. It’s Oikawa’s narrowed stare and knit brows that say if you had listened to me in the first place we wouldn’t be here.
“I really wish you’d open your ears more.”
“Shut up! I’m the one that found a hiding spot anyway!” Iwaizumi tries to press himself back against the door, but there isn’t any give. He shoves his feet as far forward as they’ll go in some effort to lean against the wall and support Oikawa.
“We could always hide somewhere else?” Oikawa offers.
“And risk them being right outside the door?”
“Right.”
Iwaizumi sighs. They’re likely going to have to hide here for a good fifteen to twenty minutes at least to let the hype die down. Once the crazed admirers call off their search, maybe they can sneak back to the car and speed away.
Thankfully the small space is too dark for Oikawa to see Iwaizumi’s disappointment. He really wanted to spend the day with Oikawa and not have to think about anything but being lovers on a cute date. They’d spent so many years in their youth dancing around their feelings for each other. And when they decided to cross the line, they had to keep things a secret for ages.
They’re finally out in the open, and they can’t even enjoy it.
“Oikawa, this is getting out of hand. Maybe you need to consider a security detail—” Iwaizumi freezes at the feeling of Oikawa shifting hips across his own. “Oi, stop moving.”
“I’m not!” Oikawa snips, “I’m basically suspended here. This isn’t comfortable for me you know. I am the taller one.”
Oh how Oikawa can really pluck Iwaizumi’s nerves. “Seriously? You wanna do that right now?”
“I’m just pointing out the obvious, Iwa-chan.”
Iwaizumi moves a hand off one of the boxes and flicks the tip of Oikawa’s nose. Precise, even in the pitch black. Though it’s satisfying that he managed to find Oikawa’s nose in the dark on the first try, it backfires. Oikawa’s whole body rocks in response to the pain and he swivels on top of Iwaizumi again.
“Oikawa…”
“That was your fault! And that really hurt!” Oikawa juts a hand out to grab Iwaizumi by his face and squeeze around his jaw. “Iwa-chan you’re always such a bully.”
“Hey—quit!” Iwaizumi fidgets under Oikawa’s strong grip. He sometimes forgets that Oikawa is much stronger than he comes off. Iwaizumi really only beats him out in stamina.
“Now who’s moving?” Oikawa growls in return.
Iwaizumi reaches to push his face against the boxes, hearing a grunt. Oikawa sinks his teeth into Iwaizumi’s hand, Iwaizumi pulls one of Oikawa’s fingers back to pry him loose.
“Stop acting like a fucking child!” Iwaizumi hollers.
“Takes one to know one!” Oikawa retorts.
All their fighting and fidgeting is annoying, but their constant shifting and moving is quickly putting a familiar tingle between Iwaizumi’s hips. “Wait—wait stop. Oikawa stop.”
“You stop! You’re the one that’s been squirming!”
Iwaizumi knocks his head back against the door. He forgets all about trying to fight with Oikawa and tries to focus on redirecting the blood flow in his body from traveling south. “If you keep wiggling like that…!”
It’s too late. Iwaizumi can’t stop the way he’s growing hard, pinched between the door and Oikawa. “Damn it,” he hisses under his breath, cursing himself. This isn’t the time or the place for this, Iwaizumi thinks as he glares down in the dark at his jeans. They’re cramped in a random utility closet in a mall for goodness sake, all because Oikawa’s fans don’t understand the concept of privacy!
“Ngh!” A soft gasp slips from Oikawa in the dark, one that threatens to pull Iwaizumi from the task at hand. He realizes then, it’s not just him. Suddenly there’s a hard bulge pressed against his own that’s impossible to ignore.
They’re supposed to be hiding.
Well, actually, they’re supposed to be shopping. Oikawa is supposed to be spending money and spoiling the both of them rotten, pushing Iwaizumi in and out of changing rooms with him to try on the seasons latest fashion. Iwaizumi is supposed to be spoon feeding Oikawa gelato under a sun umbrella and swapping the taste of raspberry on their tongues.
Instead, they’re both sandwiched in a mall closet and actually managed to get turned on by the circumstance.
“Baby,” Iwaizumi sighs, attempting to use the pet name as a last ditch effort to focus, “please stop moving.”
“That’s not fair,” Oikawa whispers, “you can’t call me baby and expect me to behave.”
Fuck.
Iwaizumi shudders and gives in to the sensitivity between his legs. His erection is straining painfully against his jeans pressed to OIkawa’s, begging to be pulled free and touched, sucked, swallowed. It’s sensitive and twitchy and oh does it feel good when Oikawa rocks against him like that.
“Iwa-chan, this is naughty.”
“You think?” Iwaizumi scolds without heat. Oikawa is probably blushing, maybe even smiling. “Pervert.”
“Says the one with the hard on, oh fuck,” Oikawa grunts as Iwaizumi’s fingertips find purchase in his hip bone and dig.
He leans forward in the small space and scoops an arm around Oikawa’s waist. “You’re so stubborn,” he smirks against Oikawa’s ear, “I need to fuck the obstinance out of you, it seems.”
The words earn a high pitched whine from Oikawa. His head thunks against the boxes as he presses fingers hard into Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “There isn’t any room.” Oikawa is disappointed, making up for it with a slow, torturous push of his clothed shaft against Iwaizumi’s.
Iwaizumi ghosts his breath hot across Oikawa’s neck and ruts into him, breathing vanilla and amber musk that dizzy his senses and further swells his dick. Oikawa always smells so good it’s intoxicating. Somehow it’s amplified when he’s aroused, and it always gives Iwaizumi a monstrous, aching erection to go along with it.
He starts to forget the original reason they came in here as they grind together, clothed shafts achingly sliding back and forth, over and under in a heat that coils deep between them.
“Didn’t realize you liked being semi-public,” Iwaizumi drags the flat of his tongue just under Oikawa’s earlobe and sucks. The hand on his hip begins to work underneath his shirt, finding a nipple to roll between his fingers. “That’s kinda slutty of you.”
“I think you’re enjoying this—ah—more than I am,” Oikawa sucks in a sharp breath. “Who’s the slut now?”
That might be true, actually. Iwaizumi is thoroughly enjoying teasing Oikawa in this tight space. It might be a newfound kink, born out of having to tiptoe in secret all these years. It might be because Iwaizumi does have an insatiable sexual appetite and sleeping with Oikawa only makes him want to do it more, as though he’s carving the very core of himself into the deepest parts of Oikawa’s soul.
That’s a lot for some dry humping in a closet, but sue him. Iwaizumi is desperately in love with his hot, rich, famous boyfriend who is moaning into the air while he licks and teases at his chest through grinding their heat together.
No, Iwaizumi is not a jealous man. But he wouldn’t completely mind it if the world remembered that it’s him that Oikawa wants. That he’s the one who plagues Oikawa’s heart and mind like a venom without an antidote. That when Oikawa reaches the peaks of pleasure so good he arches into a crescent, it’s Iwaizumi’s name he’s calling.
Take that, rabid fans.
“Fine,” Iwaizumi groans, pulling his mouth off of Oikawa’s nipple with a wet pop, “slutty of us.”
Oikawa gurgles a moan as he reaches to grip Iwaizumi’s shirt as leverage. “Iwa-chan, it feels good.”
“Then keep moving.”
Iwaizumi presses their foreheads together, wishing he could see Oikawa’s face in the dark all blushing scarlet and eyes glassy as he pathetically writhes and twists himself in Iwaizumi’s lap to find a release. His imagination will have to do, thinking about how Oikawa’s mouth goes slack and his back gets a familiar arch that curves him against Iwaizumi so perfectly.
“Wish I could see you,” he breathes, “see how pretty you look right now.”
Oikawa whimpers and shifts the tempo of their hips. “Iwa-chan touch me more. I wanna come.”
Iwaizumi presses a deep kiss into Oikawa’s cheek and drags their cocks together. “What do you want? Tell me, love.”
He slides his hands along the expanse of Oikawa’s back, shivering at the thought of leaving kisses in a trail along Oikawa’s faint freckles, biting into the skin of his neck, hearing him sigh and gasp at the feeling of pain and pleasure meeting in the middle.
Oikawa grits out a string of curses as his foot hits the wall with a deep thud. “Touch my chest, suck—!”
“Did you hear something?”
They both jerk to a hard stop hearing the muffled voices outside. Iwaizumi slides a hand over Oikawa’s mouth and braces the weight of his frame against the door. He reaches his free hand down to grip the handle to keep it from turning.
“I didn’t hear anything. What did you hear?”
“A thud, I think?”
Iwaizumi might be an aggressive person, but he’s never been violent. These fans are making him reconsider. His cock is painfully throbbing in his jeans sitting frozen against Oikawa’s. He’s trying to practice breathing as though it were through a straw to keep his movements light and his noise minimal.
“You really think Oikawa-san would hide in a utility closet?”
“Can’t hurt to check.”
Iwaizumi squeezes his eyes shut and tenses his grip as someone on the other side begins to jiggle the handle. In doing so, his hips twitch and bump against Oikawa. An electric shock ricochets through them both, so hard that Oikawa’s hand flies out to steady himself against Iwaizumi’s shoulder.
“This is locked, they can’t be in here.”
Iwaizumi holds a swallow in his throat for fear it might be loud enough to tip them off. The jiggling of the handle ceases.
“They can’t have gone too far, they’re definitely still in the mall.”
“We just want autographs! And pictures!”
“And a hug, he probably smells so good. Alright let’s think…”
Well, they’re right about that, at least.
Iwaizumi gives a steady exhale. On his inhale, his air is choked off by Oikawa’s hand sliding around the back of his neck. He rocks forward and leans into Iwaizumi fully, his other hand twisting hard into his shirt.
What the fuck is he doing? The crazies are right outside the door!
Oikawa crushes their mouths together and rocks his hips, sending another bolt of lightning through Iwaizumi’s body. He swallows the moan that leaps out and tightens his grip against his neck. Keep going, his body language says. He doesn’t care about the fans outside. He’s horny, he’s halfway there, and he wants to see it through.
Iwaizumi lets go of the door handle and loops an arm around Oikawa, grabbing onto one ass cheek to hold him up. The other hooks at the front of Oikawa’s jeans like a bucking bronco and rocks him forward.
This is insane.
It’s also really fucking hot.
They melt tongues together, wriggling and rolling, both a sticky, hot mess underneath the layers of fabric, but it feels so good and it feels so wrong it’s right.
“Maybe they went back to the second floor?”
The sound of the voice close the door heightens the tension. They’re a hair away from being caught and the thought of it has them both trying to fuck through their clothes. Iwaizumi’s release warms deep in his groin. He can tell Oikawa is close by the way his kisses grow urgent.
“Fuck,” Oikawa breathes a barely audible whisper into his mouth. Just a little more, and Iwaizumi is going to follow him into it.
“Let’s go search up there!”
“Come,” Iwaizumi whispers back as the sounds of footsteps retreat away from the closet.
Oikawa breaks their kiss and drops his head into Iwaizumi’s neck, biting hard into the skin. He curls into a ball and seizes, grinding in a fractured rhythm. Dammit, Oikawa really is sexy when he comes and he can’t even see it.
Iwaizumi bites hard on his lip and rocks into Oikawa, as if to fuck him through his orgasm. It tugs in his groin hard and sends him over the edge. He pushes off the door and squeezes Oikawa against the boxes, hips jerking and spasming as he shoots warm and thick into his briefs.
They both hover there, knees wobbly as pleasure wiggles through their limbs, turning their bones to jelly. Iwaizumi sucks in a gulp of air and tries to steady his breathing. He moves to shift his hips in an attempt to stand upright and earns a tangled moan from both of them.
“Don’t…Iwa-chan… I’m sensitive,” Oikawa shivers through uneven breaths.
“Sorry,” Iwaizumi nuzzles into his hair and dots a kiss on his temple.
“So… that was…”
“Hot,” Iwaizumi admits. This time he shifts his hips deliberately. Oikawa stutters under his touch. “I’m bummed I didn’t see you come.”
“Iwa-chan, you’re shameless.”
Iwaizumi smiles, imagining Oikawa’s bashful pink cheeks. “Says the one begging me to suck—”
“Alright! Stop! Save it for the car!”
Pause.
Iwaizumi knows he heard that. And he knows Oikawa knows he said that, whether or not he meant to. Oikawa is still excited, which is unusual, because Iwaizumi is usually the one who wants to keep going round after round.
“You really liked—”
“If you say another thing about this I’m changing my mind,” Oikawa bites with a fair warning.
Iwaizumi struggles to suppress his ear to ear grin. “Think the coast is clear?”
“It better be. Only one way to find out.”
~
“Is this why you tinted your windows?”
“No, Iwa-chan. I did not tint my windows for car sex.”
Oikawa glares at his boyfriend, who is watching him with smug disbelief in the backseat. “I tinted them for privacy.”
“Same thing.”
“Is not! I’m world famous, remember?”
It’s true.
Oikawa didn’t think much of his fame while he was rising to the top. He really had a one track mind for his volleyball career. The rest came as a perk, and Oikawa doesn’t turn down promising opportunities. Who in their right mind would?
Kuroo mentioned it to him some odd years ago when he flew home for their first All Stars game. Though he was clearly stroking his ego, as business men do, Oikawa fed on that sort of thing and it had a nice ring to it.
In any case, all this fame truly is a bit much, even if it is nice. Iwaizumi might be right about needing that security team. Maybe just one or two people to help ward off crazed fans who don’t understand boundaries. Oikawa loves his fans. He always has, even since high school. He likes their thoughtful gifts and their unwavering support.
But these two weeks in Japan are supposed to be for him and his loved ones. Especially Iwaizumi.
Oh, Hajime. It’s agony to go stretches of time being away from him, which is wild to think about, considering Oikawa relocated to an entirely different continent and revoked his Japanese citizenship.
That was an interesting conversation to say the least. Iwaizumi has always supported his decisions, even if he doesn’t fully understand them.
Oikawa loves him for it. God he loves him for it, so much it aches inside. He worried for years that Iwaizumi would let go of the threads that bound them, tired of the way they tugged and burned on his skin as Oikawa pulled in another direction.
But he didn’t. Instead, when Oikawa confessed through a mix of tears and snot that he’d been in love with Iwaizumi for years and didn’t know what to do about it, Iwaizumi stood rooted to the earth, pulled him close, and promised him forever.
How lucky he is, that his boyfriend loves him so, for all his vanity, and gluttony, and greed.
And his obstinance.
Which Iwaizumi plans to fuck right out of him, so he says.
“You sure no one will see us in here?”
“What, are you backing out now?” Oikawa frowns, annoyed. Iwaizumi was so hot for him in that tiny closet, grinding and gripping and groaning. Iwaizumi said he wished he could see how pretty Oikawa looks, didn’t he?
“Calm down,” Iwaizumi kisses underneath Oikawa’s eye, and then his cheek, cupping his jaw and smoothing his thumb as he slides their lips together. “I’m just thinking about the scandal that happens for you if we get caught.”
Oikawa sinks his hips onto Iwaizumi’s erection poking through his damp briefs. He greedily holds Iwaizumi’s kiss through the moan that jumps from his throat. “I don’t care if we get caught,” he mumbles. Even if these windows weren’t tinted, he wouldn’t care. Let the world see who fucks him so good he can’t think. Let people see that he’s a complete slut for one Iwaizumi Hajime.
Oikawa slides his arms around Iwaizumi’s neck and rolls his hips, cinching his knees around his waist to lock him in place. “Please…Iwa-chan. I’m gonna lose my mind,” Oikawa breathes, his warm brown eyes heavy lidded with want. With need.
Iwaizumi stares at him for a moment, hazel green eyes beginning to glow with a hunger that he usually gets when he’s turned on.
He says he likes to see Oikawa during sex, but Oikawa is no different. Iwaizumi in bed is akin to a beast. Oikawa is well aware of his desire to be in control of almost any and everything. But with Iwaizumi, he can let his need for control rest, and expose the most raw and vulnerable parts of himself. He loves being dominated by him, seeing those green eyes entranced with a carnal lust because of him, making him feel soft and needy.
It really does make him feel pretty.
“C’mere,” Iwaizumi whispers. He tilts upward to kiss him slow and draws his arms over his shoulders. He drags blunt nails down Oikawa’s back sighs into his mouth. “So sexy for me.”
A thrill chases the nerve endings up Oikawa’s spine and tugs at his smile. “Just for you,” he bites down on Iwaizumi’s lip and gasps when a finger teases at his hole.
At some point Iwaizumi managed to grab the bottle of lube they’d bought earlier—what a coincidence—and squeezes a fair amount at the top of Oikawa’s ass, letting it slide gooey and slow towards his fingers. Oikawa shudders a moan and presses his mouth against Iwaizumi’s ear. “Iwa-chan, that feels weird…!”
“You want me to stop?”
“Don’t be stupid.”
Iwaizumi massages around his hole teasingly, spreading the slick, his other hand gripped into Oikawa’s cheek to hold him open.
“Just put it in already,” Oikawa whines.
Iwaizumi obeys, sliding a digit in with a push. Oikawa thought he would feel some kind of relief, but instead, his body craves more.
His own greed will eat him alive one day. Maybe Iwaizumi can do it first.
“So tight,” Iwaizumi hisses, working a second finger in. He peppers kisses in a trail from Oikawa’s cheek down to his jaw, and then his throat. Oikawa arches his back and rocks in his lap, dragging friction over Iwaizumi’s hardening cock beneath him, a flashback to what they did earlier in that itty bitty closet.
“Dunno if you need my cock. My fingers seem to do just fine—”
“Don’t say that,” Oikawa wriggles and buries fingers into Iwaizumi’s scalp. He feels Iwaizumi’s lips curve into a smile against his throat and his heart leaps into that very spot. Iwaizumi always gets so cocky when he’s excited. Oikawa will never tell him he thinks it’s the hottest thing ever, because Iwaizumi probably knows he thinks that.
The thought turns Oikawa’s cheeks pink and melts into a puddle as Iwaizumi swipes over his prostate. “Ughn, Iwa-chan—!”
Iwaizumi hums against his throat and works in a third. He teases and prods and curls his fingers just the way Oikawa likes, the way that makes his stomach flip and his thighs quiver.
Iwaizumi lets his kisses wander down to Oikawa’s chest. He scrapes his teeth across a nipple and latches, moaning over the warm skin. Oikawa drops his head back and tugs at Iwaizumi’s hair, gasping as his tongue flicks and rolls. His free hand snakes between them and wraps around Oikawa’s cock, stroking him in time with his fingers.
Pleasure sweeps across Oikawa’s nerves and dances behind his eyes. He rocks between Iwaizumi’s hands and moans, loud enough that it might have escaped the walls of the car. Quickly, almost too quickly, he feels the familiar tug in his groin coupled with the heat in the base of his spine. “Wait, wait I’ll come if you do that, stop!”
“Isn’t that the point?” Iwaizumi teases.
“I don’t wanna come from that,” Oikawa whimpers and shakes his head. It’s not the same, especially in the heat of the moment right now, with Iwaizumi devouring him with his eyes. He wants to come while being stretched full and seated to the hilt, with Iwaizumi teetering on the edge of his own orgasm because sex with Oikawa is like a drug to him.
It’s funny, how Oikawa loves to lose control under Iwaizumi. Just as well, Iwaizumi seems to unravel inside of Oikawa, surrendering to raw bliss with only one thing on his mind. Marking Oikawa from the inside out.
Iwaizumi obeys, pausing his hands and mouth and sitting back against the the seat. His eyes wander slow from Oikawa’s hips to his stomach, chest, up to his glassy eyes close to leaking tears. “You’re right,” Iwaizumi says, folding his hands around Oikawa’s narrow waist. “It’s better when my cock does it.”
Oikawa accepts that he’s fifty shades of red and takes a second to drink Iwaizumi in. His eyes are narrowed and glowing, lips kiss red and swollen. His neck and chest are covered in bites, tawny skin deliciously stretched across a broad chest and dimpled abs. His hip lines disappear beneath his briefs where his shaft still sits untouched and impatiently tucked.
Oikawa sucks in a breath and pulls him free, wetting his lips at the sight of a bead of precome that sits pretty as a pearl on his cockhead. He’s too impatient, not wanting to play twister to get low enough and swallow Iwaizumi to the back of his throat, much as he loves that feeling. He also loves all the praises that fly out of Iwaizumi’s mouth when he starts to get close.
He drizzles a healthy amount of lube over his hand and uses it to slick Iwaizumi’s dick shiny, not missing the way his breathing deepens. Oikawa rocks forward and upward, kissing the tip to his hole. Both of them shudder and exchange glances.
Those green eyes are watching him intently, heavy lidded, pupils lust blown, waiting to be inside of him.
Oikawa suppresses a stiff grunt and sinks just over the tip. “Fuck,” Iwaizumi blurts, dragging on the word. The wet squelch as Oikawa sinks lower is lewd, ringing in his ears and turning his cheeks crimson. A noise leaks from his throat when Iwaizumi’s warm hands settle over the joint of his hips to his thighs and press in.
He sinks until he’s fully seated and lets out a deep breath, placing his head on Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “Cripes,” he wheezes. There’s no getting used to that girth, but the stretch he feels is exactly what he wanted. It feels so good between his legs he might not last long.
“You alright?” Iwaizumi brings his hands around to Oikawa’s back and massages upwards toward his shoulders.
“Mhm. Just needed a second,” Oikawa sits back and takes in a deep breath. “It’s one of the parts where you’re a lot bigger than me, y’know?”
“You’re being cheeky but I’m kinda okay with that y’know,” Iwaizumi shifts his hips. They both wince at the slide. “Bet your fans would be shocked to know you love to be stuffed full like this.”
Iwaizumi isn’t wrong about that. So Oikawa keeps his mouth shut and moves his hips. He starts slow, letting his walls take in Iwaizumi’s size and shape and remember what it feels like to be filled up.
“Look at you,” Iwaizumi hums. “Gorgeous.”
The word sends a thrill through Oikawa, urging him to ride deeper and use the back of the car seat as anchorage. He shifts his hips up and swallows just the tip, groaning at the filthy wet noise. Iwaizumi lets out a deep groan and arches off the seat.
He works over him at different heights, sinking slow, riding fast, all of it deep and ensuring that Oikawa is firmly placed in Iwaizumi’s lap. Their moans and groans fill the car, flooding the air with lust.
“Baby, you take my cock so well,” Iwaizumi huffs and grips into Oikawa’s hips. He shifts his weight and thrusts off the bottom of the couch, hips meeting the back of Oikawa’s thighs in a slap.
Oikawa gasps; the lightning strike that snaps through his spine forces his eyes to roll back.
“There it is,” Iwaizumi’s voice is deep and sultry, “I love that look. So pretty when I fuck you.”
Oikawa places his palm flat against the roof of the car and tilts his head back, exposing the skin of his throat and arching into that very crescent shape he knows Iwaizumi loves so much. “Yes, there! Like that!”
He relishes in the sloppy sounds of skin slapping and ragged breathing, the thick pulse as Iwaizumi rams into that spot that turns his vision white. “Damn, Oikawa I’m getting close,” Iwaizumi rasps and sinks lower, driving his hips skyward.
The further they get to a release, the more erratic their movements get, giving the car a slight wobble.
Oikawa ignores it and folds forward, his jaw slack and tears leaking as Iwaizumi fucks him deep enough to feel through his stomach. “Fuck—hic—Iwa-chan—!”
“That’s it, baby,” Iwaizumi draws their mouths together, his own avarice spilling over as he sucks pleas for release from Oikawa’s throat. “Like no one else can.”
Oikawa feels it rapidly build between his legs and behind his eyes. “Iwa-chan, I’m gonna come,” he pants, hands flying out to find something to latch onto. Iwaizumi’s shoulders, the car, the roof. He can’t decide on his grounding point, not with Iwaizumi swearing into his skin. He locks one arm around his waist and folds the other through Oikawa’s hair.
It’s something Iwaizumi always does when his orgasm is going to hit him hard. He wraps himself around Oikawa with a vice grip, something that tells Oikawa he can let go, because even as they both wheel over a cliff, Iwaizumi will hold him through it.
“Fuck, that’s it, right there, right—!” Oikawa comes with a harsh cry as his orgasm rips through him. Colors burst through his retinas, most of all green as he watches Iwaizumi follow him through it.
His brow furrows and a hiccup catches in his throat as he rocks into Oikawa, spilling white hot and hips spasming out of sync. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Iwaizumi tugs hard on Oikawa’s hair and breathes deep against his cheek.
They both slump back against the seat, sticky and spent. No one moves for ages.
They let their breathing find its way back to each other, the heartbeats sync with a dull thud in the quiet of the car. Slowly they come back to reality that they’re not just in a car, they’re tucked in the back corner of a parking garage at the mall. Car engines roar to life, horns are honking, people are bustling, all muffled noises beyond the tinted glass and metal frame.
Still, it’s like they’re inside a pocket of paradise.
Euphoria dances along Oikawa’s skin in waves, rip currents forming in spots where Iwaizumi begins to leave slow and gentle kisses. “Sensitive…Iwa-chan.”
“You always are,” Iwaizumi sucks in an air sharp and tight when Oikawa shifts his hips. “C’mon, that’s not fair.”
“You’re not fair.” Oikawa pulls off with a wet noise, met with a towel placed underneath him and Iwaizumi’s warm hands. “We really made a mess.”
“You really wanted to have car sex,” Iwaizumi suppresses a small yawn. “Not that I’m complaining. I think we found a new thing.”
Oikawa chews on his cheek. Having sex in semi-public places where they might almost get caught is a new kind of high for them. He starts to think about all the spots they might be able to get away with it. This unlocks so many places, so many ideas.
“Cool your jets for a second and help me clean up so we can get outta here,” Iwaizumi pats Oikawa’s thigh and presses a wet kiss in the hollow of his throat.
Through a fit of twisting and turning, and a lot of curses, and a couple threats, they manage to fold themselves back into clothes, fold anything soiled into a bag and drop into the front seats.
They both take a second with the engine on and the air conditioning running to cool off. “Maybe we need to get a bigger car,” Oikawa admits with a huff, tugging on the neck of his shirt to let air in faster.
“Or just hire a driver with a partition,” Iwaizumi suggests coolly, leaning on the steering wheel to inch closer to the vents.
Oikawa laughs into his hand. “I’ll consider it. You make a good point about that security detail.”
“It’s just for your safety. Especially if I’m not around,” Iwaizumi nods and peeks at Oikawa over his arm. “I don’t like the idea of randoms getting all handsy with you.”
Oikawa stills, his heart leaping in his chest. He pushes the feeling down and cracks a nefarious smile. “My my, Iwa-chan. Is that jealousy? Possessiveness, I hear?”
“Nope,” Iwaizumi answers with a pop, “I have nothing to be jealous about. It’s my name you scream when you—”
“Enough,” Oikawa gently places a hand over Iwaizumi’s mouth, hiding his own blush seeping into his cheeks. “I’m thirsty.”
Iwaizumi stares at him over his hand and tenders a series of kisses into his palm, before lacing his fingers through Oikawa’s and dropping them down to the gear shift. Oikawa knocks his knees together. He hates that Iwaizumi can be so smooth at times. He hates that he loves how hot he is when he’s smooth, too.
“You never said you weren’t possessive, y’know,” Oikawa says after a beat.
Iwaizumi’s arm flexes as he swivels the steering wheel,, pulling them out to the main road. “I’m not denying it,” he says evenly, still holding Oikawa’s hand. “Maybe that’s why it’s so hot to do this kinda thing in public.”
Oikawa bites into his knuckle bed to keep his butterflies at bay. Iwaizumi really is straightforward and honest, sometimes to a fault. He truly does love that about him.
Back in the closet, and then in the car, and even right now, he’s not worried about fans, or his image, or anything to do with Oikawa Tooru as a brand. He’s just enjoying being back home in their familiar stomping grounds with the first person who believed he could even get here.
“Iwa-chan… you remember the gazebo down by the creek?”
“The one by our parents house?” Iwaizumi asks without looking up as the roll into a drive thru. He begins to roll his window down to place an order.
“The one and only.”
Understanding strikes Iwaizumi hard and whips his neck around to look at Oikawa. “That’s literally outside…oh.”
Oikawa grins at the sight of Iwaizumi turning pink and swiveling around to order drinks with the sugary sweet voice through the speaker box.
He loves Iwaizumi. He loves him to the moon and back—further than that even. Now that the world knows they’re an item, maybe he could afford to be a little more attentive to his lover in public settings.
And since they’ve recently discovered that getting their rocks off with the thrill of getting caught is a turn on for both of them, maybe it’s the closest Oikawa can get to satisfying that itch that sits under their skin.
That no one else in this world will love them like they do.