Rating:

Teen

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Haikyuu!!

Relationship:

Akaashi/Iwaizumi

Tags:

college/university, future fic, shotgunning, smoking, weed

Stats:

Posted on:

2015-04-15

Words:

2,102

Art by sheenaxzelos (now deleted); this fic inspired this art, so I’m counting it.

Iwaizumi contrasts with the smoke. He takes a hit, pauses. His lips are tight and wet and his eyes are red at the sides. His cheeks are darker than before. A little bit of smoke seeps up against his hair. He opens his lips.

Keiji swallows. Iwaizumi has turned to him now, offering the blunt to him. His eyes are clouded and open. He’s leaning in very close. Or Keiji is just imagining it.

“Thanks,” Keiji says automatically, and takes it.

Iwaizumi laughs. He’s turned back again, and Keiji’s eyes trace the angles of his profile. They’re like the mountains Keiji once took a photo of when he was on vacation with his family. He wants to take a photo of this, too. It would be more beautiful.

“You don’t have to thank me,” says Iwaizumi.

“I want to.”

Iwaizumi laughs again. Maybe his cheeks get darker.

Keiji sticks the end of the blunt into his mouth and sucks. Iwaizumi’s still facing him. Keiji focuses his eyes on it, feeling the heat running down his throat and into his chest. It burns more, but maybe that’s because Iwaizumi hasn’t looked away.

Keiji stops and lets go. Exhales several seconds later. His lips tingle and Iwaizumi is still watching. He sticks his hand out again.

Iwaizumi is silent when he takes the blunt back.

Keiji says, “What do you think Bokuto-san and Kuroo-san are doing?” to make conversation.

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “Fucking in the living room, maybe?”

Keiji laughs. A little awkwardly. He doesn’t mind rooming with them. Bokuto-san had been welcoming when Keiji had decided to just stay around Tokyo for university. He and Kuroo are good friends too.

It’s Iwaizumi, who’s back from Miyagi and had come here for university too and ended up being in one of Keiji’s lectures. It’s Iwaizumi, who’d been open to being friends with Keiji immediately and Keiji’s eyes kept centering on the outlines of his tighter shirts and trying so hard to swallow when he makes Iwaizumi laugh. It’s Iwaizumi, who agrees almost every time Keiji invites him over unless he has to study and then he looks disappointed even in himself and Keiji wants to say to him, no, don’t, even though something thrums through his body anyway.

Iwaizumi talking about sex and Keiji says, “Yeah,” and laughs a little and waits for Iwaizumi to take a hit.

He dangles the blunt. “We should try shotgunning,” he says.

Keiji’s mind blanks for a moment. “What?” he says.

Iwaizumi’s fingers are dark. The inner parts are rough, probably from his long years of volleyball and spiking, even being on the club in university. Bokuto-san’s fingers are the same, but Keiji’s never focused on them like he does on Iwaizumi’s now.

He tangles his own fingers together.

“Shotgunning, y’know?” says Iwaizumi. He’s turned to Keiji again. He’s bringing the blunt up to his lips.

“Ah,” says Keiji, just as Iwaizumi takes a hit. “Right.”

He watches Iwaizumi go through the motions. Furrowed eyebrows, concentrated lips, dragging the smoke down inside him.

Iwaizumi nods and leans over. Maybe he expects Keiji to move toward him, but how is Keiji supposed to when Iwaizumi barely leaves any room for him to?

Iwaizumi opens his mouth. By instinct, Keiji parts his lips, and Iwaizumi breathes. He’s hot and vaguely Keiji can feel the wet outline of Iwaizumi’s mouth, damp into his mouth as he inhales the smoke. They’re very close. Keiji is tempted to lean in and bridge the gap.

Iwaizumi pulls back before he can. “That was nice,” he says. The edge of his eyes crinkle when he smiles, like notes folded into pockets for Keiji to remember later. Remember Iwaizumi’s smile and the millimeters between their lips from before.

Keiji says, “Do you really think Bokuto-san and Kuroo-san are having sex downstairs?”

“I don’t know.” Iwaizumi chuckles. “They have that kind of relationship, don’t they?”

Keiji nods. He just wants to listen Iwaizumi deliberate on his two best friends having sex. Iwaizumi has his eyebrows knitted, either in confusion or amusement. Maybe both.

“Iwaizumi-san,” he finds his mouth saying automatically.

Iwaizumi says, “You don’t have to call me that.” Definite amusement. “I told you like, ages ago.”

“Yeah.” Keiji’s mouth is still moving without his permission. For some reason sounds are coming out. “Iwaizumi.”

“Yeah?” Iwaizumi has the smile that Keiji wants to put into his pocket again.

“Can I kiss you?”

Keiji’s lips burn at the thought. At that he’d asked, and he feels simultaneously whole and separate in his body. Like his mouth and hands aren’t part of him, but very much are. His fingers tighten on nothing, on his jeans.

Iwaizumi’s eyes have widened. His cheeks are even darker than before.

Keiji might’ve missed his nod because he’s trying to focus on bringing the feeling of his body back together. But Iwaizumi nods and Keiji feels himself push himself forward. They’ve been sitting here on the floor smoking. This is like shotgunning, except instead of putting smoke in his mouth Keiji hopes to use his tongue.

“I’m going to kiss you now, Iwaizumi-san,” he says. He’s hovering above Iwaizumi’s lap now. He doesn’t remember getting here.

Iwaizumi laughs. “I said, drop the -san,” he says and Keiji murmurs, “Okay,” and bridges the gap between them.

Iwaizumi’s lips are rough like his fingers. For a second Keiji thinks, it must because of volleyball too, before he remembers that you don’t play volleyball with your mouth. Keiji closes his mouth on Iwaizumi’s upper lip. His hands are pressed into the floor, on either side of Iwaizumi’s body.

Iwaizumi opens his mouth first. He draws Keiji’s lower lip between his teeth, glides along them. Bites down gently, the pressure spiking heat right down through Keiji’s body. He fidgets from above Iwaizumi. Their shoulders are pressed close together, and Keiji thinks about sitting in Iwaizumi’s lap before wondering if that’s too forward. Then again, they are kissing.

Keiji hesitantly slides his tongue into Iwaizumi’s mouth. He doesn’t know what to do with it, but Iwaizumi evidently does; his lips close on it, accompanied by his teeth, and he sucks. Keiji lets out a gasp, a groan–he feels embarrassed by it, but somehow it seems to encourage Iwaizumi further because he grazes his teeth, again, increasing the hardness brought by his lips onto Keiji’s tongue. Keiji doesn’t quite like the hopeless mewing sound that escapes from his mouth, then, but he feels Iwaizumi smile and draws his tongue back, kissing the corner of his lips.

“You’re,” he says, against Iwaizumi’s cheek, “a good kisser.”

“Mm.” Iwaizumi tilts his head at an angle like he’s trying to see Keiji better, or different. Keiji maybe wants to ask him how he got so good, but he’s grateful for it, too.

He kisses at Iwaizumi’s chin. Iwaizumi sucks in a breath that he doesn’t try to hide. Keiji bares his teeth and lets his mind drift as he inches down Iwaizumi’s neck, trying not to bite too hard. Iwaizumi keeps making these sounds that Keiji wants to drag out of him–maybe that’s what Keiji sounds like too, maybe as much as he wishes he wouldn’t, Iwaizumi wants him to gasp, urge him further.

Keiji finds a tender spot at Iwaizumi’s neck and kisses gently. Iwaizumi’s moan is deep and rough in his throat, and maybe that’s what Keiji does, what Iwaiziumi wants to do to him. Keiji sucks loudly and hard at Iwaizumi’s neck to get him to make those sounds again, to feel the vibrations along his lips and Iwaizumi’s neck. Keiji places his hands at Iwaizumi’s shoulders, runs them up to the back of his head, tugs at his hair. Iwaizumi’s sounds get a little louder. Tremble against Keiji’s mouth, through the tense of his skin. Keiji shivers, wants to feel more of Iwaiziumi. Through the landscape of his skin.

“The more you do that the more bruises I’ll have,” Iwaizumi says. He sounds like he’s smiling again, so Keiji has to pull away.

“Sorry,” he says.

“I wasn’t complaining,” says Iwaizumi, but Keiji’s already pulled back. Staring at the dark spot on Iwaizumi’s already dark neck.

Iwaizumi’s cheeks are washed with red. “We look like we’ve just fucked,” he says to Keiji.

“We do,” says Keiji, because Iwaizumi does, short hair all pushed to one side, kind of sweaty, and he’s breathing in a way like he’s burnt himself out from something. Something like what? Kissing Keiji?

Keiji gulps, letting the shocking sobriety that comes from the first time you kiss someone you’ve always wanted to kiss wash over his body. Iwaizumi’s standing up, adjusting his jeans. Keiji kind of has a half-erection, not high enough anymore to ask if Iwaizumi’s in the same state. He glances outside, instead; the stars are like the ones that he’d seen against his eyelids when his tongue was in Iwaizumi’s mouth.

Iwaizumi laughs. “That was, um,” he says. Something in his tone sounds like he’s humiliated.

“Nice,” Keiji blurts. He shuts his mouth immediately. Maybe he’s still inebriated.

Iwaizumi glances at him quickly, but his expression is soft. It always is. “Yes,” he agrees. “It was.”

“Are you,” says Keiji, “leaving?”

Iwaizumi still has that look on his face. Keiji wants to tell him what he’s thinking but he wants to listen to Iwaizumi first.

“Yes,” Iwaizumi says.

So much runs through Keiji’s mind, like you don’t have to and see you in class and are you only saying so because I asked? They run behind Keiji’s lips, all so close to spilling out, and Keiji bites down on his own teeth, maybe, so they don’t.

“Okay,” he says, and stands up too.

Iwaizumi doesn’t turn around to him as Keiji walks him out of the attic and downstairs. They pass the kitchen and living room; Keiji peeks in to see both Bokuto and Kuroo passed out, half-naked, Bokuto’s hand tucked into the waistband of Kuroo’s shorts, resting against the plane of Kuroo’s stomach.

“I guess we were right.” Keiji turns to see Iwaizumi watching them as well, a smile at the corner of his lips. Keiji’s heart skips loudly; he’s not sure if he’ll remember Iwaizumi’s face like this if he looks away.

“Yeah.” His voice is embarrassingly croaky and he regrets it.

But maybe Iwaizumi doesn’t notice because he keeps going, reaches the door while Keiji lingers in the door way. Keiji self-consciously takes two large strides to join him. Iwaizumi meets his eyes before stepping outside.

“Will you be okay with walking back?” Keiji wants to roll his eyes at himself for saying that.

Iwaizumi nods. Another small smile. “Yeah,” he says. “You’ll be okay tonight?”

“I’ll probably just go to bed,” says Keiji.

“Sounds like a good idea.”

Keiji wants to ask Iwaizumi if he’s ever thought about sleeping over, ever wants to sleep over, maybe if he wants to sleep over tonight even though Iwaizumi’s already got his shoes on, barely shivering in the night air like a wonder in his red collared t-shirt that Keiji tries not to stare too hard at.

He spots the bruises on Iwaizumi’s neck the same time Iwaizumi lifts a hand up to rub at them. His mouth is a little swollen, too. Keiji’s face gets warm.

“Sorry about the–”

“Don’t.” Iwaizumi puts his hand down. Licks his lips, maybe subconsciously. Even if consciously, it’s unfair either way. “I–It was–You’re. Thanks,” he decides on, and Keiji can spot the flush on his cheeks even in the dark of the night.

“C’mere,” says the part of him that’s still high, and Iwaizumi for some reason listens to him and does. Keiji’s kissing him again, soothing his tongue against the seam of Iwaizumi’s lips, closing on them gently with his own, tugging them lightly like wind splitting the sky. Keiji pulls back after a few seconds, so he doesn’t do something even more embarrassing.

Iwaizumi lingers for a short second like he wants more. He steps back down onto the porch.

“I’ll.” He lets out a small cough. “See you in class, then?”

“Or before.”

Keiji squeezes his thumb with his fingers in embarrassment. But he loosens when he spots Iwaizumi glance back at him as he walks away, and doesn’t miss the peak of his smile that Keiji doesn’t need to take a photo of to remember.