Oikawa’s eyes fly open. “Of course I do,” he says, but his eyes drift down to where they’re joined. Koushi’s dick is against his stomach, and his entire lower half feels like it’s burning. It’s not like Koushi’e never had anything in his ass before – but this, with Oikawa, is new regardless.

Oikawa asks, “How are you feeling?” and his voice is thick and concerned.

Koushi chuckles and clenches. Oikawa bites down on his bottom lip, and he glares at Koushi now instead.

“I could ask the same for you,” Koushi says.

“I mean, it’s hot,” Oikawa says, “but, like. I don’t have anything in my ass right now.”

“I can try to finger you while you’re like this,” Koushi suggests.

Oikawa puts his hands on Koushi’s hips. Koushi’s not entirely sure if it’s on purpose, but Oikawa’s dick bucks into him a little more.

“That’s probably best for another time,” Oikawa says.

He definitely tries to fuck Koushi on his own, but Koushi doesn’t let him, pushing Oikawa’s shoulders down when Oikawa tries to sit up, bounces on his dick as Oikawa’s thighs slap into his in an even rhythm. Oikawa tries to sit up again, and Koushi just pushes him down and falls against him.

“Stop it,” he says. “I’m on top right now, you know that right? Literally.”

“Yes, literally,” Oikawa says patiently, “but – ”

“No.” Koushi puts a finger to his lips. “Shh.”

Oikawa pecks his finger, but Koushi was going to go in that direction anyway. He kisses Oikawa on the lips, and for a moment it distracts him from Oikawa’s cock being shoved into him.

Breakfast is Koushi’s favorite meal of the day, because the morning sun’s bright and he’s never running tight on time between classes or exhausted himself out. He’s glad he doesn’t need to wake up Oikawa anymore, especially now that they have this sex and making out before classes thing going on.

Oikawa has been insisting that he’s not a morning person, but Koushi can imagine it for him. Jogging at six a.m. and sending him and Iwaizumi Snapchats. Koushi, of course, would either be right there next to him or jogging somewhere else. Iwaizumi would just get angry.

Still, this morning is like any other morning, and Oikawa’s lips are pressed into a thin line like he regrets being awake, even when he’s done brushing his teeth. Koushi stands next to him at the sink and hip-checks him.

“Don’t be a baby,” he teases.

Oikawa grumbles, “I’m not a baby.”

“C’mon,” Koushi says, once Oikawa’s washed his mouth out and spit into the sink. Koushi grabs Oikawa’s hands. Oikawa’s even taller in person, which is ridiculous because Koushi has seen years of him on the court and during nationally broadcasted volleyball tournaments. The Oikawa there is intense, focused, makes goosebumps run all over Koushi’s body.

The Oikawa here makes goosebumps run over Koushi’s body, but because he takes his hands with as much enthusiasm as Koushi gives, presses their mouths together. He’s lazy because it’s the morning, bites at Koushi’s tongue because he’s Oikawa, and Koushi smiles against him.

“Mm,” he says, when they’ve broken apart. “Minty fresh.”

They walk to the dining hall together. Oikawa had said he doesn’t like holding hands or doing much in public after they’d kissed for the first time, but one time when he’d been on a Skype call with Iwaizumi and then said, “I gotta take a shit, Suga-chan, keep Iwa-chan company,” and ran out of the room, Iwaizumi had told Koushi that Oikawa is embarrassing when he gets physically affectionate in public.

It must be embarrassing enough for even Oikawa to be aware of it.

The one thing Oikawa has to make Koushi do even when Koushi doesn’t want to is practice volleyball with him.

It doesn’t surprise Koushi that much how dedicated he is, since he’s continuing after the rigorous regimen that had been Aoba Jousai high school. Still, Koushi expects Oikawa to give up when he says no for the twentieth time, because he’s been busy all week, his body is sore, he just wants to use the weekend to rest –

“You would not be complaining,” Oikawa declares, “if I asked if we could have sex.”

Then he proceeds to drag Koushi out of bed by his hands.

Koushi has half a mind to just let Oikawa rip his arms off. Well, no he doesn’t. But he pouts at Oikawa and does his best pathetic looking face. Oikawa is easy to persuade sometimes.

But not today.

“Do not even try,” says Oikawa, fluttering his eyes shut. “It’s been three weeks since we last practiced volleyball together. Or are you that rusty?”

They’d played together five times already. Koushi counts, because he counted since the first time, when Oikawa promised to help him, and the third time, when Oikawa had said that it was a more convenient exercise than masturbating, because it’d be weird if he jerked it if while Koushi was around, except it was hard for him to tell when he was. Koushi had asked why and Oikawa had blushed and not responded and ran out of the locker room without waiting for him.

Koushi had chased him and teased him and said, “Do you think about me when you jerk it, Oikawa-kun?” Oikawa stammering no was too belated to be convincing and Koushi had asked if he could kiss him.

All of that seems easy and romantic now because Koushi had energy then. Not so much now that midterm season is coming up and he’s been regularly getting physical with Oikawa. Koushi wonders how Oikawa has so much energy to even practice with his team multiple times a week.

“You know you want to.” Oikawa has actually managed to pry Koushi off his bed. Koushi’s on the floor now, feeling like this situation would be more normal if they switched places. Oikawa’s standing and now attempting to drag him by the feet. It’s actually kind of working, because Koushi might be getting a rug burn at the bottom of his thigh.

“I would,” Koushi says, “any other day – ”

“Three weeks!”

Three weeks is a long time. Koushi can remember how the heft of a ball feels in his hands, but he remembers what it feels like with Oikawa inside him more, which.

Well. Maybe he ought to practice today then.

“Fine,” he says.

Oikawa cackles victoriously. “Don’t cry if I beat you today.” They’ve been practicing Koushi’s receives, which are manageable and nothing impressive. And he’s never been able to receive any of Oikawa’s jump serves.

“What else would I expect from playing against a professional?” Koushi says, and Oikawa rolls his eyes.

“Right.” Koushi bites his lip. “Well since you’ve done this before, you can – ”

“It’s a little difficult from this angle!”

Koushi doesn’t mind touching his own dick. He doesn’t even mind getting his fingers anywhere near Oikawa’s asshole – they’d been pretty deep inside him a few minutes ago – but it’s the combination of the two feelings that’s making him nervous. Before, Oikawa had all the confidence in the world prepping himself and Koushi and getting him in there. Koushi knows how much Oikawa likes having control.

He exhales through his nose. “Together then?”

“I told you,” Oikawa says patiently. “It’s difficult from this angle.”

But he joins Koushi in grabbing his dick and aligning it against him.

They’re both leaning on their sides, shoulders digging into Koushi’s mattress. They’ve fucked enough times on Oikawa’s bed, which Koushi loves because it’s easier to smell Oikawa that way, and Oikawa has told him that his own smell lingers so when Koushi gets out in the middle of the night because sharing a tiny dorm bed isn’t optimal, Oikawa’s not too upset.

Oikawa’s reaching behind him, pressing the head of Koushi’s dick in his entrance.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he says.

“I should be saying that to you,” says Koushi.

“I’m always ready,” says Oikawa. “You’re the one who asked me to help, so I’m – oh, okay.”

Koushi’s raising his hips, pressing the head of his cock in. It slides in a little awkwardly, but with more ease than Koushi would’ve expected.

His entire body is burning and he wonders if his dick feels as good in Oikawa as Oikawa’s had been in him.

“Yeah,” says Oikawa. “Ah, alright.” Koushi can hear him grit his teeth and groan, so that’s a good sign.

Oikawa turns around then and kisses Koushi on the mouth. It must strain his neck, but Oikawa has a ridiculous neck anyway, that Koushi can put a lot of hickeys on. Koushi kisses back, getting used to feeling himself inside Oikawa, a strange heat that he wants more of. His dick twitches.

“You gonna go, or you want me to?” Oikawa asks.

Koushi says, “I feel like it’d be best if we worked as a team.”

The other occasional thing that Oikawa wants him to do and that Koushi wants to do even less is go out to parties.

This time he really does drag Koushi all the way to the door until Koushi’s sure that the rug burn on his knees wouldn’t recover in less than a week. He and Oikawa already made plans to practice volleyball tomorrow afternoon, so maybe that wasn’t a good idea.

“How do you get invites to these things?” Koushi asks, as Oikawa hums, smiles at people every once in a while. He seems to be looking for something.

“Mailing list.”

Oikawa looks utterly serious. It takes Koushi a full minute to realize he isn’t.

“Very funny,” he says. “Are you actually friends with some people here?”

“Yep.” Someone walks by and says hello to Oikawa, as if to prove it. “I’m fun and sociable,” he says. “Also, I’ve probably kissed at least a third of the people in this room.”

Koushi stares at him. Oikawa says, “Alright, maybe a quarter.”

As it turns out, what he’s looking for is the drinks. When they find the table of full beer bottles (and not empty ones, that Oikawa had gotten excited about a moment ago), Oikawa takes one and offers another to Koushi.

Koushi declines it.

“You’re no fun,” Oikawa says, but doesn’t ask any further. He sets the cup down and takes a sip out of his own.

“It’s not really my thing.” After high school had ended last year, Koushi and Asahi and Daichi had gone out to celebrate together. It’d started out fun, but ended in almost-fights (Daichi blames Asahi), an overwhelming amount of puke (Koushi blames Daichi), and raging headaches lasting the whole weekend (alright, so, Koushi will own up to goading the other two and his own competitiveness.)

Oikawa raises his eyebrows but keeps silent about it. Koushi’s grateful, and leans in to kiss Oikawa’s shoulder. Oikawa jolts.

“This is okay, right?” Koushi’s the one being affectionate, so that should be okay.

Oikawa coughs and says, “Yeah.” Koushi leans against him, drinking in the party and Oikawa’s scent.

An hour or two later Oikawa’s too drunk to be embarrassed and Koushi is riding on the contact high and they’re making out roughly on the couch in the middle of the living room.

The next afternoon they’re both pretty sore from the previous night’s experiences, but go out to the gym anyway. Oikawa had bought him knee and elbow pads last week even though Koushi had insisted he didn’t need them.

“You’re not playing hard enough, then,” Oikawa had said, shoving them in his hands and refusing to let Koushi give them back.

It feels different, but Koushi recognizes the ghost of the feeling. Even though his waist and backside are a little achey, adrenaline thrums through his body anyway, and he crouches. On the other side of the net, Oikawa is bouncing the ball. Koushi recognizes it as his way of getting into the zone.

“I’m ready!” he calls.

Oikawa jumps. Koushi’s seen this so many times before – it’s so different up close, he nearly loses his breath every time. He can hear the imaginary crowd cheering as his arm soars in the air and he hits the ball.

Koushi focuses on the rotation of the ball, moves his body and aims his forearms to receive it at just the right angle. It’s a little off and bounces to the side, but it doesn’t bounce too much or behind the line and Koushi feels like he’s accomplished something.

He stands up and grins. When he looks at Oikawa, he sees that Oikawa’s grinning too.

“Send it back over here!” Oikawa calls.

Koushi does an underhand serve, popping it to Oikawa.

They bounce the ball back and forth, like they usually do. Oikawa’s an ass and isn’t consistent, sometimes hitting it closer and farther away without any pattern. Koushi has to run all around on his side of the court to catch it.

When Oikawa sends it closer to the net, Koushi runs and decides on instinct. He jumps as the ball starts to tilt – and his timing isn’t perfect, but the feint still works. It lands too soon for Oikawa to catch and his knee pads squeak on the ground as he dives.

“Impressive,” he grumbles.

Koushi has his hands on his hips in victory. But when Oikawa clutches his knee, wincing, he remembers watching the Karasuno-Seijou practice match last year, what he’d heard about Oikawa’s knee.

“Are you alright?” he asks, ducking under the net.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Oikawa waves him off and Koushi steps back. “Put a little too much strain. It was my fault.”

“It’s my fault, too.” Koushi frowns. “Maybe I shouldn’t have done that.”

Oikawa stands up. “No, you should’ve,” he says, checking the balance on his feet. He’s fine, and a little of Koushi’s worries start away. “That was good.”

“Was it?” Koushi beams. “I’m glad you think so.”

Oikawa swings his arm and hits Koushi lightly on the butt. Koushi yelps.

“Impress me again,” says Oikawa.

Koushi says, “I will,” and runs over to his side of the net. He’ll do his best. But hopefully not to the point where Oikawa will injure himself again.

He hears Oikawa before he sees him. “Iwa-chaaaan!” is very loud from inside their dorm, and Koushi rolls his eyes as he opens the unlocked door.

Oikawa is perched on Koushi’s bed, legs crossed, laptop screen in front of him. He says, “Oh, Suga-chan is home!” and Koushi can hear Iwaizumi say, “Thank god.”

Koushi doesn’t quite know when Oikawa had told Iwaizumi about them; it must’ve sometime between Oikawa letting Koushi kiss him and after an afternoon of making out on Oikawa’s bed with Koushi resting against his chest, lips bruised and curved in a smile. Iwaizumi had called then, said, “Congrats I guess,” and hung up without giving Oikawa a chance to respond.

Koushi highly suspects that Oikawa had been texting while they were kissing, without looking at his phone screen. But Oikawa impresses him more and more each day.

He continues talking to Iwaizumi about the day’s volleyball practice – “Our ace is better than you, Iwa-chan!” – while Koushi takes his coat and bag off. “And they all love me, they said they’re lucky to have the setter from Seijou on our team.”

“Right,” is all Iwaizumi says to that. Koushi doesn’t doubt Oikawa’s claim. He suspects Iwaizumi doesn’t, either.

When he’s done unloading, Koushi walks over to them and peers into the screen. Iwaizumi’s face looks relieved when he appears. “Sugawara,” he says. “How are you both living with and dating this loser?”

“I keep him in check,” Koushi says, grinning. He crosses and rests his arms on Oikawa’s shoulder, and Oikawa leans his head against him.

In a spur of – well, Oikawa looks too satisfied with this – Koushi leans in more, takes ahold of Oikawa’s chin, and then kisses him full on the lips. He can feel Oikawa blink in surprise against him, and Koushi smirks and bites gently on his bottom lip, teases his tongue out. When Oikawa licks into him, Koushi pulls away and laughs.

Iwaizumi is bright red and not looking at his screen. Even Oikawa whines, “Suga-chan,” and Koushi just says, “More for later.”

“No wonder you’re dating him,” Iwaizumi grumbles.

After the first time, he and Oikawa have been doing what they can to Koushi’s ass. Koushi discovers that he’s rather fond of having Oikawa’s mouth there (which he figures shouldn’t be as much of a surprise as it is, considering Oikawa’s dick has been there), and Oikawa’s fingers are also quite useful in getting him open more.

“God,” Oikawa says, as three of his fingers are working inside of Koushi. “You are so loud.”

It’s the day and a Tuesday, when both of them are free before Oikawa has a class later in the afternoon. Koushi says, “You’re loud too!” because Oikawa is, whether Koushi’s sucking his dick or they’re just rubbing against each other in bed. Oikawa’s going to be loud, even louder in a few minutes, Koushi knows.

His legs feel like they’re about to crumple and he’ll come on his bed, if Oikawa keeps going like that. He twitch and tenses his body and says, “Okay, stop,” and Oikawa does.

He puts his hands on Koushi’s waist while Koushi turns around. “Like this again?” Oikawa asks.

Koushi sits on top of him, crack of his ass resting against Oikawa’s dick. Oikawa doesn’t even flinch. “Yeah,” says Koushi, and, unblinkingly, pushes Oikawa into him.

His prediction had been right – Oikawa moans as Koushi thrusts himself down onto him. Koushi’s hands are on the back of his own waist.

“Good, good,” Oikawa says, as Koushi burns. He gives his back muscles a rest and rides with his ass instead, tightening every so often and making Oikawa sing more praises.

“God,” says Oikawa. When Koushi thrusts down on him again, he groans and says, “Nice receive.”

The next thrust is a little more forceful. “What the hell,” Koushi says, in the middle of his laugh. He’s not supposed to laugh at that.

Oikawa grins. “Chance ball,” he says, when his dick accidentally slips out of Koushi.

Koushi covers Oikawa’s mouth and Oikawa’s eyes glint.

“What in the world are you doing?”

Oikawa says something, so Koushi removes his hand.

“I’ll jump serve into you.”

Koushi rocks against him until Oikawa doesn’t say anymore, and does.

By some miracle, Oikawa manages to persuade Koushi to come to the volleyball practice the next week. Koushi prepares to regret everything about it, but goes.

It’s not that he doesn’t believe in himself, or even thinks he’s a bad player – in high school, it felt that there would hardly be any use for him on the team, especially when he was a third year and they’d recruited Kageyama. Koushi knows without a doubt that he would be benched for most of the time then, and wouldn’t it be embarrassing, being a third year and getting benched for a first year.

And it’s hard for him to play without getting too overwhelmed, too; simulations playing over and over in his head that he’ll expect to come true and then don’t. That’s how it’d been when he practiced trying out for freshman year and failed and didn’t bother – that’s how it’d been for three years, watching matches and sets and expecting them to go one way and they end up going another.

But Oikawa says, “Just believe in your abilities, that’s all you need,” and Koushi does his best to do what he says.

Everyone on the team greets him and doesn’t mind that he joins practice, especially when Oikawa says, “I feel like he could be a possible strong asset for us.”

“Oikawa!” Koushi hisses. “You’re giving them the wrong impression.”

Oikawa smiles at him. It’s very much not innocent.

“What impression?”

“You’re making it sound like I want to join!”

But practice goes well anyway. And when Koushi finds himself beginning to get lost in his mind, Oikawa shouts, “Suga-chan!” and then, “Look how good I am!” and winks.

Oikawa is good. Better, Koushi knows, than him. But something about this, Oikawa’s unfailing confidence, clapping his teammates on their backs when they do well, makes Koushi think he can do that, be that kind of guy too, stop thinking about what could be and instead focus on what things are.

They don’t intentionally go on dates, but every once in a while Koushi will ask, “Do you wanna go out for lunch?” and they do and he gets Oikawa to pay for them, because Oikawa had asked the first time and if Koushi doesn’t interrupt he’ll end up doing it instinctively. Other times Koushi’ll say, “Let me,” and pull out his wallet and Oikawa will say, “You’re so kind, Suga-chan,” until Koushi jabs him in the stomach.

They’ve recently come back from fall break (during which Tanaka and Daichi had squawked when Koushi brought Oikawa when he was visiting one of the Karasuno practices, and Nishinoya had cheered, “Nice, Suga-san!”) and it’s getting chillier. Koushi’s dressed for the weather. Oikawa, predictably, is not.

“I’m fine,” he says, as he tightens his light cardigan around him.

Koushi is amused. “No, you’re not,” he says. “We can go back and get a jacket for you if you want.”

“It’s okay.” Oikawa shoves his hands into his sleeves. “You can pay today.”

Koushi chuckles to himself but says, “Okay.” He offers one of his hands to Oikawa, anyway.

After a moment of deliberation, Oikawa takes it.

They get to the cafe, and when they do, Oikawa sighs in relief and lets go of Koushi’s hand. Koushi says, “We should’ve gotten you that jacket.”

“No, we’re fine.” Oikawa’s looking at the menu, not meeting Koushi’s eyes.

“Then you’re paying for yourself, since you brought it on yourself.”

Oikawa huffs. “I,” he says, “was not cold. I was just deliberating on how I might’ve been more comfortable with a jacket.” And then he tugs at Koushi’s sleeve and says, “I can pay for the both of us, if you want.”

He’s kind too. Koushi lets him, and Oikawa pays the cashier with a broad smile. Koushi pecks him on the cheek afterward. Oikawa squawks in surprise but lets Koushi hold his hand again until they find a booth to sit in.

Koushi doesn’t plan on having shower sex with Oikawa, exactly. One moment he’s talking about taking a shower, the next Oikawa says he’s thinking the same.

Then Oikawa’s pressing him against the shower stall, kissing him so much that Koushi forgets what it’s like not breathing in Oikawa, and the lower regions of his body are getting hotter and hotter.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” he breathes, when they break apart.

Oikawa scoffs. “Sex is always a good idea.”

“I mean here,” Koushi clarifies. “This is sort of a public space.”

“This,” Oikawa gestures around the stall, “is not a public space. And if anyone comes in, they can either listen to us or go away.” He smirks.

It’s a terrible argument. Koushi doesn’t know why a part of himself feels persuaded. “You’re awful,” he says, but kisses Oikawa this time, pressing their dicks against each other. Oikawa tastes like Koushi’s toothpaste and this morning’s breakfast. He kisses back.

Soon enough, the wall tiles are pressing into his back, Oikawa hovering above him, one hand against the wall, the other on both of their dicks. Koushi’s sweaty, eyes half-lidded as he watches Oikawa’s talented fingers. He wants to come, but doesn’t until Oikawa meets his eyes and smiles and the warmth spreads throughout all of Koushi’s body.

It’s easier practicing with a team than just with just him. Koushi asks Oikawa when the next practice is, and Oikawa raises an eyebrow and laughs and answers.

Koushi is well-aware that he’s the least skilled member here. All of them have been practicing more than once a week since the beginning of the semester, and most of them were on their high school teams as well, according to Oikawa. But it doesn’t feel like it overshadows or matters when Koushi practices with them. And even if none of them have any particular comments to Koushi about his playing, Oikawa always has honest suggestions or compliments to him between and after.

“When are you going to beat me?” he teases, after he sends him a perfect set.

Koushi doesn’t usually spike – it’d be more efficient if he was the one who set to Oikawa – but he does his best, letting it receive easily on the other side.

“Don’t worry,” he says to Oikawa when his feet are back on the ground. “I always keep my promises.”

The glint in Oikawa’s eyes looks like he believes him. When they take a break, they go to the bleachers where their water bottles are, side by side, and drink.

Oikawa says, “I don’t expect you to join the team. I’m not trying to push you too much, either. But I definitely want you to know how far you can go if you face forward.”

Koushi knows. Oikawa’s talent isn’t in his skill alone – it’s what he knows those years and years of hard work will pay off for.

He says, “Yeah,” and Oikawa kisses him briefly on the mouth. They set their water bottles down, and get ready to get back on the court.

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by aroceu

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