stormy waters [an ushioi collection]
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Time slows down to a crawl when he sees it in Oikawa’s eyes, pupils blown wide with the ecstasy of set point and victory at their fingertips, razor-sharp gaze flickering from the flawless bend of Ushijima’s arm to the side, a few feet to the left.
He sees the horror in the silent parting of Oikawa’s lips a mere heartbeat before he feels the impact that throws him off balance, hears the familiar roar of the crowd distantly ringing in his ears as he fails to save his flubbed landing and his ankle caves in under his weight.
Then silence.
Series
- Part 1 of stormy waters [an ushioi collection]
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“I’m no genius, Wakatoshi, and they made sure I’ll never forget it.”
To Oikawa’s surprise, Ushijima merely raises an eyebrow, open incredulity flickering in his stare where Oikawa expected to see the same old twinge of pity his former coaches would regard him with upon catching him practicing late into the night, followed by a stern reminder that blowing out his knee a second time won’t get him any closer to bridging the gap.
Nothing ever will, they didn’t have to say.
“And who are they to decide that?”
Series
- Part 2 of stormy waters [an ushioi collection]
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It’s rare for Ushijima — calm, composed, indomitable Ushijima — to come home in a mood sour enough to forego greeting Oikawa with a kiss on the forehead and a curious inquiry about his day, the earnestness of his interest still doing something funny to Oikawa’s heartstrings even after all these years.
Sometimes, Oikawa will do better giving Ushijima space, letting him brood and work through the problem on his own to tell Oikawa about it later.
Sometimes, Ushijima wants him close, but doesn’t quite know how to ask.
Tonight, he has a feeling it’s going to be the latter.
Series
- Part 3 of stormy waters [an ushioi collection]
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Fifteen minutes past midnight, sweltering in the unforgiving heat of Argentinian summer nights, Oikawa realizes that he is in love with Ushijima Wakatoshi.
The truth comes crashing down over his head with the abruptness of an ancient structure’s slow, inevitable collapse and maybe, he thinks, he has known all along.
Maybe that’s why 18.000 kilometers from home, crammed into a tiny apartment with a stolen, oversized Adlers jersey sliding off his shoulders and a head full of memories, Oikawa finds it difficult to breathe.
Series
- Part 4 of stormy waters [an ushioi collection]
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“You’re aren’t his ace,” Oikawa spits in a sudden fit of petulance, forcing his blurred vision to focus back on Ushijima’s flushed face before bending down to swallow a startled moan straight out of his red, kiss-bruised mouth.
“You’re mine.”
To Oikawa’s boundless irritation, Ushijima has the audacity to smile at him, barely there, just a hint, a quirk of the lips.
Oikawa cracks his open palm across Ushijima’s pecs.
“What’s so fucking funny to y— mhmm.”
Series
- Part 5 of stormy waters [an ushioi collection]
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“Deeper,” Ushijima finally caves, driven half-mad by the smooth slide of Oikawa’s girth against his inner walls and gentle fingers teasing at his balls in featherlight touches. “Fuck me deeper.”
He wants to debauch him. He wants to see Ushijima quiver and fold like a petal in the palm of his hand, wants to corrupt Ushijima’s impeccable composure and make profanity spill from those thin, polite lips that had stretched around his cock so prettily less than half an hour ago.
“That's right. Now be good and say please.”
Series
- Part 6 of stormy waters [an ushioi collection]