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“You’re gorgeous,” Tendou whispers, balls-deep in Iwaizumi, and he makes a noise in the back of his throat that sounds something like a curse but also like a plea, elbowing the other man in the chest, which is about all Iwaizumi is able to do in his situation. “Gods, I could fuck you all day.”
“You wish,” Iwaizumi snaps back, only for the retort to die in his throat when Ushijima curls one hand around his waist with the other knotted in his spikey hair at the base of his neck and tugs his head backwards until Iwaizumi is gasping, his neck aching from the angle. He would say something, snarl something, but Ushijima is pressuring him open, sliding in thick and thicker inside him, cock lined up hot alongside Tendou’s, and Iwaizumi thinks he might die.
“You won’t,” Ushijima murmurs into the back of his shoulder, which is when Iwaizumi realizes he must have spoken aloud, because his world feels like it’s crumbling down around him in great bits and pieces, he feels like he’s collapsing inside. “You managed to break through the iron wall, this won’t kill you.”
“Fuck,” Iwaizumi whispers, and he’s shaking, wondering if you can superheat a human just like you can superheat a metal. His head is someone else’s, he’s falling apart, Ushijima and Tendou are breaking him in half are tearing him in two are, are—
Ushijima slides to a halt. “Shit,” says the shiratorizawa captain, leaning further over Iwaizumi’s back, hand still knotted in his hair but gentler this time, fingers stroking the back of his neck. “That’s good,” Ushijima whispers, and Iwaizumi is crying, he realizes he’s crying. “You’re good.” Tendou makes a broken noise against the base of Iwaizumi’s chest, and he manages to get his fingers into the other man’s red hair, tugs on Tendou’s head. Iwaizumi wishes he could push the forces ripping him apart back into both of them, it’s too much to hold as one man.
“Quit,” Tendou murmurs, and Iwaizumi clenches his jaw and tugs harder on Tendou’s hair until he’s hissing, his cock throbbing hard against Iwaizumi’s wide-open rim. “Fuck,” and that’s all he can say, all Iwaizumi can say.
He was soft, sometime in the middle of it, but now with both of them inside him, cracking him apart at the seams, he’s so hard it aches. And, when Ushijima shifts back and Iwaizumi settles onto both of their laps, Tendou’s legs a mess around his hips, Iwaizumi almost screams, his head back on Ushijima’s shoulder and both their cocks so deep inside him that he can’t even tell any more, where they begin or where they end.
“No,” Iwaizumi whispers, face pressed into the base of Ushijima’s jaw. “No, wait, wait, wait,” they still, let him breathe, even though Iwaizumi can feel the wiry bursting tension in Tendou’s legs and Ushijima’s heart next to his ear is beating like a hammer. “Wait,” Iwaizumi pleads, and someone’s hands are on his waist, soothing him, gently touching his skin, rubbing away the screeching tension in his trembling muscles.
“Yes,” Iwaizumi says eventually, somewhere in the haze that’s just breathing and touch and sweat and the taste of Ushijima’s mouth on his, kissing his swollen lips.
It’s not a rhythm, nobody thrusts in. Instead, the two of them just rock up into him, and the noises that come out of Tendou’s mouth are as desperate as Iwaizumi’s own, Ushijima’s breathing harsh and every other word out of his mouth a curse as their cocks grind together hard and wet and hard-soft inside Iwaizumi, trapped inside his body.
Every time Ushijima rocks forward, his strong hands holding Iwaizumi’s legs wide, wide, wide, so Tendou can fit between them, so wide his thighs ache, Tendou’s cockhead bumps forward hard and down against his prostate, the pressure combined with the stretch too much, and every bump and grind makes Iwaizumi cry, sobbing helplessly, his cock hard and wet and purpling where it’s curled back against his stomach.
“You like that,” Ushijima whispers, voice deep in Iwaizumi’s ear. “You love it.”
“Yes,” Iwaizumi tries to say but it just comes out wordless and cracking and he hates them, and he loves this, he loves being torn open and pulled asunder, he loves the way they fuck him like he’s made of glass and steel all at the same time. When Tendou pinches both his nipples, rubbing at the sensitive spot where areola meets skin, Iwaizumi’s breath hitches into a desperate keening wheeze, his cock throbbing soaking his skin.
“We’re fucking you now,” Ushijima murmurs, and that’s all the warning that Iwaizumi has before their rhythm does become actual fucking, before they stop rocking into him and start pulling in and out in time, and each thrust in is starbursts in his vision and his legs and thighs shake, his thighs are burning and his hands are tangled in their hair, holding on, holding on, holding on for dear life.
They fuck the air out of him and fuck the tears out of him and fuck his come out of him and at some point, Iwaizumi came on his chest and it’s all over his cock, but he’s still hard, he’s hard and Tendou is grinding Iwaizumi’s cockhead into his own spunk, and it feels like nothing else nothing else nothing—
“What would they say if they can see you now, you’re just a cockslut, you always come back to us because you can’t fucking stop can you?” Tendou’s talking, and the part of Iwaizumi that can still think knows that means he’s close to coming, thrusting out of time with Ushijima as he tries to get the last of the friction, raw Iwaizumi to rugburn. “Seijou’s ace, crying for cocks.”
“Shut up,” Iwaizumi manages, the words slurred, and at any other time he would leave Tendou to talk to his damn self, but he’s not wrong he’s right.
“You’re disgusting,” Tendou manages and if Iwaizumi could find words, he’d tell the other man that he’s just as bad because whenever he comes, he always has to stick his fingers into what last little bit of Iwaizumi that’s open, slid in beside the cocks that have opened him so wide that Iwaizumi will be empty and aching and near-sick later, feels himself, the fingers knocking what remains of Iwaizumi’s head askew. “I love you; I love you,” Iwaizumi knows, Iwaizumi knows, and Tendou comes inside him, sticky and hot.
Ushijima makes a quiet noise of discontent at the mess, and Iwaizumi thinks he should have come again but he hasn’t, he’s still hard and hanging, his cock pendulous and his balls tight. When Tendou pulls out and collapses back on the bed, his eyes bright and his hair wrecked to his skull with sweat.
Ushijima slides a knee under Iwaizumi’s splayed too-wide legs, and fucks him long and slow until the man comes inside him, holding Iwaizumi’s ass closed around his cock as he does it, trapping his semen inside and Ushijima fucks into how wet and sloppy Iwaizumi is inside, just like he always does.
Iwaizumi comes, sometime, sometime when it’s all white heat and he feels like if Ushijima lets go, he’s going to spill out everything inside him, not just the mess in his ass but his heart and his stomach and the thoughts inside his head and the blood in his veins.
He’s pleading when he does, crying, half-laughing because this is what he wants, what he needs, what he always comes back for and leaves, ashamed, horrified.
“We should make you a sign,” Tendou murmurs, when Iwaizumi is leaking onto the bedsheets, half out of his own head, the other man drawing lines on his stomach in his own spunk. “Iwaizumi Hajime, the Grand Cockslut. Make you wear it.”
“You fucking wish,” Iwaizumi finally whispers, and Ushijima’s distant voice, cleaning up the mess between Iwaizumi’s thighs, laughs.
He hates them.
He loves this.