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kiss your mouth to shut you up

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Sometimes, Iwaizumi Hajime really hates Oikawa Tooru.

Not literally hates - he could never. You don't spend as many years with another person as Iwaizumi had spent with Oikawa if you hate them. It was quite the opposite, actually. Iwaizumi loved the brunette; first as best friends, catching fireflies in the damp heat of the summer as children, supporting him through every heartbreak and triumph once they joined the volleyball club in middle school; and then as lovers, digging his nails into Oikawa's sinful little hips while the volleyball captain begged him to go harder faster deeper ohgodplease Iwa-chan I'm going to -

No, Iwaizumi didn't really hate Oikawa, just...certain quirks of that flamboyant personality of his.

Like the fact that the brunette was an unbelievable, undeniable little flirt.

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They stop at the mall after practice on a Thursday afternoon, even though Iwaizumi's exhausted. Oikawa had been complaining all throughout practice, "You never take me on dates, Iwa-chan!"

"We're always busy." the black haired boy defends, even though maybe it's a little true that they never went on dates. But it's not really his fault; between school and practices during the week and matches and practice matches on the weekend, they were together nearly every waking hour of the day. And that didn't even count their more-often-than-not sleepovers they still had a few nights a week. "And hey, didn't I take you for coffee last weekend?"

That doesn't seem to matter to Oikawa. "Coffee on the way home from a match does not a date make, Iwa-chan." He continues with a smile, and Iwaizumi already has that foreboding feeling in the pit of his stomach that he's going to be dragged somewhere he doesn't want to go. "I need to get a new pair of volleyball shoes, and didn't your left knee pad rip last week? Let's go to the mall tonight!"

He doesn't have a good enough excuse, other than a pitiful, "I just really hate the mall..." and one flash of those chocolate puppy dog eyes from his boyfriend has him saying yes despite himself.

Which was really, really stupid, now that he's sitting on a bench in the middle of the crowded mall, watching as Oikawa happily chats up the girl at a kiosk for calendars. Of all things. The brunette has got a smile on his face; one that makes the first year girls at their school positively swoon. And it works on girls of all ages, apparently, because even though the girl at the kiosk has to be college-aged at least, she's still blushing and twirling her long hair around her finger while Oikawa flips his hair from his face.

He's still smiling even after Iwaizumi forcibly drags him away by his collar when the girl digs into her bag to pull out her phone because Oikawa had said, with that charming grin of his, 'of course i'll text you!'

"Aw, Iwa-chan," Oikawa's smile doesn't falter. "Don't get jealous! I just like making new friends!"

There's really no point in denying that he's jealous, and if he did, Oikawa wouldn't believe it anyways, so he settles with a grunt of displeasure and trails beside Oikawa at a leisurely pace. "I don't know why I put up with you," Iwaizumi says, shoving his hands in the pockets of his shorts. They hang loose around his knees, stretchy fabric and super comfortable, and the last time he took Oikawa out (for coffee, last week - maybe their dates were lame) the brunette had been such a brat about them ('Iwa-chan, why can't you dress up for our date! You'd look so cute~') and then had the nerve to flirt with that college-aged barista so brazenly in front of him, that Iwaizumi decided to wear them this time too, even though he had a pair of jeans in his practice bag; out of spite.

"Because you think I'm worth the trouble." Oikawa's shoulder bumps his on purpose, playfully, and when Iwaizumi turns his head to look at him, Oikawa is still smiling, a high blush staining his cheeks pink.

Iwaizumi doesn't confirm nor deny, just scoffs and looks forward again, narrowly avoiding the crowd of women talking amongst themselves and not looking where they're going. Iwaizumi really hates the mall; why had he agreed to come here?

"Oh good, the sporting goods store!" And Oikawa is pulling his arm, chocolate eyes wide. When Iwaizumi doesn't move as fast as he'd like (out of spite), the brunette begins to whine - loudly. "Iwa-chan! Why are you going so slow! Hurry up! I swear you're an old man on the inside!"

They haven't been in the store for more than 3 minutes (seriously, 2 minutes, Iwaizumi checked his watch) and already there's a blonde worker, in his mid-20's probably, making a beeline for Oikawa, who's bent over the rack of volleyball shoes, eyeing them curiously. He asks Oikawa if he needs help with anything, obvious in his awe and god, Iwaizumi would have to get him a bag to wear over that too-pretty face of his.

"You know, I used to play volleyball in high school," he says, and Oikawa gets all starry-eyed, like it was something to be impressed by (and it definitely was not). "Really! What position did you play?" And Iwaizumi hightails to the nearest isle, partly to find knee pads, but mostly to get away from that flirty little asshole before he lost his mind.

When he comes back a few minutes later, Oikawa is slipping on his old shoes, having decided on a plain black pair with blue stripes - really, no different than the ones he already had. The blonde is, annoyingly, still there. "So you're in your third year? Where do you go to school?" And it's too much for Iwaizumi.

"I need to use the bathroom," He says, fists clenching at his sides. Oikawa breaks eye contact with the worker and smiles at him. "Oh, I'll go too! I need to fix my hair, anyway," to which the blonde waves his hands in front of himself and stammers out a, "Y-your hair looks great! But the bathrooms are that way, just follow the signs." Iwaizumi has to pull Oikawa way, again, because he opens his mouth like he's going to say something else and if Iwaizumi has to watch this terrible exchange for another second he's going to lose his mind. Still, the blonde calls out to them, "I'll bring your items to register 2!" and Oikawa waves back at him with a friendly, "Okay! See you soon!"

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The minute they step into the heavy fluorescent-lit bathroom, Oikawa is already running his fingers through his hair, leaning over the sink to inspect himself closely in the mirror. "Hurry up, Iwa-chan," He says. "I still want to go by the heath food store to pick up more of those energy drinks Watari brought last week -"

He stops mid-sentence when he sees Iwaizumi's reflection in the mirror behind him, green eyes narrowed, stepping closer and closer until Oikawa can feel his teammate's torso pressed against his back. Large hands snake up his waist, and Oikawa watches as they slide under the fabric of his t-shirt, shivering when they brush along the coarse hair below his navel. The dip underneath the waistband of his pants, pressing firmly enough to make him gasp and slump forward until his forehead hits the mirror with a soft 'thud'. He meets Iwaizumi's eyes in the mirror.

"What are you doing?" He asks, breathless, and wonders how his best friend can effect him so much with such little contact.

At first, Iwaizumi doesn't answer, but his left hand slides up, up, up his stomach to his chest while the other hand snakes lower until he's cupping his bulge through the thin fabric of his boxers. Oikawa gasps, eyes sliding shut when his hand starts to move in slow, tight circles until he's rock hard and shaking. "Iwa-chan," he whispers, unable to stop the cant of his hips, and when he brushes back against Iwaizumi, he realizes he's not the only one that's turned on.

"You're..." he swallows thickly. "You're pretty dirty, Iwa-chan. Tricking innocent little me into coming to the bathroom just so you can push me up against the mirror and touch me!" Feeling his confidence come back in leagues, he opens his eyes again in time to see the scandalized look on Iwaizumi's face behind him.

But that confidence falls away when Iwaizumi scowls, never breaking eye contact as he leans forward, so close Oikawa can feel his breath against his ear and his chest against his arched back. Fingers tighten around his erection and he murmurs, in a low growl, "Innocent? You're so wet already and I've barely touched you." Oikawa gasps, bucking into his hand, whatever smart retort he could think of dying on his tongue and he moans, long and a little too loud.

"You've got to be quiet, Tooru." The black haired boy whispers, like a reminder - like he can even help it when he's sinking his hand underneath the band of his boxers and the feeling of his rough skin on the sensitive head of his cock has him leaking precum down his fingers. "Besides," he kisses just below Oikawa's ear. "You did this to me, you little flirt." Oikawa wants to be quiet, oh god he definitely doesn't want to be caught in a public restroom like this, but he can't help the whimpers that come pouring out of his mouth when Iwaizumi starts to jack him off hard, hand slicked with precum and sliding so nicely against him Oikawa can feel his toes curling in his shoes.

He lifts a hand to tug on his vice captain's collar, begging. "Kiss me, Iwa-chan."

Iwaizumi lives for this; for when Oikawa, always the confident little flirt, completely unravels at his touch. He could flirt with anyone he wanted, Iwaizumi thinks, the feeling of smug possession making the corners of his vision fuzzy. It didn't matter who was on the receiving end of those handsome smiles when they were in public together, because when they were alone, pressed against the closest wall of their club room, hidden in the shadows of the locker room, on Oikawa's mattress, in a public bathroom where anyone could walk in...it's Iwaizumi that gets to shut that pretty little mouth up with his tongue.

And he does, pressing his lips against Oikawa's gently, testing, letting the brunette control the pace and apparently he wants it hard, digging his fingers into his hair, pushing himself closer until their noses are bumping clumsily and their teeth are knocking together. Iwaizumi parts Oikawa's lips with his tongue, sliding against his own hotly, swallowing down the moans that don't stop coming from the back of the volleyball captain's throat. His hand doesn't stop, and Oikawa is wet and hot in his palm - cock twitching when he rubs his thumb against his leaking slit, drawing a high pitched whine from him while he thrusts up to meet the pace of his hand.

Iwaizumi is the one to break the kiss first, panting against Oikawa's wet lips. He says, "Can you be quiet if I take you in my mouth?" Not teasing, just a genuine question and when Oikawa opens his eyes, lids impossibly heavy, Iwaizumi is staring back at him with such a genuine look on his face it makes his heart jump in his chest. "I don't know," he answers honestly, because Iwaizumi always brought out the absolute loudest moans in him; drawing out sounds Oikawa didn't even know he could make until he's already made them.

Iwaizumi looks pained; that's not the answer he wanted. "Can you try?" He asks, voice honey-sweet and dripping with lust as he turns the volleyball captain around, crouching down on his knees until he's sitting back on his heels and pulling down the waistband of Oikawa's trackpants and boxers at the same time. "Because I want to taste you." Oikawa's cock is flushed and dripping down to the base, and Iwaizumi can't help but press his nose against it, inhaling deeply and it goes straight to his own erection because it's Oikawa and the brunette did something to him he doesn't think anyone else could do. And he was going to do something to Oikawa that no one else could do; that no one else was allowed to do because for some reason (he was still trying to figure it out himself) he was the only one Oikawa let touch him like this.

He feels the wetness of Oikawa's cockhead smearing against his forehead, maybe a little into his hair but he doesn't care. "Can I suck your dick?" He asks, looking up into his longest friend's dark, cloudy eyes. Even though he knows there's no way Oikawa can say no to this, he still likes to make sure that the brunette wants it. And from the looks of his face he wants it bad; lips swollen red and wet, hand that wasn't fisted in Iwaizumi's hair at his mouth, biting his fingertips to silence his own moans, pupils blown wide.

"Yeah," Oikawa says meekly, feeling like his face was going to catch on fire at any second. Iwaizumi was just so...and when he looked up at him like that with his dick resting against his cheek...

Oikawa tears his gaze away when Iwaizumi takes him into his mouth; the feeling of slick, wet heat coupled with the way Iwaizumi looked at him while he bobbed his head was too much to take in at once, and even though Oikawa wanted this to be quick so they didn't get caught (because every minute that ticked by made Oikawa more and more paranoid) he didn't want it to be over that fast.

But it doesn't take long - and how could it, when Iwaizumi was so damn handsome and so hot inside, moaning around his length like it was making him feel good. Oikawa can feel the deep vibrations of Iwaizumi's moan travel down his dick to his balls and he should be embarrassed that he's so so close to cumming already, but he looks down and catches the pretty green gaze of his boyfriend's eyes and wants to mark up that face with his cum; he wants to let Iwaizumi know that all the flirting he did was harmless, was to get under his skin because at the end of the day there is absolutely no one else that Oikawa wants.

Iwaizumi likes it best when Oikawa's about to cum, because that's when the brunette is at his most vulnerable; no fake smiles, no false confidence - just completely genuine desperation, hips bucking of their own accord, murmuring a string of curses while his fingers tighten almost painfully at Iwaizumi's scalp. "M'gonna cum," he warns, and Iwaizumi makes no move to stop the bobbing of his head, but he does take him deeper into his mouth, as far down his throat as he can without gagging, rubbing his tongue along the underside of Oikawa's shaft until he's crying out.

Iwaizumi swallows everything he's given, cleaning the cum off of his boyfriend's cock until he's being pulled up to his feet. Oikawa kisses him with a ferocity usually only reserved for the volleyball court, tasting himself on Iwaizumi's tongue and trailing his fingers down the front of the black-haired boy's shirt until he gets to his erection, straining against the now-damp fabric where Iwaizumi's been aching since they stepped into the restroom.

They break apart with a gasp, but before Oikawa can ask if he's allowed to return the favor, a loud voice is ringing over the intercom above their heads.

"ATTENTION SHOPPERS: THE STORE WILL BE CLOSING IN 10 MINUTES. PLEASE BRING ALL FINAL PURCHASES TO THE FRONT REGISTERS FOR CHECK OUT."

Iwaizumi sighs, pulling the front of the brunette's tracksuit back up after tucking his softening member back inside of his boxers. "Looks like we'll have to wait until we get back to your house."

He doesn't miss Oikawa's sly grin as he says, "If you can control yourself for that long, anyway."

Iwaizumi, with the taste of Oikawa still on his tongue, gives him a playful smack on the back of the head. "Idiot."

.

By the time Iwaizumi rinses his mouth out with water from the sink and they leave the bathroom, half of the stores overhead lights have been shut off, and they appear to be the only customers left. Like promised, and much to Iwaizumi's irritation, the blonde sales person is waiting at the register with Oikawa's items ready to be scanned and paid for. But he can't bring himself to be too annoyed, not when Oikawa tucks his hand into his own and looks at him with a grin that makes Iwaizumi's stomach flip.

The sales person must see their interlocking hands, or he must notice the change in Oikawa's mood (now a lot less flirty and a bit sleepy, resting his head on Iwaizumi's shoulder as he fishes his wallet out of his pocket) because he scans their items without making any eye contact aside from a few quick glaces at Iwaizumi, and once he's bagged their items he wishes them a good evening and quickly scurries off to another part of the store.

It's only when they're out of the store and back in the main section of the mall that Oikawa's brown eyes flick up to Iwaizumi's hairline, face breaking out into a fierce blush and he stutters out words that make Iwaizumi's blood run cold:

"Iwa-chan, there's cum in your hair."

.

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Sometimes, Iwaizumi Hajime really, really hates Oikawa Tooru.

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