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Oikawa had a list of things that frustrated him about sex with Ushijima Wakatoshi. It wasn’t that long of a list yet, but then they’d only fucked six times, and only two of those times had involved actual penetration; Oikawa was confident that his list would grow. (That is, if sex with Ushijima continued to happen, and the reasons it might not were numerous.)
- Ushijima was uncommunicative. Oikawa could forgive this if Ushijima were simply quiet, although his preference was for partners who were just as enthusiastically loud as himself. But Ushijima seemed actually incapable of talking during sex. He mostly listened when Oikawa told him what to do, but when it was Oikawa’s turn to make Ushijima come, it got maddening: most of the time when Oikawa asked him if he liked this or that, Ushijima would actually grunt like a god damn animal instead of answering like a normal person. If Oikawa got insistent and demanded an answer, Ushijima would just kiss him and try to turn the tables, focusing on Oikawa’s pleasure again. Ridiculous.
- Ushijima was downright bull-headed about always making Oikawa come first. Oikawa suspected that he thought of it as a competition, and Oikawa was mature enough sexually to know that it wasn’t, but Ushijima dragged him down to his level. Oikawa had pulled out every trick in the book, short of actively tieing Ushijima’s hands to the bed while Oikawa went down on him (something like that would require a healthy level of communication, so it’d probably never happen), yet somehow Ushijima had outlasted him every time. It wasn’t fair that he had that much stamina while also being well-endowed. It wasn’t right.
- He assumed control so casually, with such confidence, like it was only natural for him to be the one on top. Oikawa just knew that if he were to call Ushijima on it, Ushijima would give him one of those infuriatingly guileless surprised looks and say something about it being obviously right for him to be the dominant one, because he was bigger and better. Ushijima probably thought of himself as superior to Oikawa in bed just as he thought of himself as superior to Oikawa on the court.
- And of course, Oikawa did not actually think of letting someone fuck him as any kind of surrender. That would be silly. He’d played both roles in bed before and generally liked it either way. But Ushijima was Ushijima, and the notion that he probably took Oikawa’s submission for granted was enraging.
- He was unpredictable. It’s not that he was particularly wild in bed, but--often when Oikawa would be expecting things to follow a certain routine, Ushijima would take him in a different direction completely. When Oikawa had complained of this to Iwaizumi, Iwa-chan had said, “Idiot, most people like that kind of thing,” but he plainly didn’t get it. Sure, it was nice when your lover could surprise you, and creativity was a plus in bed, but Ushimija just--he made Oikawa feel like the rug had been pulled out from under him, and it was alarming. With Ushijima, Oikawa felt off-balance, a step or two behind, having lost control of the situation in a way that had nothing to do with who topped.
Their current situation was a great example of more than one item on Oikawa’s list. They were in Oikawa’s bed, and Oikawa had promised himself that this time he would assert himself; it was maybe a little too ambitious to think that he would make Ushijima beg, but Oikawa was determined. He knew he had some power over Ushijima. It had been a surprise to Oikawa when Ushijima had reacted to him at that university party two months ago, his fingers closing around Oikawa’s wrist as Oikawa had turned to go after taunting him. It had been a surprise to look at Ushijima and see that he wasn’t at all angry at Oikawa’s flippant remarks, that instead he was staring at Oikawa’s mouth, single-minded.
But at this point it was no longer a surprise that Ushijima wanted him. Oikawa wanted to see how much Ushijima wanted him. Whatever they were doing was something that Oikawa could easily walk away from, and he was deeply curious as to whether Ushijima could do the same.
At the moment they were both naked in Oikawa’s bed, and Oikawa had been making progress toward his goal: Ushijima lay beneath him, and Oikawa was kissing him and playing with his balls, reaching a finger to teasingly press behind them. Ushijima seemed to like it, if the hitches in his breath were anything to go by.
Oikawa smirked down at Ushijima and brought his hand to his mouth, licking his index finger, as lewd as he could possibly get. Ushijima’s cheeks were bright red and he stared at Oikawa like he was thunderstruck. Then there was a slight shift in his expression and that was the only warning Oikawa got before he felt Ushijima’s hands on his hips, rolling him.
Oikawa landed on his back, startled. It had been one thing to notice the strength of Ushijima’s brutish body when they were high school rivals, but it was entirely another to feel that strength applied to him, to experience just how easily Ushijima could throw him around. Oikawa was also strong, of course, strong enough to oppose Ushijima on the court and strong enough to hold his own here, too; but too often Ushijima made him forget to try.
Before Oikawa could sit up and push Ushijima off of him (and he’d been going to, he’d had this whole plan of getting his fingers in Ushijima’s ass and then seeing what happened next), Ushijima was handling him again, flipping Oikawa over. Oikawa found himself on his stomach, his face mashed into the pillow, and before he could tell Ushijima off for being a rude piece of shit, Ushijima pressed a kiss to Oikawa’s lower back.
It was a really wet kiss, followed by the flat of Ushijima’s tongue dragging over Oikawa’s skin. Curiosity took the place of Oikawa’s annoyance. “What the hell are you doing back there?”
Of course, Ushijima didn’t answer, providing a great example of number one on Oikawa’s list. This whole thing also invoked three and four, and was likely heading in the direction of two as well. Oikawa should really push Ushijima off and inform him that no, they were doing things Oikawa’s way this time and that was that, but--this felt good. That ought to be the next number on Oikawa’s list: how despite all of the many reasonable and rational critiques that could be made of Ushijima’s technique, he always made Oikawa feel really, really good.
Ushijima’s hands slid down the sides of Oikawa’s ribcage until they found purchase on Oikawa’s thighs. And then Oikawa’s legs were being spread, Ushijima’s thumbs between his ass cheeks holding him open. Oikawa started and pushed up on his elbows, craning his neck to look behind him.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Oikawa said, pissier this time. It wasn’t like Ushijima to try and jump straight from the lazy making out and groping they’d been doing to anal, but that was where this seemed to be going. Oikawa tried to move, tried to roll back over, but one of Ushijima’s hands splayed over his back, stilling him.
And then Ushijima shocked him by speaking. “Please,” was all he said, just one word in his stupidly deep voice, but Oikawa felt it everywhere. He found himself settling back down on the bed, his cheek on the mattress again, his legs spreading for Ushijima.
“You want me head down, ass up? It figures that you’d lose any sense of romance after the first couple times,” Oikawa said, babbling the first words that came to mind to cover for his embarrassment at what putty he was in Ushijima’s hands. “You’re so rude. You have all the subtlety and sensuality of a brick, have I mentioned that?”
Ushijima said nothing in response. Instead he continued to kiss and lick Oikawa’s back, his nose pressed to Oikawa’s spine. Both hands returned to Oikawa’s ass, spreading him again, and too late it occurred to Oikawa what Ushijima was actually going to do.
It hadn’t occurred to Oikawa because no one had ever done this to him before; no one had ever even talked to him about maybe wanting to do it before. Oikawa considered himself both experienced and imaginative, but there were some things he’d always been content to leave to the porn stars.
Oikawa said “Are you--” a second before Ushijima licked him there, and then all the words were shocked out of him.
Ushijima was just as intense about this as he’d been about everything else. He didn’t start slow and he wasn’t hesitant: Oikawa felt the flat of Ushijima’s tongue against his asshole, licking a few broad stripes, then it was followed by the tip licking a ring around the edge before Ushijima tongued the opening. Oikawa felt his muscles spasm in tiny jerks, out of his control.
It was--it was different from having someone’s mouth on his dick. Oikawa’s skin there was sensitive in a different sort of way, and he’d always enjoyed being fingered, but this was new, strange, fantastic. Wet and warm and working him open. Oikawa found himself clutching the pillow, needing to hold on to something.
Oikawa couldn’t get past how much Ushijima was just completely going for it. He had Oikawa’s cheeks spread so wide it was almost painful and the tip of his tongue was inside him, taking him apart with each circle and flick. Oikawa could feel his lips, too, and occasionally the tip of his nose pressed against Oikawa’s skin.
He struggled to comprehend this new universe where Ushijima was apparently eager to stick his tongue in Oikawa’s ass. Oikawa had invited him over after the end of their respective university volleyball practices, so he must have known that Oikawa had just showered, but still.
It had been difficult enough to wrap his mind around Ushijima, his old wooden high school rival and his new still-wooden university opponent (no longer rival because Oikawa had grown past that, dammit), having a sex drive in the first place. Truthfully, each time they’d fucked Oikawa had found himself staring up at the ceiling afterwards, letting the words I just had sex with Ushijima Wakatoshi scroll through his mind, incredulous and maybe a little bit awed. But this was…
The way Ushijima was touching him and licking him and kissing him seemed unrestrained in a way Oikawa had never previously witnessed, even during the other sex they’d had, even when Ushijima had been Shiratorizawa’s ace. Oikawa had always sensed a careful deliberation in everything he did, but his deliberateness now was far from careful. It was messy and eager and depraved, the most depraved thing that had ever happened to Oikawa. He was holding Oikawa’s hips off the bed now, so intent on what he was doing, and all Oikawa could do was cling to his pillow and try to keep his own noises from getting too embarrassing.
Ushijima hadn’t touched his dick at all but Oikawa was still so hard. His whole body was taut and straining but Ushijima gripped him so firmly, held his body off the bed with such confidence. He was licking everywhere, not just at Oikawa’s hole but at the skin around it, dragging his tongue down Oikawa’s crack before focusing again on the point where Oikawa was stretched and ready.
To his horror, when Ushijima abruptly slid his finger inside him up to the first knuckle, OIkawa actually started to say his name. “Ushi--” it came out in a breathy whine before Oikawa cut himself off, biting hard on his own lip.
It was too much, the way Ushijima now crooked his finger inside Oikawa while still licking around the edge, the tip of his tongue probing inside just above Ushijima’s knuckle. It was too much and Oikawa wanted more. He had enjoyed it the couple times Ushijima had fucked him before, but this time Ushijima’s tongue had him helpless, ass up in the air, red cheeks pressed to the pillow, and Ushijima’s name fighting its way out of his mouth. All he could think was how good Ushijima’s tongue felt, yet how badly he wanted Ushijima to stop licking and fingering him and fuck him instead.
Ushijima’s finger and tongue paused for a few moments, and Oikawa caught movement out of the corner of his eye when he craned his neck. Then he felt slippery, cold liquid against his hole as Ushijima added a second finger with a generous amount of lube. And then, incredibly, Ushijima’s tongue was back, licking in between his two fingers and continuing to make Oikawa lose it in spectacular fashion.
Why was Ushijima still using his mouth? There was no way the lube tasted good. Sure, it was strawberry-flavored, but that had just been a joke with himself when Oikawa had bought it. He’d never actually expected anyone to taste it.
Ushijima finally let his fingers slide out of Oikawa’s asshole, giving him a few more licks before he moved back, and Oikawa heard the sounds of him shifting on the bed, lining himself up. Oikawa was shaking and his muscles felt liquid, but he managed to get his knees under him and push himself up on his elbows. This was not his favorite position: he’d joked about ‘head down, ass up’ but he felt oddly vulnerable with Ushijima behind him like this.
But somehow Ushijima made that better, too, bending himself over Oikawa to press a kiss against his nape. Oikawa could hear how hard Ushijima was breathing, and that at least was something, to know that Ushijima might be as worked up as he was. Oikawa wanted to make a crack about Ushijima’s mouth being gross considering where it had just been, but when he opened his own mouth all that came out was a weak string of swear words and Ushijima’s name, again.
Ushijima bit the muscle between Oikawa’s neck and his shoulder, and it was gentle, too gentle--Oikawa was suddenly overcome by the desire to have Ushijima leave marks, even if they’d be difficult to explain to his teammates in the locker room. But before he could ask Ushijima to bite him harder, Ushijima was leaning back, rolling a condom onto himself and getting into position.
He still had a hand on Oikawa’s hip, warm and steady. It hurt when he pushed his dick in, but not as much as it had previous times; getting tongue-fucked so well apparently made Oikawa loose and relaxed.
Ushijima didn’t go slow. As soon as he was all the way in, he pulled out just enough to thrust in again, hard. Oikawa felt the reverberations up and down his spine, and it filled him up and made him gasp into the stupid pillow. It was like all his nerve endings had been amped up by what had come before, and now that Ushijima was fucking him it felt, christ--
It was as if Oikawa’s body had been holding some kind of painful question deep within him, and now Ushijima’s body was calling out every answer, saying all the right things even though Ushijima himself was silent as ever. Every thrust inside Oikawa made some brilliant new connection, deeply satisfying and perfect.
Ushijima made Oikawa feel like this was what he was made for. He hated that thought, but he couldn’t deny it, nor could he deny that Ushijima had always made Oikawa feel like this, every time they faced each other on opposite sides of the net. All those times they’d played together in high school--something inside Oikawa had clicked alive every time, something that chanted yes yes yes as his body tracked Ushijima’s and reacted to him, as Ushijima brought out the best in him. It was just the same now, only instead of that click Oikawa felt like he’d been set on fire.
When Ushijima reached down to touch Oikawa’s dick, wrapping a hand around him and squeezing hard, Oikawa nearly collapsed back onto the bed. He might have, if Ushijima weren’t holding him up. He didn’t think he could touch himself, didn’t think he could do anything but be open to whatever Ushijima wanted to do to him. This was so much worse than it had ever been before: Oikawa wasn’t just giving up control, he was offering up his whole self. He could only hope that Ushijima wouldn’t realize it.
The rhythm of Ushijima’s hips stuttered and slowed as he focused on jacking Oikawa. It didn’t take long; Oikawa had been on the edge from Ushijima’s tongue alone, even before the fucking. Now it only took a few strong pumps of Ushijima’s hand before he was coming, a shudder wracking his whole body while he choked on half-formed words.
He peaked, and then it seemed to take forever to come down. Seemed to take forever before he returned from the ocean, from the depths of space, from the spot occupied by a spinning ball tossed high above the net.
Ushijima let go of his dick and his hand tangled, briefly, in Oikawa’s hair. Then both hands were on Oikawa’s hips and Ushijima’s panting breaths grew louder and harsher. Oikawa knew that this was as loud as Ushijima was ever going to get, knew he was worked up and close to orgasm himself. Oikawa’s mind flashed on all of the times he’d seen Ushijima on the court, sweating and red-faced and giving it his all as he leapt for a spike. He wondered if Ushijima looked close to that now. Oikawa felt now that he hadn’t paid close enough attention, all the other times they’d fucked, and he wished he could see Ushijima’s face.
Ushijima came with a long, low noise, his fingers flexing on Oikawa’s hips. He rested briefly on Oikawa’s back, and Oikawa wanted to complain of the weight even though he didn’t actually mind, but before he could Ushijima sat up again. He pulled out carefully, but Oikawa still hissed a little at the absence.
Oikawa rolled over onto his back as Ushijima settled heavily beside him. When Oikawa glanced at him, he saw what he expected: Ushijima red in the face, half-lidded eyes, a sheen of sweat on his brow. Oikawa felt a surge of warmth, pleasant in his post-orgasm fog, and found himself laughing, reaching towards Ushijima.
Ushijima held up a hand, stopping Oikawa from pulling him in for a kiss. “It’s unhygienic,” he said, his voice only slightly breathless. “Hold on.”
As Oikawa watched, incredulous, Ushijima stood up from the bed and walked into the bathroom. The sink was visible from where Oikawa lay, so he could see Ushijima applying toothpaste to his finger and brushing his teeth with it. Then Ushijima poured a cup of Oikawa’s mouthwash and gargled with it. More laughter bubbled up inside Oikawa’s chest, and he rolled onto his side to press his grin into the pillow.
He wasn’t sure if he was laughing at the absurdity of Ushijima rinsing out his mouth before he allowed Oikawa to kiss him, or just the sight of Ushijima in Oikawa’s dormitory bathroom, standing before his mirror. The absurdity of Ushijima being here at all, and how good that made Oikawa feel.
Maybe he was just laughing because he was happy. That was a strange thought. Sleeping with Ushijima had changed their relationship somewhat, obviously, but Oikawa still wouldn’t have said that Ushijima’s company made him happy.
Ushijima came back to the bed, his broad hands cupping Oikawa’s jaw, prompting him to lift his face from the pillow. The kiss was slow, lazy, and so sweet that Oikawa felt light-headed when Ushijima finally leaned away from him.
There was a small, sated smile on Ushijima’s face, and his hair was mussed. Oikawa watched as his own hand, quite without his permission, reached to smooth hair away from Ushijima’s forehead. “Had you done that before?” he demanded.
Ushijima shook his head. “No. But I have seen instructional videos.”
“Instructional videos,” Oikawa repeated. This all seemed faintly surreal. The thought of Ushijima sitting by himself in his dorm, watching “instructional videos” about how to lick someone’s ass, should have been ridiculous. Instead it made Oikawa want to do everything all over again. He scooted closer, and the hand that had been tucking back Ushijima’s hair slid down his jaw, his thumb brushing Ushijima’s adam’s apple. “So tell me, Ushiwaka-chan, did you think of me every time you watched one of these instructional videos, or just 99% of the time?”
Oikawa had meant to tease, but instead his voice came out rough, deeper than he’d intended. The effect on Ushijima was instantaneous: the red in his cheeks deepened, and his body language went stiff like he wanted to be elsewhere. But he didn’t move away, didn’t even lean back. “I don’t think of you every time I touch myself.”
Which meant he did think of Oikawa some of the times he touched himself. Oikawa rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, furious at his heart for beating faster. They were both naked and Ushijima’s breath had been minty and fresh when they’d kissed and everything felt a little too fragile, a little too intense. This was not the kind of intensity Oikawa had been looking for when he’d let Ushijima kiss him at that university party. He’d wanted to have some fun and he’d been taken in by how surprising it all was, and maybe he also liked the thought of having this particular kind of power over his old rival. He hadn’t wanted the image of Ushijima touching himself while he thought of Oikawa, even if he’d asked for it.
Again the thought floated to the top of his mind that he could still walk away from what they were doing together, but Ushijima seemed like he wouldn’t be able to wash his hands of Oikawa so easily. When he thought of this now, he didn’t feel curious to see that playing out; instead it made a specific anxiety coil in his gut, the kind he always felt when he realized he’d taken things too far and accidentally hurt someone he cared about.
Ushijima touched him, his hand resting lightly on Oikawa’s abs, his fingers skating over his ribs. Oikawa shivered. He needed to dispel this odd charge in the air, so he started talking again. “Would it kill you to talk more while we’re fucking? I’m not saying that anything you just did was unwelcome, but you could have let me know first before just going for it. Communication is key, you know.”
Ushijima shrugged; Oikawa was still looking up at the ceiling and saw it out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t like to talk while we have sex.”
“Thank you for pointing out the glaringly obvious. I know you get all tongue-tied, I suppose it’s understandable, but I’m telling you that if you could get over your own oafishness it would be better for both of us. Think of the new heights we could reach if you’d just tell me what things you like, so that I could then do them.”
“But everything you’ve done so far has been fine.”
“Oh, ‘fine,’ thank you,” Oikawa said, shooting Ushijima a dirty look. He’d be well within his rights to feel insulted by such a lukewarm adjective, especially considering how far beyond ‘fine’ Ushijima had just made him feel, but he’d known Ushijima for long enough now to recognize the earnestness behind his poor word choices. Oikawa disliked being charitable towards Ushijima, even just within his own head, but that impulse was becoming regrettably automatic.
“Don’t think about yourself, then,” Oikawa continued doggedly. “What about my needs? If we could actually have even just a brief conversation about what we both want to get out of the encounter before you flip me over and go to town--”
“Did you not like that?” Ushijima interrupted, frowning.
“Not the point,” Oikawa said loudly. He refused to let Ushijima fluster him. He was right about this and Ushijima needed to be convinced. “The point is that everything can be easier and better if you communicate openly with your sexual partner. What’s your hangup, anyway? Do you somehow think it’s sexy if, rather than talking, we just try to read each other’s minds and fail miserably? Because I’ll have you know I can make talking very sexy. In fact, I’ll bet you 100 yen that I could get you off just with the things I say. I know you like it when I say mean things, Ushiwaka-chan. The first time you propositioned me came right after I called you an awkward fool at that party, don’t think I’ve forgotten.”
Ushijima didn’t respond to Oikawa’s needling. Instead he looked down at the mattress, hiding his expression, saying nothing. Exasperated, Oikawa rolled back onto his side to face him again, thumbing at his nipple. “So you’re going to stop talking to me period, not just during sex? Very mature.”
Ushijima huffed out an annoyed breath and caught Oikawa’s hand, halting the groping. Then he intertwined their fingers and looked up, his brown eyes disconcertingly wide and earnest, and Oikawa felt a painful clenching in his chest.
“I don’t like to talk during sex because I worry about what I might say by accident.”
Oikawa stared. Ushijima stared back, as serious as ever, and Oikawa tried desperately not to think about what kinds of things Ushijima was afraid to say to him.
It didn’t necessarily have to be about confessions of love or some other sappy nonsense. Maybe Ushijima was afraid of saying someone else’s name at the wrong time. Or maybe he had a habit of mentally putting together his grocery list during sex, and didn’t want to start babbling about vegetables while Oikawa was going down on him.
But Ushijima’s expression now was growing nervous and a little shy, like he thought he’d already said too much, and Oikawa doubted that the reason was vegetables.
Oikawa had to say something to make this better, easier, to tone it the fuck down. “Maybe if you were as experienced as I am, you’d know that everyone says stupid things during sex,” he said, doing his best to keep his voice breezy. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I know I laugh at you all the time but if you’re going to be so sensitive about this, I promise that I won’t laugh about anything you say while we’re fucking, all right?”
Ushijima frowned a little. “It’s not like that. I am not embarrassed--”
“I know,” Oikawa said, cutting him off. He stopped looking at Ushijima’s eyes and stared down at their joined hands instead. Ushijima was not following his lead in trying to make this less intense, less personal. Ushijima didn’t get it. Of course he didn’t; Ushijima had never seen Oikawa’s perspective in any other realm, they’d always been at odds, so why would this be any different?
“I want this to be fun,” Oikawa said, still staring at their fingers. “If you don’t like fun, maybe we should stop.”
Oikawa was watching the rise and fall of Ushijima’s chest, so he noticed when he stopped breathing, when several beats passed before his chest rose again. “I don’t want to stop.”
Oikawa looked up, scowling. “Then work with me, all right? Talk to me. Talk to me, and don’t make it weird. That’s all I want.”
“And don’t,” Oikawa said, reaching up to put a hand over Ushijima’s mouth when his lips parted to ask a question. “Ask me what ‘making it weird’ entails. Asking that would be making it weird, okay? Like I said before, we’re having fun here. Focus on that.”
Ushijima looked irritated, but he didn’t try to argue when Oikawa took his hand back. Instead he leaned in for a kiss, which Oikawa allowed. He meant it to be short, but at the first slip of Ushijima’s tongue against his bottom lip, Oikawa opened his mouth. Ushijima tasted like mouthwash and he kissed the way Oikawa preferred, with force and roughness but not an excessive amount of tongue.
Oikawa was so easy, so fucking easy for Ushijima no matter the bullshit that he was saying about ‘fun’ and ‘not making it weird.’ It was already so beyond weird.
Ushijima’s tongue licked at his teeth and that was it, Oikawa was moaning and letting Ushijima drag their bodies together, his hand warm on Oikawa’s hip. Oikawa doubted either of them could get it up for round two so soon, but that might not have been Ushijima’s goal--he’d pulled Oikawa close, but now seemed content to stroke his thumb up and down the side of Oikawa’s ribcage and kiss him over and over again. Ushijima’s other hand still clasped Oikawa’s, caught between their two chests. It was a little uncomfortable, but Oikawa made no move to take his hand back.
At the next lull between kisses, Oikawa started to wonder what time it was. He’d finished with volleyball practice late, around 9pm, and he had class in the morning. Soon it would be time to kick Ushijima out. Oikawa was not, in general, a fan of actually sleeping in the same bed as people he’d fucked. The few times he’d tried it, he’d gotten no sleep at all, the awkwardness of another (naked) person in bed with him instead sending his brain down bizarre anxiety spirals that kept him awake until dawn lightened the bedroom. Getting a good night’s rest was important for staying in peak condition, so Oikawa had never before been shy about kicking people out.
But now Ushijima was kissing Oikawa’s cheek, his closed eyes, his forehead. He did this without any trace of self-consciousness, like it was the most natural thing in the world to make these unexpectedly intimate gestures that left Oikawa slightly dumbstruck. When Ushijima leaned back far enough for Oikawa to look him in the eye, Ushijima’s gaze was bright and fond, intent on Oikawa the way he so often was.
Maybe, Oikawa reasoned with himself, if he let Ushijima spend the night they could wake up at 2am and Ushijima would eat him out again. Or they could fuck before class. Oikawa had never had the opportunity for morning sex before. It was a good reason to let Ushijima stay. A reason Oikawa could live with, as opposed to the reason of simply not wanting to let go of Ushijima just yet, which was unacceptable.
Oikawa kissed Ushijima’s neck and spoke into his collarbone, unwilling to make this offer while looking him in the eye. “You’re welcome to spend the night, if you want. If you’re a good bedmate and don’t hog the covers or push me onto the floor in your sleep, maybe I’ll let you fuck me again in the morning.”
Ushijima’s fingers pressed hard into Oikawa’s side at the words ‘fuck me again.’ He turned his face to the side, his cheek rubbing against Oikawa’s hair, almost nuzzling him. “That wouldn’t make it weird?”
Oikawa pulled back, scowling. “Don’t go thinking you can pull off jokes, because you can’t. Do you want to sleep here or not? I don’t care much either way, I was just trying to be a good host.”
“You are a good host, Oikawa.”
“Ugh.” Oikawa finally disentangled his hand from Ushijima’s and pushed himself back on the bed, until he had several inches of space between them. “How do you not get tired of taking yourself so seriously all the time?”
To Oikawa’s surprise, Ushijima laughed and ran a hand through his hair. He still had a bright tint to his cheeks and, of course, he was still naked, and Oikawa was forcefully reminded of just how intensely postcoital they both were. Desire hit him physically, an ache in his muscles that was similar to fatigue, and just as hard to ignore as the exhausted twitch in his thighs after practice.
“I’m not allowed to joke but I take myself too seriously,” Ushijima said, and why did his voice have to be so deep? Oikawa was almost half-hard now. “How do you not get tired of all your contradictions?”
“Whatever,” Oikawa snapped, embarrassed. He rolled over onto his other side, his back to Ushijima, and contemplated taking back his offer. Or getting up to put some pajama pants on, at least. Lying naked in bed with Ushijima meant he couldn’t at all hide his body’s annoying reactions to anything (everything) Ushijima said or did, and Oikawa was feeling a little too vulnerable.
Almost no time passed before he felt Ushijima’s warmth enveloping him, Ushijima’s knees fitting against the backs of Oikawa’s legs and his arm looping over Oikawa’s chest. Oikawa hadn’t intended to invite spooning, but he couldn’t deny that this was pleasant. And he could feel, against his ass, that Ushijima was as interested in round two as he was.
“You said you could get me off just by talking,” Ushijima said. He bit down lightly on Oikawa’s earlobe and Oikawa shivered. “Do you want to try?”
“The whole point was that you’re supposed to talk more,” Oikawa said. He was proud that his voice was level and casual. Regardless of how thoroughly Ushijima had made him dissolve during sex, he still didn’t deserve to see all the evidence of how he made Oikawa lose composure.
“I’ll talk,” Ushijima said. “I’ll tell you whether or not you’re doing a good job.”
“Whether or--” Oikawa drove his elbow back into Ushijima’s side, not too hard but hard enough that Ushijima let out a soft grunt of surprise. “You’re so rude! You’re so rude, I can’t believe you, I take it back you need to get out of my bed--”
Oikawa’s words failed him when Ushijima wrapped a hand around Oikawa’s still-sensitive cock. Oikawa jerked, then stilled. Ushijima circled his thumb lightly over the cockhead and Oikawa had to bite his tongue hard to suppress a whimper.
“Ask me questions,” Ushijima said, his voice even lower than usual, a baritone skating over Oikawa’s shoulder muscle, followed by a kiss to the side of his neck. “And I’ll answer.”
“Really? You’ll answer honestly, any question I want?” Oikawa let himself thrust into Ushijima’s hand and turned his face to the side, curious.
Ushijima met his curiosity with a kiss, bending his head to press his mouth to the corner of Oikawa’s mouth. “Yes. You said you were good at talking.” His hand stroked down Oikawa’s cock deliberately, and the challenge was clear: would Oikawa’s skill hold while Ushijima did this?
Oikawa gasped at the touch but then smirked, reaching a hand up to touch Ushijima’s jaw, to curl his fingers in Ushijima’s hair. “Oh, I know I am. I’ve heard the things you’ve said about me, about how I ‘draw out the potential’ of my team. Is that what you want me to do? Murmur encouragement in your ear, make you feel special? If I were to toss for you, would you like that even better than fucking me, then licking me? Would it make you get hard for me right there on the court?”
Ushijima muffled a moan into Oikawa’s neck, and when he pressed his hips against Oikawa, it was obvious that he was fully hard now. Oikawa was a little bit awed to find that his throwaway line about Ushijima getting off on his insults seemed to be close to the actual truth.
For the first time since Ushijima had first flipped him over, Oikawa felt control slide back to him. He tightened his fingers in Ushijima’s hair and smiled, leaned his head back to give Ushijima’s mouth further access to his throat.
“Well? I asked you a question, Ushiwaka-chan. Tell me.”