Work Text:
Shouyou is late.
Again.
He stares up at the ceiling of a hotel room he doesn’t recognize, the mismatched abstract art on the wall blurring as his eyes struggle to focus. The bedside clock reads 11:14 AM.
Well, fuck.
He groans, a long, broken sound that scrapes his throat, and buries his face in the pillow.
It smells like Kageyama.
Memory floods back in a hot, humiliating rush—the train station, the security office, the heavy-lidded stares across a cramped diner booth at noon, and then... well, the rest is a blur of limbs, teeth, and sweat.
He shifts his legs and hisses. Every muscle in his body protests, a deep, satisfying ache that settles low in his spine and screams that he was thoroughly, utterly wrecked.
And it was the best goddamn thing that’s ever happened to him.
A heavy arm drapes over his waist, trapping him, and a hot puff of breath hits the back of his neck. He peeks over his shoulders, cheeks already flushing like he’s some kind of lovesick schoolgirl.
Kageyama is still asleep, dark hair plastered to his forehead in chaotic tufts, looking younger and strangely soft without that scowl of his. But Shouyou knows what lies beneath that innocent sleeping face. He knows exactly what that sensuous mouth can do, what those large hands are capable of.
His dick twitches underneath the blanket, as if in agreement.
Shouyou squirms, trying to slide out from under the weight, but the arm tightens, pulling him flush against a firm, warm chest.
"Where do you think you're going?" a raspy voice mumbles against his shoulder blade.
"Work," Shouyou whines, though he makes no real effort to leave. "I'm going to get fired. I am so fired."
"You called in sick," Kageyama grunts, pressing his hips forward. Holy shit, Kageyama is hard, the insistent heat of him, heavy and demanding, digs into the small of Shouyou’s back, and he can’t help but wiggle back into that insistent pressure. Jesus fuck, he’s such a slut. "So you're sick. Stay in bed."
"That was yesterday! I can't be sick two days in a row, that's suspicious!"
"Suspicion is your problem," Kageyama says, and then he bites the curve of Shouyou’s shoulder, hard enough to make him yelp. "I’m not done with you yet."
Shouyou shivers, the lethargy in his veins instantly replaced by a hungry, vibrating thrum. God, he’s insatiable. They went at it for hours last night—against the wall the moment the hotel door clicked shut, Kageyama ripping Shouyou’s clothes off like they personally offended him, pinning him there with those huge hands while Shouyou clawed at his uniform.
—then the bed, the mattress springs groaning under their frantic rhythm,
—and finally the shower, where the water turned cold long before they finished.
He should be worried about his job. Or at the very least, he should be worried about his dignity. But as Kageyama’s hand slides down his stomach, fingers dipping into the dip of his hip bone, all Shouyou can think about is how badly he wants to be ruined all over again by that big, wonderful cock.
"You're an animal," Shouyou breathes, turning onto his back so he can glare at the other man. It’s a weak glare, ruined by the full-blown flush on his cheeks.
Kageyama looms over him, eyes dark and glittering with that predatory focus that makes Shouyou’s knees weak. He looks like he wants to eat Shouyou alive.
The feeling is very much mutual.
"You started it," Kageyama says, leaning down to capture Shouyou’s mouth in a messy, uncoordinated kiss. It tastes like morning breath and stale lust, and it’s perfect. "Stepping over that line. Asking to be punished."
"I didn't know you'd actually arrest me!" Shouyou gasps between kisses, his hands coming up to tangle in Kageyama's messy hair.
"Best arrest of my career," Kageyama mutters, scraping his teeth down Shouyou’s jawline. He shifts, settling his weight between Shouyou’s thighs, and the friction sends a jolt of electricity straight to Shouyou’s groin. "Now shut up and spread your legs."
Shouyou laughs, breathless and giddy—at the impertinence, at the utter lack of shame—and obeys immediately.
Kageyama doesn’t wait. He hooks Shouyou’s knees over his elbows, pushing him open, exposing him completely to the cool air of the room. There’s no finesse, no slow build-up this time—it’s just a frantic, desperate need to fulfill this carnal lust they’re both equally drunk on.
In record time, Kageyama lathers himself in lube, grasps himself, and lines up, pressing inside in one long, relentless glide.
Shouyou arches off the bed, a choked cry tearing from his throat as he's stretched open, filled so deeply it burns. He loves it. He fucking loves the weight of Kageyama on top of him, in him, the way the other man feels huge and overwhelming, covering every inch of him, mind, body, and soul.
"Fuck, you're tight," Kageyama groans, dropping his forehead to Shouyou’s chest. His hips snap forward, shallow, jagged thrusts that force little, unbidden ah, ah, ah sounds out of Shouyou’s mouth. "Even after last night. How are you still this tight?"
"Maybe you're just small," Shouyou goads, digging his heels into the small of Kageyama’s back.
It’s the wrong thing to say—or the right thing, depending on how you look at it. Kageyama growls a low, dangerous sound expelling from his throat, and rears back. He grips Shouyou’s hips hard enough to bruise and slams into him, punching a loud keen out of Shouyou that ricochets off the walls.
"Take it back," Kageyama snarls, setting a punishing rhythm.
"No!" Shouyou gasps, his head tossing back against the pillows, eyes rolling back as Kageyama nails his prostate with ruthless precision. "Oh god, right there—don't stop!"
"Fucking brat," Kageyama hisses, but there’s no heat in it, only a burning, white-hot intensity. He leans down and bites Shouyou’s collarbone, sucking a dark mark into the skin as he drills his huge cock into him like a battering ram.
The bed rocks violently, the headboard slamming against the wall with a rhythmic thud that probably has the next door patrons calling the front desk. Shouyou doesn't care. He wraps his legs around Kageyama’s waist, locking his ankles together, pulling him in deeper, needing more, more, more.
"You feel so good," Shouyou babbles, his hands scrabbling for purchase on Kageyama’s sweat-slicked muscled back. "You're so big, Kageyama, fuck—"
"I know," Kageyama grunts, arrogance lacing every word, and then he captures Shouyou’s mouth again, swallowing his moans. He reaches between them, wrapping a calloused hand around Shouyou’s leaking erection, stroking him in time with his thrusts.
"Kageyama—Tobio—I'm gonna—" Shouyou sobs, his back bowing. It’s too much. The dual stimulation, the heat of Kageyama’s body, the sheer filth of being fucked into oblivion when he should be at work—it all coils tight in his stomach, a white-hot ball of condensed pleasure waiting to explode.
"Do it," Kageyama commands, his voice rough and strained. "Come on, Hinata. Make a mess for me."
Shouyou obeys like the utter slut he is for this man.
His body locks up, mouth open in a silent scream, as waves of rapturous bliss crest all over his body before he finally shatters, spilling over Kageyama’s fingers and his own stomach.
And while he rides that mind-numbing high, Kageyama continues fucking him through it his hips stuttering and losing rhythm as he chases his own release. Until he buries himself deep with a guttural groan, shuddering as he empties inside Shouyou, thick and warm and sloppy.
They collapse in a heap of tangled limbs, the room echoing with the encore of their ragged breathing. Shouyou stares up at the ceiling, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. He feels ruined, used, and absolutely amazing.
Slowly, Kageyama pulls out, flopping onto his back beside him. They lie there in silence for a long moment, the sweat cooling on their skin.
"So," Shouyou says, his voice sounding wrecked even to his own ears. "Lunch was good."
Kageyama huffs a laugh, turning his head to look at him. A slow, goofy smile spreads across his face, transforming him from 'scary security guard' to 'adorable dork' in seconds.
"Yeah. It was okay."
"Just okay?" Shouyou pouts, reaching over to poke him in the side. "I was amazing."
"You were loud," Kageyama corrects, catching Shouyou’s finger and pressing a kiss to the pad of it. "And clumsy. And late."
"I'm late because of you!" Shouyou argues, sitting up and wincing as his muscles protest. He looks at the clock again. 11:37 AM. "Oh my god. I am definitely fired."
Kageyama sits up too, wrapping an arm around Shouyou’s waist and pulling him back against his chest. He rests his chin on Shouyou’s shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to the sensitive skin behind his ear. He’s cute like that, surprisingly, hidden beneath hardened layers of scowls and carved abs and bulging biceps.
"Quit then," he murmurs.
Shouyou blinks. "What?"
"Quit. Then we can get breakfast. Or lunch. Since we missed both."
Shouyou twists around to look at him, searching for a sign of a joke, but Kageyama is serious. His blue eyes are soft, watching Shouyou with a heavy, loaded look that makes his chest feel too tight.
He decides not to peruse that particular baggage right now.
"You just want to have sex again," Shouyou accuses, though his heart is doing somersaults, completely ignoring his previous resolve.
"I do," Kageyama admits freely, unabashedly. He leans in to nip at Shouyou’s lips. "But I also want to see if you're actually as annoying as I think you are when you aren't distracted by my dick."
Shouyou splutters, smacking Kageyama’s chest, though there’s no real force behind it. "Excuse you? You are the most annoying person I have ever met! You're rude, bossy, and you eat like a starving wolf!"
"I'm efficient," Kageyama argues, trapping Shouyou’s hand against his chest. "And you like it."
Shouyou opens his mouth to deny it, to list every single reason why Kageyama is the absolute worst, but the words die in his throat. Because he does. He likes the bickering, the way Kageyama challenges him, the way he looks at Shouyou with that soft, puppy look like he’s the only person in the room. He likes the way those large hands feel on him, possessive and sure.
He hates that he likes it, but he does.
"Fine," Shouyou huffs, flopping back against the pillows and throwing an arm over his eyes. "I'll call in sick. Again. But if I get fired, you’re paying my rent."
"Deal," Kageyama says instantly, the smugness practically dripping from his voice.
Shouyou peeks out from under his arm. Kageyama is already reaching for his phone on the nightstand, his thumb hovering over the screen. He looks completely unbothered, like ruining Shouyou’s career is just a Tuesday for him.
"Wait!" Shouyou grabs his wrist. "I need to think of a good excuse. 'I'm sick' twice in a row is suspicious!"
"You have a headache," Kageyama suggests, deadpan. "You were shouting all night."
"Oh my god," Shouyou groans, dragging a hand down his face. "You are the worst."
"Whatever you say," Kageyama smirks, leaning down to kiss him again, slow and deep. "Now make the call, dumbass. I'm hungry."
Shouyou glares at him for a moment, at the messy hair, the dark eyes, the ridiculous confidence. Damn it, he’s fucking gorgeous. With an exhale that sounds like admitting defeat, he grabs his own phone, unlocks it, and dials his boss.
It rings three times. Then four. With each ring, Shouyou’s heart hammers a little harder. This is it. The end of his professional life. He’s going to be known as ‘the guy who called out sick two days in a row because he got dicked down by a train station security guard.’
"Hello?"
Shouyou straightens his spine, putting on his best 'dying' voice. "Hi, Boss. It’s me, Hinata. I... uh... I can't come in today."
There’s a heavy sigh on the other end of the line. "Again? Hinata, is everything alright?"
"It's my... stomach," Shouyou lies, wincing as Kageyama starts kissing a trail down his neck, scraping his teeth against the sensitive skin. "Food poisoning, I think. I ate something bad last night. I’m basically living in the bathroom right now."
Kageyama snorts against his skin. Shouyou elbows him in the ribs.
"Food poisoning?" his boss echoes, sounding skeptical. "Are you sure it’s just that? You called in sick yesterday, too."
"No! No, I swear. It’s the food. Definitely the food." Kageyama bites down on his collarbone, hard, sending a jolt of pleasure-pain straight to Shouyou’s already interested dick. Quiet, you. He bites his lip to keep from moaning. "I’m... I’m going to the doctor soon. Just to be safe."
"Well... alright," his boss says slowly. "Just... take care of yourself. And don't make a habit of this, okay?"
"I won't! I promise. I'll be in tomorrow, bright and early."
"Okay. Feel better, Hinata."
"Thanks, Boss. Bye."
Shouyou hangs up and tosses the phone onto the mattress, exhaling a long breath. He flops back, his heart still racing.
"I'm alive," he whispers.
Kageyama looms over him, grinning like a menace. "See? Easy."
"You nearly made me moan while I was talking to my boss!" Shouyou hisses, smacking his shoulder. "Are you actually trying to get me fired?"
"Maybe," Kageyama shrugs, shifting his weight so he’s settled between Shouyou’s thighs again. "Then you’d be free all day. Every day."
Shouyou’s breath hitches. He looks up at Kageyama, at the dark hunger swirling in those midnight blue eyes, and feels his resolve crumbling like a sandcastle in high tide. It’s a terrifying thought, giving up his routine, his stability, for this chaotic, intense thing that’s barely twenty-four hours old. But as Kageyama leans down, sealing their lips together in a kiss that tastes of recklessness and promise, Shouyou thinks it might just be worth it.
"Shut up and kiss me properly," he mumbles against Kageyama’s mouth.
Kageyama obliges, diving deep and dirty, his hands roaming down to grip Shouyou’s hips. And as Shouyou loses himself in the rhythm of it again, he decides that being late isn't so bad. As long as he’s late with Kageyama.
"Get up," Kageyama grunts, slapping Shouyou’s thigh soundly. "We smell like sweat and other things. If we’re going out to eat, you’re getting washed."
Shouyou whines, dragging the covers over his head. "Five more minutes. My legs don't work."
"If your legs don't work, I'll carry you. Don't test me."
True to his word, Kageyama hauls him out of bed, throwing Shouyou over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Shouyou yelps, squirming, but the grip on the back of his thighs is iron-clad. He gets an eyeful of Kageyama’s flexing ass as he’s carted toward the bathroom, which honestly isn't a bad view at all.
The bathroom is small, tiled in generic beige, the shower stall cramped. Kageyama sets him down on the bathmat and turns the water on, waiting until it steams up before gesturing for Shouyou to get in.
"Don't take all day," he warns.
"I'm not the one who takes half an hour to take a shit!" Shouyou retorts, stepping under the spray. The hot water hits his sore muscles like a benediction, drawing a long, appreciative groan from his throat. He tilts his head back, letting it run over his face, washing away the sticky remnants of the morning.
He hears the shower curtain slide back, the rattle of rings on the rod, and then a wall of heat presses up against his back. Kageyama steps in, crowding him immediately, taking up all the available space. The stall is barely big enough for one person, let alone two grown men, and they have to press together chest to back just to fit.
"I thought we were washing up," Shouyou says, though he makes no move to create distance. He leans back into Kageyama’s solid warmth, eyes closed as the water cascades over them.
"We are," Kageyama says, reaching around him for the hotel-provided body wash. He squirts some into his palm—too much, probably—and then his large hands are on Shouyou’s shoulders, slick and slippery.
He starts rubbing the soap over Shouyou’s skin, kneading the tense muscles of his neck and shoulders with his large, warm hands. It feels incredible, Shouyou’s head lolling forward, his chin touching his chest. He melts under the touch, practically purring as Kageyama works out a knot in his trap.
"Mmm," Shouyou hums. Those hands are something god-like, he swears. "Okay, maybe you're good for something other than arrests."
"Shut up," Kageyama mutters, but his hands are gentle, dutiful, sliding down Shouyou arms, soaping up his biceps, his forearms. He laces their fingers together, washing Shouyou’s hands, and the intimacy of it makes that thing in Shouyou’s chest prance.
Kageyama’s hands drift lower, skimming over Shouyou’s ribs, his stomach, tracing the defined lines of his abs. The soap makes everything slick, his gliding path frictionless and teasing. He skips Shouyou’s groin, ignoring the half-hard interest Shouyou can’t help but develop, and moves to his thighs, lifting one leg to wash it, then the other.
"You're being weirdly thorough," Shouyou murmurs, breath hitching as Kageyama’s thumb presses into the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. "Did you forget a spot?"
"I'm getting there," Kageyama says darkly.
Without warning, he turns Shouyou around, pushing him back against the wet, tiled wall. The tiles are cold against Shouyou’s spine, a sharp contrast to the hot water and Kageyama’s searing body heat. Kageyama looms over him, water dripping from his hair, running down the sharp cut of his jaw, over his collarbones.
"Brace yourself on the wall," Kageyama commands.
Shouyou swallows, his heart rate kicking up a notch. "I thought we were getting breakfast?"
"We will. After."
"After what?"
"After I make sure you really are sick."
Shouyou laughs, but it trails off into a moan as Kageyama drops to his knees. He looks up at Shouyou through wet, spiky lashes, eyes dark and predatory, and then he leans forward and swallows Shouyou down in one go.
"Fuck!" Shouyou shouts, his hips jerking forward, slamming into the tile as his head drops back against the wall with a thud. "Oh my god—Kageyama!"
Kageyama doesn't tease. He sucks hard, hollowing his cheeks, his tongue pressing flat against the underside of Shouyou’s cock. One hand grips Shouyou’s hip, holding him steady, while the other...
Shouyou gasps, his knees buckling as he feels a soapy finger circle his rim. He’s still loose from last night and earlier, still sensitive, and the touch is a lightning strike.
"Kageyama," he whines, his hands scrabbling for purchase on the slippery wall. "You can't just—oh, fuck."
The finger slides in easily, slicked up by the soap and the water. It burns a little, but in a good way, a stretch that Shouyou didn't know he needed until it was happening. Kageyama curls it, finding that spot inside him with unerring accuracy, and rubs.
“Shit!”
Pleasure unlike any other captures his body and catapults it to another dimension, leaving him panting, his vision sparking colors he cannot even name. Kageyama’s hot mouth on his dick, and his fingers inside him is overwhelming, is a perfect storm of pleasure that threatens to pull him under.
"More," he gasps, pushing back against Kageyama’s hand. "Give me more."
Kageyama pulls off his cock with a wet pop, looking up at him with a smirk that should be illegal. "Greedy."
He stands up, the water plastering his hair to his forehead, and grabs Shouyou by the waist, spinning him around. And because he’s already fully caught in this lustful tempest, Shouyou braces his hands against the wall, arching his back, presenting himself. He hears the cap of the body wash snap open again, the wet sound of lather being applied, and then Kageyama is nudging at his puckering entrance.
"This isn't going to be gentle," Kageyama warns, his voice rough against Shouyou’s ear.
"Didn't ask for gentle," Shouyou shoots back, bracing himself, squirming against the blunt head of Kageyama’s cock, letting him know how fucking ready for him to not be gentle. "Just fuck me already."
Kageyama, thank god, doesn’t need any more urging than that as he pushes in, forcing Shouyou’s body to accommodate the immense size of him. The soap makes the slide slick, almost too easy, and the stretch is incredible, burning and so fucking full. Shouyou drops his forehead against the tiled wall, groaning low in his throat as Kageyama fills him up, sheathed to the hilt.
"God, you really are unfairly big," he mutters, his breath fogging up the tile in front of him. "How are you this big?"
Kageyama huffs a laugh, his hands gripping Shouyou’s hips bruisingly tight. "You say the nicest things."
He starts to move, shallow thrusts that work him deeper, grinding against Shouyou’s prostate with every roll of his hips. The water runs down the crack of Shouyou’s ass, mixing with the soap, creating a frictionless glide that lets Kageyama move faster, harder.
The tiled wall is his best friend right now, his only semblance of support, his nails scraping against the slippery tiles as Kageyama fucks him from this galaxy to the next. Helpless and pinned to the wall like this, he’s got no choice but to take everything Kageyama gives him.
But he trusts Kageyama implicitly—a strange, terrifying realization for someone he’s known for a little more than a day.
"You like that?" Kageyama growls, snapping his hips forward, driving a high-pitched keen out of Shouyou, his throat already scratchy from his screams. "You like taking it in the shower like a dirty slut?"
"Yes," Shouyou gasps, his cock spitting precum all over the walls, wrung out by the relentless pummel of Kageyama’s cock and the filth of his words. "Yes, fuck me harder, Kageyama, please!"
Kageyama obliges, setting a brutal rhythm. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes in the small stall, mingling with the hiss of the water—a fucked up symphony of sex.
"Come for me, Hinata," he demands, his teeth grazing Shouyou’s shoulder. "Wash the wall with it."
"Fuck you," Shouyou spits, but he’s close, so close it hurts. "You first."
"I'm close" Kageyama grits out, his movements losing their well-built rhythm, a carelessness that proves that yes, he is indeed close. "Come with me."
Shouyou lets go with a cry, his body seizing up as pleasure coils tight around him, drowning him in its ecstasy, the evidence of it spilling from his cock in white spurts against the wall and down his balls and thighs. But he’s far from dried out, as Kageyama drowns along with him, burying himself deep and holding there as he pulses inside him, filling him so good.
Time becomes meaningless as they remain standing, slumped against the wall, the water washing away the evidence of their fucking. Shouyou can barely feel his legs—they’re shaking, probably—and his mind is just one smooth blob right now, but he’s pretty sure he’s never felt this satisfied in his entire life.
He does wince when Kageyama withdraws from his sensitive, sloppy hole, but then he’s yelping when his world spins and he’s face to face with broad, muscled chest instead of the cold tile.
Kageyama is embracing him, he realizes, tucking Shouyou’s head under his chin, stroking his wet hair, and for a moment, they just breathe.
It feels…good. Warm. Shouyou closes his eyes, basking in the ephemeral moment of intimacy after what could be the filthiest sex Shouyou has ever experienced.
"Okay," Shouyou mumbles into Kageyama’s chest. "That was... acceptable."
Only silence meets Shouyou’s jest, the only reaction from Kageyama is his arms tightening around Shouyou for a second, a brief, crushing squeeze, before he lets go and reaches past Shouyou to turn the water off. The sudden silence is heavy, filled only by their harsh breathing and the drip-drip-drip of the showerhead.
"Acceptable?" Kageyama grumbles, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist. "I heard you screaming. Don't lie."
And just like that, that fluffy, rose-colored moment they were having bursts.
Shouyou grabs the second towel, rubbing it vigorously over his hair to hide the blush creeping up his neck. "I was screaming because you were crushing me against the wall! There’s no padding on that tile, you brute."
"I’ll pad you," Kageyama mutters, stepping out of the stall.
Shouyou can’t say he’ll miss that lovey-dovey moment much, not when he much prefers this antagonistic dynamic they have on default. He finds it insanely hot.
Does that make him a weirdo? Maybe.
Kageyama looks ridiculous standing there in a tiny hotel towel that barely covers the essentials, water dripping from his nose, with a scowl that suggests he’s contemplating murder. "Hurry up. I’m starving."
"You're always starving," Shouyou complains, but he follows him out, the cool air of the room raising goosebumps on his skin. "You're like a black hole. Is it a security guard thing? Do you just patrol and eat all day?"
"It's a 'I just had sex all night and all morning' thing," Kageyama shoots back, rifling through his discarded pile of clothes. He pulls on his boxers with a careless grace that Shouyou envies, shaking his wet hair out like a dog. "I need fuel."
"You need manners," Shouyou snips, locating his own jeans. He hops on one leg trying to get them on, nearly toppling over. Kageyama watches him with a look of mild amusement, leaning back against the desk with his arms crossed.
"Need help?"
"I hate you," Shouyou gasps, finally buttoning the fly. He pulls his shirt on, wincing as the fabric scrapes over the tender bite mark on his collarbone. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror—hair still damp and wild, eyes glassy, lips swollen—and looks away quickly. He looks thoroughly debauched. There is no way he can go out in public like this.
"Do I look okay?" he asks, turning to Kageyama. It feels stupid to ask, especially after everything they’ve done, but he needs to know.
Kageyama looks up, his gaze dragging over Shouyou from head to toe. It’s a heavy look, possessive and intense, and Shouyou feels his knees weaken a little. He clears his throat, shifting his weight. God, he’s down bad for this jackass, isn’t he?
Kageyama pushes off the desk and walks over, reaching out to fix the collar of Shouyou’s shirt. His fingers brush against Shouyou’s neck, lingering on the mark he left there. He traces it with his thumb, his eyes darkening.
"You look like you got mauled by a wild animal," Kageyama says softly.
Shouyou laughs nervously. "So that’s a no then.”
"No one will dare look at you," Kageyama continues, his voice dropping an octave. "They’ll know exactly who you belong to."
The primitive, caveman declaration should probably piss him off, but instead, it sends a hot curl of want spiraling through his gut. He looks up at Kageyama, meeting his eyes, and sees the same raw hunger reflected back.
"Good," Shouyou says, his voice coming out stronger than he feels. "Because I’m not done with you yet."
Kageyama’s lips twitch into a smirk at the echo of his own declaration earlier. "We’ll see if you can keep up."
"I always keep up," Shouyou retorts, grabbing his phone and shoving it into his pocket. "Now come on. If I don't get carbs in the next ten minutes, I’m going to start eating the bedsheet."
“With our jizz in it?” Kageyama mock-cringes. “You really are a dirty little freak.”
Shouyou answers him with a sharp slap on the shoulder. Kageyama just smirks at him.
They check out of the hotel—a transaction Shouyou insists on splitting, despite Kageyama’s grumbled protests about paying for everything—and step out into the bright afternoon sun. The city is loud and chaotic, a stark contrast to the quiet, steam-filled bubble of the hotel room.
Shouyou takes a deep breath, feeling the air fill his lungs. He played hooky for two days. He’s probably on thin ice with his boss. And he’s here, walking down the street with a security guard he met just yesterday, covered in hickeys and smelling like hotel soap.
He feels fucking amazing.
"So," he says, bumping his shoulder against Kageyama’s as they walk. "Where are we going? Please tell me it's somewhere with meat. I need protein."
"There's a place around the corner," Kageyama says, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Good curry. Cheap."
"Curry?" Shouyou brightens. "I love curry. Ushiwaka-san—my boss—hates it. Says it's messy."
Kageyama makes a face. "Ushiwaka? Your boss is named Ushiwaka?"
"Yeah. He's... intense. Kind of looks like a samurai, too." Shouyou grins. "I think you’d like him. He’s almost as scary as you."
"I'm not scary," Kageyama grunts, though he puffs up a little at the comparison.
"You're terrifying," Shouyou corrects, skipping ahead a few steps to walk backward, facing him. "You arrested me, remember? Total abuse of power."
"You liked it," Kageyama says, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
"Maybe a little," Shouyou admits, stopping to wait for him as they reach a crosswalk. The light is red, and a small crowd has gathered. Kageyama stands close, his shoulder brushing against Shouyou’s, a solid, grounding presence.
Shouyou can still feel it, can almost taste it—that strange, electric tension that sparked the moment they locked eyes in the train station. It hasn't dissipated. If anything, it’s stronger now, fueled by the memory of skin on skin, the echo of moans in a dark room.
He lifts his gaze to the man beside him, letting his eyes roam to every inch of his ungodly beauty. The strong line of his jaw, the way his dark hair falls over his forehead, the intensity in his blue eyes even when he’s just staring at a ‘don't walk’ sign. He’s rude and arrogant and bossy, but he’s also careful and gentle and strangely attentive.
It’s a dangerous combination. Shouyou knows he’s playing with fire. He knows this could burn him alive.
But as the stop light blinks from red to green and Kageyama takes his hand—lacing their fingers together firmly, possessively—Shouyou decides he doesn't care.
If he burns, he might as well go out in one grand, dramatic blaze.
"Come on," Kageyama tugs him forward. "I'm not letting you starve on my watch."
"Your watch is over, Officer," Shouyou teases, squeezing his hand back. "You’re off the clock."
Kageyama looks at him, a slow, wicked grin spreading across his face. "Am I?"
"Oh no," Shouyou fake-groans, even as his stomach flips in anticipation. "What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking," Kageyama says, pulling him into the restaurant, the smell of spices and rice washing over them, "that we have a lot of lost time to make up for. And I'm a very patient man, Hinata Shouyou."
Shouyou laughs, bright and happy, as Kageyama pulls him toward a booth in the back. "Too bad for you, then, because I'm not patient at all. Hurry up and order!"
"Brat."
"Jerk."
Kageyama leans over the table, invading Shouyou’s space, his azure eyes dark and promising. "Order whatever you like. You're going to need the energy."
And as if his body is actively betraying him, Shouyou’s face ignites, and he grabs the menu, hiding behind it to compose himself. He’s in trouble. So much trouble.
But as he peeks over the laminated plastic at the man watching him with a hunger that has nothing to do with food, he thinks it might just be the best kind of trouble there is.