Archive of Our Own

In their second year at Aoba Johsai, Oikawa burst into classroom 3-B and announced, chest puffed out, grin extremely smug: “I’ve been deflowered!”

Even though they were on lunch break, Iwaizumi, Matsukawa, and Hanamaki were not the only people in the classroom and everyone shot him a perplexed look.

“Huh?” Matsukawa said, a piece of rice sticking to his face.

“Yes, it’s finally happened,” Oikawa sauntered over to their table and sat down, self-satisfied. “I, Oikawa Tooru, have lost my virginity.”

The three of them looked at each other, uncertain. This was uncharted waters. None of them knew how to react, but they all knew if they seemed too impressed or curious that it was like taping a sign that said VIRGIN! to their backs so they all unanimously settled on an apathetic reaction: shrugging and poking at their food.

“Who cares?” said Hanamaki, but the feigned nonchalance revealed that he did care, and very much so.

“What d’ya mean, like right now?” Iwaizumi squinted up at him. Oikawa’s hair did seem a little more disheveled than usual, and he was breathing hard.

“What? No, I was late so I could make a dramatic entrance. Last night, when I canceled on our movie night, Natsumi-chan came over.” Oikawa’s eyes were crinkled at the corners with his smile. He was smiling almost childishly, like he was a seventeen year old boy who thought he had become a man and didn’t realize how much of the world was left to conquer.

“You canceled on our movie night so that you could invite a girl over?” Matsukawa’s thick eyebrows pulled together. “You’re such a sleaze.”

“What? No, it wasn’t like that,” Oikawa’s smile had started to drop. “She’s my, she’s my girlfriend, I had to.”

“Well the movie was good, you missed out,” Hanamaki said. “Iwaizumi and I are going to see the next one in theaters, non-negotiable. You two can come too, I guess.”

Now Oikawa was pouting. “Doesn’t anyone want to ask me how it was?”

“Sure,” Matsukawa shrugged his shoulders and rolled his eyes at a dramatically slow pace as if he was humoring Oikawa, and not at all curious. “How was it, Oikawa?”

Oikawa’s smile returned to him at once, blissful. “It was good.”

“That’s it?” Iwaizumi was befuddled. “All of that just to say it was good?”

“It was… breathtaking! It was magical! It was the best experience of my whole life!” Oikawa threw his arms up in the air with joy.

Still, he was met with an unimpressed silence and three disbelieving faces.

“Better than how you felt when you won that five-minute rally against Dateko with a setter dump?” Hanamaki tilts his head curiously.

Oikawa blinked. “Yes,” he said, unconvincingly. “Well, no. But it was close!”

“Right,” Hanamaki turned back to Matsukawa. “You have rice on your face, Mattsun. Let me get it.”

Later that day as they were walking home alone, Iwaizumi couldn’t help himself for more details. The thought of Oikawa being with someone else filled him with a queer sort of anxiety, like now that Oikawa had taken that step with Natsumi-chan there was danger of him proposing and running off with her forever.

“Was it really that good?” He asked, squinting in the sun, unable to look at Oikawa.

Oikawa went quiet, which was unexpected. Iwaizumi had been prepared to feel an ache in his heart as Oikawa delved into all the lewd details. But Oikawa was frowning, deep in thought.

“It was, uh,” Oikawa started, waving his hands in awkward, jerky movements. “It was good.”

“Magical?”

“No, ah,” Oikawa shot him a smile but it was fake, his lips pulled too tight. “I exaggerated. You see right through me, Iwa-chan.”

“So it wasn’t good?”

“No! I mean, yes! It was. It was good.” Oikawa huffed, hands on his hips as he looked at Iwaizumi. “Why do you have to make things so complicated?”

“It’s not complicated, I’m just asking,” Iwaizumi was genuinely confused.

“It was weird!” Oikawa exclaimed, and then he frowned and faced forward. “It was weird, I guess. But it was good. But, it was um. It was really scary?”

“Scary?”

“Yeah,” Oikawa clutched the folds in his jacket tighter. “That’s normal right? For it to be scary?”

Iwaizumi didn’t know. Oikawa had crossed over to a status that Iwaizumi didn’t know yet, Oikawa was climbing the stairsteps to manhood while Iwaizumi stayed behind, craning his neck to look up. It was like when Oikawa received his offer from Shiratorizawa and Iwaizumi understood that to be best friends with Oikawa, he was going to have to be okay with being left behind sometimes. There were some things that he couldn’t– no matter how embarrassingly he wanted to– do with Oikawa. Things like being invited to prestigious volleyball camps or having first sexual experiences.

Things like becoming a professional volleyball player.

“Our universities are an hour away,” Oikawa said miserably when he finally revealed to Iwaizumi that he had received an offer to be on FC Tokyo’s development team while he pursued his degree at a university nearby.

It wasn’t like Iwaizumi hadn’t been expecting this, an eventual separation, but he hadn’t expected to look at eighteen-year-old Oikawa and mistake him for eight-year-old Oikawa, with an unfairly cute pout and eyes that were holding back tears.

“It’s okay, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi said quickly, patting him on the shoulder. “C’mon, it’ll be okay.” His heart was being splintered down the middle, but it would be okay.

Oikawa shook his head. Eight-year-old Oikawa would have dissolved into tears and complaints and reasons why everything would not be okay, but now he just sighs and closes his eyes, like he’s accepting defeat.

“I’ve always known,” Iwaizumi began, a lump in his throat. “I’ve always known you would… uh, go on farther than me. You’re too amazing.”

“I’m not,” Oikawa started, then suddenly choked on tears. Alarmed, Iwaizumi reached for him, but Oikawa shook his head furiously. “I don’t want to leave you.”

Iwaizumi looked into the red, watery eyes of the boy he had loved for years. His heart pounded dangerously. “Tooru, hey, I don’t want to leave you either.” He was an expert at this, skirting around the words that he actually wanted to say, letting all the different meanings form a veil over his most tender and terrifying feelings.

Oikawa’s eyes widened hopefully. “Iwa-chan,” he said timidly, and Iwaizumi’s breath caught in his chest, suddenly struck by the possibility of their proximity. But Oikawa didn’t say it, and maybe Iwaizumi was stupid for hoping, he had just thought– their knees were touching and their faces were only inches away– but Oikawa didn’t confess to being in love with Iwaizumi the way Iwaizumi was with Oikawa, didn’t allude to anything of the sort, but what he did say was: “I can commute.” And that was– that could be enough for Iwaizumi Hajime, who had spent years taking what he could get.

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi reached for Oikawa’s knee and squeezed. “I can too. One hour’s not too bad when it’s split in half, right?”

Oikawa’s face broke into a smile, all his sharp lines fading and he hid his face in Iwaizumi’s shoulder and made a contented, mumbly, noise, that made Iwaizumi’s stomach pull so horribly that he couldn’t decide whether it’d be better to remember or forget that noise forever.

Iwaizumi figured he would probably never get exactly what he wanted, but an apartment in the middle of Shinjuku and Koto was still good. They moved into a rickety, old, two bedroom apartment with water pressure that reminded them of an old lady wringing out a washcloth. There was something deeply embarrassing about how weathered and beaten the apartment was– it served as a constant reminder of how little Iwaizumi needed as long as he could live with Oikawa, and he was terrified that every time he fixed the sink without a complaint that Oikawa could see right through him, that he could tell that Iwaizumi hated the apartment and was still perfectly happy anyway.

There was another thing– the wall between their bedroom was offensively thin, like it had been put in as an afterthought, like there was an Oikawa-and-Iwaizumi but oh right, they weren’t together. Iwaizumi never mentioned that he often heard Oikawa’s bed squeaking when his various hook-ups came over and Oikawa never mentioned that even if he had put his ear directly to the paper-thin wall, he wouldn’t have heard anything but two people snoring when Iwaizumi had his new boyfriend over.

It was the only part of the apartment that Iwaizumi couldn’t stand. It was unarguably cruel that Iwaizumi now knew what Oikawa sounded like when he had sex, cruel that this fact was like a punch in the face but also made Iwaizumi’s skin so hot that he couldn’t decide whether it’d be better to remember or forget the pretty noises Oikawa made when he came, and for some reason his middle-ground, his compromise, was to put in ear plugs so he wasn’t actively trying to listen to it, but replaying the memorized sounds in his head until he was inevitably touching himself, but hating himself the whole time. It didn’t really feel like the neutral choice to make, it felt like an idiotic, fucked-up, violation of a friendship, but Iwaizumi probably shouldn’t have moved in with someone who could give him a boner from the simple act of licking his thumb to turn the pages of whatever volleyball magazine he was reading. The whole thing was an idiotic, fucked-up, violation of a friendship and Iwaizumi was a horrible, horrible friend for wanting Oikawa the way he did and all he could do was keep taking the arduous steps of pretending everything was okay while Oikawa floated next to him, blissfully unaware and sleeping with other people.

Oikawa liked sex and had it a couple of times a week with an arbitrary rotation of partners– sometimes the same person for months, sometimes a different person each time– and he had no plans of slowing down until he found out something that made him stop completely.

It happened like this: Oikawa came back from a late night volleyball practice to Iwaizumi eating take-out pizza on the couch and staring at a TV that wasn’t even on.

“Uh, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa said tentatively, but then he saw a bottle of beer and gasped, horrified. “What happened? Is someone hurt? Did you fail an exam? Did you crash your car?”

“What?” Iwaizumi said, his voice gruff as he turned to glare at Oikawa. “No, Shittykawa, I’m fine.”

“You’re drinking alone with a take-out pizza,” Oikawa clutched his chest dramatically. “I know what that means, Iwa-chan. I see right through you. Oh my god, and this is a meat-lover’s deluxe? What happened?”

“Nothing,” Iwaizumi said, now glaring at his pizza like it had betrayed him. “Uh, Yuta broke up with me.”

“Oh shit,” Oikawa frowned, sitting next to him. Iwaizumi had been dating Yuta for the past six months, and he had never heard them even have an inkling of a disagreement. “What happened? I thought things were going well.”

“Me too,” Iwaizumi offered him his beer, which Oikawa drank out of without a second thought. “Guess I was wrong.”

“Well he wasn’t very funny anyway,” said Oikawa, whose only way to make someone feel better after a break up was to trash talk the ex.

Iwaizumi just grunted, staring off into space. Oikawa tried to think of a question that wasn’t too invasive or revealing. Oikawa hadn’t been such a big fan of Yuta, but it wasn’t like Oikawa could really admit why.

Then finally, Iwaizumi spoke, pointedly not making eye contact. “Is sex really that big of a deal?”

Oikawa’s eyebrows raised. “What do you mean?”

Iwaizumi took a second to reply. “Yuta… he uh, he was upset with me. That it had been so long and I still didn’t want…”

Iwaizumi trailed off. Oikawa’s eyes bugged out.

“Wait,” Oikawa said, “you haven’t had sex with him?”

Iwaizumi’s cheeks reddened and he crossed his arms defensively. “No, I… is it such a big deal?”

Oikawa swallowed. “No… I mean, unless it is? Did you not want him? Or maybe you’re not interested in it as a concept?”

Iwaizumi frowned. “It’s not that I didn’t want him,” he said starchily. “It just… it seemed like a big thing to do? And we weren’t at that point yet.”

“Ah,” Oikawa nodded sagely. So Iwaizumi was an old-fashioned romantic, not that surprising. “How long does it usually take you to get to that point?”

Iwaizumi sank back into the sofa, crossing his arms tighter, blushing even harder. He mumbled something that Oikawa only barely caught before his whole skin got goosebumps.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” Oikawa said, rudely only latching onto what was now the most important thing in his life. “Iwaizumi, you’re still a virgin?!”

-

The fact that Iwaizumi was still a virgin caught hold of Oikawa like a venus fly trap, he couldn’t think of anything remotely related to the topic of Iwaizumi or sex before the plant’s teeth would snap shut and he would think miserably about how no one had ever touched Iwa-chan before and wouldn’t Oikawa like to be the first one?

His childish crush on Iwaizumi had been folded up and tucked away neatly in the darkest corner of his mind when they moved in with each other. They had separate bedrooms and Iwaizumi was dating someone within the first month of their first semester. Oikawa downloaded various apps and started a casual sex journey. Sometimes he would meet someone and think maybe, but the more he spent time with them the more it was obvious that it wasn’t right, there was always something about them that drove Oikawa away. And maybe it was Oikawa’s fault, maybe he was being selfish and unfair and not giving anyone else a chance, it was just that no one understood him like Iwa-chan, no one could make him laugh the same, no one could take care of him as well, no one could look at him for a second and know exactly which muscle was hurting and call him over and massage it for him.

Learning that Iwaizumi was a virgin shed a bright beam of light in the place his crush was hiding, and Oikawa found himself struck by his feelings tenfold. It wasn’t really about the sex, it wasn’t like Oikawa had a secret virginity kink or anything, it was more like he was badly possessive and the fact that Iwaizumi hadn’t slept with anyone else before made Oikawa heady with the need to be the first and last person Iwaizumi ever did it with.

Sex with anyone else was suddenly so supremely uninteresting that Oikawa quit that altogether. Instead he spent every free moment he had with newly available Iwaizumi, silly domestic stuff like cooking and cleaning together and embarrassingly romantic stuff like tricking Iwaizumi into going on walks with him or tricking Iwaizumi into going out to dinner with him or tricking Iwaizumi into massaging his arms and then returning the favor so that it would be fair.

Yes, it bothered Oikawa that he had to trick Iwaizumi into all of these things but it just wasn’t classy to be upfront about hitting on your childhood best friend and roommate who had only just become single. And it was so hard to know where Iwaizumi stood– most of the time he was so grumpy and exasperated with Oikawa that Oikawa figured there was nothing else to their banterous friendship but sometimes Iwaizumi would surprise Oikawa with his tenderness, cooking for Oikawa if he was out too late, reassuring him when Oikawa came back disappointed from practice.

But then, three months after Iwaizumi had been dumped by Yuta, Oikawa was in the bathroom trying to fix their showerhead. He called Iwaizumi for help while he furiously wrangled with it, cursing out the shower and their apartment as a whole while he wore nothing but a towel around his hips.

“What’d you do?” Iwaizumi drawled groggily from behind him.

“Nothing! Something’s not attached, didn’t you use this last? I bet you broke it– do you think we can fix it? Or if there’s a problem with the pipes?”

When Oikawa turned around to look at Iwaizumi, he saw Iwaizumi’s eyes slide in a fraction of a second from Oikawa’s exposed back to the showerhead first, and then to Oikawa’s eyes.

It wasn’t so much that Iwaizumi was chanceing a glance at Oikawa’s body that incriminated him, it was that it was such a subtle, casual, move that Oikawa understood it must have been expertly practiced, that Iwaizumi has been pretending not to look at Oikawa for god knows how long, that much like Oikawa, Iwaizumi had been taking what he knew he could get, which was to look when Oikawa wasn’t looking.

Oh my god, Oikawa thought, alarm bells clamouring in his head. He wants me so bad.

Iwaizumi was shoving past Oikawa grumbling, reaching for the showerhead and jiggling it until a somewhat steady stream came out. “See? It’s easy to fix if you’re not a moron.”

He wasn’t fooling anybody, Oikawa thought smugly, noticing the faint blush on Iwaizumi’s cheeks. Iwaizumi was attracted to him and the polite thing to do was to let Iwaizumi know that Oikawa too, was attracted to him.

“Maybe I just think it’s hot when you fix things for me,” Oikawa replied casually.

What Iwaizumi was supposed to do was raise an eyebrow and lean against the doorframe and say something like “that so?” in a deep, flirtatious voice. Instead, his eyebrows shot up to his hairline and his eyes bugged out so much it was almost freakish. He looked so horrified and bewildered that Oikawa was backtracking within seconds.

“Huh?” Oikawa said, hoping to maybe pass out his flirty comment as someone else’s, maybe a ghost.

“What?!” Iwaizumi countered.

“What was that?” Oikawa agreed, looking around the bathroom curiously.

“You think I’m hot?” Iwaizumi pointed a bewildered finger.

Oikawa froze. How did everything get flipped on him in an instant? “What? No. You think I’m hot,” he pointed an accusing finger.

“What? When did I say that?” Iwaizumi took a step forward so that his finger was touching Oikawa’s.

“Just now!”

“That was you!” Iwaizumi smacked Oikawa’s outstretched finger, his face adapting a deep frown. “What’s your problem?”

This had all gone much worse than Oikawa expected and he wasn’t sure how to recover. “You are hot,” he said defensively, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting.

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and turned to leave. “Stop messing with me, Shittykawa. It’s not funny.”

“No, hey, I wasn’t messing with you,” Oikawa’s reflexes kicked in and he reached for Iwaizumi’s shoulder with lightning fast speed. “C’mon, you were looking at me.”

“Looking at you, what, when? When you were right in front of me?” Iwaizumi asked, incredulous.

“No, when you were checking me out, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa huffed in frustration.

“I wasn’t checking you out, you’re the most egotistical person I’ve ever met in my life! What, I look at you because you’re right in front of me and also happen to be wearing nothing but a towel and all of the sudden I’m checking you out because I have functioning eyes and can’t look anywhere else?! You are seriously the shittiest, the most self-absorbed, the vainest–”

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa pouted, heartbroken. “You don’t want to go out with me?”

Iwaizumi stopped in the middle of his tirade. “Wait, what?”

Oikawa batted his eyelashes hopefully.

Iwaizumi scowled again. “Stop fucking around,” he said, but after a few seconds, his frown morphed into befuddlement.

“Do you want to go out with me or not?” Oikawa waited patiently but Iwaizumi just stared at him, confused. “What’s so hard for your caveman brain to understand?! I like you, you like me, so we’re going out to the nice restaurant that’s three blocks from here at six p.m. sharp, do you hear me?”

Iwaizumi’s bewildered expression slowly faded. “Um,” he said, “okay?”

-

“You were driving me crazy,” Oikawa confessed later that week, cuddled on the couch in Iwaizumi’s arms. “You and Yuta. Six months. Why would you do that to me?”

“Me?! You were constantly with other people!” Iwaizumi retorted. “Like, every other day!”

Oikawa winced. “I didn’t know you knew about that. Why was I going through all of that trouble sneaking them in and out?”

“Because you didn’t realize that the walls are impossibly thin, idiotkawa,” Iwaizumi said.

“What, so you heard me bring other people over?” Oikawa asked, frowning. What would Iwaizumi have heard? It’s not like they usually did that much talking so the only thing Iwaizumi could have heard was– “oh my god!”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi said darkly. “Yeah.”

“You were listening to me having sex!” Oikawa gasped. “You… you pervert!”

“I put in ear plugs,” Iwaizumi said primly.

Oikawa looked at him suspiciously. “How often?”

“Every time!”

Oikawa peered into Iwaizumi’s eyes and saw intense honesty. But still, Oikawa knew Iwaizumi too well. “I bet you found a loophole,” he smirked. “I bet you would think about it– the sounds you could catch before you put in your ear plugs like a proper friend.”

Iwaizumi’s face flushed.

“Hah! I knew it!” Oikawa preened, enjoying Iwaizumi’s embarrassment. “When would you think about it? I bet you’ve touched yourself and thought about all the sexy sounds I make!” Filled with glee, Oikawa snuggled further into Iwaizumi’s lap.

Iwaizumi frowned. “Shut up,” he hissed. “It’s not, it’s not like that. I felt so guilty the whole time.”

Oikawa’s toothy grin slid right off his face, replaced with concern. “Oh, Iwa-chan,” he said, reaching for his face. “You don’t have to feel guilty. You’re going to hear what I sound like in bed all the time now.”

Iwaizumi smiled at him, but his muscles stiffened.

“Uh, whenever you want, I mean,” Oikawa clarified. Right, Iwaizumi was an old-fashioned romantic. Oikawa would jack off in the shower and stick to over-the-shirt stuff. Being with Iwaizumi was worth the wait.

—-

One month in, in the middle of a heated make out session, Oikawa clambers into Iwaizumi’s lap to deepen the kiss, their teeth clacking in eagerness, his chest burning with desire, grinding down on Iwaizumi’s erection, and Iwaizumi shoots back, eyes wide.

“Huh?” Oikawa said, head muddled with lust. “Everything okay?”

“I don’t, I don’t want to have sex yet,” Iwaizumi gasped. “Sorry, I, I’m not, I’ve never, and I don’t–”

“Of course not, of course not,” Oikawa said quickly, sliding off of Iwaizumi’s thick thighs back onto their living room couch. His heart was pounding in his chest but a heavy pit of disappointment was developing in his stomach. “Sorry, I got carried away, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi stared at him, his hair messy from Oikawa’s fingers, his lips shiny with spit, his eyes wide with wonder. “Me too,” he said, his voice small. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize!” Oikawa said brightly, still out of breath. He smiled respectfully to show that he supported Iwaizumi’s choices. “You, uh… yeah.”

They looked at each other for an uncomfortably long time, panting, before Oikawa said gingerly, “uh, I’d better…?”

“Yeah, me too,” Iwaizumi nodded emphatically, and they both stood up and scattered within seconds.

Oikawa took the shower, now self conscious about the thin walls, while Iwaizumi disappeared into his bedroom. It didn’t take a genius to guess that they were frantically getting off while thinking about each other but the embarrassment was mutual so it mostly canceled out. Still, things were quiet when they both emerged from hiding.

Oikawa popped some popcorn and turned on a movie for them to watch, but five minutes in, Iwaizumi reached for the remote control and muted it. His shoulders were hunched a fraction of an inch and his eyebrows were pinched.

“Is it weird?” he asked.

“Huh?” said Oikawa, who knew exactly what he was talking about. “What?”

“Is it weird that I want to wait?” Iwaizumi’s eyes flickered sideways.

“No, of course not,” Oikawa said instantly. “It’s totally fine, I don't mind at all.”

“You do mind though, right?” Iwaizumi’s shoulders caved in a fraction more. “Everyone minds.”

“I mean, I want to have sex with you, duh,” Oikawa admitted, “but it’s not like I think anything is wrong with waiting. I want to be with you, no matter what that means.”

“Sex is important though, to relationships. Right?”

“Well… yeah, it can be,” Oikawa said thoughtfully. “But I mean, Hajime, listen to me. The most important thing to me about our relationship is that we know each other inside out and are devoted to keeping it that way. As long as that doesn’t change, I don’t care about something like sex. We could be celibate until the end of time and I’d still want to be with you.”

The corners of Iwaizumi’s mouth turned up. “You promise?”

“Yeah, I promise, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said, reaching for his hand. “Wait as long as you want. Whenever you’re good and ready, this ass is yours.” He wiggled his eyebrows and smirked suggestively.

Iwaizumi snorted. “I should hope so.”

Oikawa remembered his first time, back at Aoba Johsai with Natsumi-chan. The whole thing had started in a frantic lust, then transformed into confused fumbling around. It had all worked out in the end, but Oikawa remembered the humiliated frustration of trying to make things good for her, but not being exactly sure how. So Oikawa understood Iwaizumi’s hesitancy. The third person he had slept with had actually laughed at him in the middle of it– “just because they’re that loud in like, porn videos and movies and stuff doesn’t mean you have to be,” she had said. Then there was his first time giving a blowjob where he gagged on it five times.

Since then, he had learned enough to be confident in bed– he bit back most of his moans, he could make anyone come from his tongue alone, and he was an expert at deepthroating– but he still remembers the awkwardness and vulnerability that came with trying something new with someone else. He was determined to make it good for Iwaizumi’s first time, no matter what.

They had been dating for three months when Iwaizumi told him he loved him.

He didn’t say it with a grand romantic gesture, it was much worse, it slipped out of Iwaizumi’s mouth without him even realizing, which meant that it bounced around in Iwaizumi’s head enough for it to accidentally be voiced.

“What?!” Oikawa said, spinning around at the front door, scandalized.

“Huh?”

“What did you just say?!” Oikawa clutched his heart dramatically.

“I said ‘bye, have fun at class.’” Iwaizumi’s eyebrows raised in confusion. “Isn’t that where you’re going?”

“After that,” Oikawa said. “You said… you said…”

“Oh.” Iwaizumi’s expression softened in realization. “I guess I… I said ‘I love you.’”

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa wailed despairingly, then ran out the front door as fast as he could.

When he got to his class, thirty minutes later, Iwaizumi had texted him a string of question marks and all Oikawa could do was reply with a series of various heart emojis. Oikawa, of course, loved Iwaizumi, but hadn’t expected it, for some reason, for Iwaizumi Hajime, his best friend since birth, to look him in the eye with such a carefree, easy, smile, and say I love you.

He felt paralyzed by the possibility this offered him– like now he had the strength and the ambition to do anything in the world he wanted, but it was pulling him in every single direction. He wanted everything so badly it was suffocating. He was so young to have conquered the world– just a nineteen year old boy with his long-time ace in the palm of his hand.

That night, he got back to the apartment with a bouquet of roses because at least he could be romantic, damn it, and barreled straight into Hajime’s chest.

“I love you too,” he blurted out, dropping the flowers straight onto the ground. “You’re never allowed to break up with me, ever.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Iwaizumi stated, tightening his arms around Oikawa’s body. “You’re mine.”

Oikawa Tooru sighed and kissed Iwaizumi as gently as he could muster, blood rushing in his ears. He was Iwaizumi Hajime’s at long last, and he was invincible. When he was younger he had thought his crush on Hajime was a little bit like Icarus flying too close to the sun, but now he understood that he could stand in the core of the blazing star, fifteen million degrees, and not sustain a single burn. He had conquered the world, and somehow, there was still so much left to do, so many places to go and events to experience with Hajime at his side.

Then Iwaizumi said– “You got me flowers just to drop them on the ground and step on them.” And Oikawa huffed and flicked him on the forehead in indignation.

They had been dating for nine months when Iwaizumi said he was ready to have sex.

Oikawa had worried that he was going to say it the way he first told him he loved him– bye, have a good day, I’m ready to have sex now, careless and unmonumental.

Instead Iwaizumi pauses mid-makeout, cheeks flushed, his breath hot on Oikawa’s lips, looking up under his lashes, so sexy it’s torturous, and says, careful and monumental: “I’m ready now, Tooru, if you want to.”

For months Oikawa had dreamed of this moment and knew there was no hope of playing this cool. He gasped, blood rocketing to his dick, and lurched into Hajime’s body. “What— are you sure, Hajime? Right now?”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi shifted, rolling his hips lightly against Oikawa’s, and fuck, they were both so hard, and that wasn’t unfamiliar territory, but now Iwaizumi was giving him permission to do something about it. “Been thinking about it for a while, actually.”

“Oh, shit,” Oikawa cursed, standing up off the couch and pulling Hajime up with him. “You promise you want to?”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi murmured against his lips, looking dizzy with poorly concealed excitement and apprehension, “just, ah, you know…”

“Yeah, of course, I got you,” Oikawa promised giddily. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, teach you exactly what to do, Iwa-chan, you have nothing to worry about.”

Iwaizumi’s mouth parted in response and Oikawa crashed into him hungrily, walking him back towards their bedroom because he finally could. He kissed him fiercely as he backed Iwaizumi onto the bed, then started to climb onto him before Iwaizumi said— “wait, wait.”

Oikawa paused immediately, eyes questioning.

Hajime’s eyebrows furrowed. “Can you close the door first?”

Oikawa’s forehead creased. “Huh? We’re the only ones who live in this apartment, Iwa-chan.”

“Still,” Iwaizumi’s cheeks flushed, “it’s still embarrassing.”

“You’re so weird,” Oikawa said, but it had no bite to it. He reluctantly separated from Iwaizumi’s arms to close their bedroom door, but when he turned and looked at Hajime from the small distance, it put everything into perspective. Hajime was staring at him, his cheeks still tinged a ruddy red, his chest rising and falling rapidly, tenting beautifully in his sweatpants. He was so sexy it was knee-buckling, and Oikawa heard himself make a sound like a possessive growl.

It made Iwaizumi shift on the bed, his legs opening a fraction of an inch, and Oikawa crossed the bedroom in a few quick strides to get back on top of him and kiss him hard enough to leave a bruise.

“You’re so sexy,” he muttered, pressing his knee down lightly in between Iwaizumi’s legs.

Iwaizumi gasped and bucked up, searching for friction. “I thought I was, hah, I thought I was weird?”

“That too,” Oikawa agreed, pulling back to gaze lovingly into Hajime’s eyes. “And beautiful.”

“Shut up.” Iwaizumi said, but his voice came out so breathy that it seemed to scare him, he broke their eye contact, looking down quickly.

“Hey,” Oikawa said. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Iwaizumi said, all in a rush, his hand tentatively squeezing Oikawa’s shoulder. “What do I… what do you want me to do?”

“This is about you, how do you want it?” Oikawa asked, leaning down to suck at Iwaizumi’s neck.

“I believe I was promised your ass,” Iwaizumi mumbled.

“Yeah? You wanna fuck me?” Oikawa beamed, pressing a quick kiss to Iwa’s collarbone. “That’s my favorite thing to do, how did you know? I’ve been dreaming about it for ages.”

“You were thinking about this?” Iwaizumi had the nerve to ask.

Oikawa stopped where he was trying to make a mark on Hajime’s jawline to stare at him incredulously. “Do I think about you fucking me? Only like, every day since high school.”

“What do you think about? I’ll do it, I’ll do anything you’ve ever wanted.” Iwaizumi’s eyes were sharp with determination. “I’ll give you everything, tell me what you’ve been dreaming about.”

Oikawa shivered, his whole body hot with affection. I’ll give you everything. It was such a loyal promise, the type that only Iwaizumi Hajime gave, fierce with assurance. It was also an undercover request for guidance. “Fuck, I think about everything, I want everything,” he whispered. “I think about your hands a lot, about you touching me.”

Iwaizumi’s hands trailed up underneath Oikawa’s shirt within seconds. “Like this?”

It was an innocent touch but Oikawa arched into it all the same. “Yeah, that’s good,” Oikawa smiled at him, “and I think about, about you, and what sounds you’ll make when I touch you.”

Iwaizumi inhaled sharply and looked at Oikawa under his lashes, expectant. Oikawa smirked, trailing his fingertips down Iwaizumi’s chest, his stomach, until they ghosted at Iwaizumi’s erection and Iwaizumi’s eyes fluttered shut.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” Oikawa groaned, pausing to take in the view. “You’re so perfect for me, I want you forever.”

It was his words that made Iwaizumi finally moan, guttural, like it was being ripped from his chest and he rocked his hips up chasing Oikawa’s touch. Oikawa didn’t do anything for a second, just watched the way Iwaizumi thrusted his hips into nothing, his face contorting with pleasure and his fingernails digging into Oikawa’s ribs where he held him.

“Tooru,” Hajime whispered, pleading, and it was such a beautiful sound that Oikawa moaned too, his heart pounding with love and affection. It was actually doing Oikawa in to see Hajime like this, so open and vulnerable for him, the only person he had ever really wanted, had ever really worked hard to deserve, laying before him and moaning for a ghost of his touch.

Oikawa indulged him, palming him once and then pressing down with the heel of his hand and Hajime let out a shocked, broken, “Tooru!” and covered his face with his hands as he bucked up uncontrollably into Oikawa’s hand. He likes this so much, Oikawa thought, hungry with it, but then he saw the wet spot that was spreading beautifully in Hajime’s sweatpants and the way his face was reddening behind his hands and he realized– he came, he came just from that. He likes it so much.

Iwaizumi’s face was scrunched up behind his hands, a mixture of unconcealed pleasure and humiliation. Oikawa was still eagerly staring at the way Hajime was arching and moaning, thinking, oh my god. I barely even touched him. We didn’t even take a single article of clothing off.

“Hajime,” he said in gleeful awe. “Hajime, that was fast.”

“Shut up,” Iwaizumi said instantly, his movements dying down to a miniscule, fitful shift of the hips, “shut up, I don’t want to hear it, okay? I’ve never–”

“Hajime, I am hardly complaining,” Oikawa interrupted, raking his fingernails up Hajime’s chest. “That was hot, it’s so sexy that you want me.”

“It’s not.” Iwaizumi protested, the bits of skin peeking through his fingers delightfully red. “It’s fucking embarrassing, I said I was going to give you everything then blew my load in two seconds.”

“Hajime, you are everything,” Oikawa told him, gently trying to remove Hajime’s hands from his face. “C’mon, look at me. It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” Iwaizumi let his hands fall away from his face, but as soon as he made eye contact with Oikawa he covered his face again. “Just felt too good. I wasn’t expecting it to feel so good, I’m sorry.”

“I’m glad,” Oikawa pressed a kiss to Hajime’s chest, where his blush had spread. “I was trying to make you feel good. Don’t be embarrassed that it worked.”

“No, it’s stupid, I couldn’t help it, I’m sorry, I love you so much, didn’t want to disappoint you–”

“You could never disappoint me,” Oikawa said firmly. “Not like this. Hajime, this is what I dream about, what I’ve wanted for all these years. The way you look when you want me, feeling you against me, getting to touch you at all. I want to take you apart. I’ve spent so long feeling guilty for all the secret glances and stolen touches but now I have you.”

Iwaizumi finally lowered his hands from his face. “I wanted to make it good for you, Tooru,” he muttered, eyes downcast. “I wanted to make it last.”

Oikawa took one of Hajime’s hands in his own and used the other one to stroke Hajime’s cheek, waiting for Hajime to look him in the eye before he said, “I’m going to make you come whenever you want for as long as you let me. I’m really stupidly in love with you. We have so much time together, you don’t have to worry about lasting.”

Iwaizumi’s eye contact flickered. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Oikawa leaned forward and kissed his lips briefly, “stop worrying, Iwa-chan. It’s just us.”

Hajime made a face. He looked like he was about to apologize again, but Oikawa kissed him again quickly, swallowing his nerves and his doubts.

“You wanted me to fuck you,” Iwaizumi finally said, rueful.

“You still can,” Oikawa replied brightly.

Iwaizumi’s expression was endearingly hopeful. “Really?”

“If you want,” Oikawa said teasingly, his fingers trailing up underneath Iwaizumi’s shirt. “I know I do.”

Iwaizumi’s grumble of affirmation was lost in the fabric of his t-shirt as Oikawa lifted it up over his head. Even while he was stuck in his shirt, he was still reaching for Oikawa’s shirt and trying to take it off of him, and his eagerness made Oikawa giggle.

“Stop laughing at me,” Iwaizumi ripped his shirt off from his head with a vengeance. “Take your clothes off, c’mon.”

Oikawa rolled his eyes and obliged, shucking off his shirt and pants and hovering over Iwaizumi in his boxers. “So bossy.”

Iwaizumi ignored him, blushing slightly as he removed his sweatpants.

“Hajime,” Oikawa groaned, his cock twitching. “You’re not wearing underwear? What’s wrong with you?”

“Shut up,” Hajime grimaced as he tossed his sweatpants to the floor. “They’re sweatpants. I never wear underwear with sweatpants.”

“Oh god,” Oikawa shook his head in disbelief. “You’re the sexiest person in the world, are you joking? Why would you tell me that, I’ve been obsessed with your sweatpant dick print since forever and this just makes it worse.”

“Shut up,” Iwaizumi insisted, one hand on Oikawa’s chest as he pushed him off him. “Lie down. And take your boxers off, what are you doing?”

“Fuck, it’s so sexy when you tell me what to do,” Oikawa confessed, tossing his boxers at the door and lying back on the pillows. “C’mon, touch me.”

Iwaizumi was just staring at him though, his hands went out, hesitant, but his eyes were frantic like he didn’t know where to begin. It was like he had just realized the magnitude of possibility that lay beneath him and it was pulling him in every single direction, and Oikawa understood that Iwaizumi had been taking what he could get for years and now, all this possibility was too much, complete with italics.

“I always think about you kissing my chest,” Oikawa offered, “or my neck. With your hands on my stomach. Or, uh, you know, touching my nipples.”

Iwaizumi nodded, eyes dark, and leaned down to nip at Oikawa’s neck, while his hands splayed Oikawa’s chest. Oikawa exhaled shakily, bringing his hands up Iwaizumi’s back, scraping his nails lightly over his shoulder blades, before finally resting his hands in Iwaizumi’s hair.

“Fuck,” Oikawa whispered, his thumbs rubbing circles into Iwa’s scalp, “feels so good.”

Iwaizumi hummed, then mirrored Oikawa’s thumbs, rubbing his thumbs around Oikawa’s nipples.

Oikawa’s breath hitched and he arched, just slightly, heart pounding. Then Iwaizumi moves down and latches his mouth onto Oikawa’s left nipple and Oikawa moans, loud and unbidden, before he clamps his mouth shut, embarrassed.

Iwaizumi takes this as encouragement, lightly scraping his teeth, then sucking gently, before moving to mouthing at Oikawa’s sternum, his hands exploring Oikawa’s abdomen. Then he was kissing Oikawa’s jawline, rubbing at Oikawa’s nipple again, now wet with Hajime’s spit, and the slide was so incredible that Oikawa whined again before covering his mouth– he was being too loud, too much, it was just that Iwaizumi felt so good, was so perfect, so beautiful, so sexy.

“You gonna mark me up?” Oikawa asked, his voice high-pitched and embarrassing.

Iwaizumi pulled back, and Oikawa almost moaned again looking at him, his lips were shiny and slightly swollen, and his eyes were still wide like he was trying to capture every millisecond of everything and commit it to memory. “You want me to?”

“Yeah,” Oikawa thumbed his jaw. “You’re so beautiful it’s stupid.”

Iwaizumi shook his head before diving in to bite at Oikawa’s collarbone, then pressed his teeth to the spot right above it and began to suck, gentle at first, hands roaming Oikawa’s body, wherever he could touch. When he was finished, he pulled back with a wet noise and smiled at Oikawa, so eager it was seriously cute, so hot it was badly sexy.

Oikawa spread his legs, an invitation.

Iwaizumi kissed his inner thighs, making Oikawa suck in his breath sharply through his teeth with a horrible whistling noise.

“Do you want to, do you want to get me ready for you?” Oikawa asked, his voice mostly air. “I’ll show you how.”

Iwaizumi nodded, reaching for the nightstand and handing Oikawa the lube, wordless.

“Ah, okay,” Oikawa placed a pillow under his hips and lubed up his index finger. “Fuck, you’re so hot, looking at me like that.”

“Whatever,” Iwaizumi said instantly, eyebrows furrowing, eyes raking over Oikawa’s body. “Look at you. How’d I get so lucky?”

“Yeah,” Oikawa agreed, smirking. “Look at me.” He waited for Iwaizumi to lock eyes with him, then slowly started to push his finger inside of himself. His mouth parted slightly and he made a few, gaspy, aborted sounds, but he made sure to keep his eyes fixed on Hajime’s, so enraptured by the fact that it was actually Hajime in front of him. He had imagined it so many times, but this was finally real.

Iwaizumi ran his hands up Oikawa’s inner thighs as he watched, his eyes glued to every movement, every breath, every reaction that Oikawa was making. “You’re breathtaking,” he said, then frowned. “Sexy,” he clarified.

“All yours,” Oikawa whispered, then he frowned too. They were being so sappy, staring into each other’s eyes and saying things like beautiful, breathtaking, yours. Oikawa was used to dirty talk, or various arrogant phrases he would throw around so that no one could look at him like this, the way Hajime was looking at him now, like he had seen all the worst parts of Oikawa and loved him still.

“You’re so pretty,” Hajime was saying, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Every time I’ve ever looked at you it’s made me angry. It’s not fair.”

“You’re unfair,” Oikawa returned, arching softly and biting back a moan. “You’re so fucking gorgeous. I want everything from you.”

“I’ll give you anything,” Iwaizumi promised again, his resolve still fierce.

“I want it all,” Oikawa said stubbornly, “I want everything.” And he did. He wanted Iwaizumi to fuck him hard and soft, on the bed, on the couch, on the balcony, on an airplane, upside down, in his mouth, his shoulders, his thighs, he wanted Iwaizumi to spend hours taking him apart, making him cry, kiss every inch of his skin, he wanted Iwaizumi to be there, beside him, every day he woke up for the rest of his life, he wanted Iwaizumi and the picket fence house and the classic church wedding, anywhere, everywhere, everything at once, with Iwaizumi looking at him like this, his past, present and future. He wanted it all with Iwaizumi, especially this, to be safe in his arms, in his bed, in their horrible, broken down apartment, that both of them hated but endured to be with each other.

Iwaizumi kissed him hard, his teeth closing gently over Oikawa’s lower lip. “I want it all too,” he confessed, “I want everything, whatever it means. I want anything with you.”

Oikawa gasped, his head knocking back against the headboard. “Please,” he said, asking for it all, an unspecified everything with Iwaizumi.

“I’m yours forever,” Hajime whispered into Oikawa’s neck.

It made Oikawa stare at the ceiling, the ceiling that looked just like the ceiling of his childhood bedroom where he had sex for the first time with Natsumi-chan, and this striking resemblance of the ceilings transported him to that age, because maybe this was what he thought it was back then, the overwhelming, terrifying desire, the anxious need to please, except, of course, it was different this time, and it probably wasn’t the popcorn ceiling. He felt so young again all of the sudden, because Iwaizumi Hajime was his forever, and he was terrified of what it made him feel and more terrified of the fact that he was safe and loved. And most terrifying of all was that he could be as terrified and desirous as he wanted, because Hajime would give him everything.

“Fuck,” Oikawa said. “Do you want to put a finger inside me?”

“That’s a great idea,” Iwaizumi agreed. He pulled back with his jaw set in concentration and lubed up his index finger, then stared at Oikawa’s entrance like it was some sort of complicated math problem.

“Hey, okay,” Oikawa said, face reddening from Iwa’s intense gaze. “Don’t stare at my asshole like you’re trying to burn it with laser vision. C’mere, I’ll guide you.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes snapped up to meet Oikawa’s, his face flushing. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” Oikawa promised, canting his hips up just slightly, “c’mon, I want it.”

Iwaizumi’s fingers were thicker than Oikawa’s, and Oikawa hissed in pleasure as Iwaizumi pressed a finger in next to his own. He curled his own index finger and Iwaizumi followed suit, and Oikawa had to grit his teeth to stop from whimpering.

“Am I doing it wrong?” Iwaizumi asked worriedly, eyes endearingly wide.

“No, no,” Oikawa whispered, “feels good. You’re perfect at this, can you–?” He let his own finger slip out so that both of his hands could clench the bedsheets and Iwaizumi understood and replaced it with his middle finger.

The stretch was good, but the surrender was better, looking up at Iwaizumi, the only source of his pleasure. It was exactly where he belonged, to be at Hajime’s gentle mercy, especially when Hajime’s forehead was still scrunched in concentration, his fingers so very gently rocking inside of Oikawa, scissoring and stretching and sometimes curling just right.

Minutes later, when the air had just been filled with Oikawa’s breathless gasps and various profanities, Hajime ran his fingernails lightly over Oikawa’s inner thighs and said, with feigned apathy, “why are you holding back on me?”

Oikawa’s eyes flew open. “Huh?”

Iwaizumi curled his fingers and Oikawa only barely muffled his moan in time, clamping his mouth shut and filling his lungs with air.

“Right,” Iwaizumi said, “I know you can be louder than that, baby.”

Oikawa shook his head immediately. “No, it’s okay,” he assured him.

“Of course it’s okay,” Hajime said kindly. “It’s just one of the things I dream about too. How you’ll sound when I make you feel good.”

Oikawa choked on his own breath. “I can uh, try,” he started, then he remembered his first couple of times and flushed. “No one likes it,” he explained, “I’m too… you know,” he trailed off lamely.

“I’ll like it,” Iwaizumi said firmly.

Iwaizumi didn’t pry, but Oikawa realized, as the minutes went by, that he trusted Iwaizumi to love him no matter how loud he was. When Iwaizumi slowly pressed a third finger in, he instinctively gritted his teeth, then remembered Iwa wanted to hear him and let his mouth fall open and his voice was so high pitched it startled him, and he shut his mouth again. The result was horrible– a loud, high, squeak. Oikawa shook his head fiercely.

“I didn’t make that sound,” he clarified.

Iwaizumi nodded indulgently. “Whatever you say, pretty boy.”

Oikawa grinned at him, Hajime smirked back and pressed his fingers in, smug and intentional. Taken by surprise, Oikawa whined, loud and breathy, the noise filling the whole room.

“That’s right,” Iwaizumi groaned, his eyes dark, “let me hear you.”

“Fuck,” Oikawa gasped, and then he let out another reedy moan. It was supposed to be embarrassing, how loud and desperate he got, but instead it was freeing and Oikawa was left wondering if he had discovered a secret of the universe, that to make anything better all he had to do was have Iwaizumi Hajime with him.

Because Hajime seemed to actually, really like it. Everytime Oikawa gasped or moaned or– humiliatingly enough– whimpered, Iwaizumi would match him with a breath of disbelief or a moan of affirmation.

“Yes,” he would whisper, his other hand reaching for where Oikawa was fisting the bedsheet and gently trailing up and down his knuckles. “Love the way you sound, love that it’s for me.”

There was a horrible permanence that came with this tenderness; Oikawa finally understood that everything he had been looking for with anyone else had been laying in Iwaizumi’s chest all along. He had known it would be better with Iwaizumi, but this was more than that; it was final. There was no one else who was going to ever make him feel as loved as Iwaizumi did, and no one that Oikawa was going to love more.

“Please, Hajime, love you, please fuck me,” Oikawa begged, “I wanna feel you.”

“I’m not gonna last,” Hajime said, and there it was again, the worried crease in his forehead. “Inside you, it’ll be too much, just looking at you is too much, I won’t be able to–”

“That’s okay, that’s okay,” Oikawa promised, and their eyes met, equally wide like they were both afraid of how good it was going to feel. “I still want it, you’ll feel so good.”

Iwaizumi nodded, pressing a kiss to his forehead before he reached for more lube. Oikawa’s voice got stuck in his throat as Iwaizumi lined up his cock and pressed in, so good that he was arching within seconds.

“Fuck,” Iwaizumi choked, “Tooru.”

He still looked so worried. Oikawa pressed his thumb gently to the crease between his eyebrows and massaged it until Iwaizumi got the hint and his face relaxed.

“C’mon,” Oikawa breathed, “give it to me.”

Hesitantly at first, Iwaizumi started to move, but Oikawa said– “please, Hajime, you’re not gonna break me–” and Iwaizumi moaned and started to fuck him in earnest.

With every uncoordinated thrust Oikawa felt a loud, delirious, moan spill out of him, but he didn’t care anymore, Iwaizumi’s eyes were so golden with lust and love that nothing mattered. He was leaking precome all over himself, so turned on he felt crazy. And then, before they even got into a rhythm, after rocking up into him maybe only ten times, Iwaizumi came inside him with a shout and a shudder, cock pulsating inside of Oikawa.

Iwaizumi was apologizing again, but Oikawa was drowning it out with pleas. “Touch me, please, please, please, I need you,” he whined, and Iwaizumi obeyed, his grip so beautifully tight around Oikawa’s cock.

This is why Iwaizumi had waited for love, Oikawa understood as he squeezed his eyes shut and came with a broken whine, to be overwhelmed into coming within thirty seconds, or making the most embarrassingly wanton noises of your life, and being safe and adored anyway.

Both of their moans faded away and their breaths slowly quieted, until the silence fell static and heavy. Iwaizumi broke eye contact first, so that he could pull away with a soft noise.

Time was suspended. Oikawa cleaned them both up, then sighed back into the pillows with his arms outstretched for Iwaizumi to sink into. For minutes, they sat in the bed, still naked, Oikawa’s arms wrapped around Iwaizumi’s chest and his chin resting on Iwaizumi’s shoulder.

Iwaizumi spoke, his voice timidly genuine. “Is it always that good?”

People talked about virginity and the loss of it, the milestone moment when you bridge the gap of manhood by achieving an orgasm with someone else for the first time, but what about this? What about learning what it feels like to be so brutally loved for the first time? Wasn’t this what truly made someone bridge a gap and come out a changed man? Oikawa had discovered the secrets of the universe. They had conquered the world at nineteen.

“No,” Oikawa said. “I think we’re just really, really good at it.”