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Oikawa is a big enough person to admit – he likes attention, and there’s nothing wrong with that. He grew addicted at a young age, as soon as he discovered his talent for volleyball was a gateway to people looking at him, admiring him, complimenting him. It didn’t help that as he got older, the attention started coming for different reasons – girls would giggle as they passed him by in groups of twos and threes, glancing at him shyly from under their eyelashes; men would size him up on the court, and Oikawa could see more than just competition in their eyes.
He’s powered by the gasps that fill his ears whenever he hits one of his monster serves, revels in the praise he gets from his team after a win – especially from Iwa-chan. Infuriating as it is to Oikawa, Iwa-chan is mostly immune to his every day charms. It seems to physically pain him to even have to tell Oikawa, ‘good job’, because he knows he’ll get that self-assured smirk in return. Oikawa can’t help his ego – everyone has been building upon it for years!
He knows, however, that Iwa-chan isn’t completely unaware of why Oikawa has so many eyes on him all the time – he’s caught him staring a fair amount, and their third year, he finally does something about it, backing Iwa-chan into the wall of the locker rooms and kissing him senseless, until both are panting, moaning messes.
Iwa-chan yells at him on their way home afterwards. “Idiot. You can’t ambush me like that. We could’ve gotten caught.”
“You aren’t going to comment on the actual nature of the actions that just took place, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asks, airy, and he smiles at the small blush that spreads all the way to Iwa-chan’s ears.
“I wasn’t that surprised by it,” he says.
Oikawa hums. “That’s true, the sexual tension has been building up for years.”
“We can’t tell anyone, though,” Iwa-chan insists. “It’ll make it weird for the team. Just – we’ll keep it a secret. For now.”
“Ooh, clandestine,” Oikawa sighs. “How dreamy – like an erotica. I’ll be your dirty little secret, Iwa-chan.”
Iwa-chan elbows him in the stomach and takes off without him, ignoring his cries of, “Iwa-chan, don’t leave me!’’
They keep it a secret for a while – almost the entirety of their final year, in fact, but after a while, Oikawa gets antsy. He wants to show off that he has Iwa-chan – that he’s the one who can crumble his hard exterior and make him squirm. He wants everyone to know that Iwa-chan lets his guard down for Oikawa, that he calls him Tooru , accompanied by little sighs and moans before he comes apart. When Oikawa tells him this, Iwa-chan scrunches his nose up at him.
“You would have an attention kink,” he says.
“I just want to show my Iwa-chan off,” Oikawa whines. “Everyone is already suspicious, anyways. Makki called you my wife the other day.”
Iwa-chan looks thoroughly offended. “ You’re the wife.”
“Rude, just because I’m the pretty one,” he huffs. “Mattsun is planning one last night for the third years – before we graduate. We should tell them then. They’ll never forgive us if we tell them on FaceTime after everyone leaves.”
Iwa-chan grumbles. “Fine, just don’t do it in some dumb, theatrical way.”
Oikawa grins, knowing full well how mischievous he looks. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
-x-
They choose Makki’s house for the Farewell-To-Their-Old-Lives party, because for reasons he refuses to reveal, despite years of interrogating, he is rich, and has the fanciest house by far. Plus, Oikawa has seen his parents a total of one time in his life, so they would definitely have the place to themselves.
Makki welcomes them in and immediately shoves little pink bottles of alcohol in their hands. Mattsun is already on the couch, looking to be on his second drink, and Oikawa smiles. So, it’s going to be this kind of night – it’s what he expected, but it still fills him with a thrill. He takes a swig of his sake and throws an arm around Iwa-chan. This time, he lets him, and Oikawa’s stomach fills with warmth.
“Took you two long enough,” Mattsun comments. “Were you making out or something?”
Iwa-chan opens his mouth like he’s about to confirm it, because it’s just like Iwa-chan to go the brutally honest route and take all the fun out of revealing a secret, but Oikawa cuts him off. “No, I had to make sure my hair looked good enough for all of the selfies I’m going to take.”
Makki groans. “You didn’t tell me I had to look nice – am I expected to put on a front in the comfort of my own home?”
“I need pictures to hang up in my room in Argentina,” Oikawa insists. “Don’t worry, I always use filters for you.” He winks and Mattsun bursts into laughter.
They all settle around the couch, drinking and talking shit, just like they always do. A movie plays in the background, but nobody pays it any mind, all too busy musing over the future and reliving the past three years.
Oikawa, though he will never admit it, is a bit of a lightweight, and he’s well on his way to passing tipsy just an hour in. The sky outside has darkened, and Mattsun is in the kitchen ordering delivery while Makki grills Iwa-chan on his American culture knowledge, in which he himself is sorely lacking.
“Isn’t it all cheeseburgers and fries? You’re gonna get fat,” he accuses, “Then I’ll be the second hottest one in the group.”
“There’s a thriving health industry there, so I’ll keep that title, thanks,” Iwa-chan points out dryly. Nobody argues about Oikawa being the clear number one – good, there would be no way they’d win anyways.
“What about guns? Don’t you need to own a gun to be American?”
“Your stereotypes are terrible.”
“Iwaizumi is going to meet a hot blonde and forget we exist,” Mattsun sighs, after the order has been placed.
“What about me?” Oikawa whines. “You aren’t worried about me meeting a hot Argentinian and forgetting about you?”
“We welcome it,” Mattsun says seriously.
“I don’t like to hope too much,” adds Makki.
Iwa-chan laughs, and only Oikawa notices that he shifts a little closer to him on the couch. Iwa-chan is not the jealous type – he knows he has all of Oikawa’s attention, but he can’t help the slight possessive streak he has. It’s subtle, kept so for the sake of secrecy, but Oikawa always picks up on it – he’ll walk a little closer when they pass by a group of gawking women, or let his hand brush against Oikawa’s; he’ll sit so that their thighs almost touch, acting like it’s just natural, or there’s no room, but Oikawa knows.
Their food comes and they drop the future conversation and focus on inhaling their food, sipping soju in between so they don’t sober up too soon.
Makki laments about their second years and their subtle personalities, praying that a maelstrom of new first years will come in and shake things up.
“Kunimi needs someone to light a fire under his ass,” Mattsun agrees, “But if any of the first years have a penchant for being disrespectful, Mad Dog is going to eat them.”
“Oh, he passed his classes?” Makki asks. “He told me one practice that he hadn’t been to class in a week.”
Iwa-chan rolls his eyes. “I pass him in the hallways carrying books all the time. The bad boy thing is all an image.”
“Just like you, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa teases. “You look like a brutish, mean gorilla but you’re really an adorable puppy dog.” He taps his nose and Iwa-chan scrunches it in response, but doesn’t try to force him away. He’s fully committing to this secret reveal tonight.
“Oi, Oikawa.” Makki smirks at them, like he’s all-knowing, and Oikawa loves having the upper hand on him, knows exactly what’s coming. “How are you going to survive without your precious Iwa-chan? Haven’t you been together since you left the womb?”
“I did live a tragic two whole years without Iwa-chan, actually,” Oikawa sighs. They were a hard two years, indeed, and then the Iwaizumi family moved in next door and the sun shone on Oikawa’s life for the first time.
Makki is eying him, and Oikawa knows that this is the perfect moment. He needs the optimal reaction, and for that, he has to word this confession very carefully. He throws back a shot, still watching Makki watch him, and then he smiles. “You sure are interested in Iwa-chan and I, Makki. What, do you think we look hot together?”
Mattsun snorts and Iwa-chan’s blush is lethal. Oikawa can play Makki’s game in master mode, win and become the new boss.
Makki doesn’t back down, though. In fact, he doubles down, going for fully casual, and he shrugs. “Sure, you two make a pretty visually appealing couple.”
Oikawa elbows Iwa-chan, who has moved several micro-centimeters closer to Oikawa and is radiating body heat. He wants to put his hand on his thigh, but not yet. “Hear that, Iwa-chan? We’re nice to look at.”
Mattsun shakes his head in his usual disbelief of Oikawa’s antics, and Oikawa knows him – he’s waiting for Iwa-chan to be the logical one, to stop this game and tell them all to fuck off, because there’s obviously nothing going on between him and Oikawa.
Unsurprisingly, Iwa-chan stays quiet, only offering an incoherent and vaguely embarrassed mumble of an agreement to Oikawa’s statement. Iwa-chan, as it turns out, is an even bigger lightweight than Oikawa, a fact which he finds extremely high levels of adorable. He’s so obsessed with his health and well-being (especially since he’s taken up a new hobby of trying to build his body into true gorilla form) so he didn’t choose to drink often. Tonight is a special occasion.
“Honestly, we’re just trying to get you to admit you two are into each other.” Mattsun affirms Oikawa’s suspicions – they had been onto them for some time, which will make this whole thing much easier. It’s time for the next phase of his own game.
He cocks his head to the side, giving Makki and Mattsun his most challenging look he can manage – reserved strictly for volleyball, and for situations like this. “And if we are?”
He takes his hand and deliberately lays it on Iwa-chan’s thigh and rubs it slowly up and down.
“What then?”
Everyone waits with bated breath for Iwa-chan’s reaction, and when he doesn’t tell Oikawa to ‘fuck off and die’ like he would if nothing was going on between them, Makki lets out a whistle.
“So you have been holding out on us!”
Iwa-chan, who is surprisingly cool and collected for how drunk he is and how much Oikawa knows he likes to have his thighs touched, shrugs. “I didn’t want to embarrass myself by being associated with him even more than I already am.”
Oikawa scoffs and jerks his hand away as if he was burned. “ Mean, Iwa-chan! Just for that, I’m not gonna kiss you anymore.”
“God, they kiss,” Mattsun murmurs, kind of to himself. “I thought we were all joking about that.”
“How long have you been kissing?” Makki demands, leaning in. “Oh my fuck. You two shared hotel rooms at away games. You mean to tell me scandalous behavior was happening behind those closed doors?”
“Ah, the innocence is gone,” Mattsun groans. “I didn’t think they were really doing this.”
“Hey, answer my question!”
“Hmm, kissing?” Oikawa puts a finger to his chin, and moves his other hand closer to Iwa-chan’s groin. He doesn’t miss the way Mattsun’s eyes flicker to the change in placement. Oikawa smiles and turns to Iwa-chan. “I think the first time I kissed you was in third grade?”
Iwa-chan rewards him with a laugh. “If you count that, sure. Idiot headbutted me in the nose and then ‘kissed it better’.”
“Cute,” Makki says, slightly faint.
“Yes, so if we’re being technical, Iwa-chan has loved me since we were children, but if we’re going for the more mature definition of kissing – last year,” Oikawa explains. “There has been a lot of kissing since last year. Among other things.”
“Oh my God,” Mattsun repeats for probably the third time in two minutes.
Makki chokes out, “What other things?!”
“Use your imagination,” Iwa-chan suggests, and oh, Oikawa loves when he’s drunk – he’s so shameless, so bold. He sees Iwa-chan’s hand twitch where it rests in his lap and Oikawa giggles and runs his hand to the inside of his thigh.
Makki and Mattsun both watch the journey of Oikawa’s hands with rapt attention, and when he clears his throat to remind them of where they are, presently, Mattsun runs a hand through his hair.
“I don’t have much of an imagination.” He’s slurring his words a bit, but seems to be faring better than Makki, who is having some sort of crisis and just staring.
The whole situation is a tricky mixture of terrifying and hilarious – Oikawa had only meant to mess with Mattsun and Makki, to make them uncomfortable enough that they would eventually throw pillows at his head or threaten to kick him out of the house, but this… this is a turn of events. Oikawa doesn’t mind, though – he loves a good surprise.
He has an idea.
“Do you want us to show you?”
He’s met with an answering silence, but then Makki clears his throat, and croaks, “Show us… what exactly? The kissing?”
“Sure,” Oikawa offers, as if the whole thing was Makki’s idea in the first place. He turns to Iwa-chan and puts a hand on his shoulder. “What do you think, Iwa-chan? You wanna show off a little?”
Iwa-chan has enough dignity to keep himself together when Oikawa is touching him like this, but a little while longer, a little closer – he’ll be putty in his hand. Since he’s not there yet, though, he rolls his eyes and says, “They don’t want to see that.”
Mattsun speaks up first, “Kinda do.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t be opposed,” Makki squeaks and then widens his eyes, like he can’t control what comes out of his mouth.
“It would just be crazy,” Mattsun further explains. “To see. You two. Because we always suspected.”
“Right,” Makki agrees, nodding vehemently. “This is really just, like, proof you’re not messing with us.”
“Okay.” Oikawa nods amicably. “Well, you heard them. They want a show, Iwa-chan. Are you up for it?”
“This is exactly the opposite of how I told you to do this,” Iwa-chan scolds him, but his voice is airier than it usually is, and his next words confirm what Oikawa already knows, “But I’m drunk, so.”
He turns his head towards where Oikawa waits, closing the minuscule distance between them and brushing his soft lips against Oikawa’s.
Kissing Iwa-chan for the first time was like putting together a puzzle – Oikawa had to do it carefully and purposefully, piece by piece, finding out how they best fit. It didn’t take him long to learn how Iwa-chan ticked – he was more reactive than he would lead people to believe, and his hard exterior crumbled when Oikawa got his hands on him.
He’s kissed Iwa-chan hundreds of times since the first, but even now, he still reacts in surprise when Oikawa slips his tongue into his mouth, though this time, he’s not the only one – Oikawa hears Makki’s small gasp and knows he has he and Mattsun’s full, undivided attention.
Good.
He squeezes Iwa-chan’s inner thigh and he groans before shifting his body so he’s up on his knees facing Oikawa completely. All of the air in the room seems to fly out the window as Oikawa wraps his arms around Iwa-chan’s waist and deepens the kiss, and Iwa-chan lets out the most uncharacteristic whine that Makki and Mattsun will have ever heard.
He smiles against Iwa-chan’s mouth before pulling away to check on his audience. “Well?” He raises an eyebrow.
Makki, at the very least, tries to maintain his dignity and hide his clear blush with a cough and a shrug. Mattsun isn’t even making an attempt – he’s simply staring, entranced.
“Didn’t know Iwaizumi could make noises like that,” he comments, like he’s talking about the weather.
“You wanna hear more of them?” Oikawa asks, equally as conversational. He flashes a smile at Makki, who finally seems to get himself together enough to give a shaky nod.
“Sure,” he replies, “‘Cause you could still be messing with us.”
“I could,” Oikawa agrees. “I guess you’ll just have to see if I’m telling the truth, or how far I’ll go to trick you.”
He doesn’t wait for a response, although he would’ve loved to see the surprise on Makki’s face. He’ll have to imagine it, because he’s occupied right now, latched onto Iwa-chan’s neck, mouthing over it softly.
Iwa-chan squirms and Oikawa hushes him with a bite, then he turns his head lazily and says, as if he’s addressing a class, “Iwa-chan really likes it when I kiss his neck. It drives him crazy, as you can see.”
“Uh-huh,” Mattsun mutters. “We see.”
Iwa-chan groans and closes his eyes tighter, and Oikawa will have to scold him for being so naughty later – he tried telling him that Oikawa was the one with the attention kink, but Iwa-chan is tenting in his sweatpants, practically panting at the spotlight he’s being given. Oikawa is happy to let him have it, but like this, Oikawa is more on display. He pulls away from Iwa-chan’s, breathing softly into his ear before sitting up. “Like this, Iwa-chan, here,” he says, and he shifts them so he’s laying on the couch, all spread out like a pin-up model, and he brings Iwa-chan down on top of him.
“Iwa-chan is usually on top, you know?” Oikawa gestures upwards, as if of course they would know Iwa-chan’s preferences in bed. “And before you say it, it’s not because I’m a bottom bitch, or whatever deeply hurtful names you call me.”
“You totally are.” Makki’s mouth is hanging open. “I mean, I didn’t, like, imagine who would be the top or the bottom or anything – ”
“Right,” Oikawa agrees amicably.
“But if we had, it would’ve been you,” Mattsun adds, and Oikawa notices that he’s clutching the floor next to him, digging his fingernails into the carpet.
“So rude,” Oikawa simpers, watching closely. Makki twitches under his gaze – he’s not usually so jumpy, but he’s a little worked up tonight. It’s fun to see him disheveled when he’s so often the one who has it all together. “Iwa-chan may be the one fucking me, but I’m in charge,” he says, like the simple fact that it is. Iwa-chan may be tough; he may fuck Oikawa into the wall while he pulls his hair; might litter him with purple and blue bruises, but he’s weak for Oikawa. Oikawa gets anything he wants from Iwa-chan.
“H-how often do you fuck each other?” Makki questions, wobbly.
“Couple times a week,” grunts Iwa-chan, and he’s lowered his body down so he’s flat against Oikawa now, his cock brushing against Oikawa’s thigh. He shivers, and Mattsun zeroes in on it. “Sometimes every day, if Tooru is in a particular mood.”
“It’s not my fault.” Oikawa pouts. Then, to Makki and Mattsun he says, “You two would want to fuck Iwa-chan every day too if you knew what it was like.”
“We could find out,” Mattsun suggests, and earlier it all seemed like it could be a joke, that they were just drunk and reckless on their final big night together before they all jetted away to different countries and continents, but Mattsun is nothing but serious.
Makki lets out a short breath and his cheeks flush for the umpteenth time that night. “Y-yeah,” he says, “I wanna know what it’s like.”
“Okay.” Oikawa nods. “Then pay close attention.”
He squeezes Iwa-chan’s ass and drags his cock against his own. Iwa-chan’s head falls forward into Oikawa’s neck, where he kisses and nips slowly, trying to distract himself from the sensations in his lower body. Iwa-chan likes to take it slow – sometimes he can’t, like after a practice where Oikawa has teased him so incessantly that he has to have him immediately, and takes him in the back of the locker rooms, pressed against the cool metal. Mostly, though, Iwa-chan takes his time – savoring the moment, Oikawa says, though Iwa-chan doesn’t share his penchant for romantic language.
What he lacks in the language department, he makes up for with his actions, and he’s not sparing their audience any of the details now. He raises himself and slots their hips together, grinding down with the intent to draw something out of him, and it works. Oikawa tilts his head back to rest against the arm of the couch and moans. He’s putting on a show, sure, but his senses are blurring, and when he sneaks a glance at Makki and Mattsun, he sees they’re not faring much better. Oikawa gathers his composure so he can fully appreciate Makki and Mattsun losing theirs.
“Iwa-chan, we want this to be authentic,” Oikawa says, watching him with mischief, “Don’t you think we have too many clothes on?”
“Oh my God,” Mattsun whispers. “This is insane.”
Oikawa hears Makki hit him.
“Yeah,” Iwa-chan grumbles. “We do. Show off your training.”
“Mine?” Oikawa scoffs as he wriggles out of his t-shirt and throws it in Makki’s direction. He sees his bemused expression turn to momentary panic as he catches it, then drinks in Oikawa’s body. “Future Olympic training is nothing compared to the work you’ve been doing, Iwa-chan.”
“He’s right, Oikawa,” Mattsun speaks up. “What have you been doing ?”
“Iwa-chan always drags me to the gym with him,” Oikawa says, glancing down at his now exposed body, then at Iwa-chan, who is tracing his finger from his chest to his belly button, tracing the lines of his abdomen before settling on the waistband of his shorts.
“You know how Oikawa is,” Iwa-chan says, so casual. He’s good at this game, and it’s making Oikawa sweat, just how normal Iwa-chan is able to act in such a surreal situation. “He gets determined and works himself too hard, but this time it worked to his advantage.”
“You’re a very motivating coach,” he tells Iwa-chan, and then he’s being kissed, desperate and heavy and Oikawa forgets everything but Iwa-chan’s lips, opening his mouth and keeping up with his tongue. Their bodies begin to writhe against each other, a competition for the most friction, and Oikawa struggles to tear Iwa-chan’s shirt off of his body. Iwa-chan lets him, then sits up on his knees, catching his breath.
“Got a little carried away,” Oikawa teases, and Iwa-chan nods, as if he just played a particularly grueling rally and was getting advice from their coach.
“Sorry,” Iwa-chan says to Makki and Mattsun.
“It’s fine,” squeaks Makki. “By all means, carry on.”
Mattsun nods and Oikawa smiles his most devious smile.
“You know what they’d probably wanna see, Iwa-chan?”
“What?” Iwa-chan looks down at him, hunger in his eyes that had zero chance of ever being contained, that burned for Oikawa for much longer than just the last year.
Oikawa licks his lips.
“They probably wanna see you blow me,” he says. “Especially since you’re so rudely teasing me right now.”
Iwa-chan smirks; his eyes are hazy. “They’d probably rather you suck me off, since you are the bottom bitch, after all.”
Oikawa gasps, all performative behavior forgotten. “I just explained that I’m not a bottom bitch, you menace!”
“I would prefer that,” Makki announces. “It’s just more consistent with what I’ve had in my head.’’
“Agreed.”
Oikawa is about to pout some more about the fact that his friends are so vehemently convinced that he’s a stereotypical bottom, but then he realizes what Makki has just said and what Mattsun has confirmed. “How often have you imagined us, Makki?”
Makki freezes like a searchlight has just been pointed in his face and he shifts, trying to subtly adjust the prominent bulge in his pants.
“Couple of times,” he whispers. “After practice… you two make some good plays together.”
“And you, Mattsun?” Oikawa prompts.
“Didn’t keep count.”
“It’s because you’re such a show-off,” Iwa-chan tells Oikawa, “So show off what else you’re good at.”
“Okay, Iwa-chan, you stay just like that. We’ll give them a front-row seat.”
Iwa-chan stays on his knees on the couch, but Oikawa crawls out from under him, and then holds out his hand so he can lead him to where he’s facing Makki and Mattsun, both frozen in place on the floor.
“Now, don’t be overwhelmed,” Oikawa tells them, conspiratorial. “It’s very pretty. I was shocked when I first saw it too.”
Then he pulls Iwa-chan’s pants down to his ankles and wraps his hand around his cock, showing it off to the other two. Iwa-chan is hard – probably painfully so, if his reaction to Oikawa touching him is this severe; he’s trembling.
Makki and Mattsun are just flat out staring now, and Mattsun is losing his willpower quickly, hands still locked to the floor, but twitching towards his lap. Oikawa wants to see him lose the little bit of control he has left.
“It’s different from the locker room, right?” Oikawa giggles. “I’m sure you looked, since you were apparently getting off to the thought of us.”
“Yep,” Makki admits. “But the looks didn’t do it justice.”
“It tastes even better than it looks,” Oikawa promises, and to prove that point, he wraps his lips around the head of Iwa-chan’s cock and swirls his tongue around the slit.
“Oikawa is a tease, as I’m sure you could gather,” Iwa-chan grunts out, and Oikawa hollows out his cheeks and takes Iwa-chan deeper, wondering what part of this Makki and Mattsun are watching the closest – do they watch Oikawa’s mouth, or the muscles of his back as he leans forward on his knees? Or do they watch Iwa-chan, and his fluttering eyelids and frantic, desperate breaths?
A broken moan leaves Iwa-chan when Oikawa takes him to the back of his throat, and he’s had enough practice at this point that he won’t gag. Oikawa is naturally talented – it’s a gift, good karma from a past life, and he uses it to his full advantage to become the best at everything he does. Blowing Iwa-chan became a competition with himself, and now he is a master.
“I let him get away with it, though,” Iwa-chan continues to narrate, “Because he’s so good at sucking dick.”
Oikawa pops up and rolls his eyes at Iwa-chan. “Maybe Iwa-chan will share me one day.”
“No,” Iwa-chan says, nonchalant. “I don’t care if they look, but they can’t touch you.”
Arousal spikes in Oikawa’s stomach – Iwa-chan is really into this, but then, so is Oikawa. He can’t remember the time he’s felt so hot, so unbelievably bare and scrutinized. Oikawa loves to be looked at and the feel of Makki and Mattsun’s burning gazes are warming him.
“You can touch yourselves, though, if you want,” Oikawa suggests innocently. “Or each other.”
Mattsun moves instantly, finally releasing his incredible grip on the floor and moving his hand to his lap. He rubs down on the bulge and immediately sighs in relief. Makki’s eyes go back and forth between Mattsun and Oikawa and Iwa-chan, clearly distressed.
“Just drink more,” Mattsun suggests. “You won’t remember it.”
“I want to remember it though,” Makki whines, then he groans and plunges his hand into his pants. “None of this ever leaves this room – I’m talking to you, Oikawa.”
“I wouldn’t dream of breathing a word to anyone,” Oikawa promises, thoroughly thrilled by the entire turn of events. He doesn’t want to share this, anyways – this moment is only for them; Mattsun and Makki are the only eyes he needs on them right now.
“You’re talking too much,” Iwa-chan tells Oikawa. He pretends to be offended, for just a moment, before he’s digging his fingernails into the flesh of Iwa-chan’s hips and taking him deep into his throat again.
Oikawa makes a show of moving his whole body as he lavishes Iwa-chan, bringing him to the edge, and then stopping just short, pulling off with a pop and a fiendish smile that Iwa-chan will surely recognize.
“Asshole,” he croaks at him, and he’s shaking all over, so close to the edge, but not quite there, not yet.
“They want to see you fuck me, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa soothes. “The whole experience. I can’t let you finish before that, and you fuck me so much harder if I tease you.”
Makki groans, no longer holding back and Oikawa glances over his shoulder to see both of his dear friends looking absolutely depraved. Mattsun is going slow, his hand almost lazy, watching Iwa-chan like he’s a famous painting in a museum, and Makki is practically spasming, as if his brain can’t settle on whether to go slow or to get this over with so he can flee. Oikawa smiles at him, and he blinks owlishly in response.
“Show them how you get yourself ready, if you want me to fuck you in front of them,” Iwa-chan commands, and heat floods to Oikawa’s cheeks at his tone of voice. This is his favorite Iwa-chan. He’s always been bossy and sharp with Oikawa when it comes to volleyball, school work, and their everyday lives, but in the bedroom it’s dominant, and it’s a beautiful side of Iwa-chan.
“Look closely,” Oikawa tells his audience. “This part is important.”
He wiggles out of his pants and his boxers too, and he’s on full display, still on his knees with his back to Makki and Mattsun. He wants to turn around and gauge their reactions, but it turns out he doesn’t need to – he hears the hitch in Mattsun’s breathing and the moan that Makki can’t hold back.
“Pretty,” Makki manages, barely.
“He’s gorgeous,” Iwa-chan agrees, and his eyes bore into Oikawa as he reaches his hand around and slowly inserts a finger into his hole, squirming just a little bit at the stretch. Iwa-chan continues, “That’s why everybody loves looking at him. Too pretty for his own good.” He reaches out and grabs a fistful of Oikawa’s hair, pulling his head back to his cock. Oikawa kisses it lightly while he opens himself up. “They can only look, though. I’m the only one who can touch.”
“Didn’t think you’d have such a possessive streak, Iwaizumi,” Mattsun rasps and Oikawa wishes he could see what Iwa-chan sees, knows it must be a delicious scene. He adds another finger in and licks a stripe up Iwa-chan’s cock, nothing but a tease.
“I could see it,” Makki says. He’s trying to sound conversational, but the words tremble as they tumble out. “The way he yells at Oikawa on the court – makes sense.”
Iwa-chan hums, half in agreement, half in acknowledgement of how Oikawa is twirling his tongue around his leaking cock. He smiles up at Iwa-chan, doe-eyed, and sees the desire there – mixed in with love, admiration, and every other emotion that Iwa-chan has looked at Oikawa with for their whole lives.
Oikawa inserts a second finger and starts to scissor himself open, feeling impatient. He’s sure Makki and Mattsun must be too, probably about at their limit. The room is stifling, and he thinks it’s about time for the grand finale.
He pushes in a third finger. Iwa-chan claims Oikawa gets into moods, but he’s not the insatiable one in the relationship. Just the previous night, Iwa-chan had fucked Oikawa into his mattress, so it doesn’t take much to get him ready. He’s been non-stop lately, and Oikawa knows he’s trying to make up for the years to come, where their visits will come few and far between. It’s not as if he minds.
“Makki, Mattsun,” Oikawa sings. “Since you’re our special guests tonight, you can pick what position.”
“Jesus,” Mattsun mutters.
“Aren’t you technically my guests? I mean, this is my house…” Makki trails off, then shakes his head. “You two have me so fucked up. I don’t know. Whatever you want.”
“I wanna see Oikawa ride you,” Mattsun tells Iwa-chan, shamelessly, and Oikawa laughs, positively gleeful.
“I’m flattered, Mattsun,” he preens.
“Shut up, you attention whore. It’s only because you want to prove you’re not a bottom bitch so bad,” he retorts, and he takes a sip of his drink with the hand that isn’t in his pants.
“Okaay,” Oikawa trills. “Are you okay with that, Iwa-chan?”
Instead of an answer, Iwa-chan pulls Oikawa up by his hair and crashes their bodies together. He latches onto his lips, smothering him with a positively dizzying kiss. Oikawa sees stars, for a moment, and wonders if he can come from just making out. It would be a first, but in this situation, he would say it’s very possible.
He’s hard to the point where he thinks he might break, so he forces himself to drag his lips from Iwa-chan’s, and whispers, “Fuck me, Iwa-chan.”
“He sounds like a pornstar,” Makki whines, and Mattsun grunts in agreement.
Oikawa beams and Iwa-chan rolls his eyes at him, but he leans back against the couch and lets Oikawa clamber into his lap. He positions them so that Makki and Mattsun won’t miss even a detail, and then he lines himself up with Iwa-chan’s cock and sinks down.
Iwa-chan hisses, and Oikawa knows neither of them will ever get used to this feeling – the heat, the tight squeeze, the delicious burn, and the way that they fit together so easily. Oikawa always knew he and Iwa-chan would end up like this – really, there was no world where Oikawa could imagine himself without Iwa-chan, so this was the next logical step, and now he gets to share it with two of his closest friends. He gets to show them how Iwa-chan touches him with so much care; they are witnesses to the way Oikawa can make Iwa-chan slowly lose his mind – it’s an addictive feeling, being able to show off.
Oikawa wants to pay attention to Makki and Mattsun but the background is crumbling away as Iwa-chan thrusts up into Oikawa, and he matches his pace, grinding his hips down, throwing his head back and whining out little words of encouragements and variations of Iwa-chan’s name.
Oikawa hears a groan that does not belong to him or Iwa-chan, and he turns his head to see Mattsun, cock now fully out of his pants, with his eyes closed and his hand moving frantically. Makki is watching, although his eyes flash to Oikawa, as if he can’t decide which scene he’s more interested in, but his hand picks up the pace too.
Oikawa writhes against Iwa-chan, slamming himself onto his cock. The slap of skin combines with the wet sounds of Makki and Mattsun touching themselves and it’s too much, it’s overwhelming, and Oikawa has been riled up for so long now. His orgasm hits him quickly, painting he and Iwa-chan’s chests white as he chases the sensation. Iwa-chan, teased to his breaking point already, follows soon after, gripping Oikawa’s ass and letting out an unearthly moan.
There’s quiet afterwards, and Oikawa wants to collapse onto Iwa-chan’s chest, but that would be rude, considering they’re on Makki’s couch, and they still have a very rapt, and now very silent audience.
“That,” Makki clears his throat, “Was pretty fucking unbelievable.”
“I don’t think it was normal,” Mattsun adds. “Like, friends don’t do this, right?”
“It’s only as weird as you make it, Mattsun,” Oikawa teases with what little energy he has left. Iwa-chan has not tried to pull out of him yet, and Oikawa wonders idly if he’s killed him. His eyes are closed, and his head is buried in the crook of his neck. “This just means we’re bonded forever now and you two will never be able to leave us for whatever cool friends you find in your college life.”
“I don’t think a sex ritual is necessary to bond us, but,” Makki sighs, “I’m not complaining. Except now I’m a mess.”
“I can still look you in the eye, so that’s a good sign,” Mattsun says, eyeing Oikawa carefully. “Jury is still out on Iwaizumi.”
“Fuck off,” Iwa-chan mutters, still unmoving.
“Yeah, holy shit – thank God we’re not on a team together anymore, because I wouldn’t be able to hear you call for a toss without hearing your moans in my head.” Makki shudders.
“Fuck off, ” Iwa-chan grumbles.
Oikawa giggles, and hugs Iwa-chan closer to him. None of them have fully processed what just happened, but he feels light and bubbly and high off of the attention. They really will be best friends forever after this.
“Are you gonna support Argentina then, when I make the National Team and go to the Olympics?” Oikawa asks.
Mattsun snorts. “I guess we don’t have a choice.”
Makki shrugs. “Only if you’re good.”
They go to clean up then, Makki and Mattsun in the upstairs bathrooms, and Oikawa and Iwa-chan on the main floor. As Iwa-chan wipes him down with tissues, gently, carefully, Oikawa thinks that while he gets off on the attention he gets from others, all he really needs is attention from Iwa-chan.
He could live the rest of his life with that.