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If Kageyama wasn't careful, he would burn.
Hinata's body moved sinuously, looking like a sin, ready for men to look and beg forgiveness to God.
Brazil was many things, capable of changing and giving life experiences even to the shyest of the individuals. Hinata Shoyo, staying a more-than-enough 2 years in the country, didn't even have a chance.
Being around the place during 2016 and 2017 made him well acquainted with Brazilian funk and its beat, and the many people he got to meet didn't ever lose the chance to teach him how to move or drink. With time, his stuck up body went from moving stiffly like a robot to full body waves, hips rolling to all the sound blasting around him.
Pedro and Heitor weren't much fans of such gatherings, but Nice had always loved a good party. It was either because Heitor trusted a lot his girlfriend or Hinata himself, perhaps both, that he always let them go with a smile, only sometimes tagging along to nurse a beer or something else by the bar, eyes following as Nice made sure to drag Hinata until he stood among the throng of people and nudged him until he moved, already following the beat herself.
A “passinho”, as he had been taught, was more than one thing, but could be combined and well used into whichever funk you probably heard. Hinata didn't think he had really gotten the explanation at the time, but he never asked again, just went with it.
As such, he went along. Practice after practice, game after game. He would enjoy all the peace morning brought him, meditating out on the sand, with the smell of the ocean and the cool breeze and the small amount of people to be crazy enough to get up with the sun, and then he would play and play and play, just enough to be satisfied for the while he rushed around with his bike to deliver all the food he needed to in time. Then, he would let himself be slightly more free, coming back for more games, but also drinking and playing football and something he didn't really know the name of, but involved rackets and a tennis ball that always ended up almost being washed away by the weaves.
When Oikawa came around, things only got better. A mere week, but a fun one full of laughs and lost but now found again passion. Of pressing bodies on the dance floor and rolling ones over silky sheets. Of love and friendship and small, stolen, pocket-like moments. Heaven and Hell and all in between.
Even later, back in Japan, whenever they were off-season, Atsumu made sure to make the team go out to eat in a fancier restaurant for bonding and good time, and then take as many as he could out partying in celebration before they went their separate ways to visit family and friends. It was always lovely to feel the body heat coming from another individual as both swirled to all the sound blasting around them.
So, of course, once the roster for the year’s VNL were announced, and with the possibility of landing the Olympics yet again, he was one of the first to agree to partying to it as a form of celebration. They were getting old, after all. Who knew for how much longer their whole group would stand together as such, fit for the job and career they chose to follow.
The matter of where was quickly dealt with, and the only need would be people bringing in drinks and snacks for them besides themselves, and that was it. A date was found, everyone came up with their own schedules around it, and it was only a matter of waiting a few days until it was time.
As it is, the current situation was probably highly expected, something that was ought to happen. Bokuto and Atsumu, even with Sakusa tagging along to try and rein them in, ended up with way too many expensive bottles and cheap beer cans in their possession, dropping plastic bag after plastic bag on the table once they barged inside the apartment. Only a few remembered to bring things for consumption that were not alcohol.
(Aran had brought lots of fruit with him, holing himself up in the kitchen to cut all of them and arrange it in a few plates he was able to find. Suna had curled his nose at the sight, because “Really? We’re here to party and drink and you brought fruit?”, and “We're here to have fun, not die. We still need to play.”
Ushijima had nodded from where he had put his own things down, taking out way too many bottles of water and a variety of nuts from his assortment of bags. Beside him, Hoshiumi was bent over a specific one their captain had dropped closer to him, which ended up carrying way more snacks and chips and chocolate bars than Iwaizumi would ever let them dream about. Suna nodded in appreciation.
Hyakuzawa was the last angel on Earth still hoping the Men’s JNT would not end the night with alcohol poisoning, probably, as he also brought water and crackers with him.)
(It was actually kinda surprising how Hoshiumi kept getting more and more forbidden food, always stashing it away in places no one ever found out, even after all the years they've been a team, somehow capable of buying more and more as time went on. Also surprising how he stayed fit enough to fly under their athletic trainer’s radar.
Even Bokuto was constantly scolded by Iwaizumi for hoarding food he was not supposed to be eating, and the man had long given up on making Tendo stop sending chocolates via Ushijima for them to eat — they were good.
With them going to Paris, Iwaizumi’s most pressing matter was probably finding a way to keep Tendo from barging in the Village and fattening them all up before any game.)
Soon, the party was in full swing. That would be the only time they'd be able to indulge before Iwaizumi started whipping them in shape, forcing them to be at the top of their form and performance, ready for coach Hibarida’s standard. So they would drink, and they would dance.
Kageyama, in all honesty, had ended up only arriving in time because Hinata had offered his place for the fanfare, big enough to miraculously fit the tall and buff bunch that were the members of the JNT. Even with it not being used much most part of the year, with him off in Brazil, they both were used to hanging around each other's places during the off-season and in Tokyo for National Team training.
(And perhaps Atsumu's joke of Kenma being Hinata's sugar daddy had some merit. Kozume was willing to pay for anything as long as the redhead stayed interesting, or whatever, even with the endless complaints he received over the lack of need for it all. Komori had whistled before commenting about Hinata's ability to apparently collect setters left and right without pause, which only got him a dazzling slime filled with something more.)
Even then, Kageyama had found a spot for him to silently drink something beside Ushijima and Kiryu. He had no idea about what was inside his own cup, since Hoshiumi and Atsumu were apparently the ones inside the kitchen creating mayhem, but Yaku had been the one to hand it over to him, Komori eagerly accepting a glass too, so he supposed it wasn't too deadly.
He picked a piece of mango and ate it with a hum. Sweet.
(At the corner, Gao was observing his old teammate screaming with Atsumu as they both kept their bartender competition — which was going miserably, by the way — Sakusa with a ever darkening face at each spilled mess they ended up with.)
All around them, there were a large bunch of things happening.
From somewhere, Bokuto had gotten his hands in many many cups and a few ping pong balls. His shirt was nowhere to be seen as he hollered for someone to play beer pong with him, and whatever else that the loser had to do. Kageyama had a small impression that he heard the word “pool”, and he really hoped no one would tumble down the stairs of the apartment building to throw themselves inside the pool, they wouldn't be able to save anyone from drowning.
Suna was draped over one arm of the largest couch, lazily scrolling through his phone and checking whatever he checked to be as well informed (“Gossiper. That’s what he is.” Sakusa had rolled his eyes, which had Suna replying, “I prefer information gathering.”) as he was. Hardly anything went past him. Sakusa was actually by his side, or as close as possible, which. Wasn't he in the kitchen earlier? Probably got himself a drink and left as soon as he could. A glass with probably-expensive-drink-and-not-whatever-was-happening-inside-the-kitchen in hands.
Yaku had found a way to climb Hyakuzawa's arm and was pushing himself up his shoulder, screaming with Bokuto to change the glass cups he had picked for something less breakable, which had Komori testing the ability of the table to stay upright by jumping over it like they were training and it was leg day. (While the table remained firm, Komori himself almost slipped back and head first back down as his socks slid over the smooth wooden surface. His cousin only deviated his eyes, unwilling to involve himself.)
Well. It wouldn't be a table Bokuto would break easily, at least.
By them, Hinata had been walking around with a can of cheap beer, and moves quickly to trust one arm up on the small of Komori’s back to keep him upright, grinning and giving a thumbs up as if he had not just done that with a 181,1 cm tall and 75 kg heavy grown man with one single hand.
(If Kageyama stored that information for future purposes, no one needed to know.)
He sipped his drink, grip just a bit tighter. His eyes wandered over the place and its decorations.
The amount of money he spent in making the place doable for such events was something not worth mentioning, but very smart to think about and end up investing in. Volleyball players were really loud on a good day. Drunk was something that no one should probably know.
With Hinata's social butterfly personality, it wasn't hard to have someone around for whichever reason it was. Just crash, eat something, watch a movie, series or match, play video games, play more volleyball. Do nothing.
(“I sound proofed the place!” Hinata had replied, smiling as he jumped up and down without care as if to prove his point. “With everyone coming here all the time, I thought it would be for the best to not bother any neighbors and maybe get the police called for excessive noise or something. Good call, right?”
Kageyama, at the time, had only rolled his eyes and looked away, already making his way to the kitchen to see what he could make. He wondered what he was even doing around when he had his own place to live when in Tokyo.)
(The reason was obvious to anyone else you asked, probably.
Kageyama had been one of the last to enter the locker room to shower and change before going home for the day, staying longer with Iwaizumi so his old senpai could check his ankle where he had felt a sharp pinprick of pain after landing from one of his famous and deadly serves that still kept him at the top of the rank in Japan — much to Atsumu's dismay.
Such a thing — never good, never something anyone should do —, of course meant that most of his teammates had already showered or were about to go in, standing in various states of undress or even naked. Years in volleyball meant that he had long sensitized himself to such sights, and besides a few fleeting glances and a bit of heat licking his ears, he didn't bother with it any longer than necessary.
The problem ended up being when such times collided with one specific person.
The situation had been as such: Kageyama had just walked in the locker room, already tugging his shirt off so he could just open his own locker and stuff it inside his gym bag, looking for his toiletries and towel to undress as fast as he could and finally be clean. However, as much as that had been the plan, the universe and all its deities were conspiring against him, because just as his head came out of the bottom of his shirt, Hinata walked out of the shower area, towel around his waist, chattering like a jukebox and laughing beautifully in a way that threw his head back and showed the expense of his neck, water droplets falling down from his still wet hair and making a trail—
Suffice to say, Kageyama had slammed head first on Ushijima’s locker door, which had been open as the man looked for his own things.
It was good that he had been removing his shirt at the time, since he could just blame it on literally seeing nothing but the inside of his own clothes until it was too late. It was wonderful as Ushijima looked at him worriedly, following him to the sink to have a look at his probably bruised face and bleeding nose, because it made him miss Hinata — who had already reached his locker by then, and definitely removed his towel — turn to face him worriedly in all his glory nakedness.
Dear gods.
When the invite came to go to the redhead’s house, the “Fine” was blurted out without his brain’s consent. Kageyama only realized the question existed and that he had answered it when he got a beaming smile in answer.
Dear gods, indeed.)
(Hoshiumi, and probably Suna, he was pretty sure he heard Suna — and Sakusa's deep sigh — had laughed loudly at the sight. He was not going to think about the why.)
So. Good for parties.
Kageyama took another sip of his drink, eyes scanning around the large room lazily. Still the same things. Bokuto making a mess, Suna recording, Atsumu making a mess, Komori cheering, Hoshiumi without his shirt, Hyakuzawa already passed out on a couch, Sakusa sitting at the loveseat looking like he wanted to be anywhere else, Hinata dancing, Ushijima probably already drunk talking with a half asleep Aran and Kiryu, Yaku yelling from Gao's should— his brain stopped, and Kageyama blinked, trying to process the information. Hinata dancing…?
His eyes went back, and he promptly choked on his drink.
Hinata’s head was slightly fuzzy by now, colors and too fast moving forms blurring all around him. It only made him feel more thrilled, throwing his head back and exposing his neck as his hips made a circle, arms thrown up in the air, hand grazing the opposite one before slowly sliding down an arm, shoulder, and then chest. He smiled, twirling in place.
A true beauty, that one. Hard to one’s eyes away, with such a witch throwing their spells around. Transfixing. Gorgeous.
He had been swaying in his living room for a while now, the space cleared off of the coffee table and all the couches pushed flush against the walls to create space for the day, and even then his body still seemed to scream for more. Ever since he went pro, it became harder to party as he usually did. Even in Brazil, he only ever went out when the rest of his teammates from ASAS decided to, their captain agreeing to it.
He was an athlete, and he valued his body and what it could do. Hinata wasn't going to auto sabotage if he could help it, not again. Not anymore.
But, as the day to indulge came, something inside him stirred, and the little things he missed slowly filled him again. Adrenaline, pulsing free with every single discharge his brain did, hormones filling his body with glee.
Besides, the whole team was standing there. No one could fault him for having fun, right? Considering that some like Aran, Sakusa, Gao and Ushijima probably only came to make sure they wouldn't die or make a whole scandal, it was still a pretty good time to have fun. Probably.
Hinata sipped his drink, trying to remember what Atsumu said that he had put inside, but Hoshiumi had immediately shoved a shot in his hands, so he wasn't sure he heard correctly. Vodka Smirnoff, a kind of lemon — Sicilian maybe? —, passion fruit, by the taste, and was it pepper? Or perhaps he got the one with sake and pineapple and whatever else it was. He didn't know.
Well, it was good. That's what matters. He nodded his head to the beat, smiling and taking a larger gulp instead of a simple sip.
From what he had seen, Bokuto’s screaming had been enough to break the arguing between Hoshiumi and Atsumu inside the kitchen, both eagerly getting close to play beer pong. It seemed to be going well. Hinata squinted. Or maybe not, what were the shot cups for?
A blink. Two.
A shrug. Well, they would stay alive, for whatever it was. None of them would risk their careers by dying and then being killed by Iwaizumi, in any case.
With a spin that should've spilled his drink was the glass any fuller, Hinata got back to dancing with glee. His body moved automatically, already knowing what to do without his conscious mind. It was very freeing.
He laughed at Atsumu’s whistle, winking towards him as he shook his butt, arms moving nonstop. Knocking his head back, he gulped down the rest of his drink, twirling to put it aside.
Lots of training ahead, Japan was not one to be underrated. They were gonna do their best. Be the best. No matter who came after them, they would train, and they would fight it all with their heads up.
The thrill of it all lit the fire under his veins even more, thinking about all the games they would be able to play, all against the best of the best across the globe. First, the Volleyball Nations League. Show everyone why he deserved to go to the Olympics. Then, hopefully fly to Paris with the other chosen ones.
Komori got close as he straightened up after bending down, a strawberry in hands. The libero smiled, opening his mouth to indicate Hinata to do the same, moving the strawberry closer. A smile lit up the redhead's face, leaning closer with his face to wrap his lips around the red fruit, sucking to pop it inside his mouth. He chewed happily. Ripe and sweet.
Twirling around a bit with Komori in thanks, he swayed around for a while with him before sending him away with a spin, going back to his solo performance.
Hinata smiled, spinning in place with his head thrown back, arms open wide. He spun and spun and spun, moving his whole body with the lyrics, melody and harmony. Following the rhythm. Pouring his soul.
He would always try to do his best.
But for now, it was time to let go of any worries.
No one would stop him tonight.
It was only a matter of time before someone finally got the courage to move close, hands sliding against a perfectly grabbable waist, looking thinner due to broad shoulders and thick thighs.
“Hi, beauty.” Hinata breathed, smelling like alcohol and sweat and cologne, as he turned in place to face the one who had approached, hands pressing against Kageyama's chest before wrapping around his neck. His golden brown eyes shone as he looked up to the other man.
Kageyama could only feel his heart skip a beat, suddenly going faster.
Hinata was laughing with his eyes, the way he always seemed to be doing. Carefree and happy. His hands, however, kept tickling the back of Kageyama's neck, playing with the short strands he could reach there. His body hadn't once stopped moving, and even his turn to face him had been as smooth as a dancer.
Breathtaking, very literally.
“Wanna dance?” Hinata hummed, hips undulating to the sides as his knees bent little by little, letting him go down slowly, arms coming down with it, hands pressing over his shoulder, further down his chest, and leaving a hot hot hot trail in their wake.
Kageyama's throat was very dry. He nodded just a bit, suddenly making the decision to walk away and knock back anything else still in his glass and shoving it into someone's hands — he really didn't know — before turning back his attention to the one he wanted.
Already back to moving, up on his feet, Hinata was still looking like an angel. It was perhaps only because of years of friendship that he didn't get offended or confused with his sudden leave. He smiled once he saw Kageyama back, swiftly making his way over and circling his shoulders with his arms.
“Then let's dance.” Hinata muttered, leaning over him and letting his hot breath fan over the shell of Kageyama's ear.
His body moves like a snake, almost as if there was no bone in him. A never ending constant. Of rolling hips and bending spine. Of exposed throat and slowly blinking eyes. Of grinding bodies and curious hands.
Kageyama was pretty sure Hinata did not know how to dance, not when they studied together and spent six days a week around one another. He had been flexible enough, but not by much. Not like this.
(He knew that Hinata was very flexible. For some reason, the quartet dubbed MSBY 4 had something about folding their bodies in almost half whenever they warmed up, legs capable of opening up in almost full splits.
Sometimes, they would just be stupid and silly like that. Sakusa would always roll his eyes in the background, the only one still on the ground to properly stretch his legs. Hinata and Atsumu would be finding ways of standing and equilibrating in one one leg, holding the other up to their ears. Bokuto would try his best, but really, the amount of muscle he carried didn't really allow him to do that.
Hoshiumi had dared them once to do a bunch of yoga poses challenge, making sure to record and photograph the whole thing — he had come prepared, a professional camera that no one knew where it came from inside his bag —, perhaps hoping for disaster and funny moments, but instead they only got many many volleyball players tangled up when also trying their hand, and aforementioned four had all completed it with varying levels of glee, all with success.
It did give him a good view of flexing muscles. Very good.
So, whatever the reason, bless the gods.)
They would sometimes do it for silly reasons. Suga-san always loved to put something to play so they would have a soundtrack on the background while milling around. Tanaka and Nishinoya had also been like that, although they would be a very different kind of music, where they more jumped and screamed than really moved side to side in a calm and relaxed way.
Hinata had always been right in the middle.
Clumsy, stiff, stupid. A total and complete boke that sometimes managed to drag Yamaguchi and Yachi into a small circle with him so all three of them could have fun with whatever was playing at the time.
During their third-year, he had decided to be the one to continue the tradition. Whenever they were doing nothing around their quarters for a training camp or competition, he would find a way to put something on and dance to it, making a few like Shoji join him in his stupidness and drag a few first-years to also holler around. Even then, he still did it more for the fun of it instead of any and actual dancing.
He was horrible at it.
Even then…
Brazil was a very different country from Japan, Kageyama knew. Not even Italy could compare, no matter how much arguing and convincing his teammates could try to do.
The tan was already something that drove him completely insane — and he so wanted to know for the longest time if he could press his fingers over the differently colored skin and watch it redden and bruise the same —, the difference in build was something else that threw his mind in a tangle.
But.
Always the social butterfly, there was something magnetic in Hinata that attracted people like a moth to a flame. Eyes followed him everywhere, and not always because of how unusual his orange strands were for a Japanese person, making them fascinated in finding out if he truly was one. Brazil, however, managed to magnify it tenfold. He was more carefree in his way, and even more touchy. There was a sway to his steps now, hips going side to side almost as if inviting someone to fit their hands right there. There was poison, hooking, sinking, and sticking. Deep, deep, deep, deeper.
An aphrodisiac. Water amidst the dry desert.
Kageyama didn't know how to dance, even if his teammates in Ali Roma insisted on teaching him a bit. His body was not fit for that. He couldn't roll it, he couldn't shake his hips, he couldn't wave his arms, he couldn't shuffle his feet.
Really, dancing was not for him. Not in this life. Not in a million years.
He was getting drunk.
Very drunk.
What was inside his drink?
Well. He couldn't dance.
He still tried.
Kageyama did his best, eyes focused and squinted, flush high on his sharp cheekbones. Tried copying what he saw Hinata doing, the way he went on and on like water running down a river. He even tried watching the rest of his teammates that decided to dance, too, really, but he couldn't keep his eyes away for too long from the fiery red hair in front of him.
So, he did his best. He put his hands around his waist and grabbed a hand. He let the beauty spin around and around, hang on him and then get up on his own feet again and immediately get back to being so, so alluring.
Really, Kageyama didn't think anyone was capable of tearing their eyes away. It felt like a sin to do so. To miss such a sight, to not appreciate such beauty.
Not a single day could go by without at least one thought about Hinata Shoyo. Not when you had already laid your eyes on him. Not when you had already talked with him. Not when you had heard him laugh. Not when you had seen his eyes sparkle. Not when you had seen his freckles bloom like flowers during the summer. Not when you had seen him grow.
Beautiful, so, so beautiful. Gorgeous. Pretty. Handsome. Alluring. Charming. Graceful. Attractive. Bewitching. Magnificent. Divine.
Kageyama could very much believe in Hinata being a kitsune, with shiny and fluffy orange fur, ready to cultivate all of its nine tails, alluring men across the globe to have fun and become stronger for all eternity.
He wouldn't mind, to be bewitched as such.
Time was inconsequential, and if anyone asked, he would not know for how long they kept wounding up around one another. Their bodies simply moved like one, Hinata’s laugh like music whenever he used his own to nudge Kageyama to do something.
His eyes, molten caramel, crinkled in joy, against his own blueberry ones.
They twisted, spinning nonstop, pressing close and stepping away. Like magnets with opposite poles. Pulled close, but pushed far.
Hypnotic.
Two halves of one whole, like yin and yang. Like soulmates. Soulmates interconnected through life and death and all in between.
He had waited for years.
If you get really good, I promise you…
Hinata pushed their foreheads together, just a small touch of a few seconds before dancing away.
Somebody who is even better will come and find you.
He could wait even more.
For this. For him. Small things. Small moments. He would wait for eternity.
Would he be the chosen one? Would they one day meet into one? Only destiny knew what it had spun inside their life strings, and Kageyama could only hope that yes yes yes.
Until then… Until then, he could wait.
And he would wait.
And he would dance.
Like there was no tomorrow, he would enjoy and he would dream, let his head spin and blur and make a mess of the world, but always find the light that shone against the dark.
His eyes took in Hinata's weaving form, going around their friends with his eyes closed and a smile before opening them up and looking straight at him.
His guiding sun. Forever and ever. Always.
At some point, Hinata had fallen right back into his arms, his own throw over Kageyama's shoulder. His unbound energy is still thrumming inside his veins. Electric and numbing on the tongue. He grinded their hips together, with chests pressed close. Eye to eye. It was instinct to fit his hands over that tiny waist. Thick from muscle, but still somehow smaller in width than his shoulders and hips.
Kageyama could drown in him.
They kept like that for a while, perhaps not. Hinata’s gaze bore holes into his skin, made his lips tingle.
A beat of the heart.
A small exhale.
Just the tiny intake of breath.
It was sudden, but it was also not. One second they were simply looking, wondering, and on the next, their lips had already crashed, smashed together fiercely, moving without rhythm. Kageyama's mind could only swirl in place, thoughts foggy and without direction.
Hinata kissed like he lived. A life force, strong and bright and sudden. Something you didn't even know you missed, and yet it wasn't around when you needed it, but also something that came right at the moment it was supposed to, not before or after. Never late.
It was fierce, and a bit uncomfortable at first. Teeth clashed together and noses bumped, and Kageyama's mind was way too slow and foggy to even figure out what to do with his hands, clenching uselessly against Hinata's waist as his heart started to speed up. There was no gentleness to it, and he really wanted to remember how to kiss. Were kisses supposed to be like this?
A low rumble sounded — kinda weird to the ears, Kageyama mused. Almost like a growl. Were humans supposed to make such sounds? His ears were malfunctioning a bit, things were quite muffled —, and suddenly there were hands on his face, fingers curling in his hair, and his face was titled down and to the side properly, Hinata also angling his own, and oh— that's how kisses are supposed to be.
The new, better angle meant their noses were not bumping anymore, and teeth were definitely not clicking anymore. It made their lips make more than press painfully against one another, moving in tandem and slowly achieving some sort of synchronization.
A hand tightened against his hair, tugging slightly and making a noise rise up his throat and get stuck there, his own hands clenching in answer, falling down to rest against beautifully sculpted hips — hints of the powerful muscles that made this man fly, soar, peeking through. It made him feel like an addict, and he so, so wanted to feel more of it shifting against his hold.
Kageyama really liked Hinata's legs. And butt. They were very very nice.
He sighed deeply, pressing down more so they lips would remain connected, sucking lightly at the bottom one, hearing a slight hitch in Hinata’s breath as he did so. Beautiful. He wanted more.
Pulling the body closer, Kageyama very much wished it was possible for two people to merge into one, to keep the man in his arms with him forever and ever. His, his, his. Could such a free soul one day be his?
Almost as if hearing his thoughts, Hinata pressed up, harder, teeth coming to tug at his own bottom lip, now, tugging slightly. It stung a bit. Kageyama loved it. He only gave the redhead a second to breath after releasing his lip before he was dipping down for more.
Later on, Kageyama would kinda miss the blank spots in his memory, where he didn't really know how things happened and how they got to that point. Surely it was better to never forget a single second of what happened. But alas, they were not in Hinata's living room anymore. The loud music was so muffled it couldn't be really heard if you didn't pay attention. The vibrations of the sound traveling and hitting their own cells before reflecting back couldn't reach where they were.
It made him even more aware of his own body, and how it felt.
There was a citrusy flavor to Hinata’s lips, probably from a drink. Sweet. Something else. Not really that discernable.
Kageyama wanted more of it.
He wouldn't mind to just stay there, kissing. Be kissed. Forever.
There were hands fisting the front of his shirt, making sure he remained bent. Almost as if afraid he would just straighten up and leave. Which. Ridiculous. Hinata Shoyo was Ridiculous. With capital R.
He put his own hands over them, feeling as his bigger palm, longer finger, enveloped the slightly smaller ones. The magical hands that did all they did. The beautiful hands that hit every single one of his tosses, even the ugly ones.
Please, his mind begged, hands gripping tight. Hold me and never let me go.
A hum left his mouth, muffled, as a tongue kitten licked his lip just slightly, almost nothing. Kageyama let go of Hinata's hands to slide them over soft, fluffy, heavenly hair, tugging and massaging the scalp.
The hands he had been holding slipped their way down to his waist, firmly planting themselves there. A thumb teased a slit of skin in between where his shirt and waistband didn't really meet.
Goosebumps rose, skin pebbling with it.
There was little he wouldn't do to feel more of those hands on his skin.
Inch by inch.
He was truly becoming an addict, wasn't he?
It wasn't a bad thing to fall for. Not if they were like this.
Fingers flexing, Kageyama wondered how could someone so perfect exist. So everything. A hand played with the hem of his shirt.
Thinking for just a few seconds, his mouth moved away from the wonderful lips they were against, planting them over and over wherever he could reach.
A bell-like laugh.
The sound of the angels.
He kissed a cheek. He kissed an eyelid. He kissed an eyebrow. He kissed another eyebrow, and then another eyelid. Then, another cheek. His mouth went up, and he kissed his forehead. Deep. Lingering. Before traveling down a nose bridge, then the tip. Up close, all the freckles and moles Hinata had gained from spending so long exposed to the tropical sun blurred together, almost disappearing. That wouldn't do.
Kageyama leaned back, thumbs running over no longer so squishy cheeks. They hadn't been so for years.
(A pity. Kageyama really wished to kiss them. He only ever had the opportunity to poke them during his adolescence. His drunk mind wandered. He was a bit stupid, wasn't he?)
Well, he could mourn the fact later. Very kissable lips were waiting for him.
Dive back in was like reaching home.
He hummed in appreciation as those amazing hands finally, finally slipped up his shirt, smooth against his abs and up his pectorals, before sliding back down to settle over his hips. Calloused. Rough. Hardened from so much work. Amazing. Do it again.
Was it possible to die from kissing? He felt like it was.
Or maybe it was just Hinata.
Hinata, Hinata, Hinata.
Always Hinata.
The hand that had sneaked around his waist pressed against a sensitive spot he didn't know he had, making a sudden moan escape him, lips parting with it. Hinata didn't waste a second of it, though, smiling for only a few seconds before his tongue was dipping inside his mouth, intertwining against Kageyama's own and exploring around, licks leaving a mess of spit in their wake. It was disgusting. It was fucking hot.
At some point or another, he had definitely been pressed against a wall, and despite him being the one angling his neck down to meet with the other’s lips, Kageyama didn't really know if he was the one in charge anymore. Or if he ever were.
A moan rose up his throat, immediately swallowed by the mouth against his and muffled by the tongue willing to explore every single crevice inside his mouth. There was a tight slotted in between his legs, insistent. Consistent. A shiver traveled down his spine, and he arched it.
“So gorgeous, Tobio.” Hinata smiled, separating for just a little while. He ran a hand down the side of his face. “Aren't you beautiful?” Kageyama's breath hitched, heart skipping a beat. “Oh? You like that?” A hum. “Pretty boy.”
And then his lips were captured yet again.
His blood was on fire, running around his body and under his skin like molten lava. Every bit of Kageyama's body was alight and so in tune with the ridiculous man in front of him. It sung in happiness at the praise. At the name.
“Shoyo—!” He gasped, and his head fell back as that leg pressed harder.
“What did you just say?” Hinata grabbed his hair, tilting his head just enough for their eyes to meet. “Say it again, Tobio.”
He would combust from the heat. Kageyama was sure of it.
“S-Shoyo…” His breath hitched, his throat dried.
“Such a good boy.” Please, please, please, please… (Please what? the rational side of his mind would ask. He wouldn't know how to answer.) “Good boys deserve a treat.”
And then his head was pulled back, and a hot hot hot mouth was pressing against his skin. Kageyama gasped, squirming, eyes falling open in wonder. His hands had a firm grip on Hinata's shoulder, and without that and that devilish leg, he would've probably fallen by now.
Some still rational part of his mind remembered both Ennoshita and Iwaizumi talking about hickeys on the neck and its danger, but he honestly couldn't remember what at the moment. Or even care, really, not when there was a mouth trailing kisses down its side, tugging down his shirt collar to latch on his collarbone and suck, with just a bit of teeth and the hot and wet press of a tongue.
How was it possible that his brain was still as solid and alive, instead of melting down with the whole of him?
Kageyama wasn't capable of a single straight thought at the moment.
His whole body shuddered as kisses came back up his neck, a hickey suddenly being planted on the left underside of his jaw.
He was melting. Completely and utterly gone.
Kageyama could die and ascend right then and there.
A hand reached up to grab orange gold curls, body rising to his tiptoes. Too much. Not enough.
The hands under his shirt were searing their shape on his skin. Melting, molding, fixing there.
More, more, more, more, more—
“Someone's quite eager, hm?” A low chuckle.
Oh. He had said it out loud, hadn't he? Kageyama couldn't help the whine that escaped his throat. That tone of voice.
He needed to hear his name sounding like that.
“Shoyo, Shoyo, Shoyo—”
“Now, now, Tobio.” A kiss to his cheek. “Wait a bit more, just a bit.” And his lips were full again.
Perhaps, kissing Hinata Shoyo was the best thing to ever happen to Kageyama Tobio. It was definitely high on the list. At the top. Maybe battling with volleyball.
He was getting addicted, and he needed to do it forever.
Kageyama curled his other hand on Hinata's hair, pressing close close close.
He was a drowning man, and he had just found the wooden plaque that would be his salvation.
Hinata Shoyo.
Hinata Shoyo.
Hinata Shoyo.
Hinata Shoyo.
Hinata Shoyo.
He pressed their lips harder, intertwining their tongues.
The man that had saved him more than once. The man his heart had long ago chosen to beat for.
Hinata smiled, eyes ablaze, when they finally parted for good. A string of spit was the only thing still connecting them, chins a mess of all the drool. Kageyama was either really drunk or very much in love, but Hinata Shoyo had never looked better in his whole life. Hair a mess, strands sticking everywhere after being so obviously pulled and tugged, lips a bright and cherry red, swollen and bruised, cheeks aflame from exertion and something more, eyes a deep pool of dark black with only rings of gold.
Oh, he wanted him so bad.
The gaze directed to him was still as bright as ever, but the eyes had gotten a hooded and fiery quality to it. Kageyama swallowed, throat almost clicking with how dry it suddenly became, almost like he had not been trading spit just a few seconds before.
The smile, such a sinful smile from such a pretty mouth. He wanted to be kissed silly, made to forget his own name.
It was easy to let his body be pushed until his legs hit something else, until his back rested against something soft and a bit bouncy, until his neck was dotted with red and his body was on fire, until every nerve was alight and pulsing with electric life, until his throat couldn't let a sound out, until his mind was nothing but him.
It was only unfortunate that Kageyama had long dipped his hand inside the fire.