Work Text:
Oikawa, to everyone’s surprise, hadn’t had sex with anyone in his life but Iwaizumi.
A lot of people thought due to his flirtatious nature he must warm beds quite often, but he doesn’t. His flirting was merely a means to pass the time, and in all honesty, get the attention he’s been craving for years since he and Iwaizumi separated.
It’s beginning to get frustrating.
Every time Oikawa closes his eyes to get off, it’s Iwaizumi there, and all means of masturbation fly from the window so he can instead contemplate the decisions he made when he graduated high school. If he even manages to touch himself, it becomes images of an awkward Iwaizumi on top of him—his eyes closed in pleasure, thrusting, while Oikawa bites his lip and tries not to cry from the discomfort of bottoming.
Iwaizumi is always a fucking cockblock. Oikawa is starting to grow tired of it.
That’s why when he and Atsumu are in Oikawa’s hotel room, a bottle of champagne being passed between them, Atsumu looking delicious in a pair of too tight shorts and one of Oikawa’s overly large shirts, he asks the blond: “How do you get off?”
Atsumu, who’s scrolling through his phone, looks up at him with a smirk. “Are ya tryna get in my pants, pretty boy?”
Oikawa huffs. “I can’t jerk off,” he bluntly states. “Every time I do I think of my ex. It makes me uncomfortable.”
“Oh.”
Atsumu is on his belly in Oikawa’s bed, his feet waving in the air and his elbows propping him up. His soft bleached hair is almost curly from the shower he just had, and Oikawa can’t help but feel a burning in his gut every time he takes in the casual comfort of Atsumu with him.
“When was the last time ya had sex?” Atsumu asks, locking his phone and placing it face down.
With all the attention on him, Oikawa feels his cheeks heat up. “Uh…six years ago?”
Atsumu’s jaw drops. “Six years!? What the hell Oikawa!? Was Iwaizumi the last person ya fucked?”
“Yeah?”
“No wonder he’s all you can think about,” Atsumu laughs. It almost makes Oikawa feel bad, but Atsumu’s warm hand resting on his leg pulls him from that negative mindset quickly. “Ya need to have sex with someone else. Or, I don’t know—read some erotica, watch some porn.”
“Do you do that?”
Atsumu rolls on his back so he can get closer to Oikawa, resting his head in Oikawa’s lap and smiling up at him. “Babe, I dunno if ya know this, but my body count is probably as high as a porn star’s. I don’t need much to get off.”
Oikawa runs his fingers through Atsumu’s hair, studying him. It makes sense someone as attractive and outgoing as Atsumu would find partners so easily—so why can’t he?
“I’ve tried porn and reading it,” Oikawa admits in a murmur. “I even try to flirt but it’s like every time someone puts their hands on me, I don’t like it.”
“Maybe ya need an emotional connection before ya have sex.” Atsumu’s eyes flicker down to Oikawa’s stomach, and before the brunet can blink, a smooth hand is slipping under his shirt and grabbing his hip—a thumb ghosting across his belly button. “Do ya like it when I touch you?”
Oikawa turns even more red than before, and he stammers. “I—I—“
Atsumu smirks, and then before Oikawa knows it, he’s being pushed on his back so Atsumu can straddle his hips.
Oikawa sharply inhales when he feels Atsumu’s solid weight press onto his cock, a shiver running down his spine. He can’t even recall when he started hardening, but it’s obvious by the way Atsumu leers down at him with a grin that the blond did.
“When you were with Iwaizumi,” Atsumu starts, placing a finger underneath Oikawa’s chin to then run it slowly down the curve of the brunet’s neck. “Did ya ever top?”
“N-No,” Oikawa gets out. Fuck. How was Atsumu turning him into a puddle of hormones with just one touch?
“Maybe you don’t just need someone that you have connections with,” Atsumu explains. “But someone who can take ya as well.”
“Maybe,” Oikawa breathes in response, too caught up in trying to control himself to really think. His head spins when Atsumu’s hands trail to the hem of his shirt, and lightly grip it.
Atsumu leans down, and Oikawa bites his bottom lip and swallows a groan as the movement pushes against his fattening cock. “Tell me if you want this or not,” Atsumu whispers into his ear. “I’ll stop the minute ya say no.”
“I—“ Oikawa’s so tight in his pants and his head is so cloudy, he can’t even think straight. He’s never had sex outside of Iwaizumi, much less topped, so how could he even please Atsumu? The blond just said he got around, so how could he ever match the experience he most likely bedded before?
“I can feel ya thinkin’,” Atsumu sighs. “So tell me—“
“I just don’t want to be bad for you,” Oikawa cuts him off in a whisper, his voice much more gravely and deep than he’s ever heard himself get. “If we do this, I want you to feel as good as I do.”
Atsumu pulls back and smirks. “Oh, yer sweeter than I thought ya’d be. I am gonna have so much fun with you.”
“Please,” Oikawa whispers. “I want this.”
“Good.”
Atsumu leans down, once again rolling his hips and arching his back so he can press deliciously into Oikawa’s groin. When their lips meet, Oikawa finds himself melting into the bed; all of his tense muscles unwinding as his eyes flutter shut and he focuses on their joint bodies.
Their lips move together like a fluid wave, pushing and pulling, and as their lips become more relaxed, as Atsumu’s mouth opens up to allow Oikawa’s tongue to press inside, the brunet grows bold enough to run his hands along the curve of Atsumu’s back so he can grip at the ass grinding against him.
Atsumu gasps, pulling away slightly as Oikawa kneads at the flesh, pushing him further down in a grinding motion.
“Your body is beautiful,” Oikawa tells him, breath hardly even as he tries to fuck against the small fabric of Atsumu’s shorts. “You’ve always been so beautiful, Atsu.”
The blond leans forward and presses a soft kiss to Oikawa’s sharp jawline. “I have even more beauty for you to see.”
Atsumu sits up straight and pulls his top off, revealing an expanse of golden, tan skin. His nipples are a dusty pink, perky and pointy against the cool air brushing them. There’s a small, tattooed date along the curve of his sharp hipbone—the date he first played in the Olympics. Oikawa’s mouth salivates at the sight of the tattoo, wanting nothing more than to press Atsumu down and run his tongue over it.
“I want to lick you,” Oikawa says, pushing himself upwards. Atsumu would’ve toppled out of his lap, had he not been quick to loop his arms around his neck.
Oikawa grips Atsumu’s waist in his hands, squeezing hard enough so he can see his own fingers turn white along with Atsumu’s skin. He then presses his face into Atsumu’s neck, breathes in, and licks a long stripe from the base of Atsumu’s throat all the way up to the edge of his chin.
“I thought ya don’t have sex,” Atsumu teases. He sounds pent up already, and that alone does wonders for Oikawa’s ego. “Seems like yer a pro, to me.”
“I need to see more of you,” Oikawa states against Atsumu’s neck. “Fuck, you’re everything.”
Atsumu yelps when Oikawa moves his hands under Atsumu’s thighs, and with one fluid motion, Oikawa flips them so Atsumu is the one being pressed into the bed.
This position allows Oikawa to spread the blond’s legs, placing Atsumu’s body on display. Atsumu whimpers and covers his mouth with his wrist when Oikawa moves down to lick at the tattoo, outlining each letter and number and dash with the tip of his tongue.
Once he’s satisfied worshiping the tattoo, he throws Atsumu’s legs over his shoulders and yanks down the obscene shorts he’s wearing. He has to adjust them in order to reveal Atsumu’s sensitive sex, but once he’s done, he settles between the other male’s legs like it’s his home.
“I want to eat you alive,” Oikawa says, nipping the front of his teeth on the fat of Atsumu’s left thigh. The leg over his shoulder twitches, and Atsumu lets out a little gasp. “You’re sensitive here, aren’t you?”
Atsumu’s reply is a moan when Oikawa latches onto his inner thigh and begins to suck and bite. The blond digs even deeper into the bed, crying out Oikawa’s name as he yanks on Oikawa’s hair, causing Oikawa to bury his teeth even deeper.
“K-Kawa—“
Oikawa pulls back, leaving a string of salvia in a ring on Atsumu’s thigh. “Call me Tooru, baby.”
“Tooru,” Atsumu whines, closing his thighs around Oikawa’s head. “Please, I want more.”
“I thought I was supposed to be the one begging.” Oikawa flicks his eyes upwards, a pit of passion burning in his gut when he sees the light tears pooling on both of Atsumu’s eyes.
“Yer a natural,” Atsumu breathes. “Just please—eat me.”
Oikawa pushes Atsumu’s thighs open even further, spreading him as open as he possibly can. In this position he can see Atsumu’s hole, which looks so tiny he wonders if he’ll be able to fit. Still, the sight is enough to make Oikawa’s tongue throb.
He leans forward and pauses a few centimeters away, his breath brushing against Atsumu’s hole. He watches as it clenches around nothing, pretty and pink and edible.
“How are you perfect everywhere?”
“Just, fuck—“
Oikawa feels Atsumu’s hands bury even further around his skull, allowing the blond to push him inside. He opens his mouth submissively and presses the flat of his tongue against Atsumu’s hole. His heart beats loudly in his chest as Atsumu’s legs twitch around him, the man’s moans echoing throughout the room.
“Fuuuck, please,” Atsumu begs. “Please, Tooru—“
Oikawa latches his lips onto the hole like he’s sucking on something, using his hands to spread Atsumu apart so he can poke his tongue inside. It doesn’t taste like anything other than skin, but he can smell Atsumu’s citrus body wash this close—tickling his nose and making him believe Atsumu’s skin is the sweetest he’s ever tasted.
He moans into Atsumu’s hole, hands fiercely gripping the fat in his hands, pushing it together and then apart again. He loves the feel of Atsumu’s hole clenching around his tongue and the way the legs over his shoulders jerk when he presses in deeper and deeper until his jaw is aching from the stretch.
Oikawa moves his tongue around, exploring curiously, and when he brushes Atsumu’s prostate—Atsumu bends like a bow off the bed and crosses his ankles to try and force Oikawa even closer.
“Fuck do that again,” Atsumu begs. “Please, Tooru, fuck, fuck, fuck!”
Oikawa hums, the vibrations making Atsumu’s hands curl into fists in his hair again. Atsumu bucks and moans and whines as Oikawa continues to lick across his prostate, abusing it thoroughly.
Atsumu’s cock lays heavy and neglected on his stomach, precum leaking into the crevices of his abdomen and slowly drooling down to the sheets below them. It pulses with an itch to be touched, but both Atsumu and Oikawa are too wrapped up in what’s going on to even bother.
Deciding that just his tongue won’t be any good to thoroughly stretch Atsumu out, Oikawa frees one of his hands, the other keeping Atsumu wide open so he can press his fingers inside of Atsumu alongside his tongue. When his mouth seems to be in the way, Oikawa pulls back and stuffs Atsumu full with two of his fingers, making sure to dig deep and crook in the direction he thinks the blond’s prostate is in.
“God yer fingers,” Atsumu moans, fucking himself down so his ass is seated nicely on Oikawa’s knuckles. “They’re so long~”
Oikawa pulls back, gathers a ball of spit on his tongue, and lets it drip from his lower lip to cover Atsumu’s hole. Atsumu’s eyes widen as Oikawa uses a third finger to smear the wetness all over. It’s obvious they won’t be using lube—Oikawa is too hooked on the warmth of Atsumu’s skin to pull away—so he has to stretch and get Atsumu as wet as possible.
“T-Take off yer clothes,” Atsumu whispers.
Oikawa responds by gently forcing his third finger in. His pinky and thumb are the only fingers he has left on the hand. He hums from his chest, and frees the hand spreading Atsumu to pull his cock through the opening of his pajama bottoms and boxers. The feel of the air wafting around him, with the rubbing of fabric along the side of his shaft makes him hiss.
He wants nothing more than to be inside of Atsumu right now—but he’ll have to wait.
Oikawa ignores the outside world in favor of focusing on the man in front of him. He spreads his fingers apart, pulling the walls of Atsumu wide and making him gasp, before sliding his fingers back together and curling them to poke at his prostate. After a few moments of that repeated motion, he finally is able to get his pinky finger in. Atsumu makes a small sound of pain when Oikawa pushes his pinky and index finger underneath, causing the width to double.
“Seriously,” Atsumu pants, hole clenching around Oikawa. “How did ya get so good at this?”
“I just want to touch you,” Oikawa says, and it’s the truth. He’s working on pure arousal and greed, wanting nothing more than to turn Atsumu inside out—and that urge is enough to guide his fingers where they have to go.
Atsumu gasps when Oikawa pulls out and then fucks back in, before spreading his fingers open. He closes them, pulls out, and then fucks back in again. He takes pride in how Atsumu’s baby brown eyes roll to the back of his head and his mouth drops open in pleasure at the movement. He does this a few times, slowly building up his speed before Oikawa is leaning over Atsumu’s torso, fucking him furiously with his fingers.
“Tooru!” Atsumu cries, tears leaking out the side of his eyes. He’s now gripping onto Oikawa’s shoulders, untrimmed fingernails digging deep into his skin, thick thighs wrapped tightly around the brunet as he pleads for more. “Fuck me! God, that feels so good! Fuck!”
Oikawa presses his nose to Atsumu’s collarbone and licks, moaning at the taste of slightly salty sweat dripping down his body. His hand might as well have turned into a drill the way he fucks Atsumu with it—twisting his wrist so his nails brush against the sensitive walls, pushing in and out and in and out in a speed no human should physically be able to do.
“I’m g-gonna cum,” Atsumu cries. “P-please, wanna do it around yer cock. Fuck me, baby, please, I need you—”
Atsumu is cut off when Oikawa presses his lips to his, burying his fingers deep into Atsumu’s hole and keeping the pressure tight against his prostate. Atsumu opens his mouth and Oikawa dips his tongue in, both of them salivating to the point drool escapes the side of their lips.
Oikawa pulls back after sucking the liquid into his mouth, spitting it into his own palm so he can slather the obscene amount of spit along his cock. Pre-cum mixes with the salvia, thoroughly coating him to the point he can pump himself without feeling any skin scratch skin.
Atsumu watches with wide eyes when Oikawa then dips his fingers into the pre-cum gathered on his abdomen, scooping it with careful fingers before he pulls his hand out of Atsumu’s hole. He rubs the now cherry red color with the pre-cum, making Atsumu’s cock twitch in interest.
“Please,” Atsumu pleads. “Tooru, I—”
His words choke into a moan, and his eyes roll to the back of his head when Oikawa begins to fuck his way inside. His cock isn’t very long, but the girth is wide and stretches Atsumu perfectly. It’s wide enough that his hole flutters around it, but not too wide to the point of discomfort.
Atsumu throws his head back and tilts his hips upward, moaning loudly. “Ohhhh~”
Oikawa doesn’t stop until he’s so deep, the fabric of his pants are soaked with the pre-cum and saliva of his cock and Atsumu’s hole. He moans lightly, taking a moment to close his eyes and enjoy the feel of Atsumu around him. He’s warm—warmer than anything Oikawa has ever touched, and he fits him like a fucking glove.
“Your hole was fucking made for me,” Oikawa growls, gripping Atsumu’s hips with his hands and squeezing roughly. “All mine, you understand?”
“Yes, yes,” Atsumu nods, cheeks bright red and eyes watery with tears. “All yours, baby. Made just for you, Tooru.”
“You’re so gorgeous,” Oikawa continues to mumble, running his hands from Atsumu’s hip upwards. Once he’s at Atsumu’s nipples, he presses his thumbs roughly into them and rotates. The way Atsumu clenches around him at the action is almost sinful enough to make him cum. “Fucking beautiful, you know that? Pretty pink nipples…thick thighs, pretty face—fuck, you’re perfect.”
Atsumu lets out a yelp while Oikawa begins to pull out slowly.
“So warm around me,” Oikawa groans, tilting his head back and squeezing his eyes shut. He’s so lost in the feel of Atsumu, he hardly knows what to do. “So fucking tight. I could live inside you forever. I could die like this, Atsu—you’re so fucking amazing.”
Atsumu’s mouth falls open in a small gasp when Oikawa’s head catches on his rim, moaning lightly when he begins to push back in.
“Those shorts you were wearing tonight with my shirt—God, you had to be planning this—you looked so fucking good. Sculpted by the damn Gods, that’s what you are. I think I’d die between your thighs if you let me.”
“Yo-you’re beautiful too,” Atsumu gasps.
Oikawa shakes his head. “No, no, I want this to be about you—you’re so—fuck—let me just show you how I feel.”
Before Atsumu can do anything else, Oikawa’s hands move under Atsumu’s legs, gripping the expanse of his ass. He digs his fingers into the flesh, groaning at the handful that spills between his thin fingers, and uses it as his handle to bring Atsumu on and off his cock.
Atsumu moans loudly, bringing his torso up so he can once more wrap his arms around Oikawa’s neck. He holds on tightly as Oikawa fucks him as though he’s nothing more than a doll—his entire body relaxed as Oikawa’s muscles strain from the weight.
“So fucking tight,” Oikawa groans, pressing his mouth to Atsumu’s ear and nipping at it. “So fucking good for me, fuck.”
When the head of Oikawa’s dick finally finds Atsumu’s prostate, the blond wails loudly into the room, squeezing his thighs, digging his fingers deep and begging for Oikawa to keep it up.
“Fuck, fuck, r-right there!” Atsumu yells, panting. “That’s it, baby, please keep going—harder, faster, I need you!”
Oikawa groans, biceps burning from their position. He pulls out and Atsumu yelps, rolling over on his stomach when Oikawa’s hands command him to. Like this, Oikawa can see Atsumu’s full back. He licks his lips and spreads Atsumu’s ass open, his fingers spanning over the width. He groans at the loose hole dripping with wetness, wanting nothing more than to shove his face back in—but Atsumu wiggles, trying to get his attention.
“P-Please~”
Oikawa places both of his hands by Atsumu’s head, lifting his body up in almost a plank position. His hard cock is hanging low, and he has to stabilize himself on one hand to guide himself back inside. Atsumu hikes his hips up and reaches behind himself to spread himself open, tilting his head so his cheek presses to the bed.
Oikawa pushes himself in, and Atsumu chokes at how deep it feels in this position. It’s like Oikawa is in his gut, pushing his way through whatever's in the way to make himself at home.
Atsumu’s eyes water and he lets go of himself to grip at the sheets, biting down into them with a whimper. Oikawa settles like that for a moment, before he’s thrusting again. It’s just like before—slow and steady building up and up and up until Atsumu is gagging on his words as he’s railed into the bed like no one’s ever done to him before.
“So good, so good,” Oikawa repeats, leaning down to bite down on the space between Atsumu’s shoulder and his neck as he pumps deep. “My boy, aren’t you? All mine?”
“Yes, yes,” Atsumu breathes, trying to ignore the fact his entire lower body feels almost numb from the thorough fucking hes getting. “All yers—only yours—want ya so bad, Tooru. So b-big inside me right now, holy fuck.”
“You look so good from behind,” Oikawa babbles, eyes soaking in Atsumu’s trim waist and his broad shoulders and the way his ass bounces slightly with every thrust. “So good all the time but this—fuck—this is the best I’ve even seen you. I c-can’t hold on for much longer.”
Atsumu wraps a gentle hand around one of Oikawa’s wrists, smoothing a thumb along the main vein as he pants. “Finish i-inside. I want to feel all of you, Tooru. Make me yours.”
Oikawa growls and sits back on his legs, pulling Atsumu up and backwards so the blond is sitting on his lap. “Work for it if you want it so bad.”
Atsumu’s eyes twitch as he bounces, Oikawa’s hands settling on his hips as he fucks himself up and down—the steady slap of skin against skin ringing in the room. It’s so loud, so raw, so unfiltered, and Atsumu’s so turned on that when Oikawa merely ghosts past his prostate on a particularly hard thrust—he crumbles.
“Tooru!” Atsumu wails, bending himself in half to push his face into the sheets. His cock finally snaps, his release shooting directly underneath him and staining the sheets. Drool coats the side of his mouth and tears leak from his eyes, his thighs trembling even if his ride was a short one.
Oikawa might as well have fucked his brain with how destroyed he feels.
After he cums, his hole fluttering around Oikawa’s cock, the brunet follows suit. He wraps his arms around Atsumu’s waist, clutching onto him as his cock expands and begins to pump cum into Atsumu. By the time he’s done, his lower stomach is burning, his mouth is dry, and he can feel his spend leak down his cock, trying to escape Atsumu’s hole.
They spend a moment catching their breath, before Atsumu gingerly pulls away, whimpering when Oikawa’s now soft dick falls from him.
“Ya really were pent up,” Atsumu says, eyes widening at the feel and sight of how much cum leaks from him. “Fuck, Tooru, that’s hot as fuck.”
“Come here.”
Oikawa ignores Atsumu’s crude words in favor of flopping onto the bed, his fringe slightly sticking to his sweaty forehead. He opens his arms, and grins like an idiot, beckoning Atsumu towards him.
“Yer cocks hangin’ out.”
“My bad.”
Oikawa lifts his hips and strips himself of his underwear and pajama bottoms, cum staining the crotch. He flings it to the floor and then yanks his top off, sighing at the cool air that brushes along his naked body. Once that’s done, Oikawa lays back and beckons Atsumu over again.
“Ya know now I know ya don’t have sex a lot,” Atsumu sighs, cuddling into his friends (?) arms. “Why aren’t we cleanin’ up?”
“Just recharging for round two,” Oikawa says, leaning down to press a soft kiss to Atsumu’s lips. “No need to clean up when we’ll be at this all night.”
“HUH!?”
“I haven’t fucked anyone in six years. Did you really think one round was gonna be enough?”
“But—“
“What?” Oikawa looks down at Atsumu with hooded eyes. “You need me to find someone better than you?”
Atsumu growls, grabbing a stray pillow to beat Oikawa’s chest with. “As if ya could find better ass than me!”
Oikawa licks his lips, already hardening when he can’t help but take a glimpse. Yeah. He’d never find ass like that anywhere else.