Chapter Text
Kuroo doesn't think he's ever seen something more erotic in his entire life.
"You like my cock, don't you," he breathes, settling his fingers deep into dark locks of hair, enjoying the feel of the man's lips rubbing against his cock like he can't get enough of it in him.
The man moans in response, his head shaking slightly as he struggles to breathe through the force of Kuroo's grip. His mouth is so slick, saliva dripping down his chin as he tries desperately to take in as much of his cock as he can.
Kuroo doesn't mean to be choking this guy on his dick, but the feeling is just so intoxicating that he really can't hold back. The familiar feeling of heat builds up in his gut, and Kuroo's mouth turns dry. "Fuck," he groans, his hold on the man's hair tightening. "Gonna come," he grunts, shoving the man's mouth onto him deeper.
The sounds only increase, and only get more intense. The feeling builds up until Kuroo knows he won't be able to hold back anymore. His right hand twitches against the man's scalp, warning him to pull off. The man doesn't move.
Holy shit, Kuroo's going to come straight down his throat.
Kuroo can't control the jerking movement in his hips as he reaches his peak, his head thrown back as he fucks this guy's throat as he lets go. There's no feeling more satisfying, the man's mouth hot and wet and just goddamn enticing, and the sounds that reverberate from his throat has he groans, swallowing his come before pulling back with a gasp, white liquid spilling from his lips and down his chin.
Daichi stares right back at up, his eyes glazed over with want as Kuroo's come slides further down his face. "Tetsu," he moans, his chest heaving. Rising to his knees, Daichi shuffles closer.
Kuroo leans forward, meeting the other man halfway. "What is it, babe?" he asks softly.
"I need you to-"
A shrill sound of ringing fills their ears, and Kuroo's head jerks up. Daichi's mouth is still moving, but Kuroo can't hear him over the incessant noise.
"Daichi?" Kuroo asks, but Daichi isn't there anymore.
Kuroo's eyes fly open, and he is alone. Beside him, his phone beeps, the time on the screen reading 8:00AM. Groaning, he rubs at his eyes before contemplating the entire situation.
Did he just have a sex dream about Sawamura?
Kuroo scoffs. Impossibe - Kuroo didn't have sex dreams about other people. If anything, people had sex dreams about him. He wasn't sure what the hell all that was, but there was absolutely no way that -
He freezes halfway out of bed, his boxers strangely slick and gross feeling. A single thought courses through his mind, but he quickly tosses it aside. Then, against his better judgement, he pulls at the waistband of his track pants and checks for the damage.
Kuroo recoils, lips turning downwards into a look of horror as realization dawns on him. He'd been expecting a boner waiting to be taken care of, but was instead greeted with something much, much worse.
He hadn't had a sex dream about Sawamura.
He'd had a wet dream about Sawamura.
It's safe to say that the next time Kuroo sees Sawamura, he feels more than just slightly awkward.
How could he not though, when the last time he'd seen those eyes they'd been scrunched tight in pleasure? And those lips, lord help him, had been stretched so beautifully around his cock, glistening and wet with spit as his calloused, rough hands tread circles around his hips and -
"Good," Kuroo says nonchalantly, cutting off his thoughts. Sawamura had asked him a question, but Kuroo sure as hell had not heard what it was.
Sawamura's eyebrows tilt downwards. "Good?" he repeats, as if he was unsure of the word. "I asked you if you did the homework."
"Fuck," Kuroo swears. He always got it wrong. "I mean, I did it. And it was good. Fine, I mean. No problems whatsoever." He gives an extra nod for good measure, just so that Sawamura doesn't get suspicious about his behaviour or anything.
Thankfully Sawamura is about as observant as a rock, and doesn't notice anything strange about Kuroo's definitely strange behaviour. "Really? Maybe it's just something I just suck at then," he mutters, sighing as he leans over the desk.
The word 'suck' repeats in Kuroo's mind, and he shifts in his seat. "Mm, it's not assessed or anything so don't worry," he manages to get out.
Daichi looks as if he wants to say something else, but to Kuroo's relief he is saved by the entering of their lecturer onto the podium to begin the lesson.
Kuroo finds it hard to concentrate for the entire class, his mind hyper-aware of the legs stretched out beside him and the false memories of how they felt beneath his touch ghosting over his fingertips.
See, the thing about having sex dreams about a friend is this: if it happens once, you can laugh about it, maybe tell them when you're drunk and then continue on with your life like nothing ever happened. If it happens twice, you may or may not be either unconsciously sexually attracted to them, or just suffering an extreme case of blue balls. But when it happens three or more times, it's your body sending you an important message in bright, neon lights: 'Congratulations, you're fucked'.
At least, that was the message Kuroo seemed to be getting from his situation. Out of the past five days, four had been subjected to the glorious presence of his good friend's sexual ministrations, and it was beginning to drive him mad.
"You're up awfully early," Oikawa said one morning as Kuroo sat in front of the television, stewing in the leftover memories of that previous night's dream. It had been a pretty tame dream considering some of the others Kuroo had recently endured, but the effects were no less different.
Kuroo had woken up a panting wreck, his hand and cock splayed against his stomach and a welcoming mess over his sheets just waiting to be cleaned up. He hadn't even been in the mood to get up, his limbs and muscles feeling heavy. It was only when his cum had begun to cool, sticking to him and turning gross(er) that he'd finally given in, rolling out of bed and staring angrily at his sheets as he stripped them to throw into the wash.
"Mm," Kuroo replies, "decided it was time to do some housework. Haven't washed my sheets in like, six months."
Oikawa stares at him. Kuroo stares back twice as hard.
"What, I'm not allowed to have some semblance of responsibility circling my life?" he asks, lips pulling into a frown.
"No, not really," Oikawa replies, folding his arms over his chest. His face is expectant, but Kuroo doesn't give in.
"Well, don't worry about it. I have to uh, get to class soon so I'll be seeing you."
Kuroo makes an effort to making sure his efforts don't seem robotic, but he's quite sure Oikawa can see right through him anyway. He makes a mental note to himself to buy some of his favourite bread after class in an effort to quell the shitstorm he has no doubt roused…
He sighs to himself, lamenting the events that have led to this situation to begin with.
Rousing things up seems to be his, well, speciality.
Daichi’s thighs taste amazing.
That’s the only train of thought going through Kuroo’s mind as his fingers trace their way up the thick, muscular frame of his legs, his teeth sinking into the inner parts of his thigh.
Under him, Daichi’s legs are shifting, trembling with exertion as he tries to keep himself upright. “Stop teasing,” he breathes, his voice thick from anticipation.
Kuroo simply grins into his skin, leaning upwards so that his face is hovering over the other man’s dick. “You want me, hmm?” Kuroo asks him, letting his breath ghost over Daichi’s cock which is already hard and waiting.
There’s another groan of annoyance, before something clicks. “Yes,” Daichi breathes, no longer trying to keep his pride. He shifts his hips slightly until his balls graze against Kuroo’s face, and he lets out a sigh of satisfaction. “Kuroo, fuck me,” he tells him.
Heat stirs inside of Kuroo, and that grin of his seems to only grow wider. "Impatient today, aren't you?" he asks. His fingers stall on Daichi's thighs on purpose, pinching the flesh of his thighs - those thighs Kuroo loves so much with the tips of his fingers. But Kuroo is impatient too, and his right hand quickly lowers to cup Daichi's pert ass.
He almost lets out a groan of satisfaction as he feels his firm, perfect butt. In fact he does, and Daichi smirks knowing full well what his body does to Kuroo. Something lands in Kuroo's lap, and it's the unmistakable bottle of lube that he keeps in his own side drawer. Kuroo knows what to do.
The next few moments are a blur, with Kuroo's fingers disappearing into that impossibly perfect entrance of Daichi's while the other man grinds shamelessly against him. "Ah, yes, Kuroo yes," he breathes as he cants himself backwards. Kuroo's shirt is sticking to him, and his throat is dry from breathing so heavily. "No more, please," Daichi says. "Your cock. Now."
Kuroo doesn't think it's possible for him to get harder, but he does. He removes his fingers with care, because he's a careful lover who would most definitely never do anything that would cause Daichi discomfort (he's thoughtful like that), and wipes them against the sheets. He then slicks his cock with a generous amount of lube, groaning at the sensation of finally being touched.
"Kuroo," Daichi says, but it's more like a whine. If there was only one sound Kuroo would be allowed to hear for the rest of his life, it would most definitely be that.
Unable to hold himself back anymore, he grabs Daichi by the hips and aligns his cock with his hole. He takes a deep breath preparing himself for what is probably going to be the best fuck of his life, and slowly pushed in.
Daichi screams.
Actually, it's somewhat more of a high-pitched shriek, not unlike the ones Oikawa lets out sometimes.
…Oikawa?
Kuroo's eyes snap awake, and outside his door he can hear the tell-tale sound of Oikawa making breakfast. There's the clattering of metal as Oikawa probably empties their entire crockery cupboard onto the floor, and the other man is yelling audaciously at them for making a racket.
Jesus fuck.
He's so hard that it's painful, his cock tented hard against his boxers. Kuroo doesn't think it's a possibility for him to make it through the living room and into the bathroom without Oikawa seeing his surprise package, and so against his better judgement he rolls over to his stomach and sticks his hand down his pants.
After all, it would be a waste to not make the most of this situation that his body had conveniently provided for him, right…?
Trust Oikawa to interrupt his dream just as he was getting to the best part - he makes a mental note to kick his ass later. He can't make too much noise - after all, Oikawa has some kind of superhuman hearing, and if he hears what Kuroo is up to… he'd rather not think about it. But he soon throws all thoughts of his roommate to the side as his fingers brush his dick, and he groans softly.
The thoughts and memories of an impatient and needy Sawamura on his knees begging for his cock has Kuroo dangerously close to coming - and he has barely even started.
He can almost remember the feel of his skin against his, and he groans into his pillow as he bucks his hips madly trying to reach his peak. It only takes moments more - he just needs to remember the way Sawamura had sounded as he moaned his name for him to come and he struggles to breathe, that's how good it feels when he releases onto his hand, shuddering.
Kuroo rolls over and grabs some tissues from his bedside desk, before groaning loudly into his pillow.
He is so, entirely fucked.
When Kuroo returns home after a long day of classes, he's greeted with the sight of Oikawa sitting alone at the dining table, a book perched in his hands. It's a strange sight - Oikawa never used the dining table for anything asides, well, eating. Even more rare is the fact he is reading a book. The title of the book catches the corner of Kuroo's eye - 'Sex and Articulation', or something. Kuroo frowns.
"Oh, you're home," Oikawa says, sticking his thumb in the ridge of the book and setting it down on the table. His eyes are trailing up and down Kuroo's frame, as if he's looking for something. Kuroo's frown deepens.
"This is a sight," he comments as he dumps his bag on the ground, stepping into his slippers before heading to the refrigerator for a glass of juice.
Oikawa's eyes don't leave him the entire time, trained on him like a hawk. "Oh? What is? Me, living here in my own house, doing my own things?"
There's something weird about his speech - both the words he's saying, and the tone in which they're being said... it's almost smug. And while Oikawa is the type to brag, it usually isn't in a way like this. Oikawa isn't quite so cryptic around his friends, of which Kuroo considers himself to be.
"No, but you're doing your smug thing again." Kuroo dumps his glass in the sink and doesn't bother rinsing it. He figures he can do that when they run out of glasses, or when Oikawa stops acting like a brat. He isn't quite sure which one will occur sooner.
Thankfully, Oikawa gets straight to the point. "I heard you last night."
A jolt courses through Kuroo, but he tightens his fists and averts his gaze as if the question-statement had no effect on him whatsoever. "Oh, sorry about that. I forgot that your bedroom's right next to the bathroom. Are you not a fan of AC/DC?"
Oikawa makes a face at him. "Are you seriously doing this right now?" he asks.
Kuroo keeps up the facade, breaking into a casual, lopsided grin. "I think my singing voice is fantastic, thank you very much. You don't have to be shy, I'll be here all night."
"Oh, I know AC/DC alright," Oikawa sneers, propping an arm up against one of the dining chairs. "I must not know this particular song, though. Which is the one that goes, 'Oh, Daichi, Daichi! Your cock feels so good in my ass right now! I wanna suck on your dick, please ram your hard meaty flesh down my throat! I'm so thirsty for your cum, ple- MMFPH-"
"Holy SHIT," Kuroo yells, stretching a hand out to smother Oikawa's mouth as he screamed what was obviously an imitation of Kuroo. Kuroo's entire face had flushed red, his cheeks burning as Oikawa continued to spout profanities under Kuroo's hand, before eventually sticking his tongue out and licking his palm in order to get him off. "You're fucking gross," Kuroo mutters, wiping his hand on Oikawa's shirt.
Oikawa shoots him a look. "Me, the gross one? I'm not the one who wants his friends dick buried so deep in his ass they'll need an excavator to dig it out in ten thousand years time."
"I do not-"
"Don't you fucking lie to me, Kuroo Tetsurou. We agreed when we moved in together that this would be an open space, filth and all. And really," Oikawa makes a face. "If I can deal with the filth that is what you call a bedroom, I think I can deal with whatever sexual fantasy lies dormant in the back of your gross and somehow intelligent mind."
There's a brief pause between them, before Kuroo speaks. "It's weird, isn't it."
"What, you wanting to bang Sawamura?" Oikawa asks. Kuroo hates that part about Oikawa - the part that will constantly rub in his small successes, albeit in the most subtle ways possible. Kuroo had, however, grown up with Kenma, so he was not a stranger to subtlety and often picked up on most of it.
"No, my mum's new pudding recipe," Kuroo mutters. If there was one way to deal with Oikawa's excessive sass, it was to beat him at his own game. "Of course, you fucking idiot. Don't just bring up a topic at your own will then turn it back on me for your own amusement!"
"But you're getting so flustered, I can't help it! You're usually so smug-"
"Speak for yourself," Kuroo interrupts.
"-so smug that seeing you like this is an opportunity I can't pass up," Oikawa finishes.
Kuroo shoots him a glare, but keeps his mouth shut. After all, Oikawa has the advantage. Kuroo slumps into the chair opposite Oikawa, resigning to his fate. "What should I do, then?" he asks.
"Hmm," Oikawa sits, thinking for a moment. "Do you want to bang him in real life?" he asks.
"Well, I wouldn't be averse to the idea... have you seen the guy?" Kuroo asks.
Oikawa nods. "Fair point. I guess the main problem for you here then is your little high school crush on the guy. Yep, that will definitely add a layer of complexity, huh..."
Kuroo feels his pulse stutter. "High school c- Excuse me, what?" he asks, his voice nearly raising an octave. "I do not have a crush-"
"Really? Really, Kuroo? Because if you honest-to-god are not in love with Sawamura Daichi, look me in the eyes and say it out loud."
Kuroo clears his throat. "I, Kuroo Tetsurou, do not have a crush on-"
"An amazing pair of legs, chiselled biceps, toned arms-"
"Do not-"
"Thinking about him all day and even in my dreams-"
"Oika-"
"You have a crush on him, okay? Just admit it. Nothing escapes the eyes of Oikawa Tooru, not even your love life. No matter how tiny it is." He folds his arms over his chest and gives Kuroo a stare.
Kuroo sucks in a breath. A crush? No way. He definitely didn't have a crush on Sawamura. He just enjoyed the guys company and actively sought him out between classes. He also enjoyed texting the guy, and spending time alone because he always had such insightful things to say. He was also modestly attractive and a more than decent man, and while maybe Kuroo had dreamt about having sex with him two or three (hundred?) times, that definitely didn't mean -
"Do you dream about having sex with me?" Oikawa asks him.
Kuroo almost chokes on his own saliva with how fast he tries to answer. "No - Fuck no! Dude, no, that's just-"
"And what about Kenma?"
"Kenma?" Kuroo says. He can feel his soul escaping. "No way, I would never sully Kenma in that way."
"So it's just Sawamura."
"Yes."
They stood in silence, and Oikawa moves his hands to his hips, arms akimbo.
"I've had sex with other people before."
Oikawa rolls his eyes. "Yes, but you don't go and then dream about them six nights out of seven and imagine making passionate love on riverside cruises, right?"
Kuroo stares at him, mouth agape. And then, "Fuck," he whispers.
"Ding ding ding, we have a winner. The almighty Oikawa Tooru has done it again, someone give the man a prize!"
"This isn't funny, Oikawa," Kuroo says, running a hand through his hair. "I have a crush? On Sawamura?"
Oikawa sits on their sofa and pats the spot next to him, inviting his roommate to sit. Kuroo does. "Don't worry, I'm the number one wingman. You can honest-to-god trust me on this," he says, nodding appreciatively.
"I don't think you understand, Oikawa. This is Sawamura we're talking about."
Oikawa frowns. "I… I understand that?" he says, cocking his head to the side. "Sawamura Daichi, right? Business and Economics faculty, wing spiker on the volleyball team, former captain of Karasuno High School."
"Yes, but like, I can't have a crush on him! That'll… ruin things."
"Ruin what?" Oikawa asks.
"I have this friendship with him and its… it's sensitive."
Oikawa stares. "Sensitive."
Kuroo frowns. "Okay, maybe that's the wrong wor-"
"So you have a sensitive friendship with this guy you like. You guys wash each others backs in the showers and share each other's protein powder, but it's just no-homo as hell, right? Sensitive," Oikawa repeats, and his eyes look like they're about to bulge from his skull from keeping in laughter. "Look, I reckon you have a somewhat decent chance with him if you'd just grab your balls and-"
"Nope, nope. Not having this conversation with you anymore. Thanks for your input on this Oikawa, but I'm going to return to my life as of ten minutes ago and pretend this little debate never happened." And with that Kuroo turns for his room and promptly slams the door shut.
He can hear Oikawa saying things through the door, but it's too muffled to make out the words. Kuroo can probably guess what he's saying, anyway.
High-school crush.
Kuroo stares at his ceiling, the word foreign around his lips.
No, that's not it at all.
It's probably already way beyond that.