
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/9946901.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Haikyuu!!
  Relationship:
      Hinata_Shouyou/Ushijima_Wakatoshi
  Character:
      Hinata_Shouyou, Hinata_Natsu, Mama_Hinata, Ushijima_Wakatoshi, Tendou
      Satori, Semi_Eita, Oohira_Reon, Kageyama_Tobio, Sugawara_Koushi,
      Nishinoya_Yuu, Tanaka_Ryuunosuke, Goshiki_Tsutomu, Tsukishima_Kei
  Additional Tags:
      Slow_Burn, Enemies_to_Friends_to_Lovers, Slice_of_Life, Falling_In_Love,
      Ushijima_is_a_sap_and_is_emotionally_constipated, Hinata_is_a_cutie_pie,
      Cooking, Bonding, Picnics, First_Time, First_Love, Explicit_Sexual
      Content, its_the_last_part_of_the_fic, so_you_can_skip_it_and_still_read
      the_story, Anal_Sex, Anal_Fingering, safe_sex, Consensual_Sex, Ushijima
      is_gentle_giant, This_was_so_much_fun_to_write_yall_like_it_wasnt
      supposed_to_be_this_long_but_alas, i_am_melodramatic_and_i_do_not_care,
      For_Ushi-hina's_'Ushihina_Week'_prompts_on_tumblr, UshiHina_-_Freeform,
      Fluff, SO_MUCH_FLUFF, it'll_rot_the_teeth_right_out_of_your_skull, Too
      much?, Sorry_Not_Sorry
  Series:
      Part 1 of UshiHina_Weekly_Prompts
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-02-26 Words: 14860
****** Flight ******
by Sunflower82597
Summary
     Ushijima Wakatoshi didn’t like things that were unpredictable; it
     left things airy and uncertain, not like the concrete, tangible
     patterns he is used to seeing and expecting—it left room for error,
     for surprise, for defeat. Ushijima was not keen on the idea of
     someone like Hinata Shōyōu existing as a competitor, because in terms
     of predictability, he was a monster.
     But he was a new challenge, and he did not back down from challenges,
     especially not on one that is so incredibly different from the norm
     that he has engrained in his very soul; he knew that the spitfire
     redhead wouldn’t go down without a fight, and it excited him-
     - enthralled him. He soon finds himself sucked into the gravitational
     force that is Hinata's nature, and he can't say he would want it any
     other way.
Notes
     Hello all! I saw a @ushi-hina's weekly prompt for her
     @Ushihinaprompts weekly challenge! The phrase was 'Flight', and what
     was supposed to be a brief fic turned into this 30 page monster. I
     hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!!
     There is explicit smut at the end of the fic that can be skipped just
     by scrolling down to the last four paragraphs!
     Edit: I HAVE FANART, OH MAN. EVERYONE GAZE UPON THE BEAUTY:
     link
See the end of the work for more notes
“Thinking that I might go crazy. How am I supposed to breathe now, baby? You
burn this whole thing just maybe/ So, you ask me how I'm on fire. All I do is
turn around and smile. Baby girl not everyone can fly.” – Fools,Wild Child
                                      -☼-
When Ushijima Wakatoshi first encountered the oddball duo on the street, he
thinks nothing of them. They were just rowdy competitors who thought that they
could find holes within Shiratorizawa’s functionality, in their defense, which
he readily tells them they would not. He’s heard of the strange quick strike
the two have in their arsenal for Karasuno before, heard their names in
passing, but he didn’t bother paying them much mind at the time; he didn’t see
the point in wasting energy on a greedy setter that was rejected by his school,
and a nobody middle blocker who never made it to the court until high school.
He knew his skills and that of his own teams’, and he was confident that this
was not going to be the year Shiratorizawa crumbled from the force of some
second-rate, ragtag team.
He finds it almost pitiful, looking at the two; the redhead seemed to be
lacking in skills—at least the indoctrinated mantra from his coach would deem
the kid unfit anyways, seeing that height and power was the law that defined a
players usefulness on the court, something that the smaller of the two
obviously lacked. What he missed in tactic he definitely made up for in his
brazen tenacity, though it was ultimately useless on the court as a player, so
Ushijima deems him useless. However, his dark-haired companion, Kageyama Tobio,
would actually pose as functional; he knows about the ravenette, knows him by
name (generally from Oikawa claiming to hate his obnoxious kouhai), and knows
that he’s somewhat of a genius setter, though still rough around the edges. The
younger boy could always be trained and molded to something of excellence, to
something that would harness his skills to their fullest potential, much like
his own skills that had been nurtured and utilized by his school’s team.
But, even as the evidence was laid before him, he still felt the need to snuff
out that small little flame of resilience and valor he knew burned within the
smaller boy, and with a mask of controlled indifference, he let them follow him
to Shiratorizawa, if only to prove his point.
He didn’t predict that the two would keep up with him on the jog back, and he
definitelydidn’t predict the redhead to be almost recklessly confident,
outwardly challenging his core ideals; he didn’t like unpredictability—it left
a bad taste in the back of his mouth. He was the school’s ace, of course the
team made use of his skills more than anyone else’s—he required each team
members full devotion to him; it’s what made him strong, their team strong.
“Seeds have to be placed in the right soil to get the most bountiful harvest
possible. If placed in a barren land, their potential is wasted, and they most
definitely will not thrive. It applies to a team. If a player doesn’t serve the
ace, doesn’t bring out the skills of their strongest members, then they
areweak,” he had stated to them simply. It’s just what had always made sense to
him, and he has yet to be proven wrong.
The smaller boy had just snorted out a chuckle and scoffed, taking a few steps
towards him, which startled Ushijima further; he didn’t understand where the
humor in his statement was. He turned his blazing, piercing, calculating gaze
on Ushijima, a sharp smile stretching across his lips, “Well, what does that
make us? Concrete?”
The ace only has a moment to be taken aback by the younger boy’s statement
before the familiar, resounding ‘thwap’, of a stray ball declaring it’s course
toward them. Without a moment’s hesitation, he jumps to retrieve the ball, long
arms outstretched and reaching, knowing this would be the final sliver of proof
needed to snuff out the last futile attempts to dispute his place as the ace of
Shiratorizawa, as the superior player.
Ushijima underestimated his opponents—later he would realize he would just
underestimate Hinata. It takes him by surprise, when the ball that should have
fit snuggly in the palm of his hand was ripped away from him, now in the small
arms of the sunny-haired boy; his brain had only a moment to decipher what had
just happened, and when it did, he couldn’t help the feeling of bewilderment
that displayed across his face. It should have been almost impossible for
someone with no apparent skills to reach the ball, especially since the ball’s
natural course was headed right for Ushijima. The younger boy had also been
behind him… it was impossible for someone like him to fly.
His sharp eyes flickered from the smug looking Kageyama to the boy who stole
the ball from him, immediately captivated by the look he was given; the boy
looked like he was on fire—the orange and pink hues of the setting sun filtered
through slightly curly, auburn hair, appearing to look like a gold-spun halo
that caressed the pale crown of his head and sides of his face. His eyes
ensnared Ushijima in place, sticky, amber-like in color, causing the boy to
feel like he was drowning, suffocating in the intense depths, completely
encapsulated by the fossilized coloration.
He looked ethereal.
“I’m Hinata Shōyōu…”he had said with a firm tone, taking a step closer, and
Ushijima had to resist the urge to step back from him, “…and I’m from the
concrete.” His small hands jutted the volleyball into Ushijima’s chest, gaze
and tone still unyielding and tenaciously unafraid. He took an impossible step
closer, and Ushijima almost forgets how to breathe, Hinata’s voice dropping
into a saccharine whisper, “You should remember my name. I’m going tobeat you.”
He steps away fully, walking to join his teammate, the two turning their backs
and leaving the way they came.
Wakatoshi feels his breath rush back into him, and he blinks rapidly, mind
ridding itself of his mesmerized fog, head whipping to watch the retreating
backs eventually disappear from his sight.
He didn’t like things that were unpredictable; it left things airy and
uncertain, not like the concrete, tangible patterns he is used to seeing and
expecting—it left room for error, for surprise, for defeat.Ushijima was not
keen on the idea of someone like Hinata Shōyōu existing as a competitor,
because in terms of predictability, he was a monster.
But he was a new challenge, and he did not back down from challenges,
especially not on one that is so incredibly different from the norm that he has
engrained in his very soul; it would be a chance to break from the almost
menial process of winning, from defeating team after team so easily. He knew
that the spitfire redhead wouldn’t go down without a fight, and it excited him.
A wolfish grin splits across his lips and his head tilts back, eyes scanning
the skies’ retreating ochre and fuchsia hues as night shades into twilight
ceruleans, reminding him of the other-worldly looking boy.
Hinata Shōyōu.
He didn’t like unpredictability, but even so, he knew Hinata would be worth a
change in pace.
He had looked like a god that was going to give Ushijima rapture.
Ushijima would be waiting.
                                      -☼-
Tendou tells him that he appears to be distracted.
He pauses in the action of taking a bite of his lunch, gaze flickering over to
his teammate, olive eyes narrowing slightly, “How so?”
Tendou uncrosses his arms and taps at the side of his chin, lips pursed as he
searches for the words to describe Ushijima’s ‘off’ behavior. “Well,” he
starts, “it’s not entirely noticeable. But it’s like you’re…spacing out more…?”
he trails off, eyes squinting as he tried to gage any reactions from stoic
third-year, “Is it from those two first years from the other day? They didn’t
get you into trouble did they?”
Ushijima sighs and inwardly curses his over-perceptive friend; he has been
somewhat distracted. He knows it would be childish to push all of the blame
onto him, but he does correlate his state of mind with the new presence of the
first-year. The younger boy has recently occupied the forefront of his mind,
and it was beginning to get irritating, though he would never really admit
that. It was even more irritating since he couldn’t entirely pinpoint why the
kid has taken priority above all other thoughts; he had even gone through the
motions of looking into his playing habits (though there was little data
available, which wasn’t much of a surprise). He’s never felt so compelled to
look into a competitor, a team, that wasn’t on the same tier as him—that posed
no actual threat – so why he bothered, he didn’t know. But it was enthralling,
catching small recordings from previous games of the strange duo’s intense
strikes—to hear the excitable whispers of the crowds, to see the familiar looks
of bewilderment on the opposing teams faces, just as he had worn in the same
fashion upon their first encounter.
He sees no point in lying, Tendou would definitely know if he did, so he says,
almost resigned, “Yes. I find them strange.”
Tendou cracks a mischievous smile, “Oh ho, is our ‘Miracle Boy’ Ushiwaka scared
of losing to some little kids?”
Ushijima makes an affronted expression, “I’m not scared. I just don’t
understand him.” He sniffs and looks back at his lunch, trying to signify he
was done talking, but it was to no avail, Tendou was much too intrigued in his
ace’s defensive tone of voice.
“Him? Wasn’t there more than one? Oh, oh! Is it the shorty you told me about?
It’s okay to be scared of him, he sounds like a monster,” the blocker says with
a sympathetic nod.
He sighs, “There was two of them, and his name is Hinata Shōyōu. I said I
wasn’t scared,” he says firmly.
Tendou fixes him with a calculating look, “Sometimes things you don’t
understand can be scary…” he pauses, waiting for Ushijima to say something,
which he gets no response besides a flat look.
Satori hums and ticks his long, boney fingers against the cafeteria table,
using his free hand to scoop up some of his lunch, chewing thoughtfully. A
thought crosses his mind and he pauses in his chewing, face scrunching up as he
looks to Ushijima, as he speaks around a mouth full of food, “Wait, Hinata? You
remembered his name?”
Ushijima blinks and pointedly looks anywhere besides Tendou’s scrutinizing
stare. “Yes,” he clears his throat, immediately regretting speaking as Tendou
perks up.
“Well that’s new. You don’t bother remembering names of player’s not worth your
time.”
Ushijima thinks of his previous encounter of Hinata—billowing curls of gold,
eyes made of amber, soul of smoldering embers, pale skin, and stolen breath…
The young man swallows thickly, the familiar crawl of heat gracing his
cheekbones. “…he is unforgettable,” he mumbles mostly to himself.
A moment of silence stretches between them and he turns his head to see Tendou
gaping at him. His eyes flicker around the cafeteria, seeing nothing out of the
ordinary happening around him, “What?”
Tendou leans forward, dropping his voice to a pressing whisper, “Did you just
blush? Oh my god, what on earth is happening!?Do you like the shorty?”
“Do I…like him? No, of course not. He’s my competition…Why would you think I
like him?” he asks, confused.
Tendou quickly shakes his head, “No, no, no. Wakatoshi,” he stresses, “Do you
likehim, as in have a crush on him?”
Ushijima’s mind stalls, his expression dropping into bafflement. “A…crush?” he
mumbles.
Tendou throws his hands up in a sign of exasperation, before shaking his head.
He steeples his hands on the table, leaning his head upon them, sighing
wistfully, “You’re hopeless. Do you feel something other than a sense of
competition or that you want to be something other than friends? Then you
probably have a crush on him, man.”
Ushijima shakes his head, feeling exasperated with his friends antics, “How
would I even know how to discern that?”
Satori clucks his tongue, “Well. Do you think about him a lot? Are you
interested in finding out more about him? Like, why he plays volleyball, or how
he got to his level of agility? Do you think he’s cute? Or pretty? Both?” he
pauses in his list when the ace looks completely lost. He backtracks, thinking
on how to put it simply for the other boy. “Okay, so you know how you said you
didn’t understand him?” a nod of the head, “Well, do you find that you want to
understand him?”
Ushijima blinks, something appearing to have finally clicked inside his head,
“I…” the formation cut off when the rest of his team began to file into the
table.
“Good afternoon!” Reon greets politely, settling besides Ushijima. Tendou
responds with an energetic peace sign, schooling his features from irritation
at being interrupted, to pleased at seeing his team.
Reon looks between his two teammates and raises an eyebrow, picking up on the
heavy atmosphere from their conversation. “Everything okay?”
Ushijima begins to open his mouth, though Tendou quickly interjects, “Yeah,
yeah, of course. I was just asking him what kind of dog he had as a kid, and
its’ name and all that small talk stuff. Right, Ushiwaka?”
His expression sours at the nickname but he nods mutely. “Oh, I see…” any other
further questioning is quickly tossed out of his mind as the rest of the table
begins to pick up conversation. Ushijima tries to listen along, and is thankful
for the fact that they don’t expect him to interject much, since they know he’s
not much of a talker. He finishes what he could of his lunch, his stomach
feeling strange and knotted, pushing his tray a bit out of his way, so he could
lean an elbow on the table.
He thinks over what Satori had said to him, going back over the checklist,
seeing of anything was applicable to his situation. He did think about Hinata a
lot, though he’s convinced just because it was just due to the posed ‘contest
of will,’ the shorter boy presented. He was interested in understanding him—why
he’s so quick, so determined, so competitive and confident… so hard to
understand and so unearthly beautiful.
He pales at the thought and dares a glimpse over at Tendou, who is looking at
him knowingly, a look of ‘we’ll talk later’ evident on his features.
In that moment he knows—he knows—that without a doubt, he’s fucked.
                                      -☼-
He sees Hinata again at the Spring High Preliminaries. Ushijima is leading his
team inside the gym, as Karasuno is warming up, and he can’t help the flutter
of unease and excitement that settles in his chest when he spots the younger
boy stretching next to his arrogant setter. Karasuno stops in their
ministrations as the bleachers dominate in sound and cheers, their remaining
teammates, cheer squad, and alumni sending their name reverberating through the
entire building. He schools expression into that of total control, his aura of
prowess and comfort on the court permeating his surroundings; he knows he looks
intimidating, and he almost feels giddy when he catches Hinata watching his
team, a look of wariness pinched on his features.
‘Good’, he thinks to himself, ‘I don’t want him looking baselessly self-
confident.’
They’re in the process of warming up when Tendou stops besides him, hands on
his hips, nodding in the direction of Hinata, “That’s him right? I can see why
you’re interested in him. He’s cute.”
The auburn haired boy is stretching and chuckling along with what appears to be
his libero and another one of his teammates. His cheeks flush from laughter,
nose scrunched and eyes crinkled, and all Ushijima can think is cute.
Ushijima grits his teeth but nods anyways, lining up for another round of
spikes. He puts his exasperated irritation behind this spike, and sends the
ball skyrocketing into the bleachers, silencing the crowd besides with the
harsh ‘thwap’, of his hand meeting the ball and its course against the hard gym
flooring.
He knows the first-year is staring at him, he can feelit boring into the back
of his head, and it invigorates him.
The announcer sounds over the com system, the players are introduced, and the
game—the battle of whims—starts.
                                      -☼-
He knows his team is initially blown away by the short middle-blockers agility,
and even though he has seen this up close before, it still takes him by
surprise—still takes his breath away.
It quickly turns infuriating, not having Karasuno give up so easily—even after
his relentless domination set after set— and even more so when he gets blocked,
he gets received,and when they actually start winning.
He tells his team to send the balls to him.
They switch courts, and he feels it again, that stare. Ushijima turns to face
Hinata, who is positively smoldering at this point—an insatiable fire stoked
till there is nothing but embers and ash and passion;he’s completely
spellbound, and wants nothing more than to be the center of Hinata’s rapt
attention, just like this.
He swallows around the lump that is building in his throat, mask of
indifference in place, as he towers over the younger boy, even over the other
side of the net.
“I thought you’d be better at receives and blocks. Since you were so confident,
back then,” he states to the middle-blocker. He receives a couple of stunned
blinks in return, a look of offense scrunching up his nose. Ushijima realizes
he has just offended the younger man, and he immediately feels like an idiot.
Before he can get an apology out, Hinata is glaring, sharp and dangerous, “I’ll
just have to prove you wrong then. Just you watch,” he stalks off, leaving
Ushijima behind at the net.
He joins his team back over by the benches, where Tendou was waiting for him,
thin, red eyebrows raised, “What did you say to him? He looked pissed,”
Ushijima just shakes his head and sighs.
They start again, and Hinata does everything to prove Ushijima wrong.
Ushijima’s sharp eyes widened as the sharp thunk of his spike meeting flesh
resounds against the gymnasium walls, and he realizes that Hinata blocked him.
He blocked him, and now he’s bleeding.
Wakatoshi immediately wants to go over to the boy and see he’s okay, to
apologize for the harsh receive; he watches as the redhead just dismisses his
teammates concerns, wiping the blood away from his face, eyes fixated on
Ushijima from across the net as he does so, a smug smile of victory plastered
on pink lips stained red with clotting blood. He quickly averts his eyes, the
next play taking position.
Hinata doesn’t stop him again, but he does manage to serve up several more one
touches, deterring the predetermined course Ushijima had in store for the
volleyball, the smile stretching wider and wider each time he succeeds. He runs
faster, jumps higher, endures the blistering on his palms from the smack of the
ball, and the throbbing bruises that start to molt and turn into ugly blue
blossoms on the length of his forearms; the ace almost feels proud of the
younger boy, for enduring it all, and he knows his team is starting to feel
frazzled.
Shiratorizawa calls a time-out to regroup. They remark about Hinata’s sudden
and drastic improvement—ask if he’s some kind of demon, or a monster—and he
tells them not to worry, a sincere grin on his face, he’s getting into
it.They’re shocked and simultaneously riled up at seeing their ace this way,
and they go out and play harder, sharper.
As a result, their powerful plays end up sending their blocker out of the game,
snapping his fingers back. The team relaxes and returns to their previously
indomitable state. Hinata is proving more and more unpredictable, unstable, and
unstoppable each passing minute; he knows that this is what makes him a strong
player now, and he can’t help but scowl. His concentration begins to sharpen,
when their middle blocker returns, not letting the surprising return of the
blond shake his team’s foundation. Ushijima really wants to win this, wants to
beat Karasuno, beat Hinata, and his unwavering, chaotic willpower.
Hinata quiets down, directing his unfathomable energy into concentration and he
becomes a terrifying force to be reckoned with.
Shiratorizawa’s defense doubles and is almost crippling, the pressure to break
free from the oppressive nature of the ace and their blockers
overwhelming—Hinata can feel himself suffocating under the forceful, downward
push of Ushijima’s impregnable domination, and he desperately tries to thrash
free, undeterred by the older boy’s fortitude. The last few points are a
struggle, as Wakatoshi fights to snuff out the last flickers of insufferable,
defiant flames—the last flickers of hope for victory.
He almost doesn’t see Hinata setting up to spike the last determining point of
the match, focus drawn from the decoy, and he curses himself for not noticing
their ploy. He curses himself for feeling the same draw to the boy as he almost
flies through the air, appearing timeless and weightless as his small form
bends and snaps back at perfect angles, muscles coiled tightly and readily for
their pent up release of energy. The ochre locks reflect the harsh overhead
fluorescents, the curled pieces swelling and fluttering at the edges, looking
as though the sun’s eternal flames were present in the gymnasium. His eyes
blaze, pupils dilated to sharp pin pricks, revealing the poisoned honey irises
that drew him in like a fool—their sticky sweetness betraying the sharp
intensity that lay beneath the surface, swirling flavors of strength, chaos,
and victorylingering in the depths, waiting to ensnare and capture the next
poor soul who dared get close to his flame. He watches as the small body
seemingly floats back down to earth, the ethereal soul contained back into
milky, mortal flesh and strong, pale bone.
Ushijima finds his rapture.
He doesn’t need to confirm Karasuno’s victory by turning around and watching
the ball roll off to the side, signifying the match point. He knows they won,
and Ushijima yields, body heavy and dissatisfied by being proven wrong—by being
beaten.
The young man watches as Hinata is rushed by his teammates—all hugs, tears, and
snot— over their victory, indiscernible feelings of fatigue, gratitude, and
elation much too difficult to formulate in words.
They line up to thank the other team, bowing respectfully, each eventually
going their own way. He can’t stop thinking about the first-year, and he
desperately wants to talk to him—what he would say, he haven’t a clue, but
nevertheless, he lets his eyes search through the crowded gymnasium for any
trace of auburn hair. He sighs to himself and addresses his team, tells them
their weak points for improvement, and thanks them for their strength and
unwavering trust.
He’s walking to board the bus, making his last round inside the complex to
check for any outlying members, when he spots the oddball duo. He feels his
pulse quicken as he approaches them from behind, booming voice calling out,
“Hinata Shōyōu, from the concrete.”
The startled heads of auburn and black hair turn to peer over their shoulders,
tracks immediately ceasing when they realize who called out to them.
He stares straight at Shōyōu, watches him fidget under the scrutiny, large doe
eyes peering at his setter, who just shrugs and nods for him to step forward,
his own steps retreating a bit away so the two could talk for a moment alone.
He silently nods his thanks to Kageyama, who nods back, expression tight.
They share a moment of awkward silence, both unsure of how to begin. Ushijima
clears his throat and runs a hand through the prickly brunette strands of his
short hair, sharp yellow-y eyes meeting Hinata’s once more. “It appears as
though you have proven me wrong. I shouldn’t have underestimated you.”
His eyes widen, a nervous smile twitching at the ends of his lips, and he
scratches at his cheek, “O-oh, uhm—“
“It won’t happen again. Next time we meet on the court, I will be the one that
walks away victorious.”
He watches Hinata’s nervous smile melt away into a wide, beaming grin, rows of
pearly teeth bright against pink lips—watches the corners of the boy’s eyes
crinkling pleasantly at the force of his grin; he ignores the gnawing in the
pit of his stomach that tells him to step forward and run his fingers through
the length of each soft looking, auburn curl.
“You can count on us beatingyou again! We won’t just let you win easily, you
know!” he exclaims excitedly, playfully, rocking back and forth on the balls of
his feet. Ushijima almost smiles, a slight twitch of the lips, and observes the
never-ending enthusiasm the boy possesses.
‘It’s why I like him…’his brain short-circuits for a few moments after the
thought, and he breathes in sharply through his nose and busies himself with
digging in his gym bag. He clears his throat once again and holds out his
hands, fingers wiggling to beckon the boy to do the same, “Hold out your hand
for a moment,” he tells the boy.
Hinata looks confused, but obliges slowly, opening up inflamed, angry-looking
red palms that were attached to tender, bruised arms. He grasps at the smaller
hand, marveling over their size, softness, and surprising strength—he can see
the hard work evident in his hands, each pad of his digits decorated with
calluses, his palms littered with flecks of scar tissue and fissure marks. He
places a small container of capsaicin muscle rub gently in the divot of his
palm, curling his larger fingers against the presented gift in affirmation.
“It’ll help your arms,” he murmurs bashfully, feeling the heat rise to his face
the longer he holds onto Hinata’s hand.
The boy flushes, a pretty dusty rose pink fanning across his nose and cheeks,
eyes wide as he grips the container in his hand, obviously shocked at the
offering; Ushijima finds that he likes that flush very much, and he wants to be
the one to put it there from now on—to keep it there.
“Th-thank you! I mean… are you sure you don’t need it…?” he trails off,
clutching the container to his chest with both hands once Ushijima had
begrudgingly let his hands go.
The taller boy nods firmly, and that’s all Hinata needs to know he’s sincere.
He’s about to open his mouth to day something further when Kageyama strolls
towards him, hand grasping at Hinata’s elbow, “Oy, dumbass. We need to go.”
The ravenette’s stormy gray-blue eyes narrow at Ushijima’s sharp glare, hand
still keeping an insistent grip on his elbow. The auburn boy pouts, eyes
flickering between Ushijima and Kageyama, sighing dramatically, putting his
special jar of muscle rub in his bag. “Right, let’s not keep them waiting,” he
turns to Ushijima with another beaming smile, “Thank you. And until next time…”
he trails off, a sign of an unspoken promise to meet again laced within the
silence that followed his words. Wakatoshi nods and watches as the pair turns
away, watches as Kageyama never lets go of his elbow, and watches as Hinata
halfway turns to ecstatically wave goodbye at him, same pearly smile plastered
on his cheeks.
Watches as he walks away from him, and out of sight.
                                      -☼-
Unbeknownst to Ushijima, Hinata sits on the bus, surrounded by his snoring
teammates, all tuckered out and fatigued from their fierce battle against
Shiratorizawa, the small jar that was gifted to him resting snuggly in his
palm; his amber-honey eyes unfocused and far away as he stares out the window
he curled against as he travels through the veins of his city, a small, dreamy
smile on his pink-bitten lips.
He thinks of Ushijima Wakatoshi.
                                      -☼-
Wakatoshi’s crush festers, and he’s beginning to go stir crazy. He sees things
that remind him of Hinata literally everywhere—when he’s outside walking his
familiar streets, when he’s playing volleyball, even when he’s eating. He
starts to see Hinata’s golden hues in his dreams— his pale skin, small hands,
and wide eyes flushed and driven half-mad by Ushijima’s insistent mouth and
exploring hands. He imagines his smell, light and airy, though tainted by
Ushijima’s scent of earth and the gifted muscle rub, adding an undertone of
healing spice to his sweat-slicked skin. Ushijima always wakes up just before
Hinata cums, his name on kiss-swollen lips, and he lays in bed, half ashamed
and embarrassingly hard.
He knows it’s unlikely he’ll see the boy anytime soon—that the boy would even
share the same feelings, and no matter how much he logically rationalizes these
thoughts, the essence of Hinata would never leave him be; the boy’s existence
seared into every portion of his mind like a brand—painful, permanent, and
pleasurable.
Even though he knows he wouldn’t want it any other way, he knows he needs to do
something about it, though he has no idea how to handle this new type of
feeling. Tendou has been a huge help, he couldn’t ask for a better friend, and
the spiky-haired boy is a genius at creating distractions for Ushijima—going to
the gym, taking walks, going to the arcade (though he’s sure that’s just Tendou
wanting to make fun of him for being terrible at videogames)—and they help, if
only for a short time.
It’s reached the last few weeks of December, and together as a team, they
travel to visit the local mall to shop around for presents for the upcoming
holidays. They’re huddled together for warmth on the train; each player bundled
up in several layers of jackets, hats, mittens and scarves, laughing and joking
in companionship, enjoy the last remnants of the third-years time on the team.
It’s strangely melancholic, though jovial at the same time, and it fills
Ushijima with warmth at having a strange family in his teammates. He feels his
lips turn up into a half-smile and he wraps himself in it entirely, letting
himself be consumed by something else besides auburn hair and honey eyes.
They walk along the sidewalk, careful not to bump into the hoards of other
shoppers as they weave along the given path, boots crunching against fluffy
piles of ice and snow.
Ushijima doesn’t have many gifts to buy, besides those for his friends and his
parents. He takes his time in finding the right things to buy for them,
carefully thinking on everyone’s likes and interests, surprisingly sentimental
in his gift giving.
They find themselves in the food court a few hours later, eating a late lunch,
when the topic of the training camp Shiratorizawa is holding is brought up.
Goshiki holds his head up proudly, proclaiming that he’s going to be the best
player there, though Semi Eita and Tendou happily remind him that Karasuno’s
middle blocker, Tsukishima Kei is going to be attending as well. His ego
deflates and he puffs up his cheeks in irritation at the reminder. Ushijima
perks up at the mention of Karasuno, and even though he’s disappointed in
knowing Hinata wasn’t invited, he couldn’t help but be interested in the rival
school’s team.
He knows why Hinata was breezed over in the invitation process—it goes back to
his coach’s idealism, that height and power was the law that defined a players
usefulness on the court, and even though Hinata is a constant that throws a
wrench in that teaching, he believes he wasn’t invited out of spite, rather
than based on his actual skills. He wants to argue against the decision, though
he knows that’s useless and rather suspicious, especially after the team beat
them at the preliminaries, so he keeps quiet, much like always when things
don’t concern him.
He leaves those thoughts behind when he sees Tendou’s hand trying to sneakily
steal pieces of his hayashi rice, forcefully swatting his hand away from his
favorite food.
The conversation moves to that of university and he leaves thoughts of the
redhead behind for the rest of the day, mind taking a reprieve as he briefly
explains his university goals, blessing his friends for the distraction.
                                      -☼-
His thoughts on Hinata come back full force as he steps into the gym that
morning, a few days later, and his eyes land on the familiar shock of orange
hair. He volunteered, as well as Tendou, to help with the underclassman’s
training a couple times that week, but he never thought that Hinata would
actually just show up here uninvited.
Though, if he’s honest, he’s not entirely surprised. Hinata is a loose canon, a
wildcard, and he definitely was going to do whatever he pleased, especially if
it was a challenge. He’s quickly given the details on the boy’s presence by an
obviously irritated Goshiki, who gives him an earful about how he’s allowed to
stay as a ball boy, and how Hinata never gives up, and actually seems happy
just watching and picking up balls.
Ushijima turns his back to Goshiki, busying himself with his equipment to hide
his growing smile; it’s so like Hinata to do something like this, to be excited
over an opportunity like this, and he finds it incredibly endearing.
He goes through the motions of helping out, watching spikes and correcting
form, as well as practicing his own spikes to help the others tighten up their
defense. He would occasionally glance over and watch Hinata, who seemed to be
intently observing every movement that happens on the court, and he finds
himself naturally drawn to the boy once more, interested in finding out what
the other sees, in finding out how he concentrates that intensely. Sometimes,
he catches the boy staring at him, the gaze warm and intense, tracking every
muscle movement and drop of sweat that rolls down tanned, olive skin. He heats
under the gaze, stares back and catches those honey orbs in his own yellow-y,
olive-green eyes. The boy squawks and startles, quickly adverting his gaze and
busying himself once more with what’s happening on the court.
They pause for a break a couple of hours later and Hinata quickly sets to work
handing people water and towels, making his way down to the two third-years. He
hands Tendou and Ushijima water with a wide grin and Tendou mischievously grins
back.
“That’s quite a cheeky move, just showing up here. I’m surprised Demon Coach
didn’t try and kick you out harder than that.”
Hinata chuckled nervously, peering up through long, dark lashes at the older
boy, “Honestly, I am too. But I want to be here, need to be here…” he trails
off into a dark mutter, scowl screwing up his face, “Besides, it’ll show that
idiot, Kageyama, that I’m not useless.”
Tendou quirks up a thin eyebrow, eyes glancing over to Ushijima, a smirk in
place, “Oh? Kageyama, your setter? Is he your boyfriend? Having a little
trouble in paradise?” he teases, his underlying question veiled perfectly under
the jab.
Wakatoshi whips his head around to look between the two, his heartbeat pounding
out an uneasy rhythm against his ribcage, his blood rushing in his ears, dread
settling like rocks in the pit of his stomach as he waits for the redheads
answer. It makes sense, when he thinks about it, and he feels like an idiot for
not connecting the dots sooner—the possessive grip on the elbow, their playful
bickering, and the concentrated glares sent his way while he talked to Hinata
that day of the preliminaries… he had just thought him not to be a people
person, much like himself, though now, as his thoughts race, he’s not so sure.
Shōyōu squawks indignantly, nearly choking on the air he was breathing, hands
quickly waving in front of him in a sign of disagreement. “No, no, no. He’s
just a friend and my teammate. He’s also a raging asshole sometimes. Besides,
he’s like, my biggest rival!” he exclaims, face flushed in embarrassment.
Ushijima visibly relaxes, huffing out an exhale of relief when the redhead
denies them being a couple; a little sliver of hope wiggles in between his ribs
and into the spaces of his heart—hope of there being a chance.
“Rival, eh? But you’re teammates…and I thought Ushiwaka here was your biggest
rival?” Tendou asks, clapping a hand on the taller boy’s shoulders. Ushijima
raises an eyebrow, looking back to Hinata who seems to be confused.
He cocks his head to the side, his hair shifting and fluttering at the sudden
tilt, expression open and sincere, “But, I beat Ushiwaka already,” he says
simply, innocently, as if it was obvious that he wasn’t a rival anymore.
Tendou balks at the shorter boy, looking between Ushijima’s barely concealed
amusement and Hinata’s puzzled innocence, before bursting out into laughter
that reverberates of the walls of the gymnasium, startling the other players
into looking over at the trio in curiosity.
The hand on Ushijima’s shoulder keeps him anchored as he doubles over, other
hand clutching his stomach through his fit. “O-oh my god! That was just savage!
A-a-and with such a straight face!” he cackles, wiping at the tears streaming
down his cheeks.
Hinata takes a second to connect the pieces together, and when he does, he
immediately grips at his hair, shaking his head, panic raising his voice into a
shrill squeak, “Oh, shit! No, no, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean it like that!” he
doubles into a bow before rising once more, his flush returning full force,
practically glowing. He steps forward and places a hand on Hinata’s head,
ruffling his hair, enjoying the brief contact and the silkiness of Hinata’s
hair (how soft it looks versus how it actually feels is unreal), his deep
rumble firm and soothing, “Hinata, it’s okay. Don’t freak out. I appreciate
your honesty. You did win against me after all. But, don’t forget who’s going
to win against you next time.”
Hinata looks up, the large hand still laced within his curls, his beautiful
blush still stained in place, and smiles, eyes lit with the same competitive
fires the older boy has grown to adore.
“Right!”
                                      -☼-
The second day of the camp ends in a flurry of blisteringly cold snow and
torrential piles of ice.
“You’re not welcomed to stay. Go home,” his coach had said to the redhead, who
bowed respectfully and gathered his things, no trace of worry for the weather,
or disdain for the senior’s rudeness visibly evident. It makes Wakatoshi
uncomfortable though, and even Tendou and the other players to an extent, each
sharing a slightly worried glance at the prospects of sending the small middle
blocker out into the extreme weather, on a bike to the neighboring town, at
that.
They’re sharing whispered plans on how to smuggle the kid into the dorms when
Ushijima offers, “He’ll stay with me.”
Every pair of eyes turns in shock at his proclamation, never expecting such an
offer to come out of the third-year captain; they would have thought there
would be some kind of bitterness that resided within the young man, after
losing to Karasuno, though they were incredibly far from the truth.
“I have y own apartment that isn’t far from here, and that would leave everyone
else free from worry about getting into trouble over smuggling Hinata into the
dorms. It just makes sense,” he says with a nonchalant shrug, heartbeat picking
up at having the redhead stay with him overnight, at having him hangout and eat
dinner with him; he was borderline giddy under his stoic indifference.
They all nodded in agreement and begin packing their things, saying their
farewells and promises of tomorrow. Ushijima quickly gathers his things and
finds Hinata outside, visibly shivering in his layers as he waits for the storm
to die down. He walks to stand next to the other, hands in his pockets, bag
slung over his shoulder. “Would you like to come stay with me? I don’t think
the weather will calm anytime soon, and it is already late,” he offers.
Hinata’s mouth forms into a small ‘o’ of surprise, eyes light with promises of
avoiding frostbite and a warm place to rest. “Are you sure? I don’t want to
make your parents upset, or intrude…” he says politely, rubbing his hands
together to warm them up.
Wakatoshi shakes his head, “I live by myself, and I have extra space. There’s
no intrusion.”
Hinata positively beams at him, “Thank you so much, Ushiwaka!”
He returns the smile with a small nod, “Anytime.”
The walk is short, and they do so in companionable silence, the click of
Hinata’s bike—which he refused to let Ushijima take and steer home—almost
unheard in the onslaught of the storm, the wind whipping their hair against
their faces, the ends freezing with small snowflakes, each breath a puff of
moist condensed fog. He directs Hinata on where to place his bike once they
arrive, waiting for him to lock it into place with clumsy, numb fingers, before
walking inside the lobby and into the elevator, their bones and flesh thawing
in the comforting embrace of warmed air conditioning. He leads him to his
apartment, a uniform wooden door with an engraved, bronze plaque reading
Ushijima W.by it’s right side, unlocking the door and allowing his guest and
himself inside.
He hears Hinata shuffle out of his shoes as he murmurs a ‘pardon the
intrusion,’ then cooing out a fascinated ‘ooh!, and ‘waah!’ as he takes in
Wakatoshi’s apartment. He’s surprised at the boys wonder; he knows he has a
nice place, it’s modern and new, with matching furniture and neat adornments
and accents, though it’s hardly decorated—only a few family photographs and
potted plants placed here and there—which Ushijima picked up from his mothers
sensibilities; stern, clinical and practically sterile. He smiles nonetheless
at the boy’s exuberance, shucking off his own shoes and heading towards his
room to drop off his stuff. Before he turns the corner to head down his hallway
he says over his shoulder, “You can drop your things in my room.”
Hinata’s small steps shuffle against his floor as he catches up to Ushijima,
head still craning around to see every detail he possibly could. He flicks on
his lights and drops his bag by the door with a ‘thunk’, and he rolls his
shoulders in relief at finally dropping the heavy weight. He turns to Hinata
who is currently oogling everything in his room, eyes greedily drinking in the
sight of every award and framed picture, fingers tentatively touching the edges
of the lacquered wood-bases, small name engravings, and silky ribbons tied
perfectly symmetrical around championship trophies.
“I’m going to shower and then start dinner. I’ll save you water to get one
after, so you can warm up,” he rumbles, rifling through his closet for a change
of clothes; he wants to leave Hinata be for a moment so he can be nosy and look
and explore around his room, like he obviously wants to do—his curiosity makes
him smile. He clicks the door to his en suite bathroom closed, making quick
work of stripping off his gym clothes and throwing them in his laundry basket,
stepping under the heated stream of water and scrubbing away his days’ work. He
clicks the water off after a few minutes, not wanting to waste warm water,
making sure to leave Hinata plenty for his shower. He scrubs a towel over his
body and through his short, choppy hair, not bothering to pat the disarray of
still-damp strands down into submission. He slides a plain white t-shirt with a
maroon inscription of his team’s slogan on the back, reading ‘Intense Force’,
and a pair of jogging style sweatpants that were loose and comfortable, slung
low on angular hips.
He steps away from the warm mist of his bathroom and into his room, spotting
Hinata perched on his tiptoes, looking at his scarce photographs. He pads
quietly over to the boy, peering over his shoulder at what he was looking at.
“What’s her name?” the smaller boy asks.
He looks at the photograph, edging closer to the boy, almost to where he’s
pressed up against Hinata’s back. He hums and smiles softly of the old picture
of him as a child and his favorite dog—a German Shepard with glossy brown and
black fur, and a maw stretched open to reveal sharp teeth and a lolling tongue,
appearing to smile just like the small master pictured next to him. “I called
her Number One Girl, because she was. She was very smart and very sweet.”
Hinata coos, “That’s adorable and she’s beautiful! And look how cute you are!
It’s nice to see you smile sometimes!” he teases, turning his head to scrunch
up his nose playfully. Ushijima forgets to breathe as Hinata’s face is turned
only inches from his own, the boy standing on his toes giving him an extra
boost in height. He can see the mirth swirling and dancing behind the golden
honey of his eyes, and he can spot the flecks of copper fanned within his
irises. He notices the light freckling that dusts his rosy cheeks, appearing
like star patterns against creamy skin, and he briefly wonders if they darken
during summer, if he has them littered somewhere else on his body.He notices
the tilt to plump, sugary lips, edges of his white teeth peaking underneath
each swell of wind-chapped looking tissue, and he wonders how it would feel to
kiss him, to nibble on the cupids bow, what they would look like wrapped
around—he inhales sharply, stepping back, ripping himself away from the searing
heat that seemed to transfer by convection from Hinata to his own being, his
stomach roaring with stoked fires of desire and need.
He learns to breath again and says in an even voice, olive eyes flickering over
to the confused looking auburnette. “There’s plenty of hot water left for you.
Do you… need anything before I start dinner?” he asks.
“O-oh…uhm. Could I possibly borrow a shirt…?” he asks almost shyly, “I-I have a
spare pair of shorts, but my shirt is dirty and this one is wet from the snow…”
Ushijima nods and walks into his closet, grabbing the first shirt he saw, just
plain navy blue and well worn, the fabric soft and pliable between his fingers.
He hands the shirt to the middle blocker who utters a quiet ‘thank you’.
“Take your time. There are extra towels under the cabinet. I’ll start dinner,”
he says quietly, shutting the door behind him with a gentle click.
He breathes a sigh out of his mouth, rubbing a hand through his drying locks,
walking into his kitchen to distract himself from his previous thoughts of the
boy. He already has an idea on what he wants to cook, omu-rice, so he sifts
through his pots and pans, pulling out his materials and ingredients, setting
to work once he hears the shower turn on. He sets rice in his steamer, and
begins washing vegetables. He then slices up his few pieces of chicken and sets
the chunks to sear in his warm skillet. He’s lost in his thoughts, wondering if
inviting Hinata over to stay had been a mistake, seeing as he can’t keep his
feelings for the younger boy under control; he feels like an idiot, and he’s
beginning to wonder if Hinata thinks the same of him. He’s in the middle of
chopping onions when he hears the bathroom door open and the soft footsteps of
Hinata approaching him. He looks over his shoulder beginning to say, “Food will
take a bit to finish do you want something to drink—“ his sentence stalls,
almost chopping his fingers off, when he sees the auburn boy—he’s absolutely
gorgeous.His hair is tousled and darker stained, the strands impregnated and
heavy with water droplets, dampening the curls down into pleasant waves. His
skin is glowing red from the heat of his shower, and he can see the residual
warmth spread across his cheeks, down the column of his throat, and into the
cleft of his exposed shoulder and collarbones. The smaller frame of the middle
blocker is practically swallowed in Ushijima’s larger shirt, and he briefly
blesses the heavens that Hinata forgot his shirt, as he gets a peak at the
smooth skin that is revealed from the fabric that flows off his body. Though,
as he peaks lower, he feels his skin flush and he flounders, mouth opening and
snapping shut several times, trying to formulate words.
Hinata notices the stares, and looks down at his legs and squeaks. “O-oh! I
have pants on, I swear!” he yanks the shirt up, revealing skimpy looking
volleyball shorts that cling to the warmed skin of his thighs; the explanation
doesn’t help—olive eyes widen at the sight of toned, muscular thighs and calves
flexing with each shift of Hinata’s body, and the shorts edge towards the edge
and swell of his perfectly round ass.
Ushijima continues to stare, and Hinata begins to get anxious, nervously
tittering, “I-it’s a funny story really! The team thought it would be a funny
prank to switch my shorts out with a pair of women’s volleyball shorts! I
actually didn’t notice at first, actually…” he pauses to chirp and squeaky
giggle, “…just noticed I could run around a loteasier,” he chuckles nervously,
covering his mouth as he snorts out, “You should have seen their faces, though!
I just kind of keep them in my bag, just in case… since they fit and all…” he
trails off, eyes flickering back up to Ushijima’s.
He blinks a few times, a grin twitching in the corners of his mouth and eyes,
which he then covers with his hand, shaking his head and chuckling.
“Right…that’s funny,” he turns back to his cooking once he sees the boy
grinning at him, moving the simmering pieces of chicken with a spatula.
“Do you need any help?” Hinata asks, stepping into the kitchen and by
Ushijima’s side. He shrugs and hands Hinata a knife and a few carrots and
onions. The boy gives an excited titter and sets to work, expertly peeling the
onions and carrots and chopping them with ease into chunks. Wakatoshi raises an
eyebrow, to which Hinata just hums, responding with, “I cook all the time for
my family. My mom sometimes works late, and my dad isn’t in the picture, so I
was left to look after my sister. I quickly learned how to cook for us. It’s
actually probably one of my only skills,” he says with a snort and an easy
smile, “Us country-folk aren’t always the brightest, but we know how to cook!”
he says with a playful eyebrow wiggle, setting his chopped vegetables in the
pan to sauté with the chicken. Ushijima rolls his eyes, though is surprised at
the boy’s abilities to be so open and carefree; he asks about his sister, which
launches him into an excitable tirade on how she’s the cutest little thing,
even if she get’s a bit annoying, whinny, and is a bit of a schmooze, a trait
which his mother is convinced he passed along to her.
They talk through dinner, enjoying each others companionship, and they don’t
stop—not even when their voices grow raspy with overuse, not when yawns
interrupt their sentences every few words, and not even when the clock breaches
early in the am pm, twilight stars overshadowed by whispy, gray snow clouds.
The pair had shuffled into his room at some point, where they’re tucked against
the wall on his bed, still talking about anything and everything; it seems as
though every topic is touched on—family, past pets, the love for volleyball,
favorite teams, foods, music, and places, their teammates and their goals and
aspirations; it’s the most Ushijima thinks he’s ever talked in his life, and he
contributes it to just being Hinata. The boy has some kind of magic about him,
that breaks down walls faster and more efficiently than anything else in this
world—he’s just easy going, excitable, and always interested, which makes him
fast friends with just about anyone he comes in contact with, and Ushijima adds
this to the list of things he adores about the boy.
Their conversation dwindles when the redhead begins to slump against Ushijima’s
broad shoulder, eyes heavy with fatigue and comfort, a small smile gracing his
lips as he slips into the endless embrace of sleep. He allows himself to smile
sincerely at the sight, brushing some of the curls away from his eyes. He
gently shifts away from the boy and allows him to lie down fully, pale arms
seeking out something to cuddle, grasping one of Ushijima’s pillows and burying
his face into their softness. Wakatoshi wishes he could stay up here with him,
to pull the smaller body against him, to share his warmth and bring the boy a
sense of contentedness and nirvana as he drifts into dreams, though he knows he
can’t do that, not yet; it’s not his place to over step boundaries, so he
simply covers him with his duvet and wishes him sweet dreams.
He shifts off the bed and walks to his closet to pull out the spare futon,
setting it up quickly and falling onto it rather ungracefully, a sleepy huff
escaping past his lips. His heavy eyes slip up to where the lump of Hinata is
resting easily and smiles once more, eyes sliding closed, a sense of fullness,
of warmth, and of home resounding comfortably in his chest.
                                      -☼-
Ushijima is roused from sleep to the smell of cooking food, his sleep muddled
brain wondering briefly if his parents were home, before remembering he lives
by himself. His eyes pop open when he remembers whom he had over last night and
he turns to look over at his bed, where one Hinata seems to be missing. He
stops at the bathroom to freshen up, use the toilet and brush his teeth,
stepping out to a happily humming Hinata at the stove, setting pieces of fried
eggs and ham on two plates. He beams when he sees Ushijima emerge from his
room, chirping a good morning when the older boy sits down on a barstool,
groggily watching the boy skip around the kitchen. He glances at the clock on
the stove, reading 6:30a.m., remembering how the boy is an early riser, due to
the long bike ride to his school from his house.
‘Cute’,he thinks, watching the boy set a bottle of juice and a plate in front
of him, his clothes and hair still ruffled and skewed from sleep.
“Thank you. You didn’t have to cook, you know.”
Shōyōu waves a dismissive hand. “You let me take your bed last night! It’s the
least I could do.”
He’s chatty in the mornings, inhaling his breakfast just as quickly as he
talks, the boy excited for another day in the gym. Ushijima thinks how he could
get used to this, waking up to the sunny boy, to another person in his usually
quite home, to the warmth the boy offers that easily fills the hollow in
Wakatoshi’s life.
He invites him to stay the week. After a moment of silence, and a couple of
texts, he agrees.
Yes, Ushijma could get used to it.
                                      -☼-
It’s easy and synergistic spending time with Hinata, and he feels almost
saddened when the end of the training came arises at the end of the week. He
helps Hinata gather up the sparse collection of things, sending him home with
one of his shirts and hoodies to wear in the mean time, not wanting the smaller
boy to return home cold. He’s saying goodbye at the door, almost closing it
shut to walk back into his strangely quiet home when Hinata whips back around,
back in front of Ushijima, a blush spreading on his face, eyes wide and
hopeful, “Go on a date! With me!” he huffs, breathless, tacking on, “Please!”
He swallows thickly around the lump that has formed in his throat, small chest
heaving around hyperventilating, nervous breaths.
Ushijima’s eyes widen and he blinks, “W-what?” he asks, unsure if he heard the
words that came from the redhead correctly.
Hinata takes a deep breath, steeling his nerves, as he says again, “Please go
on a date with me? U-unless, of course, you don’t want to, then definitely say
no. I mean, why would you?” he chuckles nervously, bouncing on his feet,
suddenly flighty, “I know I’m only going to be a second year, and you’ll be
really busy with university. Oh god, yeah, no nevermind, I’m so stupid! Just
forget it okay, I’ll just go—“ he turns quickly on his heel in hopes of darting
out of the hallway, though a firm hand on his wrist yanks him back, preventing
him from escaping the situation.
“Hinata,” Ushijima’s solid voice says gently, though commanding, keeping him in
place, “I’d love to.”
It’s then Hinata’s turn to balk, “Uh, what?”
He rolls his eyes, freely smiling at the younger boy, “I’d love to go on a date
with you. Now let me walk you to the train before you’re late.”
Hinata stares at him, a slowly forming smile shining absolutely radiant on his
features. He bounces forward, wrapping his hands around Ushijima’s middle,
burying his face in the taller boy’s coat and squealing, “Thank you, Ushijima!”
“Anything for you.”
                                      -☼-
They have their first date that following weekend, exchanging numbers in the
meantime to remain in contact, in which Hinata texts him constantly, filling
him in on his days, sending him small pictures of his town, of his team, and of
himself, to which Ushijima is happy to read and reply to, saving the pictures
to his phone, doing the same in telling him about his day, or snapping him
pictures of passing dogs on the street, or of him and Tendou and his team. He
had asked what their date is going to be, but Hinata refuses to tell him,
saying it’ll be a surprise.
So, when the weekend does arrive, Ushijima rides the train to Hinata’s small
town in Miyagi, where he was told he would be escorted back to Hinata’s home.
Once his train lets out, he scans the surrounding area, looking for the boy. He
spots him nervously ringing his hands together as he rocks back and forth on
his feet, bottom lip sucked between two teeth. He looked good, dressed up a
little more than usual, though still thoroughly bundled up in his winter coat;
he had on awhite button up shirt that was nestled underneath a black, scoop-
neck sweater, the collar and shirt tails peeking out underneath. A pair of
black jeans with frayed holes in the knees were form-fitting and snug, their
edges tucked into a pair of dark brown, leather Doc Marten boots with colorful
socks pulled up past the rim of the boots’ edge. His hands were stuck in a
heavy, military-green peacoat; a thick knit scarf wrapped snuggly against his
throat to top off his look. Ushijima felt almost plainly dressed, in a simple
gray sweater and black wool scarf, dark-wash straight jeans, boots, and a
heavy, beige wool coat.
He wasn’t left with much time to contemplate his fashion choices when his
olive-toned eyes caught that of ochre-honey, and he smiled, giving a little
wave, which was returned a thousand fold, a one-million-watt smile brightening
his nervous features as he jogged over.
“Hey! Was the ride okay? I know it gets a little boring…” he asks.
He nods, “It was fine. You look nice.”
Hinata blushes bashfully and rubs a hand through he unruly hair. “Thanks…you do
too! Though, I had a little help from my teammates…” he chuckles.
“Oh?” he asks, and Hinata launches into the story as he begins leading Ushijima
towards his home on how he told a few of his senpai’s about the date ‘on the
down low’, who enthusiastically volunteered to help dress him up. Apparently
half of the things he was wearing weren’t even his—the scarf and sweater was
Sugawara’s, the boots were from Tanaka, and the jeans and button up were from
Nishinoya. He chuckles as the boy says with a shrug, “The socks and coat are
mine, at least.”
They walk in silence the rest of the way, Hinata occasionally interrupting the
companionable silence to point out his favorite places to eat and shop, their
hands brushing occasionally as they walk side by side, which prompts Ushijima
to interlock their pinkies together, glancing over to see the boy shyly smiling
at him. He begins to swing their intertwined hands together, a hop in his step.
He pulls Ushijima to a stop once they reach his home, and he’s surprised by how
close to the mountains he lives; astounded by the natural beauty, the modest
home, and the quiet serenity that encompasses his town.
He’s invited inside and says a polite, ‘excuse the intrusion’, that gets
drowned out Hinata’s yell of ‘I’m home!’, and a childish squeal of delight that
resounds from a small little girl that goes barreling into the redhead’s side.
The young man scoops up the flurry of orange in his arms and swings her around
easily, even if the girl is already half his height; they looking strikingly
similar, each having their own version of a volatile smile that could rival the
sun, a shock of perturbed auburn hair, and large, doe eyes.
“Natsu, say ‘hi’. This is Ushijima Wakatoshi. He’s…my special friend. We’re
going to hang out today,” Hinata says to her, turning them so the little girl
could wave her pudgy little hands and smiling full force, yelling out a
delighted ‘hello!’
She’s as cute as a button, probably around six or seven years old, missing her
front teeth, dressed in overalls and a striped pink shirt, mismatched socks on
small little feet, and her puffy hair pulled back in two pigtails, secured with
pink bobbles. Hinata sets her down when Hinata-san steps through the archway
that he assumes leads to the kitchen. He bows respectfully, saying in his deep
lit, “Hello, I’m Ushijima Wakatoshi. Thank you for having me in your lovely
home, Hinata-san. It is a pleasure to meet you and your daughter.”
Hinata’s mother gapes at the boy and looks between him and her son, “Goodness,
what a polite young man. Sho, you really should learn something from him!” she
teases good-naturedly, wiggling her eyebrows at him.
He squawks indignantly, huffing temperamentally, “I’m getting the stuff from
the kitchen, I’ll be right back. Don’t say anything embarrassing!” His mother
and sister just giggle at his warning, calling back, “No promises!”
Ushijima’s lips twitch into a sincere smile, and he ducks his head to
respectfully hide it. The littlest Hinata shuffles up to him and holds up her
arms, “Up,” she says in a command, voice stern and expression unwavering.
“Oh, Natsu, don’t be so bossy—“ her mother begins to scold, though Ushijima
waves her off. “It’s fine, I don’t mind.”
He scoops her up easily, resting her small body on his hip. She ‘oohs’and
‘aahs’ much in the same way Shōyōu does, and it makes him chuckle. “Is it neat
being this high up?” he asks, twirling her around in a circle before dipping
her low and back up.
She squeals in delight, crooning, “It’s like I’m flying! Mama, I wanna’ be this
tall!”
Hinata-san smiles warmly as she watches the two play, “Maybe one day, sweetie.”
Natsu leans in close to Ushijima and asks innocently, her head tilted to the
side, “Ushi-chan, do you love Nii-chan?”
He pauses at the question, sparing a glance over at the boy’s mother, who
raised her eyebrows at the question, awaiting his response.
He clears his throat, awkwardly asking, “Uh…I…Why do you ask?”
She taps her small fingers against her chin, “Well…when I watch movies with
Mama or Sho-chan, there will be two people in love, and they look at each other
like you and nii-san look at each other!” she says simply, shocking the older
boy at how perceptive the youngling was.
“Well… in that case, yes I do,” he murmurs to her softly.
She leans in to whisper, suddenly very serious, “Does he know?”
He shakes his head no. “Can we keep it our little secret?”
She nods a serious, affirmative yes, making a zipping motion in front of her
mouth that makes him chuckle. He dares another look to his mother, risking to
see the look of abject horror or disgust on her face, only finding a sincere
smile, full of loving warmth and acceptance; the look of a mother witnessing
her baby growing up to love—it makes his heart swell and yearn to treat her son
like the god he believes him to be.
Shōyōu peeks his head out from the entryway of the kitchen, a picnic basket in
tow, backpack slung over his shoulder. He chuckles when he sees Natsu up in the
air, playfully scolding her for being such a schmooze. She childishly sticks
her tongue out at him, the younger boy mimicking the action, before she’s set
back down on the ground.
He turns to Ushijima, “Ready to go?”
He nods, “Lead the way.”
Hinata-san gives a kiss to the eldest sons curls, leaning in to whisper, ‘He’s
a keeper. Hold on to him,’ to which her son enthusiastically nods and smiles at
him, mouthing a ’I will. I promise.’
Ushijima gives another polite bow to Hinata-san, to which she just scoffs and
lets out a hearty laugh, drawing the boy into a warm hug. “You’re too polite,
no need for that here, okay? Come by for dinner sometime, yes? You’re always
welcome here,” she pauses to lean in for a whisper, ‘Be good to him.’
He nods, murmuring back, ‘I will. I promise.’
She sends him off with a wink, bidding the two farewell and to have fun.
Shōyōu smiles at him, “My mom and sister like you. Hopefully they didn’t say
anything to embarrassing.”
“Good, and no, not really. I like your family.” he says simply, lacing their
hands together. Hinata’s smile impossibly widens, and he tugs on their hands,
leading him down a well-worn path, informing him that he has cooked a picnic
and that they will be eating it down at the coastline, in one of his favorite
spots, since the day was nice and sunny, if just a bit on the cold side.
It takes them a handful of minutes to arrive, and when he does, he’s taken away
once more with how pretty Miyagi is. The water is crystalline and incredibly
blue, the waves crashing into each other to form foamy whitecaps, bits of
melting ice floating easily in the stirring of the water. The sun sheds heat
down on the sands and park benches that are placed around the makeshift beach,
warming the surrounding air into a pleasant chill, the breeze salty and crisp,
rustling the crisp grasses that grow in hoards around the docks and sidewalks.
Hinata picks a nice, sunny spot on the ground, lay out the blanket he packed
for them to sit on, setting his basket down, unloading all of the goodies he
prepared for them, popping each of their lids off to reveal their contents.
“You… made hayashi rice for me?” he asks, blinking at the delicious looking
hashed beef stew.
He grins, “Yeah! I know it’s your favorite. I also packed some sweet bread and
tea,” he chirps, unscrewing the lid to the thermos and pouring the steaming
liquid into two teacups.
He takes a moment and stares at the spread, mouth slightly open in wonder, eyes
bright and shining in appreciation for the younger boy. “How long did this
take?”
Hinata shrugs, “I don’t know. Does it matter?” he hands him a pair of
chopsticks. “Go ahead and eat before it gets cold.”
He takes the chopsticks and glances at Shōyōu, face warm from the swell of
endearment he feels towards the boy. “Thank you.”
They spend the day together, Hinata chatting and enthusiastic, pushing pieces
of sweet bread towards Ushijima so he could munch contentedly, nod and listen
along, offering small replies, questions, or snippets of advice when needed. He
enjoyed it, spending his time like this, free from pressure of performance or
the need to speak, happy to let Hinata ramble for hours. He could abandon any
worry of the future, and he was free from his definition of family—free to find
his own version of home; he finds it in Hinata, he has for a while, the boy
being like a candle in a window that beckons for him to find solace and comfort
within him, gentle and serene. They stay until the blues of evening begin their
descent into electric pinks and all-encompassing purples, dusting off any
residual sand and folding up the blanket, stuffing it back into his bag; the
stars of the country much brighter and jovial than in the city when they come
out to litter and bespeckle the sky.
He walks home with Hinata hand in hand, being a gentleman and carrying his
picnic basket for him, only trading it off once they reach the front door to
Hinata’s home.
“Thank you for agreeing to go with me today,” Hinata says, giving his hand a
squeeze. He happily squeezes the warm palm back, an honest smile on his lips,
“Of course. Anything for you…I was honestly…very happy when you asked.”
Hinata cocks his head to the side, “Oh? Really?”
He nods, warmth spreading across defined cheekbones. “I have…liked you for a
very long time,” he says slowly, embarrassed on confessing his feelings rather
brazenly.
Hinata then smiles, positively radiant against the backdrop of expansive night
sky, illuminating the surrounding darkness with his light; he never fails to
take Ushijima’s breath away.
“I’ve felt the same—“ he reaches behind him, into his backpack pulling out the
old jar of muscle rub Ushijima had originally given him back at the
preliminaries, “—ever since you gave me this.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You knew you liked me when I gave you a used jar of
smelly muscle rub?” he asks in disbelief.
Hinata bites on his lip to prevent a goofy grin from spreading on his lips and
nods, “Yeah…”
Ushijima chuckles and scrubs a hand over his face with a sigh, “Can we pick a
different time? That’s not very romantic.”
Hinata giggles and shakes his head, “Nope!” he exclaims, popping the ‘p’ for
emphasis.
The share a moment of silence, each laughing at the silliness of the other,
before Ushijima steps forward, hand brushing the stray curls away from Hinata’s
face and behind his ear. “I’d like to kiss you,” Ushijima murmurs to the
redhead, who nods enthusiastically, pressing forward to step on his tiptoes.
Ushijima cups Hinata’s face and presses forward, lips pressing against
Hinata’s; they taste sweet, like the fresh baked bread he made, and something
else entirely that was just Shōyōu, like aerated sweetness, with tones of rich
spices, like cinnamon and cloves, and earth, the flavor sharp and hot on his
lips and tongue. It was stiff, awkward, enthusiastic, and perfect, leaving the
two boy’s gasping for air and rosy cheeked.
When Ushijima whispers, ‘Be my boyfriend, please?’all Hinata could do was nod
and respond back with another passionate kiss, small arms wrapping around his
neck.
Never, in all his life, has Ushijima ever been so full of happiness, so full of
love, and he knew, without a doubt, there was nowhere else he’d rather be, than
with Hinata—no place he’d rather be than home.
                                      -☼-
It has been three months since the two had started dating, the winter months
melting away into slushy puddles of mud that welcomed spring flowers to bloom
in the icy wakes—fresh and beautiful like the blooming relationship between the
two. The holiday’s fly by quickly— he ships the gift to his father over seas,
and saves the gift for his mother for New Years, since she was busy over the
holidays at the office. It’s nothing new, and this year, it doesn’t bother him,
finding that he enjoyed spending it with Hinata; neither one bothered to do
anything particularly special (besides cooking copious feasts and adding on
winter pounds as they sat and watched movies), enjoying the time spent together
more than anything else, and Wakatoshi finds a quick new home within the Hinata
household. The pair has never been happier, easily finding equilibrium, a
special type of synergism, that leaves the two satiated and at ease—leaves the
two hopelessly in love.
It’s three months, when Hinata finally says it to Ushijima.
They were cuddled on the couch, the smaller boy pressed against his chest as
they stared mindlessly at a movie that was on the television. Hinata had been
even more fidgety than usually, going from bouncing his foot back and forth,
and chewing on his nails—which Ushijima would then swat his hands way from his
mouth with a pointed look—and it had begun to worry the older boy. He was
wondering what had his boyfriend in such a state of anxiousness, and it was
even more worrying when asked, Hinata just waved the concern away, saying it
was nothing. He was about to ask once more, when Hinata ceased his fidgeting,
taking a deep breath and rushing out “I’m in love with you!”
Ushijima froze in place, heartbeat rapidly picking up in his ribcage, breath
stalling in his lungs, “What?”
Hinata rolled around, perching himself on top of Ushijima, his smaller thighs
squatting over Ushijima’s lap. “I…love you, Wakatoshi. I have for a long time,
I think. And I just wanted to tell you… You don’t have to return them, it’s
okay! I know it atkes time, and we haven’t been together a really long time—“
he’s cut off, breath stolen and words swallowed by Ushijima who surged forward,
capturing Hinata’s mouth in a heated kiss; the kind that leaves Hinata gasping,
panting, and holding on to Ushijima to keep him anchored to this world.
Ushijima’s hungry lips seek out the column of pale throat, feeling the pulse
points jump from the insistent teeth and lips that work butterfly shaped
bruises into the expanse of his skin at the junction of his shoulder and neck;
Hinata’s lips purse like a flat-lined heartbeat to prevent a moan from escaping
his mouth.
“I have loved you--” he pauses to kiss a searing trail from his neck to his
ear, pulling the skin of his lobe between his teeth, hot breath whispering, “--
ever since I saw you fly. Ever since you looked at me, like you were a god sent
here on fire, and you burned me. I never stopped thinking about you, and I
don’t plan to. You proved everything I knew wrong, turned my world upside down,
and I adored you and every second I spent with you—every time you smiled at me,
every time you laughed, every time you were angry, and every time you
relentlessly pitted against me,” he pauses to let out a breathy chuckle, “You
smoldered so bright, and I knew that I never wanted to live without you, that I
want—that I need to make you mine,” he moves to push their foreheads together,
hand cupping the small, rosy cheeks. “I love you, Shōyōu. Please, can I make
you mine…? Can I make love to you?”
He pulls his head back when he hears a hiccup, startled to see small tears
clinging to long lashes, a dazzling smile full of love and warmth on his face,
“You’re such a sappy romantic, ‘Toshi. God, I love you, yes, please Ushijima, I
want to touch you—“ he’s silenced once more when lips crash into his own, all
tongue and teeth, eager to claim and take—to love.
Ushijima sits up and pushes the boy back slightly, using his strong hands to
wrap Hinata’s muscled legs around his hips, lifting him with each from the
couch and carrying him to his bedroom. He gently deposits the boy on the bed,
hovering over him as his hands trail across every expanse of exposed flesh as
the boy pants to catch his breath. He pulls at the edges of Hinata’s borrowed
shirt—a fact that makes him smile—asking for permission to remove the article
of clothing.
The boy responds by practically ripping the shirt off of himself and tossing it
aside, leaving his bare, lean chest on display. The ace is pleased to see that
he does have freckles besides those on his cheeks; they’re splattered
everywhere—patches of the darkened melanin covering the bits of flesh that
receive the most sunlight, like his shoulders, back, abdomen, and even on the
upper parts of his thighs. Wakatoshi barely stifles a groan as his calloused
fingers trail against the spots, eventually down to his toned abdomen, gently
pushing the boy backwards to lie fully on the bed. He crawls over the smaller
boy, settling between pliant legs, and at the nape of his neck, he makes his
descent down to his chest, lips pulling a pert, dune nipple into his mouth and
sucking.Hinata positively keens, arching against the touch, hands flying to
Ushijima’s locks, fingers threading in the short strands and tugging, causing
the older boy to groan against his flushed skin. He gives each bud a suck, a
kiss, and a lick of his tongue, before trailing lower to his abdomen, placing
light, ticklish bites across sensitive skin.
When he reaches the edge of those accursed, short volleyball shorts, he slips a
finger in their waistband and glances up at a fully flushed, panting Shōyōu,
who mutely shakes his head in encouragement. Ushijima smiles and places a
tender kiss on each of the boys jutting hipbones, finding the way they wiggle
against him endearing, and the way the skin is drawn taut into a firm ‘v’ shape
alluring and beautiful. He mouths the outside of Hinata’s aching erection,
eliciting a whimper that shoots pleasure straight through his core. He pulls
down the shorts in one sharp tug, not entire surprised that he’s not wearing
underwear underneath, his smaller cock springing free.
Hinata gasps at the presence of cooler air, the head of his member pearly with
precum and swollen red with the influx of blood to his groin. The younger boy
finally finds himself bashful at being spread flat and vulnerable, his knees
moving to try and hide his body from sight. Ushijima ‘tsks’, and delivers a
sharp bite to the outside of his thigh, causing his knees to spread once more.
“Don’t hide, you’re beautiful.”
His mouth then glides wet and hot over Hinata, and he gasps, breathy and airy,
and sweet, a sound Wakatoshi wants branded into his memory. He swallows around
him, inch by inch, hands resting on twitchy hips, keeping the boy firmly in
place. He adjusts to feel of Hinata on his tongue before hollowing his cheeks
and sucking.
Ushijima revels in he noises he draws from the other boy, head bobbing in a
steady rhythm, pleased he can drive his lover closer and closer to the brink
with just his mouth and tongue. He buries his nose in the boys’ curly pubic
hair, the full length of Hinata pushed back against his throat before he pulls
off of Hinata with a wet ‘pop’. Hinata groans at the loss of contact, head
lolling to the side, lips kissed swollen, hair splaying against Ushijima’s
pillow like a golden halo, his eyes glassy and foggy with need;it’s breaking
his resolve, seeing him wrecked and starved with desire for him and him alone.
He chuckles and hovers over the boy once more, who eyes his still-dressed form
in playful betrayal.
“Off,” he commands, hands insistent as they peel off each piece of clothing,
tossing them aside as if they personally offended him. Once he reaches the
waistband of Ushijima’s jeans, he looks to Ushijima, who nods, breath escaping
in breathy gasps. He sits back fully, allowing Hinata full access in removing
his pants and underwear; the sight of Wakatoshi’s member makes the redhead
absolutely drool. Ushijima groans and throws his head back once he feels
Hinata’s small hand wrap around his straining cock, thumb smearing the precum
over the head and down his shaft. His eyes flutter shut and he gasps when
Hinata twists his wrist and strokes, leaning forward, mouth slightly open as he
concentrates on his actions. After a few strokes he leans forward, lips sliding
over the swollen tip and down, down, down, taking in as much as he could before
triggering his gag reflex, his hands covering the rest that couldn’t fit in his
mouth.
It takes all of Ushijima’s self control not to fuck up into the wet heat that
was Shōyōu’s mouth. He peeks an eye open and just about comes undone, seeing
Hinata’s sweet lips stretched obscenely around his cock, head bobbing in a
smooth rhythm up and down, wrist flicking the base on his movement up; it’s
almost sinful, watching Hinata make eye contact with him through his long
lashes, the young man’s moans sending pleasant vibrations through his erection.
The sight was better than any dream he has previously concocted in his dreams,
and he made sure to drinking in the sight greedily. His hands find themselves
in Hinata’s hair, using the curly strands as a tether to this world, Hinata
seemingly dead-set on pushing him to the edge of nirvana when the head of his
cock is glided to the back of Hinata’s throat. The auburnette pulls off of him
at his insistence, much to close for his liking. He stifles another moan as he
watches Hinata lick at his lips, lapping at the saliva that dribbled down the
sides of his mouth and to his chin.
He beckons the boy to him, instructing him to lie down on his back; Ushijima
rifles through his drawer, pulling out a bottle of water-based lube and a
condom. “Just relax and take a deep breath. It’ll be weird. Please tell me if
it hurts,” he says soothingly and the boy nods in affirmation, taking a
shuttering breath and he hears the bottle pop open, and then a warmed up,
slicked finger press at his entrance.
His mouth opens in a silent gasp as the finger wedges itself inside of him; it
feels strange, though not unpleasant, and he finds himself wanting more soon,
needing friction desperately. Ushijima hums in a placating gesture as he glides
a second finger inside, giving him a moment to adjust to the extra digit before
slowly stretching the apart, pumping them in and out, curling them against his
inner walls, searching for the prostate; he briefly marvels at how such large,
calloused, rough hands handle him so delicately.
Hinata is gasping, voice cut off into a shattered moan when he finds it,
fingers pushed against the bump of flesh, the digits curled and pressing even
more against it, sending electric pulses through Shōyōu. His back arches and he
whines, tossing his head side to side, urging Wakatoshi to give him more, he
wants more.
He happily obliges, continuing his assault on his prostate, easily adding a
third finger to his entrance and opening him further. He pumps his fingers in
and out at a fast pace, Hinata’s body bouncing against the push of powerful
fingers against the hilt of his pelvis. He moans, “Ushi-ushi, Wakatoshi,
please, please,pleaseplease—“
Ushijima shushes him, removing his fingers fully from the young man’s entrance,
much to the dissatisfied whine of the boy. He rips open the condom and slides
it on his throbbing cock, slathering it with lube before lining up with his
entrance once more. He takes a deep breath and places a soothing hand on his
lover’s sweat-slicked belly, the firm thighs wrapping around his middle,
locking in place to keep Ushijima there, pressed so close. He rubs the head of
his cock against the puckered hole before slowly, achinglypressing in, careful
not to push in too fast or hard, wanting to allow the boy to adjust inch by
inch to his considerable girth and length.
Hinata’s fabrication begins to fray, thoughts and words incoherent, besides
‘Please, Wakatoshi, please’,back arching off the bed, head craned to the side.
Once he’s fully buried to the hilt in Hinata’s warmth, he allows himself to
moan, head dropping onto the crook of the redhead’s shoulder.
“Fuck, Hinata—Shōyōu,” he rumbles, “You feel amazing.” The redhead moans is
response, wiggling his hips in encouragement for Wakatoshi to move. He obliges,
hips retreating almost fully out of the young man before slamming back into the
tight, wet heat. He picks up that rhythm, pulling out and pushing back in, hips
snapping against the swell of Hinata’s ass, the wanton moans of his name and
faster spurring him forward. His hands travel down the sides of Hinata’s face
as he drinks in the sight of Hinata completely ravaged; his legs are spread
wide for Ushijima, cock bobbing with each thrust, the tip profusely leaking
precum, his whole body being moved up and down with each powerful push in and
out. His eyes are wide open, pupils blown wide as saucers, skin pleasure soaked
and flushed. A possessive growl rumbles form his throat and he leans down to
bite at the already red hickey, sucking on it once more to make sure it stays
in place, to let people know the redhead was taken by him;his free hand leaving
bruises on pale hips.
He feels the familiar coil in his gut, signifying that he was close to cumming.
He gives Shōyōu’s cock a few quick pumps, leaning in to whisper in his ear,
‘Cum for me, Shōyōu.’ The young man loses himself, his climax ripping through
him white hot, the name of his lover on his lips. Ushijima fucks him through
his orgasm, sending waves of pleasure as he continuously hits the place inside
of him that makes him sees stars, and he groans when Hinata’s walls clamp and
tighten around him, milking him of his own orgasm. His hips stutter and he
pushes one last time, fully into Hinata, burying himself completely in his
lover as his cock gives it’s last few twitches as he finishes cumming.
The two catch their breath and he pulls out, placing a tender kiss to his
lover’s cheek, rolling away from Hinata to dispose of his condom in the trash
and wash his hands, gathering a damp rag to clean his boyfriend up with. Hinata
gives him a lazy smile, which he returns happily, curling himself around
Shōyōu, fingers running soothingly through his sweat-slicked locks.
“I love you, ‘Toshi,” the younger man murmurs.
“I love you too, Shō,” he replies, happily burying his nose and breathing in
the mixed smell of Hinata and himself—sweet, earthy, and homey.
It’s bizarre, if Ushijima thinks about it, how quickly he became consumed by
the gravitational force that is Hinata’s nature—how quickly he accepted it. He
never would have pictured them like this, each other becoming special pieces of
their niche, locking together like puzzle pieces, or two forms of molded clay;
perfectly designed for one another, and entirely encompassed by the other’s
world. It was scary and beautiful, a clashing display of emotions that led him
here, it left him breathless and starry eyed, never once wishing to go back and
fix any of it—and he finds himself entirely thankful to a jar of muscle rub for
bringing him this gift of intimacy.
They doze like this, completely wrapped in each other, whispering sweet
nothings to each other as they drift in and out of consciousness, completely
unaware of the outside world, only concerned with each other. Ushijima looks at
Hinata like the world is good, and the world is new, and Hinata’s voice sounds
like liquid birdsong against the side of his face as he places small, sweet
kisses against every dip and curve of skin and bone, skin glowing like milk and
honey against the darkness that seeps in through the window.
They both know that they have built a home together, inside of each
other—something organic, safe, and serene, and they know, wholeheartedly, that
there is no other place they’d rather be.
 
End Notes
     As always, thank you for leaving any comments, kudos, and just for
     reading!! Have a lovely day xoxo!!
     You can come chat with me at:
     @tangy-tangible-tangelos (main) or my Haikyuu!! blog
     @asahisglassheart
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