“You know,” Oikawa starts innocently, “we never had sex on a beach before.”
He says that as they’re conveniently on a beach, sprawled out on a large beach blanket, California sand between their toes, the sound of ocean waves gently crashing against the shore in the backdrop, the sun slowly rising above the horizon, illuminating the sky with a beautiful orange glow. They woke up early just to see the sunrise at the beach, an experience they can’t get back home in Miyagi.
Iwaizumi doesn’t bother to look at him.
“I didn’t ask anything!”
Iwaizumi snorts. “Shittykawa, I know what you’re thinking and no. I’m not gonna get arrested for public indecency.”
Now Oikawa snorts, gesturing around them with a hand. “There’s no one here, Iwa-chan. Only us. Besides,” he says, his voice dipping low to a purr, “don’t you want to make special memories?”
“We are,” Iwaizumi intones, turning his head to shoot his boyfriend a dry look, “you’re here in Cali, watching the sunrise with me. That’s special already.”
“Did your standards drop, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa rolls over so that they’re not lying side by side anymore; instead, he’s pressed tightly against Iwaizumi’s side, fingers playfully walking down his bare chiseled chest, following a pathway to his happy trail. “Come on, Iwa-chan,” he taunts, a smirk on his lips, “don’t be a stick in the sand.”
“It’s ‘stick in the mud,’ dumbass.” Iwaizumi snatches his fingers before they can cross over into dangerous territory and gives Oikawa another look that’s meant to deter him, albeit it’s not working. He grumbles, “We’re close to campus, I don’t want anyone recognizing us.”
Oikawa rolls his eyes. “Since when were you popular?” he jokes.
Then he suddenly changes tactics, tilting his head towards Iwaizumi’s ear, his breath hot against sensitive skin. “Relax, Iwa-chan,” he whispers, soothingly, “we can be quick. Didn’t you miss being with me? In me. I can’t be the only one who’s been aching.”
Leave it to Oikawa to be in California for less than 24 hours and already want to wreak havoc on Iwaizumi’s current reputation as a modest, dependable (and built) guy who’s fresh from Japan. Oikawa had arrived late at the airport yesterday and managed to last through dinner before jet lag caught up with him, rendering him too tired for anything but cuddling last night. Which was fine with Iwaizumi; he was more than content to have Oikawa in his arms again, the real deal right there with him instead of being plane rides away and on Argentinian soil. Their numerous video calls could never amount to that.
Of course, he missed Oikawa—missed hanging out with him, doing things with him. Doing him. He wants to make up for lost time and to make the most out of their time together, his spring break thankfully coinciding with some of Oikawa’s off days from training. Long distance hasn’t been unkind to them but still so rough; sure, absence makes the heart grow fonder but these days, it makes Iwaizumi yearn for a warmth he feels like he took for granted.
Iwaizumi knows he’s fighting a losing battle, feeling his will crumble under Oikawa’s hooded eyes. He swallows and tries to remind himself that the fine for public indecency here is worth $1000 (like 200 plates of agedashi tofu he could eat). He knows this because someone got caught last week for skinny dipping and became a meme in UC Irvine Memes for Wayward Teens, a private online group he finds both mind-boggling and incredible.
“We shouldn’t,” Iwaizumi says weakly, “someone could come any moment.”
Oikawa grins impishly as he wiggles his fingers free to cup Iwaizumi’s cheek, leaning in until their lips are barely touching. He breathes, “That’s part of the fun,” and then crushes their mouths together.
The kiss is igniting. Oikawa immediately takes control, slipping his tongue into Iwaizumi’s mouth, and swallows the low groan he makes. Like an instinctive response, Iwaizumi grips Oikawa’s hips to tug him closer, pulling him half on top of him and tangling their legs together. Oikawa lets out a pleased sigh when he feels a hand trail down his back and reach his ass, giving a squeeze, while his own hands bury themselves in Iwaizumi’s spikes. Their exchange of nips and tongue is getting messy so before they can get carried away, he abruptly pulls back and smirks when Iwaizumi tries to chase his lips.
“So,” Oikawa says.
“Fine, what?” Oikawa feigns innocence, tilting his head, and repeats his earlier words, “I didn’t ask anything, Iwa-chan.”
Iwaizumi glares at him. “Do you want to or not? Have,” he mumbles the last part, his cheeks pinking, “—sex on a beach.”
“Well, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa coos, a glint in his eyes, “since you asked me, I would love to.” He grins deviously. “Knew you were into the idea."
“Shut up and get on me already,” Iwaizumi growls, yanking his head back down for a deep kiss.
Oikawa eagerly follows, throwing a leg over Iwaizumi, and straddles him with knees digging into the blanket as Iwaizumi wraps his arms around his waist, broad hands slipping under Oikawa’s thin shirt to caress bare skin. He whines when Iwaizumi bites his bottom lip too hard and squirms on top of him, grinding his bulge right against Iwaizumi’s. He’s been half-hard since the thought of beach sex entered his mind, and now his cock is straining against fabric and aching to breathe.
Iwaizumi rolls his hips up against Oikawa, groaning at the delicious friction but it’s not enough, too many layers between them. Breaking the kiss, he rucks up Oikawa’s shirt, flinging it aside while Oikawa kisses a trail down his neck. His hands roam over Oikawa’s back, rediscovering the dips and curves of his muscles, before they find the waistband of his swim shorts, fingers dipping under it. But they still when he realizes something.
“Wait, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi gasps, his brows knitted together, “we don’t have lube.”
“We do, in my bag,” Oikawa murmurs between kisses, continuing his trail down Iwaizumi’s chest.
“Seriously?” Iwaizumi narrows his eyes at him, lifting a hand to tug on Oikawa’s hair as he asks, “Wait, did you prepare for this?”
“Maybe.” Oikawa presses a kiss to his nipple before glancing up at him, a teasing smirk on his face. “Maybe not.”
Iwaizumi stares at him, the corner of his mouth slowly quirking up. “You did,” he declares, then laughs. He pulls Oikawa up for a quick heated kiss, muttering, “Unbelievable,” against his lips, feeling an inexplicable wave of fondness wash over him.
Oikawa chortles into the kiss, then sits upright and circles his hips sensually over Iwaizumi’s hard cock, his breath hitching. “Problem solved, now hurry up and get inside me. I need you, Hajime.”
Iwaizumi sucks in a breath, his stomach clenching. God, when Oikawa says his name like that, in that tone, thick with emotion and full of want, he’s gone, utterly gone for him. He has always been weak for Oikawa, he’ll admit, but clearly distance has further reduced his defenses against Oikawa.
But he loves it. Loves it when Oikawa is like this, unhinged and unfiltered and completely raw, his refined persona that he displays to others on a daily basis, the one Iwaizumi sees through, dismantled. Oikawa is constantly keeping up appearances, and the pressure to do so is stronger than ever now that he’s on another continent trying to gain recognition.
While they’re both immersed in a whole new culture, new language with no immediate support system, Oikawa is in it for the long haul. A no-name from Japan, he has to start fresh and forge new bonds with people who don’t know him—teammates that are unfamiliar with his antics, that don’t know him like Iwaizumi does and therefore can’t translate years of proximity into wordless communication that leads to effortless plays on the court.
But Oikawa is hardworking and he’ll get there, reach that point where his name will make national headlines and then global, and Iwaizumi has no doubt about this. He wants Oikawa to shine, but he also wants to take away the stress that accompanies his exorbitant goals so he will fuck Oikawa senseless and make him forget himself.
In moments their shorts are discarded into a nearby pile, and Iwaizumi has Oikawa back on him and pressed tightly against him, skin on skin, moaning into his neck as he roughly grinds their cocks together, their collective precum smoothing the glides. Dragging Oikawa’s bag closer with a hand, he digs out a full bottle of lube and flicks the cap open, pouring a generous amount onto his other hand. He rubs his fingers together to slightly warm it up and drops the bottle to pat Oikawa’s ass.
Oikawa gets the message, lifting his ass up. His hole squeezes in anticipation when he feels Iwaizumi’s finger circling his rim, teasing him, yet to slide in, and he makes a sound of frustration that quickly turns into a mewl. The first finger plunges in easily, so does the second. There’s hardly any resistance, and Iwaizumi can’t believe how ready Oikawa is for him, his third finger promptly joining in. He’s thorough when it comes to prep, so he expected it to take longer, expected the challenge of working Oikawa open after months apart but he’s only met with searing heat.
“Fuck, Tooru,” Iwaizumi groans lowly, “you’re so hot.” He twists his fingers, curling them the way he knows Oikawa likes, and sets a pace with short, hard thrusts.
“H-ahh, I know,” Oikawa says, voice breathless yet somehow cheeky, as he rocks back and forth, pushing against Iwaizumi. He bites his lip, trying to hold back a whimper. “Glad you noticed.”
Iwaizumi snorts and decides he’s not doing a good job of wrecking Oikawa if he’s still capable of being a smartass, so he crooks his fingers at the right angle—and there, a smug grin appears on his face when Oikawa absolutely cries out, clenching around him, turning into a begging mess.
Peppering sloppy kisses under Iwaizumi’s jawline, Oikawa mouths against his skin, “Stop playing, Hajime, I’m good—nhmm, ready, come on,” and tugs at his hair insistently.
“Don’t be impatient,” Iwaizumi mutters, not breaking pace, “I don’t wanna hurt you.”
“A-ah this rate, someone will see us.”
That makes Iwaizumi flash a panicked glance at the parking lot. Okay good, still no other car there besides the one he rented for the week. But the chances of a random passerby stumbling upon them are increasing as the sun rises so after a little bit more, he withdraws his fingers and lets Oikawa take the lead, shuddering when Oikawa sits up to stroke his cock and slick it up with lube before tossing the bottle aside.
Holding Iwaizumi’s cock steady, Oikawa positions himself over it and slowly begins to sink down. His mouth falls open, a loud moan punctuating the air as he takes it all in, the stretch mind-addling and hot. Iwaizumi’s cock is thick and so overwhelming that Oikawa takes a moment to breathe and adjust himself, squirming a bit as he braces himself against Iwaizumi’s abs. He has missed feeling this full. Iwaizumi rubs his thighs and murmurs sweet nothings, patient, yet struggling to restrain himself because Oikawa feels so, so good.
Exhaling softly, Oikawa starts to move, lifting his hips and then slamming down.
A guttural groan tears out of Iwaizumi’s chest. He watches, eyes half-lidded and entranced, as Oikawa bounces on top of him, his head thrown back and mouth parted, skin gleaming in the warm light, coated with sweat as he swerves his hips around and down, his dick bobbing with his movements. Iwaizumi digs his fingers into Oikawa’s thighs and rakes his eyes up from where they’re joined to his flushed face.
Oikawa is beautiful, Iwaizumi can openly admit that now as a part of boyfriend privileges, but in moments like this, he’s mesmerizing in taking dick.
A part of Iwaizumi wants to keep watching Oikawa and let him do the work, but the moment Oikawa locks eyes with him, he clutches Oikawa’s waist and thrusts his hips up, relishing the sharp cry of his name. He throws Oikawa’s rhythm off and starts his own, huffing a laugh when Oikawa splutters at the change.
The sound of skin slapping skin echoes around them, intermingled with pants and moans, and Iwaizumi wonders if they’re being too loud that not even the ocean waves can drown them out. He has half a mind to pull Oikawa down and shut him up with kisses while he fucks him, but the part of him that’s more reckless, always egged on by Oikawa, preens at the lewd noises Oikawa is making because of him and lightens the fact that they’re out in the open, fucking in almost broad daylight.
Oikawa lets out a choked gasp on a particular hard thrust and grabs onto Iwaizumi’s arms that are on him, desperate to stay upright but it’s too difficult and he doubles over, his chest pressed against Iwaizumi’s, body shaking from the force of his thrusts.
“Hajime,” Oikawa moans brokenly, his head nestled in the crook of Iwaizumi’s neck, “I’m not there—I want—"
Despite the new angle with him lying on Iwaizumi, it’s not doing it, not tipping Oikawa over the edge and hitting him where he most needs it. Iwaizumi immediately gets it.
“Tooru, babe, get on your knees. Lemme—”
Before Iwaizumi can finish, Oikawa pops off his dick and maneuvers himself onto all fours with his back arched and ass up in the air, his puckered entrance waiting to be filled again. The sight is so appetizing that when Iwaizumi settles behind him, he can’t help but slap Oikawa’s ass, and again, leaving symmetrical red handprints on his cheeks. Oikawa yelps from the sting, then sighs when hands caress the skin tenderly and kisses are dropped.
“Stop being a tease,” Oikawa whines, glaring at Iwaizumi over his shoulder as he sways his hips eagerly.
“Says you,” Iwaizumi bites back, but he’s smirking and slaps a cheek once more.
There’s a retort on Oikawa’s tongue, ready to be fired off, but it morphs into a hoarse cry when Iwaizumi slams back into him with one fluid thrust. He rolls his hips, pushing deeper, and then sets a grueling pace, pulling Oikawa’s hips hard against him to meet each thrust. Oikawa moans as he pushes back, one hand fisting into the blanket as he lifts his other hand behind him. Iwaizumi reaches for it and intertwines their hands, a soft gesture amidst their rough fuck.
“Shit, Tooru, you feel so good,” Iwaizumi pants, then groans when Oikawa tightens around him in response.
Heat pools in his lower half and Iwaizumi knows he’s getting close, his balls aching, but he holds himself back. He wants Oikawa to come first, wants to watch him fall apart, so he tugs him closer, leaning over Oikawa as he changes the angle.
“Oh god, yesyesss—there!” Oikawa throws a wild look at him, gasping, “Don’t stop!”
Iwaizumi chuckles darkly. “I won’t, babe,” he reassures, voice low and husky, because in the past he has—and it absolutely killed Oikawa whenever he opted to torture him like that.
So when Iwaizumi doesn’t let up, hitting Oikawa exactly where he needs it each time he bottoms out, the effects are immediate; Oikawa drops to his forearm for support and pulls his hand away from Iwaizumi’s to furiously stroke his cock, forehead pressed against his forearm as he works himself in tandem with Iwaizumi’s thrusts, his body a shaking mess. It doesn’t take long after that, especially with Iwaizumi cooing,
“So good, Tooru, you make me so happy, come for me.”
Oikawa makes a soft whiny sound at that, and then he comes with a breathless moan as he spills on the blanket, the force of his orgasm sending tremors through him and rendering him unbearably tight. Iwaizumi feels every bit of it, letting out a deep, hoarse groan, and caresses his skin as he slows down to let Oikawa ride it out. When Oikawa sighs contently and goes lax, he picks up pace and chases his own high, jerking his hips a couple more times until pleasure seizes him, screwing his eyes shut as he buries himself deep inside Oikawa. He shudders, breathing hard.
They stay still for a moment before he pulls out. Oikawa softly mewls at the loss, and Iwaizumi watches with idle fascination as his come leaks out of Oikawa, some of it dripping down his thighs. The sight elicits a feeling of pride and love in him. Tearing his eyes away, Iwaizumi moves to grab the spare towel he packed. He had planned on swimming but that’s definitely out of the picture now, his body feeling sore and drained like it already had a good workout.
With the towel in hand, he collapses next to Oikawa, who is slumped against the now soiled beach blanket with a stupid, satisfied smile on his face, and cleans him up. He rolls his eyes when Oikawa tries to pull him down to cuddle.
“Mm, feels nice, Hajime. Even better if you hold me,” Oikawa hums, tugging his arm.
Iwaizumi swats his hand away but gives him a kiss. “Later,” he promises, dropping the towel to get his shorts. “Come on, get dressed.”
“Why the rush? No one is hereee.”
Iwaizumi snorts. He’s about to retort something about Oikawa being a shameless ass when he catches movement from the corner of his eye. He nearly gets whiplash when he jerks his head over, thinking he saw someone but really—it was a bird. But still, that startles him enough.
He chucks the remaining shorts at Oikawa. “With that attitude, I swear we’re gonna get caught!”
Later after heading back to Iwaizumi’s dorm and showering, they grab brunch at a local café known for its avocado toast, sitting outside in the sunny weather and surrounded by picturesque views of both the beach and the city. Iwaizumi decides on what he wants to eat and looks away from the menu to Oikawa, who has pulled out a mini notepad with a pen attached from his bag.
Oikawa smiles as he checks something off.
Iwaizumi squints at the notepad. “Is that…a bucket list?”
“Yup! Things I wanna do in Cali.”
“Oh, cool. What did you check off?”
Oikawa winks. “You know,” he sing-songs, flashing a glance at the beach, and he really doesn’t need to say anymore because Iwaizumi’s blank stare turns into reddening cheeks.
“That was on your bucket list?” Iwaizumi asks, splutters, disbelief written across his face. “God, Shittykawa, no wonder you were prepared.”
“What? It’s not like you didn’t enjoy it, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa teases with a knowing smirk, tone very smug. “Besides,” he says, voice near a purr, “now whenever you visit that beach, you can think about me. I want you to. Every time you go, think about how we—"
“Oh my god, shut up,” Iwaizumi cuts in, heat crawling up his neck. “Tell me that was the worst on your list.”
“Maybe, you’ll see.” Oikawa giggles and quickly puts the notepad away, preventing Iwaizumi from scrutinizing its contents.
Iwaizumi knows that tone, associates it with trouble, and he wants to press Oikawa on his list but he doesn’t get the chance. Their server chooses that moment to appear at their table and takes their orders. And before she leaves, she introduces the specialty drink of the day that’s half-priced and chirps,
“Have you ever tried it? Sex on the beach is good.”
Oikawa smirks and looks straight at Iwaizumi. “Yeah, it is.”