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The Sweater

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Winning feels good. It felt good on the court, right in the aftermath. It felt good on the bus ride home and at dinner afterward. It felt best walking back to Kageyama's house, just the two of them, and maybe better still when Kageyama shoots him the slyest glance Hinata has ever seen on his face as he kicks the door to his room shut, a bottle of sake in one hand, two small cups in the other. His parents don't drink, and won't miss the gift much after it's gone. After awhile, they forget they even have cups.

Now it's two in the morning, they just won Nationals for the first time in their high school careers (third year, the end they'd always dreamed of), and Hinata is pretty sure Kageyama is drunk off his ass.

Not that Hinata is much better. He's been relegated to taking tiny staggering baby steps every time he walks, or else risk falling flat on his face, but at least he's still mostly aware of the fact that he is drunk. Kageyama, meanwhile, keeps insisting that no, he is not, he's perfectly sober and it's Hinata who's drunk, because there's no way in a million years he could ever out drink Kageyama (Hinata can, and he has, because Kageyama is an incredible lightweight when it comes to sake).

"Give it to me," Hinata says, little pitter-patter footsteps—oops, overbalancing, overbalancing—he sticks his arms out at his sides like an airplane and slowly tips back before he can topple over.

Kageyama puts the back of his hand to his mouth, because he's laughing, the asshole, like he isn't even worse off than Hinata. Hinata doesn't think he can actually stand up. He lolls his head back against the bed and holds the bottle out tauntingly.

"Come get it," he slurs.

"Oh, I'll get it," Hinata threatens. He totters over until he's in front of Kageyama and he can drop to his knees, a bit too hard. He sways and makes a snatch at the sake bottle, but Kageyama pulls it out of reach with a smirk. "Gonna get it," Hinata promises determinedly, flinging his hand out at random like he's going to just take Kageyama by surprise, all of a sudden.

Kageyama is drunk as hell, but he's also got reflexes nearly as fast as Hinata's. More importantly, he'd be a shit partner if he didn't know exactly what Hinata was going to do before he did it. He just yanks the bottle further back and clicks his tongue.

"Did you just—'tsk'?" Hinata gasps, probably far too outraged for the scope of the situation. "Jeez, you picked that up from Tsukishima."

"No," Kageyama says, "I picked it up 'cuzzz… you're dumb."

Hinata glares at him. "Give me the sake."

Kageyama "tsk"s.

Hinata tips forward precariously. "Quit it."

"Make me."

Hinata isn't intending to accomplish this by slipping, but that's exactly what he does—flopping forward ungracefully, so that Kageyama has to shift to accommodate him, and Hinata sprawls against his chest at an uncomfortable angle, nestled in his lap, hands clutching at Kageyama's sweatshirt.


"Shut up," Hinata says, pulling him down by the collar to kiss him.

This achieves all the desired results. Number one: there are no more forthcoming "tsk"s. Number two: Hinata reaches out, feels blindly around until he makes contact with Kageyama's wrist, and he walks his fingers up the warm skin of Kageyama's hand until he can pull the sake bottle out of his suddenly slack grip. Number three… well, that one should be obvious.

Number three: he's kissing Kageyama.

It should probably be stated—this is the first time they've ever kissed. Secondarily—they are not dating. They've never discussed this. Whatever this is, if it's anything beyond an awkward tangle of limbs and press of lips. When all's said and done, they've never been anything more than two people who share a love for volleyball and an unshakeable trust and a life goal.

But that's really all.

That's entirely all it is, Hinata thinks, as he mumbles, "Wow… I've wanted to do this for ages."

Kageyama's whole body jerks, unexpectedly, and Hinata spills sake all over himself.

"Oh," Hinata says. He's not sure why he's not mad at Kageyama. He's drenched and it's obviously entirely Kageyama's fault for startling him. Normally he would be shouting already. Instead, he just blinks down at himself and then up at Kageyama, in something like surprise.

"Um," Kageyama says. He looks mortified, his ears are red. "I…"

"I don't have a change of clothes," Hinata says. They just walked straight to Kageyama's house after getting back to the school. All the clothes in his bag are dirty. He didn't plan ahead.

"I—shit." Kageyama looks around his room. "Um—"

"Give me this," Hinata says, yanking at the sweatshirt he has on. It's slouchy, cream-colored—Kageyama's had it since first year and he wears it everywhere. The hem is tattered and it's outright fraying at the ends of the sleeves and it's soft and a bit threadbare.

"Huh?" Kageyama asks, with his best deer in headlights expression (or as Hinata has come to know it, his best "one of the first years asked me for advice" expression).

Rather than answer verbally, Hinata grabs the bottom of the wet t-shirt he's wearing, and yanks it up over his head. He can't help but shiver a bit once it's off—Kageyama is gaping up at him, his eyes getting impossibly wider. Next he wriggles out of his pants, which is difficult, given that he's had too much to drink and is still settled firmly in Kageyama's lap, mostly. Once he's down to his boxers, he says, "I need something to wear."

He's not sure why he only decided to explain that now. It should, at this point, be obvious. But Kageyama is still staring at him in shock, so he figured he'd better elaborate.

Kageyama rips his sweater over his head, arms tangling in the sleeves and head getting caught in the neck hole. Hinata does not feel charitable enough to help him, and besides, watching Kageyama struggle to meet his needs is, honestly, something he enjoys doing from time to time. If only because the alternative is lots of yelling and trying to squeeze Hinata's head so hard it pops.

When he has the sweater off, finally, instead of just handing it over, he lurches toward Hinata—Hinata has no time to execute any evasive maneuvers, and then there is warm cotton being stuffed down over his ears, warm because Kageyama was just in it, wearing it, had it on his body. He tugs it down and Hinata lifts his arms up to fit them through the sleeves, head popping out the top. He shakes his hair out of his eyes to see that Kageyama is still watching him, mouth fallen slightly open.

Hinata looks down at his body to survey himself—unsurprisingly, the sweater is huge on him, draped over his frame, sliding off one shoulder, sleeves resolutely slipping down over his hands even after he tries to push them up.

He notices something else.

"Oh," he says, pulling the collar up over his nose and inhaling. "It smells like you."

Suddenly, his world is shifting, upending, he's tumbling but he doesn't hit the ground too hard. Maybe some of it is the sake, making his limbs loose, that seems to cushion him. But mostly it's Kageyama, who is the reason for this sudden turmoil, lowering him awkwardly, but gently, until his back is pressed to the floor, and his front is decidedly pressed up against his setter, who is now lying on top of him, instead of Hinata sitting on him.

"Hi, Kageyama," Hinata says. His voice comes out breathless. It was kind of a sudden move, though, and his head is spinning.

"You're… gonna smell like me, too," Kageyama tells him in response.

Hinata considers this and decides that it does make sense. "Yeah, probably. Is that bad?"

Kageyama drowsily shakes his head, which makes him slump, lower and lower, until his face is in Hinata's neck. Hinata raises a hand to smooth his hair down, even though it is already very smooth.

"S'not bad," Kageyama mumbles.

"I don't think it's bad either."

"I didn't ask if you thought it wasn't bad."

"Well, I didn't ask if you could act like a jerk, but you decided to anyway—"

Kageyama raises his head. The movement is slow and sluggish and Hinata feels Kageyama's lips and nose slide from his neck, up over his jaw, and across his cheek, before he can finally look Hinata in the eye.

"Shut up," he says, resolutely.

Hinata grins up at him. "Make me."

The second kiss is less a press of lips, and more like a crash. Kageyama, in something of a cross between eager and inebriated, ducks his head down and jams his lips over Hinata's. Hinata hisses, threading his fingers into the other boy's dark hair to tug him back just a fraction—just so that it doesn't feel like his lips are being smashed through the back of his teeth. Kageyama takes the hint, eases up on the pressure just a little bit, and then—

It's warm. Hinata hums. It's warm… and it's nice.

He's never done this before—kissing stuff. But it makes sense, because he'd never gotten to do a lot of things, before he met Kageyama, and some of those have been the things he's always wanted to do the most. This is kind of like that.

This is a lot like that.

This is Kageyama, and Hinata has wanted to kiss him, more than anything, since forever.

Kageyama kisses him over and over, nothing too fancy—actually it's pretty uncoordinated, mostly tight-lipped pecks, only very generally concentrated in the region of Hinata's mouth (the corners of his mouth, the dip in his top lip, they see some action because Kageyama's aiming skills have deserted him). But then suddenly Kageyama inhales in a great gasp, like he hasn't breathed since he started (probably forgot), and Hinata tightens the hand in his hair into a fist and doesn't let him pull away for air as he opens up with him, and suddenly it's open-mouthed, wet and messy and really very warm. There's one extra tongue in his mouth, and he surprisingly doesn't hate that fact. He kinda likes it.

"Ka—Ka…" he pants, "you're—okay with—this?" It's hard to talk because Kageyama doesn't stop kissing him for a second. "You wanna—mmph—k-kiss me?"

"Yeah," Kageyama grunts, gruff and maybe a bit put out at having to pause to answer questions.

"Why?" Hinata asks.

"Well, 'cuz—" Kageyama says, resting his lips against Hinata's chin. "We won, tonight."

"Oh…" Hinata says. "Only… because of that?"

"Yeah," Kageyama says, pulling back to look at him again. "You make me… invincible. Right now, I can do anything."

And then he grins at Hinata, because that's their thing. That's what they promised, and they did it.

Then he says, "I like how you look in my sweater."

Hinata blinks up at him because this is new information. "Oh," he says. "Yeah?" Was that a compliment? Kageyama is really just talking about things he likes, but it's pretty close, Hinata thinks.

Kageyama props himself up on his hands, and his eyes travel down, from Hinata's face, to his shoulders, and then his torso, until he's staring at Hinata's legs, right at the hem of the sweatshirt where it hangs loose on Hinata's hips, rucked up from the sudden shift to their new position on the floor. His expression is so familiar—the look of intense concentration he gets when they're practicing a new toss and he's trying to memorize Hinata's movements, his position, his… body.

"Oh," Hinata whispers, not loud enough for Kageyama to even hear, but Kageyama bites his lip and blushes. And then the self-consciousness starts—the sweater covers his underwear but not much else, and Kageyama is lying right between his bare legs, and looking like he wants to kiss Hinata again—and Hinata really wants to kiss him again—

"Yeah," Kageyama says, and it takes Hinata a second to realize he's responding to his earlier question. "You look… ho—goo—nice, I guess…"

He mumbles and botches the words, but that was definitely a compliment. Hinata feels his heart start thumping in his chest, like it always does right when the scoreboard is set at zero-zero and the whistle is about to blow. Because something is about to happen, here.

"Hey, Kageyama," he says, and Kageyama freezes over him, breath caught. Stupid, Hinata thinks, you don't even have a reason to be nervous. "If you're invincible—if you can do anything… then what else do you wanna do?"

In response, Kageyama does… nothing. Hinata's stomach clenches. Maybe that was a stupid question—maybe Kageyama just realized what's going on, maybe he didn't really want to do any of this in the first place—

"Can I…" Kageyama breathes, sliding his fingers under the hem of the sweatshirt. For a brief moment, the tiniest fraction of a second, Hinata doesn't really grasp what's happening. This is before he feels the warmest, softest brush of fingers, drifting up the inside of his thigh. And higher.

Hinata squeezes his eyes shut and puts a hand over his mouth. Suddenly, they're not just arguing, they're not trying to one-up each other or make anyone shut up. Kageyama's hand fits itself firmly over his hip, thumb pressed right into the groove, fingers curling, pressing into the soft flesh of Hinata's back, the swell of his ass.

The way it feels—being grabbed like this, having Kageyama grab him like this—Kageyama doesn't touch him like this. Kageyama lets Hinata hang all over him, Kageyama smacks him when Hinata's being annoying, Kageyama maybe gives him a high five, sometimes, when Hinata's really on point. But he doesn't touch him like this. Not the way Hinata wants him to.

Hinata whimpers, small and soft.

Kageyama pulls away immediately, and Hinata doesn't know how to tell him not to—how to tell him to keep going, because what if he really doesn't want—

"Sorry—I'll stop—" Kageyama mumbles, sounding so worried, and Hinata finally opens his eyes again, hands shooting out to grab his face—probably a bit too hard, judging by the way he winces.

"No," he says. "Kageyama, you can do anything."

Kageyama looks at him from between Hinata's hands, and the gears finally seem to lock into place. He bends at the elbows, lowers himself, until he's lying on top of Hinata again, a solid, reassuring weight. Maybe too heavy. Hinata doesn't care.

His breath puffs out hot against the side of Hinata's face, his ear, and Hinata thinks maybe he's trying to kiss him again, but then he starts to move. He starts to move, and there's no second guessing what Kageyama wants, anymore.

Hinata's mouth falls open. He's afraid to make a noise, because he doesn't want to scare Kageyama off, like a skittish animal. He doesn't want Kageyama to stop.

But Kageyama puts a hand under his ass and hikes his body up higher, all easy effort, like Hinata weighs nothing—he rolls his hips against Hinata's, and it's so easy to feel him, through the thin, thin material of Hinata's underwear.

And Hinata moans, long and low.

And Kageyama doesn't stop. He gasps in Hinata's ear, and his hips jerk, and the hard friction only serves to make Hinata keen louder, feel hotter, cling to him tighter. This last at least prevents Kageyama from even considering pulling away from him. This is way more than kissing, so much more, and it's all happening at once. Part of Hinata doesn't know what to be more shocked at: the fact that they're doing this at all, or that neither of them has collapsed into a pile of nervous embarrassment. But the thought is dulled, maybe by the fact that he's hammered, but more likely by the fact that Kageyama is grinding their dicks together through their clothes.

He groans in Hinata's ear, the thick shaft of his cock rolling against Hinata's hard-on, and it makes Hinata grit his teeth and bend his back, body trembling when he lifts it clear off the floor, fingers twisting in Kageyama's hair.

It's basically impossible to be embarrassed right now—it's impossible to experience anything other than how great it is, to be wanted like this, by Kageyama.

"You look too good," Kageyama pants, a bit nonsensically, keeps rambling as he presses his lips against Hinata's ear, his temple, his cheek, hard and insistent, like he's trying to remind Hinata that yes, he's here, he's there until the end. "You look—really good—wanna give you—more clothes—"

"Wh-what?" Hinata asks, a little bewildered. He's already not thinking clearly. "You—huh?"

"Dunno," Kageyama mumbles. "Fuck—Hinata, can you—my jersey—"

"You want me to—wear it?" Hinata gasps.


"Okay—" Hinata says, clutching him tighter, fingers dragging at his hair, "yeah, whatever you want—"

Kageyama shudders. "Just… the jersey. N-nothing else…"

Hinata seizes up underneath him, from the sudden influx of pressure and the heat bubbling in his abdomen, swelling from a slow flame to an unbearable boil. Kageyama wants that from him. Wants that with him.

"Hinata—" the other boy starts to say, but gets no further, because Hinata experiences his first bout of real embarrassment that night—not wholly surprising, not all that soon, given he's never been with anyone besides his own hand before, but—

"Oh, crap," he whispers, which is maybe a weird thing to say, but he's about to— "Oh crap, oh—oh—"

He soaks the front of his boxers, wrapping his arms around Kageyama so he can keep the setter's face jammed into the crook of his neck. He can't stop himself from crying out, though, even though he tries to muffle the sound in Kageyama's hair, turning his face at the last second to bury it in soft, dark strands.

Kageyama's hand clutches hard at his ass, which makes him squirm a little more. He wishes a little bit that Kageyama had done that sooner, while all that overwhelming feeling was still building, instead of now, when it's melting away. But then he feels the squeeze and release, those long fingers scrabbling desperately, and Kageyama's hips give a couple small, uneven jerks as he buries his face further into Hinata's neck. He manages to stay quiet, sighing softly into Hinata's hair right at the very end, the most contented sound Hinata's ever heard. It makes his heart ache, but in a good way.

They lie there afterwards for longer than is necessary—maybe even long enough for it to be qualified as cuddling. Hinata thinks Kageyama might have fallen asleep, but then the setter sighs again, and nuzzles closer, nosing deliberately into Hinata's messy hair to breathe in slowly.

"You wanna move to the bed?" Hinata asks him quietly, rubbing a hand over Kageyama's back. The dark-haired boy nods, and together they manage to drag themselves up to tumble into the sheets, which is much more comfortable than the floor.

Kageyama seems to be fading fast, but he still manages to pull Hinata sleepily to him, so Hinata's back is pressed to his chest. His fingers play with the bottom of the sweatshirt, and Hinata rests his hand there, too. Every once in awhile, Kageyama's fingers brush his, until he really starts to drop off to sleep. Then Hinata is free to slip his hand into Kageyama's larger one.

The night has been really good. (Well, except for not lasting longer. But he can overlook that.)

He'd thought the morning after Nationals would be boring in comparison. Now, he can't wait to see what comes next.



Hinata stares down into the sock drawer.

It's abysmally organized and basically impossible to tell which ones belong to whom (neon colors are his, the awful crew socks are Kageyama's, and there is one pair of rainbow toe socks both of them have been vehemently denying owning for months—Hinata thinks Tanaka-senpai may have snuck it in there when he came to see their apartment with Azumane and Noya to mess with them).

He's never actually seen the bottom of the drawer that he can remember, but he hasn't done laundry in awhile and he's dug right down to the bottom to unearth a pair that will fit him after his shower, which is how he finds it.

It. The Sweater—the cream-colored, tattered, threadbare high school sweater Kageyama only ever took off before matches and showering. That sweater.

He pulls it out from under all the socks, and it's just as soft as he remembers. He smiles and presses his nose to the front of it—it doesn't smell like much of anything, except vaguely, maybe, clean socks.

He remembers the night they won Nationals, and Kageyama telling him Hinata was going to smell like him after wearing it, and he giggles.

But… he doesn't think he can remember Kageyama wearing it, recently. When was the last time, he wonders—it doesn't smell like Kageyama, and that seems wrong somehow. Slowly, he pulls it over his head, and it's warm, but only because of the long sleeves and cottony thickness. It's not warm in the way he likes best.

The clattering of pots and pans in the kitchen draws his attention, and his eyes flick that way as he gets an idea.

He thinks he knows how to get warm.

Kageyama is about to start making dinner, which is generally his jurisdiction in the evenings. Hinata is hopeless beyond instant ramen and grocery store bought bento, but Kageyama can actually cook. Hinata needs to get to him before he starts, though, or he's going to be out of luck—so he's not even wearing anything besides the sweater when he skids into the living room to lean nonchalantly against the door frame.

"Tobio," he says brightly, "look what I found in the sock drawer!"

"Hmm?" comes the response, and Hinata realizes that the Making Dinner apron is already on and tied around Kageyama's waist. It may already be too late.

"It's your old sweatshirt, from high school," Hinata says hurriedly, with a laugh. "I can't believe you kept this!"

For a moment, he's not sure Kageyama heard him, or if he did, then he just doesn't care—he doesn't move, doesn't give any reaction that he heard anything. Hinata puffs himself up a little, pouting, because he'd like to think Kageyama would care, about the sweater that sort of started all of what they have now.

He tugs at the collar until it's nearly sliding off one shoulder, making a show of inspecting the hole where his elbow pokes straight through.

"It's so stretched out…" he muses, "threadbare…"

Kageyama suddenly whips his head around to stare at him, eyes wide. Like a deer in headlights.

His eyes travel down a familiar path, from Hinata's face to the expanse of skin exposed by the falling shirt sleeve, and lower, of course, to the hem that stops just below his hips, putting his bare legs on full display, high up the lines of his thighs. Kageyama's neck and cheeks are turning red, and when Hinata speaks, he snaps his gaze back up to look him in the eye, like he hadn't just been staring openly and obviously.

"What is it?" Hinata wonders, coyly, enjoying this moment to its fullest.

"Shouyou…" Kageyama says, all low and rough and Hinata knows it wouldn't have mattered if he'd started cooking already—that fire hazard would have been thoroughly ignored in favor of this new one, because Hinata knows when he looks fucking hot and right now, he can tell he's got Kageyama burning.

"Yes?" he asks innocently.

"How did you—why are you…" Kageyama splutters uselessly.

Hinata tilts his head to the side. "I wanted to smell like you, I guess."

Kageyama rips the apron off over his head and lunges for him, and Hinata skitters out of the way, laughing extra obnoxiously all the way to the bedroom, where Kageyama finally catches him.

"Kageyama, calm down!" he gasps, which gets him nothing but an irritable growl of "Shut up, dumbass," as Kageyama picks him up around the waist and tosses him onto the bed. He pulls his shirt off as well and Hinata hums in approval, laying spread out in the sheets, sweatshirt riding high enough that he knows he's giving Kageyama an eyeful of just how little he's wearing under it—which is to say, nothing.

He doesn't feel self-conscious, anymore. No shyness. Hinata is so comfortable in his own skin in front of Kageyama now, naked and wanting, with Kageyama's eyes on him, hands on him. It's really great, the difference one shared bottle of sake and a few months can make. 

"What the hell, Hinata," Kageyama mumbles under his breath as he crawls over him.

He starts low, head down right by Hinata's ankles as he kisses his exposed legs, lips brushing over his calves, the right and the left as he turns from side to side. It's slow going, and Hinata doesn't mind one bit, eyes closing as he enjoys the focused attention, the small kisses right at the crease that starts the backs of his knees, and then the tops, and then more, up over his thighs.

"What the hell," Kageyama says again, lips pressed into the soft skin over toned muscle Hinata has gained from years and years of hard work and play.

"Why do you keep saying that?" Hinata murmurs. He's not looking at Kageyama, preferring to keep his eyes shut so he can concentrate on how it feels, Kageyama so deliberate and focused on him, kissing the parts of him that no one else sees, that belong to Kageyama entirely, that Hinata honestly probably didn't need to break out the tricks and the boyfriend clothes for but… that part's fun.

He slides a hand down to trail it lightly through Kageyama's hair, letting the strands slip through his fingers. No pulling or pressure, just letting Kageyama know that he's enjoying himself, very much so. Kageyama responds by licking his thigh up to where it creases, right under his balls, and Hinata tosses his head in the sheets with a smile.

"How come you just—" Kageyama huffs against his hip. "Why did you just suddenly decide to wear this?"

"I already told you," Hinata says. "But it doesn't smell like you at all. I haven't even seen you wear it in months, why?"

Kageyama is silent and Hinata finally opens his eyes to look at him. There are blue eyes blinking back at him, Kageyama staring at him from in between his legs and Hinata bites his lip, because he likes having Kageyama down there—and he looks so cute it makes Hinata want to laugh.

"I don't know," Kageyama says. "It's just that—whenever I wore it I'd start to—" He looks like he wants to say something but can't quite force it out, frown inching over his features.

"You'd start to…"

Kageyama shakes his head fiercely and crawls higher up the bed, caging Hinata underneath him, lowering his head to murmur, "Doesn't matter. I like it when you… wear my clothes."

He brushes his lips against Hinata's, and Hinata laughs softly. It turns to a gasp, soft intakes of breath falling from his mouth more and more frequently as Kageyama's kisses get rougher, more eager, as he trails a hand between Hinata's legs and over his cock.

"I know you like it," Hinata pants. "That's why—that's why I did it."

"How'd you know?" Kageyama asks, teeth grazing, tugging at his bottom lip. Hinata groans, he hates it when Kageyama does that, because it's so stupidly sexy and Hinata knows he's not even doing it on purpose. He just likes to bite.

"Obviously," is all he manages to say. How dumb does Kageyama think he is?

He starts to slide his hands up Kageyama's back, all the hard muscle, wide shoulders, but Kageyama pulls away from him, sitting up. Hinata whines. His breathing is uneven, his cock is starting to leak onto his stomach, he needs—

Kageyama pushes the sweater up high, up to Hinata's armpits, then runs his fingers down the newly bared skin—over Hinata's chest and nipples and the slope of his ribs, his stomach.

"I really want to show you how much I like it," Kageyama says, eyes all over the paths his fingers trace.

Hinata is breathless when he gives his express permission. "Okay."

He watches as Kageyama leans over to get what he needs from the bedside table—a little foil square and a bottle of lube, and when he pops the cap on the latter to squeeze it over his fingers, slicking them liberally, Hinata squirms on the bed in anticipation. Kageyama notices.

The past few months have taught Hinata that they can be surprisingly needy, when it comes to each other. He supposes this isn't all that surprising, given their history—they've even got the same scholarship to the same university, because thanks to the Nationals win, the scouts saw what a huge waste it would be of their potential not to keep them paired together. So, paired together they've always been.

Kageyama says "Jump," and Hinata shouts, "How high," Hinata demands perfection and Kageyama promises he'll deliver, one way or another.

And when Kageyama slips his fingers down against Hinata's entrance and asks, "You want this?" Hinata nods frantically, even as his cock twitches against his stomach, giving him away before he can say anything.

Kageyama pulls Hinata's legs over his thighs, grabbing the small spiker by the hips to drag him into position—until Hinata's entrance is nearly lined up with his cock, which is tenting Kageyama's sweatpants, though he seems content to ignore it for now—pulling Hinata close and sliding a hand up his hip, anchoring him in place. Like that, Hinata's legs are spread wide enough that it's easy for Kageyama to tease him, thumb rubbing through the lube spread around the outside of his hole.

Hinata arches his back and groans. "Don't make me wait for it."

"You're getting exactly what you want, as usual," Kageyama tells him, eyes focused down as he plays with Hinata, pressing his fingers just firmly enough that Hinata feels them pushing inward, and he grabs Kageyama's knee, squeezing. "You can be patient."

"I can't," Hinata gasps, as his fingers retreat once again. "Kageyama, please…"

He knows he's going to get what he wants, in part because Kageyama is pretty weak, especially when Hinata asks for him nicely. But the teasing is killing him, he's been turned on like a lightbulb since he saw the sweater sitting at the bottom of the drawer. Since he remembered the first time Kageyama touched him, and how it just made him want more, more, exactly like he does now.

Kageyama eases one finger into him and he lets his hand slip off the setter's knee, mouth going slack as he feels himself stretching around it, just slightly, letting Kageyama in. Kageyama pushes in and out of him slow and slick, clearly in no rush, and Hinata lets him do what he wants, spreads his legs a little wider.

"Good?" Kageyama asks, and he nods vaguely. "Yeah, I bet—god, you're so tight—"

"Lucky you," Hinata says and Kageyama hums.

"And you—I'm going to get you so nice and relaxed, Shouyou," Kageyama tells him, and Hinata's glad he's lying down, because all of his limbs feel limp and useless, like whenever he tries to cook noodles that don't come with microwave instructions (which is why Kageyama doesn't like letting him do it anymore).

"Kage—oh—" He twists his hand into the sheets as Kageyama slips another finger inside him, using it to very gently open him up wider.

"I'm going to make you feel so good," Kageyama says, and Hinata's gone.

Kageyama rubs his hip, long fingers stroking reassuringly over his side, palm grazing at the top of his thigh, as he works his fingers inside him, pushes them in deep. Hinata shoves his hair out of his face with one hand to watch him work, tongue poked out between his lips as he takes in the way Kageyama's cheeks are flushed, his fingers pressed inside Hinata to the knuckles, the bulge in his pants and the dark, blown pupils. The way he starts to thrust, long slides of his fingers, pulling them out to the tips, rotating his wrist to press against the edges of Hinata's sensitive entrance before pushing all the way back in, slow and hard.

He's such a genius with his hands. Hinata babbles encouragement, and Kageyama makes absolutely good on his promise as he continues to open him up, achingly methodical. As Hinata fades further into bliss, he ups his efforts, varying between thrusting his fingers sharp and hard until Hinata's eyes are rolled back in his head and he's struggling to breathe, before slowing down again to brush, every so often, right against his prostate—Hinata's breath hitches, his whole body shudders, but he's not whining or begging anymore. Not much comes out of his mouth but heavy, low moans, the kind that only happen when he's starting to forget his own name. He cries out for Kageyama instead, his name and how good it feels to have Kageyama inside him.

And only when he's reached that point, once he's been stretched to take three fingers and is shaking in the sheets, does Kageyama move on. But he's not done yet, far from it.

"Haah—" Hinata gasps, as Kageyama wraps his arms around his waist and starts to lift him. At this point, Hinata doesn't know up from down, he has no idea what's happening. "Tobio? What—"

"I've got you," Kageyama says, as he picks Hinata wholly up off the bed, drawing him into his arms… upside down. "Just hang in there."

That's gonna be hard to do, is all Hinata really has the chance to think, as Kageyama braces a hand across his chest and the other under his thigh, Hinata's legs hoisted into the air on either side of his head, so he can press his mouth to his wet, open hole and start licking.

"Fuck," Hinata whispers. It's all he can manage.

He has no idea what possessed Kageyama to get him into this position but Kageyama is strong enough that Hinata doesn't even have to do anything to support himself. So he just dangles in Kageyama's arms, lightheaded and dazed, toes curling and thighs twitching as Kageyama rims him, tongue laving over his entrance, sending tremors down his spine.

He's incoherent, already so far out of it from the slow fingering, and when Kageyama's tongue edges inside him, flicks and curls and Hinata can feel it, he wants to respond but he can't. He just shakes, and his voice is soft and high when he keens, breathless and lost in how much this all is, every sensation.

Kageyama presses his mouth against his hole and sucks at him, and Hinata's whole body jolts like he's been electrocuted. He closed his eyes at some point without even realizing it, and he chokes a little at the incredible build of pressure and heat, barely registering the trail of saliva trickling from his mouth.


Kageyama ignores his useless noises and tightens his hold, and Hinata sobs as he feels the push and release of pressure when Kageyama starts to fuck him with his tongue, still taking his time even as he plunges into Hinata again and again. Hinata's cock is leaking, splattering over his stomach and onto the arm Kageyama has wrapped around him, and—

He comes without warning as Kageyama drags his tongue over the outside of his hole again, gasping and crying out, little broken noises that stutter out of him every time his cock pulses, shooting messily over his chest and the hem of the sweater. He sags in Kageyama's arms, feeling weightless, yet heavy and sated.

Kageyama shifts again, bringing Hinata with him, until he lies propped up by the pillows, hands stroking over Hinata's torso. He doesn't have to support Hinata's weight to keep him in position this way, and Hinata feels his head rush lessen, but he squirms as Kageyama keeps mouthing at him. He now seems content to run his tongue gently against Hinata's rim, occasionally sliding up to tease the underside of his balls before dipping back down, circling his entrance.

"G-god—" Hinata stutters, and he hears and feels Kageyama laugh. "Tobio… I'm—I…" He's still having trouble lining up his thoughts, made more difficult by the slow traces Kageyama is licking between his legs and at his entrance. Unfair.

Kageyama finally stops. He picks his head up to look at Hinata. "Do you need a break?"

The phrasing of the question makes Hinata bristle. "No!" he says instantly, even though he kinda does. But, no, he can take it. Besides… "You haven't even come yet."

"Not yet," Kageyama says.

"Well?" Hinata says expectantly. "Are you going to do something about that?"

Kageyama nods. "Yeah."

"Then—oh, god, okay, okay—" Hinata arches his back in Kageyama's lap as Kageyama slides two fingers back inside him—scissoring, holding him open as he slides his tongue in between them. "Kage—Tobio, I need—I need—"

Kageyama leaves him empty, suddenly, and Hinata sobs, desperate—but then he feels himself being picked up and pulled upright, has to wait for an agonizingly long time, it seems, as Kageyama slides his sweatpants off before pulling Hinata into his lap again, Hinata's back pressed against his chest. Hinata's shaky fingers twitch towards the hem of the sweater, but Kageyama intercepts his hand, threading their fingers together as he presses his mouth to the crook of Hinata's shoulder. The message is clear: leave it on.

Hinata stares down between his spread legs where Kageyama's cock rises, flushed and wet at the tip. He whines in anticipation as Kageyama rolls the condom on, watches him dribble lube over his dick.

"Y-yes… Kageyama, yes—" he whimpers, eyes wide as Kageyama strokes himself, pumping over his cock, hips rolling under Hinata as he pushes his dick up through his fist, and Hinata knows that's the way he's going to get fucked, any second now, hard and strong with Kageyama thick inside him. "L-let me—take it—"

Kageyama's breathing is harsh, he smacks his hands against Hinata's legs, grabs onto him under one knee and the back of his other thigh, lifts Hinata up so he can press his cock, finally, to his hole. He lowers Hinata, slowly, easily, cock sliding inside his relaxed, waiting body, and Hinata moans the whole way down, the entire time Kageyama is fitting them together, pushing deep inside him.

"Fuck," Kageyama groans. "Fuck, you're so ready for me—"

Hinata drops his head back, trying to breathe. He finally feels so full. After all the prepping and teasing, he's overwhelmed—it feels incredible.


Kageyama doesn't allow him to want more—he gives it up before Hinata can ask, rocking his hips hard and fast at the same time he uses his grip under Hinata's legs to lift and drop him onto his cock, until all Hinata knows is the pounding grind of Kageyama deep in him, fucking him into total, complete bliss. He might be moaning Kageyama's name, but he's not sure. He's lost awareness of everything but the feeling of Kageyama in him. Hinata hangs onto Kageyama with one unsteady arm, curved around to hold onto his head, fingers twisting shakily in the soft strands. His other hand clutches weakly at the sheets, barely able to grab and hold.

"Shouyou—fuck," Kageyama pants. "I like it so much—when you wear—" He breaks off with a groan, face shoved into Hinata's shoulder. Hinata can feel him bite, through the cloth, can hear him whining as he gets closer to orgasm. God, he loves listening to Kageyama when he comes.

"You—like it so much…" Hinata echoes, fingers gripping tighter in Kageyama's hair. He can tell how frantic Kageyama is, harsh breathing, hips snapping up sharp and hard.

"It reminds me…" Kageyama gasps out, and for a second Hinata is sure he's going to talk about that night. But then, "It reminds me that… you like me—"

Hinata moans, and tries to correct him. "Li-like? Tobio, I love—"

He cuts off as Kageyama cries out, low and brief, hips pressing up slower, gentler, as he comes. He sighs, clinging to Hinata, and Hinata eases back into his arms as his hips roll, grinding a circle as deep as they can get when he finishes.

"Shouyou," Kageyama murmurs, hand sliding from under his knee to drop between his legs, closing over his cock, and Hinata's mouth falls open as Kageyama starts to bring him off. He's so close, and he won't last long, getting his cock stroked, with Kageyama still filling him.

"Feel so good…" he mumbles, as Kageyama kisses his neck.

"I told you," Kageyama says, pulling his hand over the tip of Hinata's cock, and Hinata bites his lip, nods, and spills wet and hot all over Kageyama's fingers. "There you go. There you go, Shouyou."

He can barely move after, only just manages to help Kageyama get out of him before collapsing into the bed like a dazed puddle of a person, staring at the ceiling. Kageyama tosses the condom and then gets out of bed. Hinata hears the bathroom door open, then Kageyama peeing, then running water, and the sound of teeth brushing. It all sounds hazy and vague, and he wonders if this is what it's like, to have an out of body experience. He still feels incredible. He's also hungry.

"What are you staring at?" he hears Kageyama ask, then the bed indents, and warm arms pull him in close. "If I broke your brain even more, coach is gonna kill me."

"I'll stop him," Hinata says lazily, ignoring the insult. "I can't let you die, no one else is gonna bang me like that."

Kageyama snorts and shoves his face into Hinata's back. "Damn right."

"That was…" Hinata doesn't even have words. "Have you been wanting to do that since Nationals?" he asks, curious. He regrets not looking for the sweater sooner.

"Huh?" Kageyama asks. "Why Nationals?"

"Well, you said it back then," Hinata says.

"Said what?"

Hinata rolls his eyes and turns over to face him. Maybe he's not the only one whose brain is still rebooting. "That you liked when I wear your clothes."

Kageyama looks utterly blank. "I… did? When?"

Hinata stares at him. "When… when I wore it? And we… we kinda like… were dry humping, and stuff?"

Kageyama's eyes widen. "We what? At Nationals? Hinata, what the hell are you—"

"After!" Hinata says. "At your house, when the sake spilled and I had nothing to wear—"

"We spilled the sake?" Kageyama asks, sounding bewildered, and Hinata thinks of a very, very important question.

"Kageyama—what do you remember after we started drinking?"

As it turns out, Kageyama remembers nothing at all. An unfortunate side effect of getting blackout drunk, but Hinata had been sure—he'd definitely thought, all things considered—

"That's why…" Kageyama says slowly, eyes widening. "This is why I had to stop wearing it. Every time I put it on, I got super horny, and I didn't know why, so I just—oh, shut up—"

Hinata is dying laughing. "Wait, so…" he says, "the next morning… you didn't remember anything?"


"But you were—" Hinata thinks back on it, and frowns. "You were totally fine with me holding your hand and—and kissing you, and stuff!"

"Yeah." Kageyama smiles. It's tiny and shy. "It made me really happy."

Hinata melts. "Tobio… you never said anything."

"I just…" Kageyama shrugs, and Hinata leans up to press his forehead to his setter's, smiling wider and wider as Kageyama explains, eyes averted, blushing red. "I figured you were just really happy after Nationals, too. I didn't… I didn't want to mess it up, and then you seemed to actually want to keep—keep seeing me, and so…"

They've been dating for months, and Kageyama never even realized how it started. Hinata shakes his head in disbelief and then kisses him. It's minty. "I can't believe you just—went along with it. You must have been so confused."

"Well," Kageyama says, "I'm confused a lot. I just go along with you because it's easier than you throwing a tantrum."

Hinata shoves his shoulder and then laughs, because this is generally true on both accounts. Then he remembers something else.

"Wait…" he says again. "What did you think the first—well, second—that one time at graduation when—"

"You blew me behind the gym?" Kageyama supplies, and Hinata puts a hand over his mouth, realizing now what that must have seemed like. Kageyama just scratches his head and looks contemplative. "Uh, 'holy shit', mostly."

Hinata faceplants into the pillows, and refuses to be roused by anything less than the promise of Kageyama making tamago gohan, even though it's dinnertime. But they need to shower first, and Hinata makes Kageyama put his old sweater on, after they step out.

That way, the next time, it'll smell the way it's supposed to.