Kyoutani’s hands are rougher than usual, his thrusts more powerful, his teeth on Oikawa’s pulse sharper.
“Calm down, little dog. You’re mauling me here.”
The answer he gets is a vicious snap of Kyoutani’s hips and a low grunt. He’s not one for sweet talk.
Oikawa’s insides burn and his back hurts - the benches in the changing room are only so comfortable - but he smiles when Kyoutani lifts his head and stares at him. He’s like an animal with only one purpose to his erratic movements: gratification. It’s obvious he cares little for the pleasure of his partner but Oikawa can’t say he minds. He knew from the beginning what he got himself into. This isn’t for him or his amusement. It’s for the rabid dog on top of him who doesn’t know how to control the power inside him, doesn’t know how to release his strength in controlled bursts. The sex helps. It calms him and makes him easier to deal with on court.
Oikawa thinks it’s worth the bruises and bite marks that wouldn’t fade until a few days after. He gives as much as he takes though: The scratches, bruises and marks littered over Kyoutani’s body tell the whole tale of Oikawa’s resistance. He’s not the type to roll onto his back the moment another bares his fangs at him, after all.
Kyoutani’s gaze remains unwavering, his eyes drawn to small slits. They’re the only steady thing about him. The rest of his body is all tremors and mindless rutting.
“You’re making me blush if you keep looking at me like that.” Oikawa quips and flutters his lashes.
“As if.”
It’s the first thing leaving his mouth since Oikawa had pulled him back when he wanted to leave after training, everybody else but them already gone.
“Rude!” Oikawa pouts.
He arches his back and curls his legs tighter around Kyoutani’s hips before leaning up and kissing him on the cheek. The reaction is priceless. Kyoutani freezes and blushes right up to the dyed roots of his short cropped hair. It makes Oikawa want to burst into hysteric laughter. He doesn’t give in to the urge but he allows himself a soft giggle.
“Now look at that, the mad dog can be cute after all.”
It’s enough of deliberate provocation to pull Kyoutani out of his stupified daze. His hips snap forward and he pulls Oikawa’s upper lip in between his teeth while he buries himself into his captain as deeply as possible. It feels like punishment.
Oikawa screams but he doesn’t tell Kyoutani to stop. He would if being told - Oikawa knows from experience - but he doesn’t. Kyoutani needs this, all of it. The violence, the pain, the knowledge that Oikawa can take what he has to give and doesn’t judge him for it. He needs somebody who can keep up with him.
Oikawa screams a second time and rakes his nails down the other boy’s flesh so hard, his fingernails come back with blood. It’s enough to make Kyoutani come. Oikawa can feel the telltale wetness between his legs.
Kyoutani doesn’t bother to pull out. He simply sacks on top of Oikawa, his face pressed into the junction of shoulder and neck, and emits a low grumble. Oikawa likes to imagine it’s a sigh of contentment. He even dares to brush with his bloodied fingers through the blond hair. Surprisingly enough, Kyoutani allows the tender touch.
“You’re just a little puppy after all.” Oikawa mumbles and this time there’s no protest coming from above him.
FILL: TEAM KUROO TETSUROU/OIKAWA TOORU, M
Words: 589
Kyoutani’s hands are rougher than usual, his thrusts more powerful, his teeth on Oikawa’s pulse sharper.
“Calm down, little dog. You’re mauling me here.”
The answer he gets is a vicious snap of Kyoutani’s hips and a low grunt. He’s not one for sweet talk.
Oikawa’s insides burn and his back hurts - the benches in the changing room are only so comfortable - but he smiles when Kyoutani lifts his head and stares at him. He’s like an animal with only one purpose to his erratic movements: gratification. It’s obvious he cares little for the pleasure of his partner but Oikawa can’t say he minds. He knew from the beginning what he got himself into. This isn’t for him or his amusement. It’s for the rabid dog on top of him who doesn’t know how to control the power inside him, doesn’t know how to release his strength in controlled bursts. The sex helps. It calms him and makes him easier to deal with on court.
Oikawa thinks it’s worth the bruises and bite marks that wouldn’t fade until a few days after. He gives as much as he takes though: The scratches, bruises and marks littered over Kyoutani’s body tell the whole tale of Oikawa’s resistance. He’s not the type to roll onto his back the moment another bares his fangs at him, after all.
Kyoutani’s gaze remains unwavering, his eyes drawn to small slits. They’re the only steady thing about him. The rest of his body is all tremors and mindless rutting.
“You’re making me blush if you keep looking at me like that.” Oikawa quips and flutters his lashes.
“As if.”
It’s the first thing leaving his mouth since Oikawa had pulled him back when he wanted to leave after training, everybody else but them already gone.
“Rude!” Oikawa pouts.
He arches his back and curls his legs tighter around Kyoutani’s hips before leaning up and kissing him on the cheek. The reaction is priceless. Kyoutani freezes and blushes right up to the dyed roots of his short cropped hair. It makes Oikawa want to burst into hysteric laughter. He doesn’t give in to the urge but he allows himself a soft giggle.
“Now look at that, the mad dog can be cute after all.”
It’s enough of deliberate provocation to pull Kyoutani out of his stupified daze. His hips snap forward and he pulls Oikawa’s upper lip in between his teeth while he buries himself into his captain as deeply as possible. It feels like punishment.
Oikawa screams but he doesn’t tell Kyoutani to stop. He would if being told - Oikawa knows from experience - but he doesn’t. Kyoutani needs this, all of it. The violence, the pain, the knowledge that Oikawa can take what he has to give and doesn’t judge him for it. He needs somebody who can keep up with him.
Oikawa screams a second time and rakes his nails down the other boy’s flesh so hard, his fingernails come back with blood. It’s enough to make Kyoutani come. Oikawa can feel the telltale wetness between his legs.
Kyoutani doesn’t bother to pull out. He simply sacks on top of Oikawa, his face pressed into the junction of shoulder and neck, and emits a low grumble. Oikawa likes to imagine it’s a sigh of contentment. He even dares to brush with his bloodied fingers through the blond hair. Surprisingly enough, Kyoutani allows the tender touch.
“You’re just a little puppy after all.” Oikawa mumbles and this time there’s no protest coming from above him.