To put it simply, Oikawa Tooru was straight. As an arrow, as a whistle, as a million other similes that could build the hill he'd die on. Girls were awesome. They were pretty, they wore beautiful clothes, their skin was soft, their hair was glossy, and not to mention the wonderful little spheres of joy and happiness they carried on their chests. Women were god-sent gifts to mankind. Oikawa was so enamoured by them that he found a new woman to show his appreciation every other week. He was quite generous like that.
However, from an outsider's perspective, all of that was put into question by the way he moaned into the mouth of the man who currently had a tongue shoved down his throat and a very happy little problem poking into his thigh. The bigger problem, apart from the obvious, was that this wasn't just some random guy. No, Oikawa wouldn't be caught dead in a situation like that, though he might have different thoughts on that come tomorrow when he had to face the reality that he was hooking up with Matsukawa.
Neither of them planned for this to happen. It was an accident, really. Matsukawa had invited him over because Hanamaki wasn't going to be able to make it for their usual "bro night", and since Oikawa didn't have any other plans, he accepted. He and Matsukawa didn't get to hang out together very often without Hanamaki or Iwaizumi (or both), so he thought this would be a fun opportunity to change that.
It started out well enough—they went to the arcade downtown where Oikawa brutally humiliated his friend in a game of Space Invaders, then they had lunch at the new "vampire bar" (Matsukawa's idea; he claimed morbid curiosity), then Oikawa made him pay for that disturbing experience by dragging him across town for a shopping spree for a little over an hour, and then they bought last-minute tickets for the worst movie they could find in the theatre and predictably got to enjoy an empty room where they could make jokes about the film and laugh at the bad acting. After all of that, they retired to Matsukawa's place for the evening, ordered pizza for dinner, and lost track of time talking to each other well into the night.
It was probably the most fun Oikawa had had in months and he was baffled that he and Matsukawa didn't do this more often.
He had already planned on staying the night since Matsukawa lived a fair distance from him, but while he was unrolling the spare futon mattress, he heard Matsukawa light something from his bed, followed by a strange bubbling sound. It only took a few seconds for the rancid smell to hit him and he started complaining for all of three minutes before Matsukawa convinced him to try it. He had never smoked before, but Matsukawa claimed that it helped him sleep, and Oikawa wasn't opposed to something that could help him unwind after such an exciting day.
The second attempt was just as embarrassing as the first, and that was when Matsukawa helpfully showed him the meaning of the word "shotgun". One thing led to another and suddenly Oikawa was on his bed, hands tangled in his dark curls and head reeling from the smoke and the adrenaline of feeling Matsukawa's hand squeezing his thigh. His cracked lips tasted like mint and the stubble on his chin scratched his cheek and Oikawa was so hard it felt like his dick was going to pop right off.
"This is...weird—mh. This is weird, right?" he muttered in stolen breaths when Matsukawa gave his lips a rest.
"It's only weird if you make it weird," Matsukawa responded, trailing hot kisses along Oikawa's jaw and down his neck. Oikawa shuddered when he paused to nibble at the juncture of his shoulder.
"But— But I'm not into guys. And you—?"
"Never really thought about it," Matsukawa said. "Didn't care enough to think about it."
One of his hands was sliding up Oikawa's side, dragging the hem of his shirt with it to expose his feverish skin to the heady, hazy air in the room. Goosebumps spread across his skin everywhere those nimble fingers touched him.
Maybe Matsukawa had a point. Maybe he should just stop thinking about it so hard. It wasn't as if his muddled brain could make heads or tails of his thoughts right now, anyway. Matsukawa's touches felt good, his lips felt good, so what was there to worry about?
With that thought in mind (or rather, out of mind), Oikawa closed his eyes and tilted back his head, lips parting with a soft sigh when he felt Matsukawa's mouth on his chest. He took a nipple between his teeth, teasing at the idea of biting down before closing his lips around it and sucking. Oikawa's hand flew to Matsukawa's shoulder, digging his fingers into the meat there and feeling the rumble of his laughter. He traced a circle around Oikawa's nipple with his tongue twice over before shifting to provide the same attention to the other one. Oikawa had to bite down on his lip to stifle the sounds that wanted to escape him, toes curling and his breath catching in his throat.
Eventually, Matsukawa was satisfied with the work he'd done on Oikawa's chest and moved his attention lower. He blazed a trail of open-mouth kisses down the rippling muscles of the other's abdomen before he found himself at the rim of his sleeping pants. Matsukawa seemed to think that Oikawa didn't need them anymore, given the way he swiftly worked them off his legs.
Now Oikawa was mostly bare below him, but when he leaned back down to continue where he left off, he was stopped by a hand planted on his chest. He looked at Oikawa, whose eyes were startlingly sharp as they stared into his own.
"It's not fair if I'm the only one without clothes on," he said. His hand grasped at the shirt Matsukawa wore, tugging at the material. "Take it off."
With a sly grin, Matsukawa obliged, sitting back to lift his shirt over his head with a very intentional display of his muscles. Oikawa didn't fail to notice, his hungry eyes raking over the body put on display in front of him. It wasn't the first time he had seen Matsukawa without a shirt on; in fact, he had seen much more skin in the locker room at their old high school. It was nothing new, and yet this time—this time the sight made his cock jump in excitement.
"Like what you see?" Matsukawa teased, leaning back down to hover over Oikawa with a hand on either side of him, caging him in.
Oikawa took his time leading his eyes back to the other's face. Instead of answering, he grabbed a fistful of Matsukawa's hair and dragged him back down into another kiss. Their tongues slid against each other and they traded desperate breaths as Matsukawa blindly shoved down his pants and kicked them off the bed.
They didn't even bother taking off their underwear all the way. Matsukawa reached between their bodies and pulled out their aching cocks. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Oikawa noted with a twinge of envy that Matsukawa was bigger than he was, but he didn't get a chance to gripe about it before Matsukawa squeezed their lengths together in one hand. Oikawa gasped at the sensation, hips jerking up into the touch as Matsukawa began stroking them both.
"Keep it together, princess," Matsukawa whispered into his ear in that deep growl of his. "Just a little longer."
It wasn't that he had never been called "princess" before—usually in the form of an insult—but something about the way it sounded in Matsukawa's voice made Oikawa's head swim something fierce. He was already leaking profusely from his tip, the slide of Matsukawa's hand growing wet with the pre-cum he was spreading over their cocks. Yanking at his hair, Oikawa drew him back into a steamy, sloppy kiss.
His free hand roamed across Matsukawa's body, feeling the hard contours of his chest, the slight divots where his ribs should be, the way his stomach fluttered with every twist of his own hand around their erections. He had truly never noticed before just how beautiful Matsukawa was, like a Greek sculpture come to life. Maybe it was because he never flaunted it the way other men tended to do—the way Oikawa tended to do. Matsukawa was a quiet kind of attractive, the kind you don't even think about until you're lost in the shape of him.
His orgasm snuck up on him, the peak of pleasure drawing tight between his legs, and his back arched into Matsukawa.
"I'm— I'm almost—"
"If you're gonna ruin my sheets, you better say my name while you're doing it."
Matsukawa tightened his around around them, stroking their cocks even faster. A sharp whine clawed its way out of Oikawa's throat.
"Mat— Matsukawa—"
"My name."
Oh, fuck.
Oikawa threw back his head when the tension snapped and sent him reeling into oblivion.
"Issei!"
Thick ribbons of white shot out from the tip of his cock, coating his stomach and Matsukawa's hand in hot, sticky cum. Oikawa moaned long and low when Matsukawa kept working him through his orgasm, coating their lengths in his cum until he reached his own end. Soon, though, his rhythm sputtered and his cock kicked in his hand before he shot his load right on top of Oikawa's still-pulsing dick. Matsukawa bit out a groan right next to his ear, sending shivers down his spine as he felt the other's spend painting his stomach. He couldn't help but watch with breathless awe as it just kept pumping, a pool of cum forming on his stomach and dripping down his sides.
Needless to say, not only were the sheets ruined, but so were their boxers thanks to that damn near pornographic orgasm. Seriously, Oikawa had watched his fair share of porn, but he didn't think anyone was actually able to cum that much without some kind of "performance enhancer". The fact that Matsukawa had that in him almost made him start drooling.
They spent the next several moments catching their breath. Normally a simple handjob wouldn't have taken that much out of him, but his heart had been pounding the whole time, a whole new kind of arousal leaving him on Cloud Nine. He had no idea that doing this sort of thing with another man could be so exciting. He was sure it was all because of the novelty and the taboo (not to mention the weed), but he couldn't stop himself from thinking about doing it again. After all, if some kissing and a handjob could feel this good, he couldn't begin to imagine what it would feel like to go all the way.
He was snapped out of his dreamy afterglow when he felt Matsukawa pat the side of his face.
"Earth to Oikawa. You gonna make it?" he asked with an arched brow and a smug little look on his face. Oikawa rolled his eyes and pushed him away so he could sit up.
"Don't flatter yourself," he said. Then he looked down and grimaced at the sticky mess on his stomach and between his legs. Matsukawa wasn't faring much better in that regard. "...This is disgusting. We need to shower. Now."
As he was shuffling to the edge of the bed to stand up and try to make it to the bathroom without dripping cum all over the floor, Matsukawa grabbed his arm and dragged him back into yet another long, slow kiss. This one felt different from the others, though—less tongue and more...sweet. It still made Oikawa's cheeks catch fire, but for a completely different reason. When Matsukawa pulled away, Oikawa searched his eyes.
"...What was that for?" he asked. Matsukawa contemplated for a moment, then shrugged a shoulder.
"I like kissing you. Feels nice."
With that, he left Oikawa gaping and speechless to stand up and cross the room to the bathroom door. Oikawa was still frozen in place until he heard the sound of the water, and then he jumped up off the bed.
"Dibs!"
"Oh, come on. This is my house."
"Snooze, you lose, Mattsun. You know the rules."
"You're such a brat."
In the end, the ancient rule of dibs flew out the window when Matsukawa decided that sharing the shower was a better idea. Oikawa couldn't argue, especially not when Matsukawa's attempt to "help" with cleaning him off ended with another mind-numbing handjob while he was pressed against the wall and Matsukawa came on his back. They got out only after the water turned cold and Oikawa helped Matsukawa put the bed sheets in the wash and make the bed with a new set.
It was only then that he noticed he didn't feel quite so stoned anymore—hadn't since getting in the shower. He didn't particularly want to pick apart what that meant right now, though, so he simply crawled onto his futon on the floor to sleep away the questions before they could start racing through his mind. Part of him considered sleeping in Matsukawa's bed—Oikawa was sure he wouldn't mind—but that felt like a little too much too quickly. It was one thing to let a guy cum on him twice in one night, but to sleep next to him would be a whole different level of intimate that he was sorely unprepared for at two-thirty in the morning on a Tuesday.
In the morning, Matsukawa wasn't in his room when Oikawa woke up. He brushed his teeth and got dressed before wandering out of the bedroom in search of his missing host, only to find him making breakfast in the kitchen. Shirtless, of course.
He didn't say anything right away, simply leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed to watch Matsukawa cook from behind. It was another one of those familiar scenes that had a new light to it now, as if Oikawa had hopped into a parallel dimension where everything about Matsukawa seemed that much more emphasized. The stubble on his chin, the cow lick on the back of his head, the stretch marks around his hips. Oikawa started mapping all the details in the tattoos that covered his back and arms, for the first time noticing the subtle floral touches hidden in between the skulls imagery.
If he were a girl, Matsukawa would be the furthest thing from Oikawa's type. He was into the bubbly, colourful ones who drew on fake eyebrows and owned at least ten pairs of shoes. At least, that was the type he ended up in bed with most often. Matsukawa wasn't any of that—his wardrobe was bereft of any colour, he had a dark sense of humour and the strangest obsession with dead things, and Oikawa was relatively certain he had been wearing the same two pairs of shoes for the past six years.
Was it just because Matsukawa was the first gay experience he'd ever had that he seemed attractive all of a sudden? Oikawa had never thought of him in that way before, even when he was young, dumb, and adventurous in high school. Then again, Matsukawa looked like an A-grade dork back then, all gangly limbs and awkward angles. Now, he was a whole-ass man. A talented one, too. Oikawa shifted a little where he stood just thinking about the way Matsukawa's hands had felt on his body last night.
It was then that Matsukawa finally turned around with two plates of food in his hands and saw him standing there.
"Oh, hey. I was gonna bring you breakfast," he said.
"Well, I woke up, so..."
"Yeah," Matsukawa said, raising his brows slightly.
The awkwardness was finally starting to settle in.
"Well, here you go." Matsukawa walked over and handed him one of the plates.
Oikawa took it carefully, helpless but to notice that Matsukawa was standing just a little too close. He looked down at the food on the plate and snorted softly.
"Honey butter toast and clementine? That's the best you could do?" he jabbed, peering up at Matsukawa with an incredulous smile.
"I made green tea, too," Matsukawa said, returning the smile with a dash of sheepishness. "I skate by on the bachelor's menu."
"Clearly, chef," Oikawa chuckled.
They sat down on Matsukawa's sofa, absentmindedly watching the morning news while they ate. Oikawa wasn't paying attention to anything besides the feeling of Matsukawa's knee brushing against his, though.
Something about all this felt so... What's the word? Domestic? He had slept over at Matsukawa's house before, usually with Hanamaki or Iwaizumi to accompany them, but this time felt a little bit more like overstaying his welcome after a one-night stand. He was surprised to find himself relieved when they both finished eating and he had an excuse to gather his bag of yesterday's clothes and inch toward the door.
"Yesterday was a lot of fun," he said. "We should do it again sometime. Hang out, I mean."
Matsukawa's lips quirked into a half-smile. He looked down for a moment before taking a step forward, nearly toe to toe with Oikawa. When he looked back up, he gaze was serious.
"About last night..."
"We don't—have to talk about that."
"Yeah, we do," Matsukawa said. "I'm sorry."
Oh, boy. This was going to be a lot, wasn't it?
"...Sorry for what?" Oikawa asked. Matsukawa searched his eyes for a moment as if hoping Oikawa wouldn't make him say it out loud. He started this conversation, though, so they might as well have it.
"For taking advantage of you," he said. "That was your first time trying it. You probably wouldn't have done all that stuff with me if you weren't stoned off your ass."
Oikawa snorted.
"Oh, please. You think I was so out of my mind I didn't know what I was doing?" He rolled his eyes. "Mattsun, I thought about stopping it and I didn't. I could have. But I didn't."
That seemed to throw Matsukawa for a loop. He furrowed his brows.
"Why didn't you?"
Now it was his turn to say what he meant. Out loud. He worried the inside of his cheek for a few seconds before heaving a breath.
"...I don't know. Maybe because...I wanted to see what would happen," he said, dropping his eyes to their feet. "Maybe...I liked what was happening."
God, this was humiliating. He was never this open with his dates, much less...whatever Matsukawa was after last night. He had confessed a lot of secrets and vulnerabilities to Iwaizumi because they were best friends and had known each other since they were kids, but he typically kept everyone else at arm's length. It seemed like Matsukawa was gradually closing that distance, though.
"...Yeah?" he asked like he needed any more clarification. Oikawa clicked his tongue and stepped on his foot, making him hiss and step back.
"I'm not repeating myself," he snapped. "Now you can quit feeling guilty for no reason, okay?"
After recovering from the pinch to his poor little toe, Matsukawa looked at him like Oikawa had just told him aliens exist. Then, before Oikawa could give up and walk out the door, he smiled.
"Well, if you ever get curious again...call me."
Holy shit. Was he being completely serious right now? Oikawa deadpanned.
"Okay, first of all—that's such a lame pick-up line. Second of all..."
Rather than finish his sentence, Oikawa surged forward and captured Matsukawa's lips with his own. Matsukawa didn't miss a beat, circling his arms around Oikawa's waist and tilting his head to deepen the kiss. Now that he wasn't being distracted by a dizzying head-high, kissing Matsukawa felt different. More intense. Real.
And that was a feeling Oikawa wasn't prepared to handle, so he pulled back out of Matsukawa's arms and shimmied out the door before he could think twice about it. He made it halfway down the block before he dipped behind a corner to lean back against the wall and take a breath.
Oikawa Tooru was straight, but last night he kissed a man for the first time and he maybe liked it a little bit. He maybe liked Matsukawa a little bit. Or at least he liked the way Matsukawa got him off.
Maybe he was still a little curious.