Oikawa is the shit and he knows it.

 

He could walk around with his medal round his neck but today he knows that the physio clinic he's visiting will all know who he is. Medal unnecessary. Swag, however - always necessary.

 

As Oikawa enters the clinic, he senses the air flutter, then crackle, catches the two receptionists exchange excited glances, smooth their hair down, give their best smiles.

 

He smiles back as he approaches the front desk.

 

'Hi, my name is Oikawa Tooru, I have an appointment for four thirty PM. My coach made the booking.'

 

One receptionist faints. Almost. She fans herself with her hands and looks like she's on the brink of collapse. The other is bright red and can't seem to look him in the eye.

 

'P-P-Please take a seat, sir.'

 

As he takes a seat, he catches two floating heads from people craning their necks round a corner to gawp at him, and when he smiles at them, they quickly squeal and disappear.

 

Staff? Fans? Does he care? Not really.

 

He brought a pen in case anyone wants him to sign anything.

 

Fwip -

 

A door swings open -

 

And Oikawa forgets to breathe.

 

He forgets who he is, why he's here -

 

Suddenly -

 

He is back on a beach in Rio, he is in the sun, with salt water on his skin. He is sipping on a margarita. He is in heat, and in a culture he is more at home with than his own.

 

He is horny.

 

Yes. He is definitely horny.

 

'Mr Oikawa Tooru?'

 

A smile that could literally end every war in every country. Thighs thicker than Roman pillars. Pecs poking through a white t-shirt screaming to be tweaked. A sun-kissed natural tan. It's a body Oikawa needs, and a face that should be everywhere selling everything - perfume, underwear, watches, sneakers -

 

Surely it's illegal to be this beautiful?! A jaw that chiselled, cheekbones that high, they could give the Grand Canyon a run for its money. Unruly unconventional sexy orange toussled hair, thin nose and lips, but those eyes -

 

They are the shimmer of mermaid scales glistening.

 

'Please come this way, Oikawa-san!'

 

Oikawa has never been into redheads but right now he has found the embodiment of His Type and fuck he had no idea His Type would have ginger pubes.

 

Oikawa stands in a daze and floats towards the sun god like a long lost ghost who's finally found their loved one.

​

He is familiar yet unfamiliar, why?

 

Oikawa follows his fate to a private consulting room, watching that tush wiggle, those calves ripple, that upside down V of the redhead's waist.

 

He is about to blurt out that he wants another therapist; he wants another therapist so he can chat up this perfect hunk of a man, ask him out to dinner and hopefully sink his teeth into those juicy thighs -

 

'Do you recognise me, Oikawa-san?'

 

Oikawa blinks. They are in a consulting room. The door is closed, Oikawa is standing by the closed door, and this marvel is standing in the middle of the room, near the bed, eyes twinkling in mischief.

 

The sprite is a good amount shorter than Oikawa but the Olypmian is sure they could still kiss -

 

For fuck sake.

 

You're here for a consultation. You're in pain.

 

You're an Olympic Gold Medallist.

 

You're a professional.

 

You can get laid later.

 

'Ahem,' Oikawa smoothes his hair back. 'I feel like you're familiar but I can't recall -'

 

And then it hits him. Like a bolt of lightning. Out of nowhere.

 

'Ch-chibi-chan?!?!?!?!?!'

 

'Bang on, Grand King!'

 

Oikawa's jaw is on the floor.

 

If there was an award for the best Glow-Up from high school, this guy would get it.

 

Oikawa looks at him. Really looks at him. The therapist's cheeks singe red at the evaluation but his gaze doesn't back down.

 

'I look different, don't I?'

 

Different is the understatement of the century. That scrawny, skinny, bony thing with a pretty face had somehow evolved like an ugly duckling into a beautiful, plump, juicy swan.

 

'I'm so sorry I didn't recognise you -'

 

'Hinata Shoyo,' the redhead holds out a hand.

 

Oikawa steps forward and takes it in both his own. 'Oikawa Tooru. Delighted to meet you again.'

 

Hinata's eyes sparkle and Oikawa feels it in his chest. Hinata's hand is firm and warm and they stare at each other a second too long before the therapist asks the Olympian to take a seat near the desk with the computer.

 

Oikawa watches Hinata out of the corner of his eye, notes the fresh pretty pink blush on those high cheekbones, before sitting on a chair with the back against the wall.

 

Oikawa leans his right wrist on the desk next to him. Straight in front of him is the bed, which is facing him, and further straight down is the closed door. To his right, the desk holds a large monitor and this must be a joke, because Hinata is standing at the monitor, typing, slightly bending forward as if he's about to go into a squat, and Oikawa is trying to recall the last time he saw such a beautiful human being (apart from when he's looking in the mirror).

 

Hinata grabs a wheely stool and perches on it, click click clicking the mouse.

 

Oikawa is now stuck with the idea of Hinata's round, hard, peachy -

 

'So I'm surprised you never went into volleyball yourself.' Oikawa says, admiring Hinata's facial features (he could sell sun lotion too). 'You were quite good at it.'

 

The physiotherapist fully blushes now and averts his gaze, bashful. 'I'm - flattered you remember Oikawa-san - but I really wasn't that good -'

 

'Sure you were. You and Tobio were the terrible two-some. Are you still in touch with him?'

 

They continue talking. Hinata explains the elbow injury he sustained that stopped him from persuing volleyball properly and instead working on becoming stronger. He shares how he's still in touch with Kageyama now and then, and cites other shared acquaintances from their high school days and current sporting events, that they both know.

 

Oikawa is not being polite: he is purely on a mission to ascertain whether Hinata is single or not (he's too good-looking to be single though, Oikawa is sure of it). So if he's not single, how much could Oikawa still corrupt this ball of sunshine to fuck him, is what the setter would very much like to know.

 

'You ever date him?' Oikawa tucks his knuckles under his chin and watches carefully.

 

'Date who?'

 

'Tobio.'

 

'No we're just friends!'

 

'Hmm… does your current partner think so too?'

 

Hinata's smile fades and Oikawa realises immediately it was the wrong thing to say. But it's too late.

 

Hinata's gaze lowers and he looks like a deflated balloon.

 

'No, we - recently broke up.'

 

I'm so sorry to hear that.

 

I'm sorry to hear that.

 

But for some reason, Oikawa can't say it. Instead -

 

'Oh? Well. It's definitely their loss.'

 

Hinata's eyes look up and meet Oikawa's. Oikawa doesn't look away. A ripple. A touch. A flame. There is a shift in a tectonic plate, an opening. Hinata suddenly jolts like he's been stung and he snaps back to the monitor, eyes on the screen.

 

'Oikawa-san. Tell me about what brings you here today.'

 

Oikawa obliges.

 

It has not been lost on the setter, however, that Hinata has not said a single thing about Oikawa's Olympic win, or about him still playing volleyball, playing for Argentina and going against Japan.

 

Maybe he doesn't know.

 

But this is a predominantly sports clinic, the best apparently in Japan, where all the top athletes go. Plus his coach would've called beforehand and requested the best of the best for him, so it was impossible for Hinata to not -

 

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

 

In an instant, Hinata's expression changes. His nostrils flare and he frowns.

 

'Please ignore that and continue,' Hinata assures Oikawa.

 

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

 

'It might be important,' Oikawa offers. 'Please. I don't mind.'

 

'Please excuse me for one moment.'

 

With a storm on his face, Hinata gets up and marches to the door and suddenly -

 

Three things Oikawa needed.

 

Two things happen at once.

 

One thing Oikawa is sure of.

 

As Hinata steps out, he closes the door behind him, but it doesn't fully close, it is still somewhat ajar while the ginger speaks, and it's enough for Oikawa to hear an angry whisper -

 

'WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT DISTURBING ME WHEN OIKAWA'S HERE?! -'

 

Close.

 

A vibration. Across the table.

 

Hinata's phone.

 

On the other side of the keyboard.

 

He shouldn't. He shouldn't really. But -

 

Oikawa stands up. He walks over in time to see -

 

BA-DUM.

 

Oikawa feels like Chance has slammed into his stomach like a volleyball. He feels like he's a contender for another Olympic gold. His heart runs feral, like a cheetah let out of a cage into open fields.

 

There, on this phone, as a screensaver -

 

Oikawa sees a picture of himself, smiling, in an Argentine jersey. It's not a recent photo because his hair is longer.

 

In front of that, a text from someone called Yachi:

 

Good luck today!! I wish I was meeting my celebrity crush! I hope you manage to keep your cool, put the air con on hehehehehe

 

Oikawa sits back down. His heart is hammering against his chest. He breathes in deep, catching his breath. He is the microchip of the White House computer, full of secrets and knowledge. All-seeing. All-knowing. It takes a moment for everything to sink in but when it does, Oikawa realises he has been dealt a royal flush in this game of poker.

 

'I'm so sorry Oikawa-san!'

 

Hinata enters, flustered, and it takes a moment for Oikawa to acclimitise once again to how short and tight Hinata's shorts are, how fitted that t-shirt is, and another moment to realise -

 

He's worn that because of me.

 

No.

 

Yes?

 

Maybe.

 

'Lock the door.'

 

Oikawa says it, just as Hinata closes the door behind him.

 

The ginger squeaks and freezes, ears turning red.

 

'I'd prefer it if the rest of our consultation isn't interrupted again.'

 

'Y-yes of course! My apologies Oikawa-san!' Hinata bows an apology, obeys and locks it.

 

'Not at all, it's not your fault. You have nothing to apologise for.'

 

Apart from walking around like a snack.

 

Hinata marches back over to the desk and plonks himself down on the stool. He subconciously pulls the hem of his shorts down, barely covering an extra milimeter, as he re-reads his notes on the monitor.

 

'I forgot to mention that I'm a professional volleyball player these days,' Oikawa rests his right elbow on the desk, and slightly leans forward, watching Hinata's face. 'I don't think you asked. Though I'm sure my coach mentioned that in the booking, right?'

 

Pause.

 

Tense.

 

Hinata's body freezes for a second like he's been zapped by Todoroki. His shoulders hunch up. Hinata's expression falters and he's reading but not reading. He looks as if he's trying to not explode.

 

'Uh huh,' the physiotherapist says, eyes still glued to the screen, cheeks ever so slightly redder, eyes not looking in Oikawa's direction.

 

'Have you seen me on TV?'

 

'I may have done.' Click click click of the mouse. 'Please can take your shoes and socks off and lie on the bed Oikawa-san I would like to assess your hip.'

 

It's that moment. That moment there.

 

If Hinata had admitted, if he had mentioned something, anything, if he had given Oikawa a morsel of recognition, Oikawa perhaps would've gone easier on him.

 

But Hinata's super watered-down reaction was like someone spilling pearls in mud and Oikawa would have those pearls back in his hands.

 

Oikawa does as requested. He clenches his fists at his sides on the bed. Having this beauty move about around him makes Oikawa feel like a cat and Hinata the mouse; he wants to pounce on Hinata, pin him down, own him. It is taking mammoth strength for Oikawa to not grab that ass or that waist or a sun-kissed arm, and seduce Hinata then and there -

 

But if anyone is patient, if anyone is excellent at creating opportunities, if anyone is good at playing the long game, it is Oikawa Tooru.

 

'It's your right side.'

 

'Yes. Deep in the groin.'

 

Oikawa feels Hinata hesitate even though the setter is on his back, and he now devours these reactions like canapes before the main meal.

 

'R-relax your leg for me. I will now do the FADIR and FABER tests, a form of hip pathology, in an attempt to recreate your hip and groin pain as you mentioned earlier. The FADIR tests for Flexion, Adduction and Internal Rotation. We'll start with the basics.' Hinata raises the leg straight. 'Does this hurt?'

 

'No.' But all Oikawa can think about are how strong and warm Hinata's hands are, and how much he'd very much like those hands on his -

 

'What about if I flex your leg up onto your chest like -'

 

White.

 

Sharp.

 

'AAah ah! Ughhh -!'

 

Pain.

 

GRAB!

 

Oikawa latches onto Hinata's arm before he realises it, as he frowns on his back, feeling the discomfort fade in his groin as Hinata slowly de-flexes his leg.

 

'I will return your leg to a ninety degree angle, and rotate your foot inwards and outwards -'

 

Oikawa keeps his eyes shut and breathes.

 

'You can keep holding my arm if you like.'

 

Oikawa's eyes snap open and he makes contact with Hinata's.

 

There was something in Hinata's voice - nothing sexual or suggestive but rather - something like a kind warm fluffy bird with open wings and a soft feathery chest. There's something in Hinata's gaze… something about Oikawa being in this position, defenceless, on his back, in pain, and Hinata holding him, over him. It makes Oikawa's heart do things it shouldn't, makes him feel things ridiculous, makes him mesmerized gazing up into that reassuring, heavenly face, unable to blink or look away.

 

It's lust. That's all it is.

 

Falling for a face. Or maybe I'm just falling. 

 

He's on his back, his right leg bent out, heel leaning on his bent-up left knee, with Hinata's hands on his body, and his right hand still grasping Hinata's arm.

 

Hinata brings Oikawa's foot outward -

 

'AHHN!! Ah! Ow! Hinata, stop!' Oikawa breathes. 'Haa - ha - huu -' and huffs away the pain.

​

Hinata is gently putting down Oikawa's leg but -

 

He is red.

 

Tomato, sunset, Japanese dot -

 

Red.

 

Scandalous red.

 

Suspiciously red.

 

'I'm just gonna make some notes give me one second!' Hinata squeaks before bolting to the desktop and clicking and smashing the keyboard like a hacker.

 

Why is he so embarrassed?

 

Oikawa cranes his neck up. Is he imaging it? It looks as if Hinata is repeatedly tapping on one letter on the keyboard, and then deleting it all. Clicking at random.

 

And he's standing weirdly. Why isn't he -?

 

OH.

 

A switch, flicks on, and lights the entire city of Oikawa's brain. Power surges, unrelenting.

 

He has been struck by lightning.

 

The drum of his pulse throbs against his ears.

 

Could it be...?

 

Surely not.

 

But.

 

It is now or never.

 

Oikawa grabs his left thigh and cries out -

 

'AAH AH AH!'

 

Oikawa sits up, grasping his left thigh just as Hinata bounds over -

 

'What is it Oikawa-san are you alright!!??'

 

- rushes to Oikawa's left side, and there -

 

There.

 

In front of Oikawa's eyes -

 

In horror, Hinata watches Oikawa Tooru's eyes fall on his crotch, then jump up to his face and there -

 

Hinata stumbles back, his hands clamping down on the front of his shorts but it's too late.

 

The air is full of charged ions attracting and clashing with each other.

 

Oikawa is different. His eyes have changed. The jovial, media persona he had earlier has now totally been dropped. Whatever friendly chit-chat they had had has been stripped off to reveal what's really been going on underneath all this time -

 

The setter gets off the bed to his left, facing Hinata and stands tall.

 

Oh how he relishes the height difference now.

 

Hinata cowers. He is sweating. He is sweating through his t-shirt, sweat is conducting a meeting on his forehead yet none of the droplets are coming up with a solution. He knows his face is the colour of his shorts.

 

There is a glint in Oikawa's eyes like a mad scientist who's just discovered that exchanging saliva cures labral tears.

 

Hinata cannot get a reading on the volleyball god before him. All he knows is that his cortisol levels are through the roof and what was meant to be one of the greatest achievements of his career - being a physiotherapist to his number one favourite sportsman on the entire planet, being a physiotherapist to his number one celebrity crush, getting him into the best shape ever - is now the worst moment of his entire life.

 

He is ruined. Fired. Unemployed. Never to work in the field again. If this gets out… All because… He couldn't…

 

And as if things weren't bad enough, Hinata feels the other water in his body, the tears begin to accumulate behind his eyes please not now but the situation is unbelievably dire, this entire meeting has backfired in the worst possible way, and he cannot believe he's standing in front of Olympic gold medallist Oikawa Tooru with a fucking erection at work with his brain splitting at the crosswires and all he can say is -

 

'I'M - I'M SORRY OIKAWA-SAN! Please! Please don't report me!!!'

 

Hinata bows like he's begging, still with his hands covering his erection although what's the point? There he was thinking he'd wear something sexy to meet Oikawa-san and look what good it had done him. If he'd gone for his usual baggy shorts and t-shirt, he would've had a greater chance of hiding a boner but nooooo - he just had to pick the most tight-fitting tiny shorts he could find, he just had to walk up to the Professional Barrier and flirt with what was on the other side, and not only that -

 

'Report you?'

 

That beautiful sexy voice Hinata knows all too well reaches his ears. It only serves to make Hinata's hard dick twitch.

 

'Why would I report you?'

 

!!!!

 

A spark.

 

A chalice of hope.

 

Hinata straightens up and is about drink from this cup with songs of gratitude but -

 

He falters.

 

That look. In Oikawa's eyes. It says something oh so very different.

 

'Oh. Do you mean for wearing inappropriate attire during an initial consultation? This slutty outfit? Or do you mean for the interruption in our session when my manager is paying eighty six thousand yen per hour for me to see you?' Oikawa takes a step forward, unblinking, unyielding, unmerciful, his lip curling up in a sneer. 'Or for the fact that you physically examining me and making me cry out… gave you a boner?'

 

Oikawa can see what his words are doing. He knows. He can see their effect like an ice-cream scooper, scraping every good thing, every hope out of Hinata. Oikawa needs to make Hinata desperate, he needs to be the one to destroy him - so that he can be the one to save him.

 

Hinata is mortified. He is naked at Shibuya Crossing. He has said something grotesque on National Television. He has broken some kind of moral taboo that no Dogeza will grant him forgiveness.

 

He's shaking. Quivering in fear and regret. His body red like a strawberry. Close to tears.

 

'Please Oikawa-san please!! We know each other from high school -'

 

'As rivals.'

 

'B-But that's in the past!! Now we're -'

 

'Now we're what?'

 

Oikawa takes several slow calculated steps forward -

 

Hinata's hands fly up in surrender, as he steps backwards -

 

Oikawa's eyes land on Hinata's erection once again.

 

Fuck buddies. At the very least. Hopefully.

 

'You're that hard. So my moaning in pain from your touch really turned you on, huh?'

 

Hinata is so embarassed he wants to turn into an ant and be stomped on.

 

'Please Oikawa-san I'm sorry!! I'll do anything!! Just don't report -'

 

POUNCE!!!!!!

 

'Ahn -!!'

 

Huff huff huff -

 

'Oi - Oikawa-san?!?!!?'

 

Squeeze.

 

'Ngh!'

 

Is this happening?

 

Is this real life?

 

Hinata's palms are pressed against Oikawa's chest, his butt cheeks digging into the edge of the desk, he is flush against the man of his dreams and Oikawa's hand is - is -

 

Rub.

 

'Aaahh - haa - Oi - Oikawa-san -'

 

Hinata looks up and the Mad Scientist has turned into a Vampire. Oikawa's eyes smoulder down at him in cold, hard lust.

 

'Listen to you,' Oikawa whispers, unblinking, 'making these lewd noises at work. I didn't expect the top physiotherapist in Tokyo to be so unprofessional with his clients -'

 

'I'm - I'm not!! Hnnn!!'

 

Oikawa is only rubbing his hand hard over the clothed erection trapped in shorts but there is a wet spot forming and Hinata is trembling.

 

Clutch.

 

Hinata's nails dig into the fibers of Oikawa's t-shirt hitting skin.

 

'Do you get aroused every time you make someone yell in pain? Quite the little sadist -'

 

'N-no I don't Oikawa-san! I'm not like that, I never - haa!! Nnhhn! Ahh -'

 

Oikawa's breaths are ragged. He is rubbing what he knows is going to be the most beautiful dick he's ever seen, and Hinata's reaction is so delicious that he's savouring every sound and syllable like a Michelin-star meal.

 

The Olympian leans ever so slightly back, and thumbs Hinata's nipple.

 

'NGGNN!!!!'

 

And keeps thumbing it.

 

'Uhn! Oikawa -!'

 

'I bet you love coming to work dressing like a tease, having all your clients drool over you -'

 

'Ahah -!'

 

'Making them see every curve of your body -'

 

'Haaa! N-no -'

 

'Flaunting your figure in their face -'

 

'No it's not true!!! I - I never wear this to work!! I never dress like this!! I don’t like seeing people in pain and I never get hard at work I'm never unprofessional!!!!'

 

Hinata can't bear the thought of his idol having the wrong impression of him, even if his thoughts are scattered like a million tiny marbles, because Oikawa's hand is gripping his cock through shorts, and the other hand is stroking his nipple through fabric, and who exactly here is being a tease?

 

Hinata's eyes are glossy and pleading and he is staring up at Oikawa, whose breath has been taken away from the sight.

 

Oikawa swoops -

 

Kiss.

 

Gasp!

 

Shiver.

 

Hinata almost comes then and there. He is shaking like a leaf, Oikawa's breath hot against his neck, hovering above the spot just kissed. Oikawa continues kissing Hinata's neck and Hinata is going to come and faint at the same time -

 

'Oikawa…'

 

His knees are buckling. This is better than all his wet dreams combined. He can't understand what's happening. Surely this will become his favourite worst nightmare. The setter's hand is still holding his cock over the shorts and Hinata is trying desperately not to buck his hips.

 

'If,' kiss, 'you're never,' kiss, 'unprofessional,' kiss, 'then why,' kiss, 'are you unprofessional,' kiss, 'today?'

 

Oikawa tastes Hinata's neck with his tongue and the ginger's whine fills the entire room, orderering more blood to Oikawa's dick.

 

'Hmmm?' Oikawa pulls his torso back and rests his hands on Hinata's waist.

 

It is overwhelming.

 

It is confusing.

 

'You're - you're not mad at me??!!'

 

Hinata is still against the desk and is he imaging it? Or is Oikawa-san too getting aroused? It feels like something hard is forming against Hinata's stomach…

 

This has to be the cutest thing Oikawa has ever seen in his life.

 

'That depends,' Oikawa murmurs, enjoying looking at Hinata's face.

 

Hinata is blushing and shy and it just makes Oikawa want to gobble him up more. But Hinata averts his gaze  and that's no good -

 

Touch.

 

Hinata gasps as the crook of Oikawa's finger forces his chin up and gaze back onto the setter's.

 

'This is your chance to redeem yourself, chibi-chan, with the truth. You'll be honest with your senpai, won't you?'

 

Hinata is cornered. Checkmate. There are no moves left but the truth.

 

'I - I,' his voice is wobbly, 'I - I only wore this to work, because…'

 

'Because?'

 

Hinata's eyes suddenly water. 'Because you're here.'

 

Oikawa's eyes glimmer. His teeth are bared. He is getting harder by the minute.

 

'I don't want anyone to be in pain, least of all you! I - I didn't - I don't - get aroused by pain Oikawa-san it's just that you - you were making these sounds and, and moaning - and you breathed my name like that and you're - you're -'

 

'I'm what?'

 

Was there any point in hiding anymore?

 

'You're - You're my number one sports star!!!!!!!!! I LOOK UP TO YOU! I think you're amazing Oikawa-san you're incredible and I watched every single one of your games at the Olympics and I stayed up late and even bought a VPN to be able to watch live and I've been a fan of yours ever since we left high school and -'

​

Hhmmphf!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

'Mnhhhhh!!!'

 

Oikawa's tongue is in his mouth faster than you can say 'service ace'. Hinata is dizzy. He is on ecstacy. Oikawa is kissing him and he is kissing his idol back. Oikawa's hands are clutching his neck, grabbing his hair, is this a dream? Those hands that make those pin-point precision serves are now laced through his locks, and one of them is travelling down -

 

'Aahhh!!'

 

Into his briefs.

 

'Haaa - mmmm -'

 

Kissing, panting, moaning. Sweaty, terrible, brilliant. Oikawa's hand wraps itself around Hinata's sweating cock and Hinata moans into Oikawa's mouth, into the kiss. The kissing is overwhelming but unrelenting like Oikawa is trying to eat his face with lips. But that hand starts moving and Hinata wants this so bad - Oikawa's hand, Oikawa's body, all of Oikawa - but he's still at work -

 

'We - we shouldn't!!' Hinata breaks the kiss, panting.

 

'Then tell me to stop.'

 

'Ahh! Nhhhh! HHhha-'

 

But the word 'stop' doesn't seem to exist in Hinata's vocabulary right now.

 

He is living his best life, his best dream, right now: the person he looks up to the most for inspiration is stroking his rock-hard cock and kissing him like it means something.

 

'Did you watch me at the Olympics? Do you watch my interviews too?' Oikawa's breath tickles Hinata's ear.

 

'Uhhuh - hnn -'

 

'Did you watch me play? Do you follow me online?'

 

'Ah! Ha! Y-yes -'

 

'What did you think? Have you fantasised about me?'

 

But at that moment, Oikawa shoves Hinata's shorts down and his erection springs free.

 

Oikawa moves back to take a good long look and Hinata flushes crimson.

 

This can't be the last time.

 

'Oi - Oikawa-san -'

 

But Oikawa is marvelling at how thick and veined chibi-chan's dick is, how meaty and pert his balls are, and at the tangle of orange pubes. The physiotherapist is also paler at the groin area; this gives Oikawa the fabulous idea that they must sunbathe together, stark naked - hopefully next week - on the roof of an exclusive hotel, maybe a getaway, paid by Oikawa, of course. Right before Hinata fucks him on said roof.

 

Oikawa wraps his hand around Hinata's erection -

 

'Ah!'

 

And it's the fact that it's Oikawa, Oikawa's hand, Argentina's setter, this setter, Hinata's favourite setter, Hinata's favourite sports star, who he has watched spike, serve, set, dive, dig - it's this right hand now that is wrapped around his dick - and Hinata is trying to not come so he can make this last.

 

Oikawa starts sucking on Hinata's earlobe and Hinata groans right into Oikawa's ear canal.

 

'You're -' Hinata huffs, 'the best - setter - ever - the most - hard-working - person - I've ever seen -'

 

Oikawa's hand on his dick starts moving and it's too slow, and Hinata is fighting with all his might not to start fucking his client's hand.

 

'The way - you move - is so beautiful - to me -'

 

Oikawa kisses him and Hinata can sense emotion in the kiss, ocean-wide gratitude.

 

'Wait,' Oikawa's mouth is against his ear, 'til you see me move in bed.'

 

Oikawa moves back and is rewarded with exactly what he wanted: paramount shock in those gorgeous honeycomb eyes - yes - Oikawa wants to smother Hinata with honey and lick him all over. He wants to bite and taste and leave teeth marks everywhere.

 

'Ahn! Ha - ha - huu - Oikawa - san -'

 

But before that.

 

Oikawa is tossing Hinata off like crazy; the setter is inches away from bending Hinata over the desk or using that bed for a better purpose. He knows they've already crossed the line from Professionalism into Unprofessional, but even for Oikawa - having sex with an old rival for the first time you've seen them in years at their place of work is kinda pushing it a bit.

 

Hinata starts thrusting his hips up into Oikawa's hand -

 

'Yes. That's it. Good boy. You look so beautiful fucking -'

 

It's too much.

 

'Uhn uhn uhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!'

 

Hinata comes, shuddering between Oikawa and the desk, cum shooting between them, landing on Hinata's work clothes and dribbling down the setter's hand. He moans and jerks. Oikawa watches, mesmerised. A tanned, warm hand grasps the back of Oikawa's neck while a silver lasso tightens around Oikawa's heart. The only person he's ever seen so pretty when they come is himself.

 

Oikawa looks around -

 

There is a giant roll of blue paper towel. He grabs some, wipes his hands, and the cum that spilt onto the floor. He brings some over to Hinata, who has tucked his dick back into his shorts and made himself as decent as he can, bar the cum splashes on his shirt.

 

'Do you have a spare t-shirt?'

 

'Er - no - I didn't bring one today -'

 

'But there will be some somewhere in the building right?'

 

'There might be some scrubs somewhere downstairs -'

 

But Oikawa is already on the phone to someone. 'Bring five Argentina jerseys with my number on the back. To the clinic. Now.'

 

'Oikawa-san! You don’t have to -'

 

'You can call me Toru.'

 

Hinata turns red but his eyes shine bright. He is excited and stunned and is in disbelief but wholly unaware of how flushed and glowing he looks post-orgasm, and Oikawa thinks he must be going crazy but he already wants to whisk the physiotherapist away with him tonight.

 

'You're going to give me your number, aren't you?' Oikawa offers his phone.

 

But Hinata is looking past, to Oikawa's crotch -

 

To Toru's erection.

 

Hinata wants to touch him, to do many, many things - but he's still shook that he's at work, and while he's probably already broken every rule in the rulebook, technically, Oikawa made a move on him, instead of him making a move on his client.

 

Oikawa, somehow, seems to read his mind.

 

'Listen. Let's write this consultation off. I'll see a different physiotherapist. We won't be connected any way professionally. So we can exchange numbers. We know each other from our high school years anyway. Let's just say we were so caught up in catching up, we thought it best I see someone I don't know.'

 

Hinata cannot believe that the Olympian gold medallist is somehow insisting for his number.

 

Hinata puts his number into Oikawa's phone. Oikawa saves it and immediately texts.

 

Vrrrrrr.

 

A vibration of confirmation.

 

But Hinata is still staring at Oikawa's bulge.

 

'What are you thinking, chibi-chan?'

 

Hinata blushes. 'You got to see me but I didn't get to see -'

 

'What do you want to see?' Oikawa tucks his phone back in his pocket and wraps his arms around Hinata's waist and peers down at that cute face. He pecks a kiss on that smooth forehead.

 

Hinata is radiating. He is overwhelmed with the setter's attention and doesn't quite know what to do with himself. It is the most adorable thing Oikawa has seen all month.

 

'I'll show you everything. Have dinner with me tomorrow evening?'

 

Hinata swallows. He swallows because he knows Oikawa is a playboy; he secretly knows everything about the setter. Knows that really, this, whatever this is, won't last.

 

It stings, the knowing.

 

'Yes.'

 

But Hinata can't help himself.

 

Was this not, in secret, exactly what he had wanted?

 

He's not going to fool himself in thinking that he's the exception, or that he'll be The One. He will try, so very hard, to not get his heart broken. Despite the fact that somehow, it is already breaking.

 

If it is One Night with Oikawa, then he will take that for what it is.

 

Don't think like that.

 

Just see.

 

Don't get your hopes up but don't bat it down -

 

Just live.

 

If it's just sex then… Hinata will just enjoy himself. No strings attached (fingers crossed).

 

'I work until eight tomorrow,' Hinata mumbles.

 

'I'll pick you up at eight then. I'll be in a car outside.'

 

'C-careful! T-the cum!' Hinata just realises Oikawa is smushing them together against Hinata's wet t-shirt.

 

'It's fine. I don't like this shirt much anyway.'

 

Hinata laughs and Oikawa stares. It is such a beautiful, authentic sound, bursting with light.

 

But his phone rings and Oikawa tells Hinata to wait here. He dashes out and returns with a bag full of Argentina jerseys and gifts them to Hinata.

 

'For me?!!?' Hinata gawps at the contents of the bag.

 

'You need a change of t-shirt right?'

 

Hinata suddenly feels emotional. 'T-Thank you, Oikawa - I mean - Toru.'

 

This little nugget is so adorable and polite - Oikawa wants to put him in his pocket and take him everywhere.

 

But that's a bit much.

 

So instead he asks -

 

'What do you like eating?'

 

'Katsudon!'

 

Oikawa smiles. 'Katsudon it is then!'

 

For a moment, Hinata is starstruck; Oikawa is so handsome, even more so in the flesh. Oikawa reads this in a heartbeat and raises a slender eyebrow.

 

'Do you like the consistency of honey?'

 

'P-Pardon?!'

 

'Honey. Do you like it?'

 

Because I'm going to smear you in it and lick it off.

 

'Y-yes!'

 

'Good to know.'

 

They exchang a few more words about practicalities: Hinata will refer Oikawa to another person at the clinic (the next best person after him) and also send the setter for an MRI to check if Oikawa has a labral tear, which he can do now, if he wants, downstairs.

 

Oikawa should leave but -

 

'Can I see you… put on my jersey?'

 

'What?!'

 

It seems so bizarre to Hinata but he obliges. He whips off his t-shirt and Oikawa's mouth drops to the ground. Hinata's body is insane. Man tits that Oikawa needs to squeeze, abs, popping muscles, thicc arms. Oikawa needs Hinata to pin him down and -

 

'What do you think?'

 

Oikawa's assistant brought large and yet Hinata still has to squeeze into it, his pecs moulding against the fabric. It's a very good look.

 

'I think… I've never seen my jersey look so good.'

 

Hinata blushes.

 

'The blue brings out your orange hair.'

 

Hinata shakes his head, almost choking on his bashfulness.

 

'Wear that tomorrow.'

 

'O - OK!'

 

'And text me tonight.'

 

Hinata nods, speechless.

 

'I'll see you tomorrow.'

 

'See you!'

 

When the door shuts, Hinata almost melts into a puddle on the floor. He locks the door, grabs his phone on the desk, his phone with the background of Oikawa. He sees Yachi's text. His heart is paragliding over the Himalayas. He lies down on the patient's bed and calls her.

 

'Yachi,' he says, weak, 'you're never going to believe what just happened.'