Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/3834043.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Haikyuu!!
  Relationship:
      Kuroo_Tetsurou/Tsukishima_Kei
  Character:
      Kuroo_Tetsurou, Tsukishima_Kei
  Additional Tags:
      Blow_Jobs, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-04-28 Words: 2914
****** Champion ******
by haikyoot_(oscillos)
Summary
     Tsukishima visits Kuroo after a frustrating day of play-matches.
Notes
     This is my first "real" fanfiction in many a year, and shameless PWP.
     Thanks for reading!
"No hard feelings!"
Tsukishima put his hands on his knees, panting— brow furrowed as Kuroo's words
ring out across the court.
The match point had gone to Nekoma— again.
He straightens up without looking to where the other team is inevitably
gathered, wiping the sweat off his face with the back of his hand. The pat on
his shoulder from a teammate is ignored, too. Next time echoes through the back
of his consciousness, put aside as quickly as the final plays of the game
filter through his thoughts.
It had been a tough game. Tougher-so, as it was the last of the day, pushing
them all to their brink with exhaustion, and for Karasuno especially— for
Tsukishima— to their limits of frustration. Next time, they said. They were
getting better, they'd close the gap in no time at all. It wasn't a lie, he
knew, but he didn't acknowledge it outright, either.
"We're leaving, Tsukki!" Yamaguchi calls beyond his thoughts, a little louder
than normal, as if he could tell Tsukishima's train of thought, "Want to come
to dinner?"
Tsukishima glances over his shoulder as they filter out of the court for the
day, a frown crossing his lips as his sight lands directly on Kuroo without
meaning to. The captain's mouth is moving as he speaks to his team, but
suddenly shifts over to where Tsukishima is standing, a bare smile tugging at
his lips as their eyes meet. Awful. Why'd he even bother?
"No," He hears himself say dryly, turning away at once, the frown deeper.
"Homework."
Yamaguchi smiles a little out of the corner of his eye, almost knowingly. He
doesn't push it, for which Tsukishima is secretly grateful. "Alright. See you,
Tsukki."
"Bye."
He's a little bitter.
'hey'
Tsukishima glares at the text he'd just received from Kuroo, almost the moment
he'd left the building. He'd renamed the contact from kuroo senseito Annoying,
the previous title being what the other had named it when he'd forced his
number onto Tsukishima's phone at the start of the trip.
'u ok?'
'don't rub it in, jackass'
Actually, he's a lot bitter.
'aw dont be like that its just one game
theres always tomorrow'
He doesn't bother replying to those, already on his way back to the hotel they
were staying at, having broken off from the rest of the team at the last
crosswalk. Truthfully, Tsukishima just wanted to shower away the frustration
he'd let build up over the day's matches—over his interactions with Nekoma's
captain, and go to sleep early. In the morning, everything would be fine again.
Upon entering his room, however, his phone buzzes again. This time, he looks.
'want to put me in my place?'
 
===============================================================================
 
"Where's your roommate?"
Kuroo's shared hotel room was quiet. Quiet enough that Tsukishima can't dance
around the fact that he'd actually come here. It's a simple enough setup— two
queen beds, one slightly ruffled, the next in total disarray. Distantly, he
thinks the latter must be Kuroo's, especially as the other now sits on it,
kicking off his shoes.
"Your teammate dragged him off," Kuroo flashes a grin Tsukishima easily resents
as he looks on with a near-perpetual frown, the other's gym bag tossed onto the
floor. "Something about that game he's playing."
"I see." He says it like it's nothing, but he's glad. Tsukishima feels— not
ashamed, but conflicted enough of his behavior as it is— he didn't want Kuroo's
aloof, quiet friend silently coming to conclusions that were likely to be
wrong.
"What, did you want him here, too?"
"No." Tsukishima snaps immediately, frown tugging downward at the idea. 
"You're not still mad about the last game, right?" Kuroo leans back on his
hands, a lazy smile perched on his lips, brow raised. He can feel the frown
he's wearing deepen at the feeling that sparks in him at the display.
He can't answer at first, lips firmly pressed together. Why was he here?
"Well?"
"Shut up."
Tsukishima took a sudden step toward the bed, reaching out to grab a fistful of
Kuroo's jersey. Without a beat, he yanked the other toward him, awkwardly
slamming his mouth over Kuroo's, some sort of comment soon muffled in the
biting kiss. Predictably— frustratingly— the other reciprocated at once, lips
swiping over Tsukishima's warmly. Tsukishima can almost feel the smile present
as he presses in, Kuroo's hands coming up to wrap around his waist, biting his
lip lightly.
The kiss breaks with a wet mm, Kuroo's hold keeping Tsukishima close after they
part.
"You're so annoying." Tsukishima says quietly, already feeling something sink
in his stomach like a hot stone, fueled by the smug but affectionate look on
Kuroo's face, so close. He doesn't want to see it, wants to get rid of it.
"I know." Kuroo grins, leaning in to kiss him again.
Tsukishima wanted to be able to say he could handle Kuroo better, like this—
because he couldn't talk, couldn't rile him up. He'd be blatantly lying,
though. The qualities that were most maddening about him were present in his
every touch: thoughtful, yet rough; purposeful, lazy, hot. He makes a small
noise into the kiss when Kuroo's tongue brushes at his lip, returning it in
kind, oblivious to the small, wet sounds that emanated from the action.
Tsukishima's hands rest on the other's shoulders at first, gripping the smooth
texture of his jersey, before dropping to his chest, fingers splaying.
It's too easy to get caught up in Kuroo. When things were like this, Tsukishima
didn't have time to over-think things. He couldn't work out exactly where this
might lead, what it might infer about his feelings, whether it was for the
other or his attachments in general. It was frustrating later, because he
would, but right now, it was easy. Nearly effortless. Kuroo didn't stop him as
long as he wanted it, so there was no excuse to stop.
Tsukishima liked it, even if he wouldn't admit it out loud. He knew Kuroo knew,
too.
"Tsukki—" The other murmurs, leaning into his touch and pulling him in at the
waist— urging him closer.
...The one thing Tsukishima couldn't fully acknowledge just yet, however, was
that Kuroo seemed to like it almost as much as he did.
"Mn," Tsukishima responds wordlessly, bracing himself on Kuroo's chest as he
pushes a knee onto the bed, sliding up onto his lap, legs spread to fit against
him snugly. Kuroo's kiss turns relentless, as if he'd been given permission—
it's dizzying, that along with the warmth of the blocker's body beneath him,
and Tsukishima feels like he can't breath— a hand at his waist presses him down
against where they meet, the other running up the length of his body, pressing
close to pinch his nipple through the thin jersey. Tsukishima jerks at the
touch, a sweeter sound pushed into the kiss— before pulling away, a scowl
across his lips. 
Predictably, Kuroo is still grinning, though the effect is somewhat diminished
by the fluster of his cheeks.
"Don't." Tsukishima warns with a shove to Kuroo's shoulder, still scowling even
as he can feel how hot his own skin is, breath fast. 
Kuroo ignores him, that smile still in place as he gently rolls his hips up
against Tsukishima's— surprising him with the press of something obvious.
Already... Tsukishima feels a hard twist in his stomach, ashamed at how much
the realization that Kuroo was this excited over so little turns him on. Kuroo
is still watching him, so Tsukishima has to look away, but sways his hips a
little into the movement in affirmation. With a quiet, almost amused sigh, the
other is leaning in to kiss the side of his neck and beside his ear, grazing
teeth over the shell of the latter, breathing warmly against the wet skin. 
Without Kuroo to meet his gaze head on, one of Tsukishima's hands comes up to
bury in the other's mussed hair, pulling it just a little as he more
wholeheartedly grinds down into Kuroo's lap, rutting his growing erection
against the growing press of the other's through his pants. It feels good, and
Kuroo pushes back up against him— but it doesn't alleviate the sensation
blooming between his hips, nor his frustration. They grow twofold, especially
when the other speaks so closely to damp skin:
"Relax."
I can't relax until you're out of my mind, Tsukishima thinks irately, instead
dropping his face to Kuroo's shoulder, fingers scratching lightly across the
other's jersey, leaving it bunched up, exposing a hipbone from beneath it,
where the other's shorts dip below it. He continues the stronger rock of his
hips down against the other's lap, shuddering audibly when their arousals line
up, focusing on that point. Finally, Kuroo makes an uneven sound, buried in
Tsukishima's hair, rough and affected.
Despite Kuroo seeming fairly shameless, he was often the more quiet party— to
Tsukishima's dismay— when they'd done this, save for the first time (quick,
hot, messy), so he feels a bizarre kind of satisfaction at the sound. He keeps
rocking his hips down against the other's clothed erection, again pulling on
the blocker's hair, swiftly finding his nerve once more with the minor victory.
"How is this putting you in your place, Kuroo?" Tsukishima punctuates the
comment with a push down into Kuroo's lap, rubbing firmly against where the
other's cock presses against his pants. He's met with a breathy laugh, the
other's face coming back into view, lips reddened from the kisses at
Tsukishima's neck. It's frustrating how unbothered he seemed.
 "Ah right— sorry."
Tsukishima feels the need to wet his own lips, licking them absentmindedly—
stopping when Kuroo is suddenly flipping their positions on the bed, sinking to
his knees in front of it. The other's rough hands are already at his belt and
catching at their buttons before he can sputter out a breathless reply,
throwing a hand out to grasp one of Kuroo's wrists.
"What are you—" Kuroo's free hand dips into his pants anyway, outright cupping
him against his boxers, rubbing the form of his cock gently through the
material. Tsukishima's breath catches, knees twitching upward as his erection
throbs from the friction. "Nn-"
The other's grin is directed shamelessly up at him when he can relinquish the
squint he'd adopted at the touch, the eyes he's met with narrowed with blatant
arousal. He speaks softly, face close to where his hand is working at
Tsukishima. "Is this better, Tsukki?"
"Don't call me that." Is murmured at once, affronted, though he leans back on
one hand to raise his hips barely when Kuroo's hand delves against the material
to knead at his balls.
"Kei," Kuroo starts, rubbing his thumb over the dampened area of his boxers
where the head of Tsukishima's dick presses. He breathes in sharply, the hand
thrust behind him gripping the bedspread.
"I changed my mind. Just shut up."
Kuroo doesn't so much as glance up at Tsukishima.
"Alright."
Leaning in, Kuroo presses his lips directly to the stretched material of
Tsukishima's boxer-briefs, mouthing him through it. This time, Tsukishima
doesn't bother keeping in the soft moan that threatened to pass his lips,
because he knows there's no point. He's in too deep. Kuroo's free hand rubs
lazy circles beneath Tsukishima's hip as his other continues to knead through
fabric, mouth working along the side of his dick, now stiff and straining
against the material. When the other's lips move over it, dragging the damp
fabric along with them—
"Ah.." The teasing is too much. Kuroo's touches were too brazen: knowing,
unashamed in their search for what would make him react the most. His hips keep
twitching upward against the movement of Kuroo's mouth against him, finally
reaching his breaking point when the other glances up beneath heavily-lidded
eyes— when he realizes that Kuroo has removed the hand from his hip to palm
himself through his shorts as he touches Tsukishima.
"Kuroo—" His voice is rough, low. He can barely get it out, but Tsukishima
feels like if he doesn't change this situation, and fast, he'll lose it. Maybe
that's what he wants, though, he can't be certain.
Maybe it's what Kuroo wants, too, because the other immediately yanks down the
edge of Tsukishima's boxers, pulling his dick out and running his palm over it
unabashedly. It only takes a couple of quick strokes before he's adding his
mouth to the mix, running his lips over the underside of Tsukishima's cock to
its head, taking it into his mouth. Kuroo's fingers rub over the now-damp skin
as he works at the head, tongue pressed flat underneath it; eyes flicking up to
take Tsukishima's expression into mind more than once, calculating of every
detail, even now.
Kuroo's mouth is too hot on him, too tight when he sucks in— Tsukishima moans
outright, bringing up a hand to his mouth, prompting a smile from the other in
between his movements. Tsukishima wants to be mad, but his mind feels fuzzy,
the heat coiling in his stomach and throbbing to the head of his cock too
overwhelmingly distracting. Kuroo's reddened lips take him in again, and his
hips buck without meaning to— the moan shifts an octave higher as his erection
is forced into the other's mouth farther, but even beyond that, Kuroo groans,
the sound muffled against flesh. 
He'd like to look away. Things are mounting too fast, even if he'd wanted to
get this over with, came here knowing he wouldn't be able to stop himself, but
Tsukishima can't turn from Kuroo taking him in, still touching himself almost
frantically with palpable distraction. He just clings on: biting his lip,
hidden behind his hand, small and strangled sounds leaking from his mouth as
Kuroo's takes the head of his cock in again and again; spit-slick palm working
at what he couldn't fit in his mouth. 
It's been but a few moments and Tsukishima can already feel himself losing
hold. His breath comes out as rough pants stuttered with small verbalizations
("ah, mm!") and his hips twitch out of time with the movement of Kuroo's mouth
and palm down onto his dick. The situation gains certainty when he has to throw
the hand at his mouth to the bed to join the other, a high sound ripping from
his lips as he quickly teeters on the precipice of orgasm.
"—my face," Kuroo saids suddenly, between kisses to flustered, wet skin, hand
still pumping roughly, tightly, "Come on my face—"
Tsukishima's breath rushes out as a keen, the other's flagrant, explicit urging
sending a hard throb straight to his dick. Kuroo and his own eyes locked as he
feels himself thrown over the edge, only torn away when he can't keep them
fully open any longer.
"Kuro—Ah!"
Kuroo pulls his mouth away at the last moment, a high, breathless sound
escaping Tsukishima as a low, breathy groan passes from the other's open lips;
Tsukishima's cock twitches in the other's hand as his cheek and mouth is struck
with several bursts of Tsukishima's come. Kuroo doesn't stop sweeping his palm
over him until it's over, breathing almost as heavily as Tsukishima— who is
partially doubled-over, shoulders drawn up and head hanging. 
He keeps stroking him slowly even as Tsukishima straightens up, breathing
raggedly and glancing down blearily at Kuroo's face, now stained with him. The
sight strikes still-sensitive nerves, and he has to shove down the tiny sound
in his throat when Kuroo's tongue darts out to swipe over a bit that had landed
on his lip, eyes narrowed and dark as if he'd been the one on the receiving
end.
They meet eyes.
"Well?" Kuroo's voice is husky, a little jeering.
"It suits you." Tsukishima replies with a minute frown, before looking away.
"Good to know." When he can bring himself to look back (more than a couple
seconds after Kuroo speaks), the other has wiped the mess off using his jersey,
leaving him shirtless. It directs Tsukishima's gaze straight to where Kuroo is
visibly still aroused, the bulge in his shorts more than obvious. He
contemplates touching him, a flash of how the other might feel in his hand
passing through his mind. 
Standing and straightening his clothes, a slight smirk passes Tsukishima's
lips.
"... There's something that suits you better." He says quietly, realigning his
glasses on the bridge of his nose, where they'd been askew a moment before.
Kuroo tosses the dirtied jersey on top of his bag in the corner, turning back
to Tsukishima with a raised brow. The way he's leaning toward him with a lazy
smile on his mouth all but indicates where he expects this to go next. "Is
there?"
"Yes," Tsukishima says, slipping around Kuroo instead of closer to him,
suddenly crossing the short distance from the bed to the hotel door.
He looks over his shoulder to regard Kuroo as he opens it in one swift motion—
the other now sporting a look of both shock and confusion, and the smile on
Tsukishima's face is almost serene.
"This suits you much better. No hard feelings, Kuroo."
 
===============================================================================
 
 
Tsukishima isn't bitter anymore.
A smile sticks to his face even as he passes Nekoma's setter in the hall, the
other staring at him with mild confusion. Behind them, Kuroo's loud, muffled
complaints could be heard through the door, but Tsukishima doesn't pay either
of them any mind.
Kuroo had been right. It was just a game— and he'd won the set point.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!