at 37, both oikawa and him are still two athletic, healthy young men, bursting with energy and what also seems to be an insatiable sex drive, because the moment they finally move in together after spending years apart, they fuck.
every single day, at least once and with the upper limit still to be determined, with or without penetration, with long foreplay or quick orgasmic touches, in the bedroom, the kitchen, on the couch, or whatever corner happens to work, morning, afternoon, or late at night.
and iwaizumi thinks maybe, just maybe, they should slow down a little. settle for soft kisses and lazy touches every now and then.
but, damn it, how is he supposed to settle for so little now that tooru is finally back within arm's reach?
how is he supposed to stop when tooru walks into the kitchen in the middle of summer and finds him wearing nothing but those goddamn tight boxer briefs that hug his perky ass so perfectly, and his first instinct is to bend him over the kitchen counter and devour him.
who is hajime to say they need to take it easy when next day, he sees tooru laughing on the small bench out on their balcony at something stupid iwa said, looking so damn pretty with his nose scrunched up that hajime ends up carrying him back inside and fucking him against the first wall they come across.
and then, that same day, what starts as a simple goodnight kiss turns into two rounds of rough sex, hands whose caresses are gasoline, feeding the sparks ignited by every brush of skin, broken breaths, soft moans, and nothing but each other's names as their only language.
how the hell is he supposed to stop when the day after, tooru singsongs his name, looking back over his shoulder with that playful smile, crooking a finger for hajime to follow as he disappears into the bathroom. and hajime does without a second's hesitation, only to be ruined by tooru in the tub.
and so it goes, every day of every week of every month.
sometimes it's nothing more than tooru settled in his lap while they pull their hard cocks free and rub together, never breaking eye contact, breathing each other's names as they try to make the other come apart first, like a house of cards.
or tooru pinning hajime against the door before fucking his thighs after they got back from the gym, growing adorably clumsy as he starts picking up speed because he's so close, biting down hard on iwaizumi's shoulder until his teeth sink in and leave marks.
or simply curling up together on the couch to watch a movie, with tooru practically sprawled across hajime's chest, only for, halfway through a particularly boring scene, iwaizumi's hand to slowly drift from the warm stomach it'd been resting on down to the waistband of oikawa's shorts.
he plays with the waistband, smiling teasingly when he feels tooru tense just slightly before relaxing again as hajime's fingers slip a little farther beneath the fabric, rough fingertips brushing along the inside of his thigh.
tooru stretches out over him, legs falling open on instinct, eyes still glued to the television even as a blush slowly spreads across his cheeks.
then hajime's thumb brushes against his cock and tooru lets out the quietest little moan, digging his nails into iwa-chan's free arm, the one still wrapped around his chest, as hajime presses kisses along his neck before jerking him off right there,
making an absolute mess while tooru complains about iwa-chan distracting him halfway through the movie, only to turn around and pounce on hajime for an another round.
they know reunion sex, angry sex, make-up sex.
but this, this thing they have now, making love every single day in every corner of their house, not some american college dorm or a tiny apartment where all the appliances still had labels in spanish, but their home, is the best sex.
one day i'll manage to write a huge iwaoi pwp without combusting from the embarrassment trust me
u can find me on my ao3, bluesky and this is my carrd and strawpage 🍉
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